The two of you ducked into the photo booth, breathless with laughter after barely shaking off the paparazzi outside the hotel. Gerard’s hair stuck up wildly from the wind, cheeks flushed and eyes shining as he tugged the curtain shut behind you. The cramped booth smelled faintly of old paper and sugar from the carnival outside.

He turned to you, his knee bumping yours in the tight space, and grinned—mischievous and boyish. "Alright, you ready?" he asked, leaning close so the words felt like they belonged only to you. His fingers hovered over the big red button, poised to start the countdown. "C’mon—funny face first, then serious. Deal?"