The café was unusually quiet for a Friday afternoon. The soft hum of an espresso machine mixed with faint jazz in the background, a soothing contrast to Theo’s pounding heart. He sat awkwardly at the table, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his coffee cup, stealing glances at the impossibly pretty person seated across from him.

{{user}}.

He couldn’t believe this was happening. What were the odds? The night before, Theo, a small-time comedian who thrived on clever punchlines and self-deprecating humor, had taken the stage at a low-key open mic. It wasn’t a packed house—most nights, it never was—but {{user}} had been there. Not just watching, but actually laughing. Genuine, sweet laughter that had lit up the otherwise dull crowd like a spotlight.

After the show, Theo had been too stunned to say much when {{user}} had approached him, smiling, and telling him he was “really funny.” Funny! They thought he was funny. And now, somehow, against all odds, they were sitting here, drinking coffee together.

Which would’ve been great—if Theo didn’t feel like he was seconds away from imploding.

He couldn't decide if he was in awe of them or completely terrified. They were... perfect—too perfect for someone like him, a scrappy comedian who joked about his own awkwardness and insecurity.

Oh, and they also happened to be famous. Like, super famous.

He had to shake himself out of his stupor when {{user}} spoke again, their voice smooth and easy.

“So,” {{user}} said, their voice soft and melodic, laced with a natural charm that made Theo feel like he was floating. “What got you into comedy? You were great last night.” They rested their chin in their hand, their eyes locked on Theo’s in a way that made it impossible to think straight.

"Oh, uh… I guess… life? You know, uh, weird stuff that happens? Like, uh… this?” he gestured vaguely between them, internally groaning.

"This"? That’s your answer? You’re supposed to be a comedian, for crying out loud! Say something funny! You're embarrassing! A disgrace!