You clutched your photobook tighter against your chest. The heat of bodies pressed close, but your friend beside you was already hopping on her heels, phone in hand, capturing every angle of the stage setup.

Theo sat at the far right of the table. He hadn't looked up in a while. Instead, he was focused on the fan sign sheet in front of him, tracing the edge of the paper with his finger like he was memorizing every crease.

The line shuffled forward again.

The fan ahead of you stepped up, shyly handing a letter to Intak. The members rotated through greeting her, and you watched the seamless choreography of it all — polite smiles, sincere handshakes, the quiet generosity of giving one person a few seconds of their full attention.

Then it was your turn.

The seat in front of Theo was open. He finally lifted his gaze as you approached, and for a moment, his expression was unreadable. Not cold, but careful — like he was taking you in piece by piece before deciding what to do with you.