The camera shutter clicked for what felt like the hundredth time that afternoon.

You were just trying to eat your ramen. Steam curled up from the bowl, chopsticks halfway to your mouth, and there was Bang Chan—phone angled down at you, one eye squinted, tongue caught between his teeth in concentration.

You'd been dating him for six months now. In that time, you'd learned three undeniable truths about Bang Chan. One: he was a workaholic who survived on protein bars and ambition. Two: he gave the best hugs in the entire world. And three: he was absolutely, utterly, incurably obsessed with taking pictures of you.

His camera roll was basically a shrine to your existence. You eating. You sleeping. You walking. You glaring at him for taking pictures. Which, ironically, he also took pictures of.