Chapter Text
“It's 2 am, you and I used to talk until morning.”
"Madame, voici votre café." You look up, take out one of your headphones, and smile at the barista. “Merci.”
You're sitting on the terrace of a very cute café in Paris, one of those that are so distinctly Parisian: small, round tables, mismatched chairs, and people smoking and chitchatting while you're writing fanfiction in your notebook.
There are vines on the doors and some windows. A circular pastel mint-green awning with baby-pink details: scalloped edges and panels separated by soft-pink lines, creating a romantic, fairy-tale-like aesthetic.
"It's day and night, hurry now. Baby, let's just take it slowly today."
Tomorrow is Lngshots' fan sign in the city. You've been studying here for a few months now, hardly getting your French out, but that doesn't matter. Thanks to the fact that Louis is French, you've got fan meets, concerts, and events assured until the end of time. At least, that's what you like to think.
A university student like yourself shouldn't be pathetically wasting their time writing a love story with a celebrity on a terrace, but it's hot out. You finally finished exams, and you're way too tired to pretend you're interested in someone's life in a language you don't fully speak, so you resorted to writing at the café near your house.
"I don't wanna miss out on much today (Today). I don't wanna live like this all day (All day)"
You take a sip of your coffee and wince instantly — it's way too hot. It's a Saturday morning, so luckily, there aren't a lot of people to witness your embarrassment. You look around just in case, and that's when you see them coming your way. Just getting out of a car is none other than Lngshot themselves — Ohyul, Ryul, Woojin, Louis, and the one and only Jay Park. They step out at the curb and were walking in your direction. Obviously, you try to be nonchalant. You take out your headphones to see if you could catch anything they were saying, then immediately start looking at your phone, closing your notebook, if they knew you were writing about them... Luckily, it's a long street, so they're still a bit far away, giving you time to gather yourself.
Your favourite member had always been Woojin. You thought producing was such a fascinating thing, and the fact that he did it so effortlessly — with just a computer — blew your mind. Yet you had a soft spot for Ryul too: something about his smile, that cocky smile, his hair. You admitted to sometimes going online and spending hours on edits of him on whatever social media app you could get onto. He was actually smiling right now — wait, why was he smiling? Shit, shit, shit, shit — they caught you. He literally saw you staring. You feel your ears turn red with embarrassment as the three other members turn to him, smiling and saying something in Korean you wish you could understand.
He cocks his head at you and simply acknowledges your presence with a cocky nod, before pulling his vape out, taking the biggest drag you've ever seen in your life, and blowing it all out.
Before you can even get up and beg for a picture or an autograph, another thought shoots through your head: what if I pretend not to know him at all? Would that be weird?
You slightly smile at him and take another sip of your coffee while maintaining eye contact, thanking that you didn't burn yourself this time. By the time they walk in front of you, you muster up the courage to actually smile at him. You tilt your head slightly to the left and shyly wave with your fingers. Jesus Christ, what are you doing?
For a second, you think maybe he won’t react. But Ryul stops for a moment, not fully, but there's a half-second pause that makes Louis step on him. "Yah, what are you doing?" Then, he waves back. He. Waves. Back.
Abort abort abort. Your mind is going absolutely haywire, you’re thinking about the wedding, the kids' names, the house…
They continue walking. You mentally slap yourself.
Just as you're about to put your headphones back in, you slip another glance, and to your surprise, Ryul’s actually looking your way. You turn back immediately — because why are you making eye contact with the person you're literally writing about — but you give yourself the benefit of looking again, and he's still staring. So this time you actually laugh out loud, and he does too.
Literally not knowing what has come over you, you actually beckon him over — come, come — with your hands. He looks at the other members, and they laugh and wave him off to go your way. You're still smiling by the time he jogs up to you, notebook already tucked in your bag, because what the hell. He looks at you, takes his vape out again, and gives you a smile.
"Hey."
“I like your outfit," you say, pretending to be as nonchalant as possible. You can literally smell his expensive cologne. He's wearing light camo shorts, those taupe and beige ones you really like, some white trainers with socks at his ankles, a white tee, and a beanie. He's carrying a dark green zip-up in his hands, which is kind of stupid because it's May, but you don't say anything. Obviously.
He looks you up and down .” Thanks, I like yours too,” he says, in English. Of course, he speaks English; you knew that. You've watched approximately ten thousand interviews of him speaking English.
You actually have to roll your eyes at this, because he can't see much of what you're wearing. It's literally just a white wife-beater with a cross necklace on it. The highlight of your outfit, you would say, is the denim mini skirt with embroidery you got at the thrift store the other day. Guess he can see your makeup though. You've been trying to nail that Y2K look, so you're guessing that means you've done it correctly.
You turn your coffee cup slowly in your hand and lean back, hoping he doesn't see the sweat literally dripping down your arms from the mix of heat and nerves.
"So… you have an accent, are you a tourist?"
He puts his hands in his front pockets. “Yeah, yeah, I'm here visiting with some friends. A work thing, actually."
You lift one of your brows. "Oh yeah? What do you do?
"Hmm... I'm a YouTuber." You mentally laugh. Yeah, sure.
Before you can say anything, he quickly changes the subject. "You know anything good to do around here?" But he doesn't look at you when he says it — he's glancing toward the other members, who are clearly waiting for him to come back. So, again, before you can answer, he smiles and says, "Hey, you got a pen?"
You almost choke on your drink. “A pen?” The one I've been using to write self-insert smut scenes with you? He doesn't think anything of it, or at least is nice enough to pretend not to, but all you can think about is how the two of you are literally about to kiss in your story right now.
"Yeah, a pen. To write. You know what it is?” He rolls his eyes impatiently. “You're gonna give me your Instagram so I can text you to, you know, show me around a bit." He smirks.
"I'm gonna give you my Instagram? Isn't that supposed to be like a question? Why don't you give me yours?"
"Oh, you know — YouTube. I have a second account. That way you won't go around telling people that a household name like me is DMing you."
As he quickly scribbles your username on his hand, he winks at you, takes another drag from his vape, and jogs away.
You sit very still for a long moment.
Then you grab your notebook, find a fresh page, and write the date at the top.
Below it, you write: AAAAAAAAAAAA.
You stare at it.
You cross it out.
—
Your phone buzzes as you're about to pay
You glance down, expecting a text from one of your friends asking what time you're meeting tonight, but it's a follow request. From an account with no profile picture, zero posts, and the username: @m1k_l2yr
You look up instinctively down the street as if he'd still be there, which obviously he isn’t. You look back at your phone. Then back on the street. Then back to your phone.
You accept it and follow back.
Not two minutes later, a DM slides in.
@m1k_l2yr: So, where are we going
You snort.
you: who is this
@m1k_l2yr the YouTuber
You: I meet a lot of YouTubers
@m1k_l2yr: No, you don't
You laugh out loud again, alone, and people sitting two tables away give you a look.
You: Okay, fine. What do you want to do??
That’s too broad, you think.
You text again.
you: museum, bookshop, shopping
Your thumbs hover over the keyboard.
You: the club
Then you stare at the message until your phone turns off, and you wait. And wait. And wait.
One hour and 43 minutes later (yes, you were counting), your phone dings
@m1k_l2yr: lol last option sounds good
You smile.
@m1k_l2yr: but I can’t today
@m1k_l2yr: I have something tomorrow
Shit. The fan sign. You'd totally forgotten. How will he react when he sees you there? Especially considering you're pretending not to know him at all.
Also, who in the world would agree to go to a club with a complete stranger?
So you text back: Oh, me too, actually. Then decide to leave it at that, at least for the time being, because there's nothing else you could really say.
As you pay for your coffee to leave, your phone dings again.
@m1k_l2yr: Do you like techno music? And FaSHioN?
No, but what else are you going to say?
You: hmm idk the genre that well, but yeah, I like fashion
You: JAJAJAJA, why are you writing it like that?
You roll your eyes. Of course, you know why he’s writing it like that — Cortis has been competing with Lngshot in your top groups every single month.
@m1k_l2yr: Let me send you an address. Be there at seven.
@m1k_l2yr: bring a friend. Just one.