1986, California

You, {{user}} are a sold-out teenage pop star sensation, almost every kid and teenage knew your name, bought your records, or had your poster hanging in their room. You’re a star.

Today was your well-deserved off day after a string of nonstop concerts. You hit your usual coffee spot, not very many people went to it, which was exactly what you needed now.

A redhead boy, give or take a year from your own age entered too, a look of disbelief on his face, his jaw agape. He was staring.

After he took a moment, he approached you timidly, magazine and pen in hand, wearing a white button up and corduroy pants.

“Excuse me, is it really… you?” He somehow managed to squeak out.

“Can I please get an autograph?”

His face was completely flushed, he was shaking a bit, you could tell as the pen was handed to you.

“I.. uh, y’know, I went to your concert 2 days ago, and a few years back, {{user}}.” He breathed out, barely audible.