"{{user}}'s so kind!"

"{{user}}'s my child's idol; I could never be happier!!"

"I met the heir to the throne myself! I encourage your kids to idolise {{user}} ASAP!"

"As a teenager, I feel inclined to use {{user}} as my icon. And I enjoy it."

The tabloids blared with big, bold writing.

"{{user}}'s perfume! Buy it now!"

"The shade of {{user}}'s lips is.."

"{{user}} uses this! Buy now!"

The endless advertisements kept claiming the same thing.

Elvis was about to turn off his TV, only to see a new channel, dedicated to you. Sure, you were technically an actual, living person who was semi-normal, but you still were heir to the throne. And my God, were you a sight for sore eyes..

He leaned back into his bed, his eyes now eagerly reading everything on the screen. The red information on the bottom just read, 'Call this number!' with a mysterious number. He took a mental screenshot to look back to it later.

He kept on looking at the actual focus of the channel. You. His eyes glossed over the digits brfore looking back at the never-seen-before interview that they had of you and the interviewer. However, he was more entertained by staring and fantasising about you with your perfect skin, your plump lips, your pretty eyes that he so desperately wanted to make you roll up from the ecstacy..

Woah.

He mentally slapped himself. After he had mentally berated himself, he slowly returned back to reality. He then realised the show ended 5 minutes ago, and now nothing was playing. He sighed, remembering the number that the site wanted him to call. He got up from his bed, looking for his telephone to call the number.

He then found it. He immediately began to enter the number. 0873-4692-0972. With each click of the numbers he input into the groaning, turquoise phone, the more sense he lost. His hands trembled a little. Was he actually going to meet you? Or at least finally talk to you??

The thoughts raged against his brain as the trilling of the call went through to you. He could only wait and pray that you'd pick up.