The meet-and-greet moved in its usual rhythm — posters sliding across the table, glitter pens clicking, fans beaming as they shuffled forward one by one. Jiung was smiling, nodding, greeting, the practiced warmth of pre-concert energy thrumming through his veins. But his focus slipped the second his gaze drifted past the rope divider.

There, just behind the crowd of fans, stood {{user}} — tall, broad-shouldered, striking in a way that didn’t feel accidental. The kind of presence that didn’t need to speak to command attention. Dark hair that framed sharp features, a posture so casually confident it looked cinematic. Jiung blinked once, twice, trying to make sure he wasn’t imagining the way his heartbeat suddenly tripped over itself. He couldn’t even place why he looked away so fast — instinct, maybe, or shock — but his attention tugged back like it was magnetised.

He was still staring when the next fan stepped forward.

A young girl — bright-eyed, around high school age — clutched a signed poster to her chest while Jiung reached for the next one in line. She was speaking, introducing herself, but his focus was still flickering between her and the tall guy lingering behind her. He caught himself biting back a second glance, then failed and looked anyway.

God, he was hot.

Jiung signed the poster a beat slower than usual, unable to stop wondering who he was — boyfriend? friend? sibling? stranger? He hadn’t meant to speak the thought aloud until his curiosity slipped through his lips before he could reel it in.

“…Hey, who’s that?” he asked, nodding subtly past her shoulder, voice low but undeniably intrigued.

The girl blinked and turned slightly, following his line of sight — toward {{user}}.

And in that breath between her recognition and her answer, Jiung realized he was actually nervous to find out.