8. The Real Conversation

We moved to the kitchen, where Yuki opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water, offering it to me. I accepted it gratefully, my nerves starting to settle. It felt like we were no longer two strangers in a bizarre situation but just two people, sharing a quiet moment.

“You sure you don’t want anything else? I’ve got some snacks,” Yuki said, gesturing to a shelf stocked with neatly organized food.

I shook my head. “Water’s fine. Thanks.”

He smiled, then took a seat at the small kitchen island, facing me. I noticed how his posture was less tense now, like the weight of the paparazzi and his idol persona had momentarily disappeared.

“So,” Yuki said, casually leaning forward, “tell me about you. I feel like I don’t know anything about you, other than your name and the fact that you might be a fan of mine.” He smirked, clearly teasing.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “A fan? That’s an understatement,” I said, setting my water down. “I mean, I might’ve had a poster of you on my wall when I was younger…”

Yuki raised an eyebrow. “Really? I didn’t think I was that cool when I was younger.”

I grinned. “You were very cool. You were, like, the poster guy.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I guess I’ve always had that effect on people.”

We sat there for a moment, the ease between us growing as we talked. I found myself telling him more than I expected—about school, my love for photography, my family, and even the awkwardness I felt meeting him tonight.

I expected him to brush some of it off or to only ask questions about his music career, but instead, Yuki listened intently. He didn’t interrupt. He didn’t seem like he was just being polite; it felt genuine.

“Photography, huh?” he asked, leaning back against the counter. “That’s awesome. What do you like to photograph?”

I felt a little shy, but I answered anyway. “Anything, really. I love capturing moments—things people don’t notice. A person laughing, the way the light hits a building at sunset, random things like that.”

Yuki’s eyes softened, and he nodded. “I get that. It’s like freezing time. You can capture a feeling in a single shot. I think I’d like to see the world through a photographer’s eyes.”

I smiled. “Maybe one day I’ll show you some of my work.”

Yuki seemed to think about that for a second. “I’d like that. I think you’ve got an interesting perspective.”

The way he said it—without the usual celebrity distance—made me feel seen in a way I hadn’t expected. For a moment, it wasn’t just Yuki Hayashi, the idol. It was just him, a guy who could appreciate something as simple as a photograph.

We spent the next few hours talking about everything and nothing. It was easy. Like we were two friends catching up after a long time apart. And somewhere along the way, I forgot I was sitting in the apartment of one of the most famous idols in Japan. I forgot about the cameras, the fans, and the chaos of his life. It didn’t matter anymore.

At some point, Yuki leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning my face with a quiet curiosity. “You know, I’ve met a lot of people. But you’re different.”

I raised an eyebrow, unsure how to respond. “Different? How?”

He shrugged slightly, looking down at his hands for a moment before meeting my gaze again. “Most people, they treat me like I’m untouchable. Like I’m this image they’ve built up in their heads. But you don’t do that. You see me. Like, actually see me.”

I felt a warmth spread through my chest. It was a compliment, but it wasn’t just about me seeing him as a person—it was also about him seeing me. Seeing me beyond the nervous girl who had stumbled into his world. It was real, raw, and it felt... nice.

“Well, you are real,” I said, feeling braver than before. “I’m not going to pretend I know what it’s like to be in your shoes. But I know you’re more than just the guy on the stage, and I think you deserve that, you know? To be seen for who you are.”

Yuki’s smile widened, and for a moment, there was a softness in his eyes that I couldn’t quite place. It was the kind of look that felt like he was thinking about something deeper, something only he could understand.

“Thanks, Hina,” he said quietly. “That means a lot.”

We sat in comfortable silence for a while, the night stretching on. The city’s hum seemed so far away now, and for once, I didn’t feel out of place. I felt like I belonged.

At some point, I glanced at the clock and realized it was nearly 3 a.m. My eyes were starting to feel heavy, and the exhaustion from the earlier excitement was catching up to me.

“Hey,” I said, rubbing my eyes. “I should probably head home soon. I don’t even know if my parents know where I am.”

Yuki looked at me, his expression thoughtful. “I’ll call a car for you. Don’t worry about it.”

He stood up and grabbed his phone, texting someone quickly. I felt a bit guilty for making him go through all this trouble, but he didn’t seem to mind. If anything, he looked relieved.

“Thanks,” I said, standing up and stretching. “I really appreciate it.”

Yuki nodded, walking over to me. “It’s the least I can do. You’ve been... great tonight. I’ve enjoyed spending time with you.”

My heart fluttered a little. “Me too.”

Before I could say anything else, the doorbell rang, and Yuki gestured for me to follow him. We walked downstairs to the entrance, where a sleek black car was waiting outside.

He opened the door for me, and I hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of the night on my shoulders. “Yuki... thank you. For everything. I didn’t expect tonight to turn out like this.”

Yuki smiled softly, his eyes warm. “Neither did I. But I’m glad it did.”

As I slid into the car and the door closed behind me, I took one last look at his apartment building. The night felt like a dream—a strange, wonderful, and unforgettable dream.

And as the car drove away, I realized that this might be the beginning of something I hadn’t even dared to imagine.

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