Marc Marquez Imagines

Fate?

question : should I publish back the MotoGP Imagines book?

Y/N's POV

Silence.

I hear nothing.

Nothing when I woke up from some bed. I jolt up, looking at my surroundings; blue coloured wall, along with trophies on white shelves, a table and a closet and two doors.

I couldn't remember anything from last night. Was I drunk? If I was, how much did I drink? Who brought me here? Whose room is this?

Instead of getting out from the bed and go away, I stayed in my position, thinking of what happened. I wasn't naked or anything, well thank God for that.

Around three minutes later, the bedroom door got swung opened; revealing a guy. He had a bowl of cereals on both of his hands. He looks at me with his eyes widened.

"Oh, you're awake." He says before placing the bowl onto a nearby table. "I know, you're wondering who I am. But I can assure you that I did no harm, I just wanted you to be safe."

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Marc." He tells me.

"How did I get here?" I asked another question.

"You want the long, or short version of the story?" He asks before he pulled out a chair and sat on it.

"Anything."

"Well, um, okay. First of all, I noticed you at a club last night, I mean, who wouldn't? You looked beautiful, and all guys were looking at you honestly." He says first. "But then you drank a lot, I meant a lot. You were tipsy, saying random things to random people. The last person that you talked to was me."

"And yeah, you talked and talked, but I didn't mind. You seemed like you didn't have a friend with you, because no one was beside you. It was only us." He continued, "But then you got unconscious. And I've seen movies about this before, guys would always take advantages from girls when they're drunk. And I didn't want to leave you alone. So yeah, I brought you back to my place."

"I don't think that this is my shirt," I pointed out. "Didn't I wear a dress last night?"

"Yes, you did. Don't worry, my mom helped you out last night. She's the one who changed your clothes." He says while smiling.

He stood up and picked up the cereal back onto his hands, then gives it to me.

"Thank you." I thanked him.

"No problem. I don't know if this is your favourite cereal, but this is the only one that's left."

"No, no, no. I was thanking you about what happened last night. I'm really thankful," I said, giving him a small smile.

"No problem," He chuckles. "Oh, your phone is over there, I charged it for you." He pointed onto the table.

"You didn't tell me your name though," he blushed. "And why you were at a club, alone."

"It's Y/N." I grinned. "Didn't I tell you when I was drunk, you know, when I talked and talked?"

"You didn't."

"Then what did I talked about?" I asked as I took a spoonful of the cereal as I shoved it into my mouth.

"Mostly about a boy, I think he's an actor, and a singer." He grins. "You couldn't stop blabbering about him, I couldn't help but feel jealous. How does he look like anyway?"

"That doesn't matter anymore. Um, what time is it?" I asked.

He pulled out his phone and looked at the time. I took a quick glance at it. 7:47am.

"Oh, wow. It's still early." I mumbled. Honestly, I would go back to sleep. But since this isn't my house, nor my bed, I keep myself awake.

"Do you want to go home?" He asks nicely, smiling at me.

"Yeah, I do." I said honestly.

"Okay, well, you can freshen up if you want to. You can shower and do whatever you want, as long as you feel fresh and all." He says before standing up. "I'll get you a towel."

And with that, he went back outside. I smiled to myself, thinking of how nice he was. He ever lend me a towel, and also a shirt.

I decided that I should look around his room. I examine the trophy, it was golden and shiny, and it looks new. It was an ugly trophy though, but it probably means a lot. I continued to look at the other trophies, until I heard a cough from behind.

"Yeah, um, I got those from two years ago," He says, now standing beside me.

I nod as I continued to look at it. The title then says MotoGP. My eyes widened instantly at the sight of it. I remembered watching MotoGP the other day with my dad, and the guy that was beside me was - is - the previous world champion and he won that race.

"You- You're Marc Marquez." I gasped as I turned to him, my mouth widened.

"You know me? And yes, I'm Marc Marquez." He chuckles as he gave me a wink.

"Oh my God. I used to be a fan. How can I not remember who you were? I'm so stupid!" I groaned, then chuckle nervously.

"Used to? What happened?" He asks, quirking an eyebrow.

"I can't tell you. It's embarrassing." I chuckle nervously again.

"Promise me that you won't get weirded by me?" I sighed, then he nodded in response.

"Well, uh, I really thought if I met you or something, you would think that I'm pretty, and uh - maybe have a chance with me." I stuttered, feeling uncomfortable telling him that.

"Chance with you? What do you mean?" He asked, tilting his head to the side.

"Like the boyfriend-girlfriend thing. I know, it sounds stupid. But then I realised that I was stupid and I would never meet you. So eventually I stopped being a fan."

He thinks for a while, looking somewhere else. What have I done? I made him all weirded on me now.

"I-I'm sorry. I should've not said anything." I quickly apologise.

"No, don't apologise. I just- Really? Does a lot of girls think of that? Like they want a relationship?" He asks, now looking at me, his brows raised but smiled widely.

"Crazy fans only, I guess." (me tbh)

"Is it okay for me to tell you that I may have fell in love with you? Even though I just met you last night that you didn't remember?" He smiled widely, biting his lower lip.

"Is this what I think it is?" I blushed.

"Fate. It's fate." He answered me, still smiling at me.

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