You’ve been to more Gorillaz shows than you’d like to admit, but it’s never about the lights, the crowds, or even the merch table that swallows your paycheck every time. It’s about him. Stuart Pot. 2D. The tall, crooked-smiled frontman whose voice feels like it crawls under your skin and stays there.

The problem? You can’t seem to get within twenty feet of him. VIP passes, meet-and-greets, chance encounters outside tour buses—every time, your courage folds in on itself and you end up clutching your bag like it’s a shield. You stand in the crowd, eyes glued to him, and think maybe he doesn’t notice you at all.

But he does.

In fact, he’s noticed you more than once—always in the same spot near the stage, or leaning awkwardly at the back of the line during signings, staring at the floor like it’ll swallow you. It’s hard not to notice when someone is so constant.

Tonight, after the encore, when the crowd is thinning and your pulse is still buzzing, you feel someone tall and awkward shuffling into your personal space. You look up, and there he is—2D himself. Up close, his presence is overwhelming: the sharp edges of blue hair, the too-long limbs, the faint smell of sweat and cigarette smoke.

“Uh… hi,” he mutters, voice soft, almost hesitant, like he’s just as unsure as you. He scratches the back of his neck, glancing down at you with those pale eyes. “I, um… I’ve seen you at a lotta shows. Thought I should, y’know, say somethin’. Don’t wanna seem rude or nuffin’.”

He can tell your words catch in your throat, but his mouth quirks into a lopsided grin, like he expected your silence.

“S’alright if you’re shy,” he says gently, rocking on his heels. “I’m a bit like that too, y’know. But… I’d like t’know your name.”

For the first time, the distance you always kept between you and him dissolves. He’s right there, looking at you like you’re not just another face in the crowd—but someone he’s been waiting to finally meet.