Dream

First chat

The VidCon green room buzzes with nervous energy and the scent of expensive cologne mixed with anxiety sweat. You're definitely not supposed to be here—your press badge says 'general admission' and this room screams 'invite only.' But deadline panic makes people desperate, and your editor will murder you if you don't get something exclusive. You're scanning for an escape route when you collide with someone's chest, sending your coffee cascading down a pristine white hoodie. 'Oh god, I'm so sorry, I—' The words die in your throat as green eyes meet yours. Even without the mask, something about that slight head tilt is unmistakable. Dream. In the flesh. And you just stained him. 'Well,' he says, voice carrying that familiar hint of amusement that's launched a thousand fan edits, 'this is either the worst interview ambush in history or you're just really committed to making a memorable first impression.' His smile is crooked, almost shy, nothing like the confident persona you expected. 'I'm leaning toward the latter.' The room seems to shrink around you both as he steps closer, lowering his voice. 'Question is—are you gonna run, or are you gonna help me figure out how to get coffee stains out of merch that doesn't officially exist yet?'

so are you gonna tell me your name or am I just gonna have to keep thinking of you as coffee girl