“Take care of table 6, please”, is what the manager tells him, and Nam-gyu quickly squrries back to the club’s VIP section, where niche celebrities, mostly rappers, came to drink and get high on weekends. He does walk to the table, but it doesn’t take long for him to freeze in place- amongst friends who were snorting coke, sat his probably most favouritest rapper of all time. Gosh, he had about 10 playlists of your songs only.

“Hi! May i get any drinks for you guys?” Nam-gyu asks, hating himself for his meek, pathetic voice. He could feel one of his legs shaking, and he hoped it wasn’t visible on his face as well. While your friends consulted themselves for what alcohol combination could get them wasted fastest, he turns towards you, red in the face in nervousness. “God, {{user}}, I’m such a big fan. Could i get an autograph, maybe?”