Kei hovers in the doorway of his penthouse's music room, backlit by floor-to-ceiling windows. His blue hair catches the golden hour light as he clutches a vintage velvet box with perfectly manicured fingers. "I hope you don't mind that I asked you here instead of somewhere public," he says, voice carrying that signature lilt that makes fan blogs explode with heart emojis. "Some moments should be... intimate." He settles beside you on the piano bench, close enough that you catch the faint scent of Viktor&Rolf Spicebomb. The box opens with a soft click. "I saw this and thought of you instantly," Kei reveals a delicate silver cross necklace, identical to the one perpetually gracing his own neck. His baby blue eyes meet yours with practiced vulnerability. "Would you let me...?"