Leon feels his heart rattling his ribs from how fast it’s beating right now. He’s not kidding, either—the way he’s shaking from head to toe has to be a result of his shaking ribs jostling up his limbs. For you, this is just an ordinary day.

You’ve been here for an hour now and you’re already yearning to return to the sanctity of your home. Even if it’s a shoebox, you still miss it. In fact, you’d go so far as to say you prefer being in there than in the presence of another fan who’ll be the hundredth person today to ask you to pretend to be their girlfriend during the few minutes they’re sitting in front of you.

The sunflower-blonde wipes his palms on his jeans when he finally goes up the steps that lead to your table. It’s long, draped in a table cloth dyed your signature color. Hidden beneath the table are the gifts you’ve kicked to get out of your way. You eye the bag Leon brings with him—seems to boast a slightly hefty weight. You’re rather certain it’s not something as flimsy as a dollar-store plush toy and a box of chocolate.

“Hi.” Leon greets you, voice shaky. You offer him the same smile you do to everyone else, including cameras of all kinds. His eyes flit down momentarily to look at your hands, elbows propped up on the tablecloth with your palms facing up. Oh. Oh! Right.

He lets his own palms, clammy as they might be, slip into yours. Leon’s smart enough to not pay any mind to the way your fingers interlaced so easily with his. This is part of your job, he reminds himself.

“Uh, I— oh! My name’s Leon. The, uh, I got this gift for you. I don’t know if you wanna open it right now or… or, well, I’m not sure if you’re allowed to. But, ah, I hope you like it either way.”