Nostalgia 𖹭 Joost Klein x Reader

𖹭 three 𖹭

why is he on your mind so much?

𖹭 𖹭 𖹭

First Person POV: 

I shoved my hands into the pockets of my sweater, my fingers instinctively curling into the soft fabric as a chill breeze swept down the quiet street. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of autumn leaves and the faint tang of the nearby water. The street was deserted, just a few scattered streetlights casting pools of dim yellow light on the cobblestone pavement. It was the kind of night that felt suspended in time, where everything seemed to slow down, giving way to quiet reflection.

I walked aimlessly, letting my feet guide me as I took in the unfamiliar surroundings. The town had a sleepy charm to it, the kind of place that felt untouched by the frantic pace of the world outside. I turned down a narrow path that led away from the main road, drawn by the sound of gentle waves lapping against something solid. As I rounded the corner, I saw it—a small dock jutting out into the water, framed by the silhouettes of swaying reeds.

The dock was old, the wood weathered and rough underfoot as I stepped onto it, each board creaking softly in protest. It stretched out into the water, just far enough from the shore that I felt like I was floating in the middle of the lake. I made my way to the edge and sat down, dangling my feet over the side. The water below was dark and still, reflecting the faint glow of the moon that peeked out from behind a thin layer of clouds.

For a moment, I just sat there, listening to the rhythmic sound of the water gently brushing against the dock. The peace of the night settled around me like a comforting blanket, the earlier frustrations with the hotel fading away. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, hesitating for just a second before unlocking it. My fingers hovered over the screen, almost automatically opening Instagram.

Joost's profile was still up, just as I'd left it earlier. I found myself staring at his latest post, a candid shot from one of his recent concerts. The stage lights bathed him in a warm glow, his face partially obscured by the microphone, eyes closed in concentration. He looked so different from the boy I remembered—confident, magnetic, someone who had found his place in the world. Yet, in the curve of his smile and the intense focus in his eyes, I could still see traces of the quiet kid who once sat next to me at lunch.

I scrolled through his feed, each picture a window into the life he was living now. Photos of him in the studio, laughing with friends, performing in front of crowds—he seemed so far removed from the small, silent world we once shared. My thumb hovered over the screen as I contemplated what I was really doing here. Was I crazy for thinking I could reconnect with someone who had clearly moved on, become someone entirely different?

But then I thought about the way his music had resonated with me, how even now, through the screen, I felt that same connection, that same quiet understanding. It was a long shot, but part of me believed that maybe, just maybe, he might remember me too.

I sighed, leaning back on my hands and letting my head fall back to gaze up at the sky. The stars were faint, scattered across the inky darkness, and I felt a strange mix of hope and doubt swirling inside me. What was I expecting from this? A reunion? An acknowledgment? Or was I simply chasing the ghost of a memory, hoping to find some closure for something that had never really begun?

I shook my head, pushing the thoughts aside. The cool night air nipped at my cheeks, reminding me that time was passing, that tomorrow was coming whether I was ready or not. I slipped my phone back into my pocket, the image of Joost still lingering in my mind as I stared out over the water. Whatever happened, I knew I couldn't turn back now. I'd come this far, and there was no use in retreating. All I could do was take it one step at a time, starting with the festival tomorrow.