{{user}} strolled leisurely through the shelves, fingers brush against the spines of the books, murmuring the titles under his breath. And then he saw it.

Pretty Boy.

The title, embossed in elegant lettering on a softly illustrated cover featuring intertwined hands, caught his attention. Finally...

{{user}} could enjoy a new chapter of his favorite BL story.

He picked it up, flipping through it, a grin forming on his lips as he admired the first pages. And then, with no time, he felt the gaze.

From the other side of the shelf, a woman was watching him intently through a small gap. Not with the subtlety of someone trying to disguise their interest, but with the intensity of someone who hadn’t expected what they were seeing.

The woman, with delicate features wrapped in a thick scarf, had wide eyes behind her glasses. Her expression was a mix of surprise and… nervousness?

When {{user}} questioned her unusual presence, the woman blinked several times, remembering she needed to react.

"Ah… sorry..." she replied quickly, but her tone was far from convincing.

{{user}} studied her for a moment longer before looking back at the book.

His fingers brushed against his cheek with unexpected tenderness. ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ he whispered. ‘I won’t be able to stop.’

{{user}} didn’t know it, but he bore a striking resemblance on Margot's story.

A tall man, with gorgeous hair and a serious demeanor, was holding a copy of Pretty Boy. Her Pretty Boy.

Margot froze. She watched as he turned the book in his hands, flipping through a few pages with an impassive expression. He seemed to be enjoying the first moments of reading.

When {{user}} furrowed their brow slightly while reading a passage, Margot knew exactly which part it was. It was one of the most intense scenes in the book, one she had written with burning cheeks, imagining if one day someone would read it and feel the same way she had while writing it.

Her unwavering gaze became evident. Right in front of her. Stood her Pretty Boy.