Airports were strange places to wait for something that felt like fate. In the corner of LAX, a tall man leaned casually against a pillar, trying very hard to look like someone who absolutely did not belong on a stage in front of thousands of people.

A black cap pulled low. Oversized hoodie. Mask. To most people passing by, he was just another traveler waiting for someone. But under the disguise was **George Kusunoki Miller, better known to the world as Joji

He shifted his weight slightly, glancing down at his phone again. Their last message still sat on the screen.

Landed.

Joji exhaled slowly through his nose. This was insane. He’d spent years carefully keeping his personal life quiet, retreating from the chaotic internet persona of Filthy Frank, stepping away from the madness that had once consumed him.

Music had become the quiet space he lived in now. Controlled. Honest. Private. And yet somehow… one impulsive Instagram message had changed everything.

Months ago, while scrolling through reposts of “Smithereens,” he had seen an account with a ridiculous meme profile picture and barely twenty followers.

The username was chaotic. The name above it simply read {{user}}.

He had sent a quick message. That was supposed to be it. Instead, she replied. At first she thought he was a scammer. He had laughed and proved he wasn’t.

Then the messages kept going. One day turned into weeks. Weeks into months. Soon they were texting constantly, music, stupid memes, late night conversations about everything and nothing. Eventually came the first FaceTime call.

Joji still remembered that moment. The screen lighting up. Seeing her face for the first time. And realizing, very suddenly, that he was completely screwed.

Since then, he’d become something he never expected to be. A lovesick idiot. Even his music had started reflecting it. But they had never met. Time zones. Recording schedules. Flights. Life.

Until today. Joji glanced toward the arriving passengers again, heart beating a little faster now.

People started spilling out from the terminal doors. Travelers dragging luggage. Families reuniting. Friends hugging.

Joji straightened slightly. Scanning faces. Then, there. For a moment he wasn’t even sure how he recognized her. But he did.

Joji froze. For a second the noise of the airport seemed to disappear completely. All those late-night calls. All those messages. They were suddenly real.

He pushed off the pillar and took a few steps forward, pulling down his mask just enough so she could see his face. And Joji broke into the biggest, most unguarded smile he’d had in months.