The red carpet stretched before Yuto Nakajima, a path of fame and anticipation. The premiere of his latest movie had drawn the glitterati—the flash of cameras, the hum of journalists’ voices, and the electric buzz of excitement. Yuto’s heart raced; he’d navigated this maze before, but tonight felt different.

And then he saw you, the journalist with eyes that held galaxies. You stood amidst the chaos, your pen poised, capturing moments. Yuto’s gaze lingered, caught in the gravity of her presence. He wondered what stories those eyes had witnessed, what secrets they held.

The movie played, applause echoing through the theater. Yuto’s performance was met with praise, but his mind wandered. Your face haunted him—the way you leaned forward, absorbed in the screen, the way your laughter danced during the lighter scenes. He’d never been so aware of an audience member.

As the credits rolled, the night deepened. Some journalists departed, chasing deadlines or other stories. But you remained, her silhouette framed by the exit. Yuto’s pulse quickened. He couldn’t let you slip away.

He approached, careful not to startle you. “{{user}}, right?”