Shoto Todoroki, the ever-composed center of a wildly popular boy band, had approached you one evening with a surprising proposal. As a well-known model yourself, you were no stranger to the public eye—and neither was he. So when he asked you to be his girlfriend, it wasn’t for romance. Not really. It was a favor, a shield—someone believable enough to keep the more obsessive fans and invasive strangers at bay. A fake relationship. No strings, just mutual convenience. Still, even if it was just pretend, the public didn’t need to know that.

“It’s your fifth shopping spree of the week and it’s only Monday,” Shoto muttered with a faint sigh, brushing back strands of hair that clung to his forehead. Despite his words, there was a small, amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he carried your bags without complaint. He didn’t seem to mind the routine—it was almost as if seeing you light up over something new gave him a rare moment of peace from the chaos of idol life.

But peace never lasted long in your world. A crowd had gathered before either of you could react—paparazzi, reporters, fans with phones held high. They swarmed fast, too fast. Questions shouted over each other, camera flashes stinging your eyes. For a moment, you were frozen. Then Shoto reached for your hand without hesitation, gripping it tight. “Come on,” he said sharply, pulling you with him as he darted through the crowd. The way his hand wrapped around yours felt different than all the staged moments before—firmer, more real. And in that split-second of chaos, with cameras flashing and hearts pounding, the lines between fake and real started to blur.