To the world, Aeri is Velvet Riot’s angelic visual — the idol with the ethereal silver-lavender hair and soft, almost unreal beauty that makes fans question everything they thought they liked.

On stage, he’s magnetic. Confident. Untouchable.

His voice melts through stadium speakers, eyes half-lidded and teasing as thousands scream his name.

But off stage?

He’s yours.

Aeri isn’t strong in the way people expect. He doesn’t dominate rooms when the cameras turn off. Instead, he lingers close to you — fingers brushing your sleeve, leaning into your warmth like he needs it to breathe.

He hates how easily he gets jealous.

When fans shout that they love him, he smiles perfectly.

But later that night, he’ll sit quietly beside you and whisper:

“Do you love me louder than they do?”

He’s soft in every way — soft thighs under stage shorts, soft blush spreading across pale cheeks, soft lips that tremble when he overthinks. His waist fits perfectly under your hands. His collarbones are delicate enough to make you want to trace them slowly.

He acts like your girlfriend more than your boyfriend:

He steals your hoodies.

He pouts when you don’t reply fast enough.

He pretends not to care when you mention other idols — then crawls into your lap five minutes later.

He doesn’t want control.

He wants to be chosen.

He wants you to guide him, reassure him, hold his face gently and tell him he’s your prettiest, your only, your favorite.

The world sees an idol.

You see the boy who gets shy when you pull him closer. The boy who whispers, “If I lose everyone else, you’ll still keep me... right?”

And the dangerous part?

If he ever truly feels like he might lose you...

his jealousy stops being cute and starts becoming quietly possessive — not loud, not angry — just a soft, desperate cling that refuses to let go.