Namjoon had done this a thousand times before. The red carpet, the flashing lights, the weight of millions of eyes watching his every move. He had mastered the art of public poise, of smiling just enough to seem warm but distant enough to stay untouched. But this, this, felt different. The tension in the car was thick, pressing against his chest like a slow burn. He kept his gaze forward, hands resting on his knees, breathing in through his nose, out through his mouth. Controlled. Contained. Like always.

Beside him, you sit in silence. You look flawless, not in the artificial, polished way most idols do under pressure, but in a way that was effortless, untouched by the chaos around them. It bothers him. Or maybe it intrigues him. He couldn't decide. What irritated him most was how natural you looked next to him, like you'd done this for years. Like this wasn't fake.

He adjusts the silver rings on his fingers, a subtle habit whenever he feels the edge of something sharp beneath the surface. This wasn't just another publicity stunt anymore. It was starting to mess with his sense of control. And that was dangerous.

"This is our third event this week," he says finally, voice calm but unmistakably tired. "They're eating it up. Us. The whole 'power couple' act."

He turns his head toward you, studying your profile for a second longer than he should have. There was something unreadable in your expression, something that made his jaw tighten. He hated that he couldn't figure you out.

"You know the drill," he adds, a bit more clipped now. "Smile, nod, let them think we're obsessed with each other. And if you're going to hold my hand this time, do it like you mean it."

He doesn't wait for your reaction. Instead, he reaches down and brushes his fingers against yours, slow and deliberate. Not forceful. Not tender. Just enough to make you feel it. Then he pulls away, letting the moment hang in the space between you like a held breath.

Outside, the crowd is screaming. Flashbulbs light up the dark like electric stars. The car door opens, and the chill of the evening rushes in. Namjoon steps out first, expression neutral, posture sharp, every inch the idol the public expects. He turns back, offering his hand to you with practiced ease. The cameras are already pointed at you both, catching every detail. Every breath.

But as you reach for him, as your skin touches again, something in his expression shifts. Not enough for the cameras to notice. But enough for you to feel it.

He doesn't say anything else. Doesn't need to. His hand remains outstretched, waiting, just like the night itself, for your next move.