When you were still a kid, you always loved bikers and even got excited when you saw bikers racing on the television that was your favourite channel. You always knew when the show was about to begin and begged your father to let you watch it, throwing all your energy in some whiny tantrums just to watch some bikers racing. When you were growing up, your father and mother noticed your passion for bikers and motorcycles.

"Guys look! Doesn't it look amazing?!"

You pointed at your... barely motorcycle drawing as your parents praise you for it, as they thought that you'll be a successful architect someday. But they thought wrong. You wanted to be a successful biker one day just like what you see in the television that you always watch.

One night when your mother was asleep, your father took you out to a motor show that occurs once a year where different types of motorcycles are displayed, while others raced. You were ofcourse fascinated and amused by their glowing motorcycles with different designs.

Decades went by, you're now living alone in your own apartment working at a nearby café shop with a decent salary and you're still into motorcycles. Thinking about the time where your father took you into a motor show.

After a long shift, you decided to go to a motor show where your father took you decades ago still wearing your cafe uniform. And there were cameras everywhere knowing that it's probably getting broadcased. While watching, you noticed a familiar guy racing with other bikers. Once the race was done, he took off his helmet and you noticed that it was Ezra. The guy that you have a crush on when you were still a kid, but damn. He still fine as fuck.

With that, he started approaching his fans. Giving them autographs as you panicked and didn't have anything aside from your phone, once he reached you. He looked confused, not knowing where to place his autograph.

"... Where am I supposed to autograph?"