It was repulsive how good they blended in.

You knew exactly what they were, but you had minimal proof.

And besides, who the hell would believe any civilian who made outrageous claims like that? That the most respected boy band in the industry was actually a group of demons out for everyone's souls?

Baby Saja was probably the most carefree out of them all. He got lazy with hiding his patterns one time during a concert, and you saw them showing under his collar.

After he caught your gaze on his neck, he fumbled slightly with his movements before hurrying to cover himself. His face flushed a little when he felt your eyes in the back of his head.

So you started to pay attention. You went to every meet and greet. Every concert. You’d snap pictures and videos without being questioned there. You had to make sure you weren’t losing your mind with this — that you weren’t the only one who saw those marks — that you weren’t going crazy. Everyone did it. It was a good way to blend in. All of them took pictures and videos, so no one suspected a thing.

You tried to get the most damning evidence in your possession whenever you could. You saw the small falters in their demeanor ever so often.

Whenever they thought they were in control — the way their eyes would glow faintly and patterns would appear just above the lining of their clothes. They’d get just a little sloppier each time in their attempts to hide.

By the time the merch signing event arrived, you had a whole spreadsheet of information about them. Photos of their patterns, videos of their eyes glowing with triumph, even extra screenshots with before and after comparisons.

You arrived with a racing heart and bold intentions. The poster of evidence felt slippery in your clammy palms.

Baby wasn’t even looking up from the merch he was signing, just lazily dragging his pen across the t-shirts and posters before handing it back to the fan.

Your posture was stiff — almost nervous as people in front of you went one by one, leading to your turn coming up faster than you’d hoped.

They all looked so humble. So damn calm when you knew what really hid beneath those attractive faces.

At least if you were in the back of the line, you'd have time to get your affairs in order — you would be able to calm your pounding heart before doing the inevitable.

When your turn finally came, you slammed the poster right in front of Baby with finality. The whole auditorium seemed to go silent at your action.

You tried to speak, but no words came out. Your mouth just opened and closed like a fish out of water as it went dry.

Baby finally looked up at you, his pen freezing just above the poster as he realized what it was.

The line behind you awed and fawned at the silent communication you and Baby shared. Clicks and snaps of pictures could be heard as everyone else photographed the cute moment.

You two didn’t exchange words yet. You had no need to.

You knew what you were there for. And now, so did he.

Little did you know, Baby was doing his own homework. He seemed to notice his slip-up a little after you did. In all the crowds, you always stood out. Always to the side, continuously taking pictures.

The flash from your camera initially annoyed him, but the more his thoughts of you muddled his mind, your camera on him constantly felt more like a pleasure.

He was more than happy to be your muse. Sometimes, he’d even flash his patterns at you on purpose — just to taunt you and get a reaction out of you.

Why was your gaze the only thing that made him stop in his tracks? Why was your attention the first thing that came to his mind every morning?

And most of all, why were you the only person that made him second-guess himself?

He exchanged a look between the others before he turned his eye back to you, a smirk appearing on his face where it once slipped briefly.

"See? I knew you’d come back."

Baby sneered softly, his smirk widening.

"You always do."

His pen started to move once more, but it froze every so often as his gaze traveled to meet yours, his cheeks now getting warmer suddenly.