My Name is Mikolas Josef

Chapter 1

Last night was just like any other Friday night as part of a fandom. Going onto Wattpad, checking up on your favourite book, and settling down with a bag of popcorn to read. In the morning, it's always the same feeling of regret of being up so long, but no regret for reading the end of the book. With a loud groan, you lift your head and look around the room.
"Man, that was a wild night." you mutter, looking at all the bags of food scattered on the floor. You turn on your phone and check for any possible posts from anyone on Instagram. Then you see Mikolas' face on the story icon, having posted 3 hours ago.

"Hey guys, I just wanted to say that I am flying out to Y/C today and err.." he looks up from his phone's camera, then smiles down again, "I will be trying to see some of you guys in my spare time so I'll see you there!"
He poses with a wide grin, showing the peace sign at the camera. Your heart almost stops. Miki near where you live??

You take another look. He's definitely going to Y/C. Flying out today. It sinks in.
"Holy pickles" you mutter, a smile tugging at your lips, "Miki might see me." Mikolas Josef. The guy who absolutely slayed his performance at Eurovision. The singer you've been listening to on repeat on your way to work every day. But no, you think to yourself, it can't end up like a cheesy Wattpad movie where it's 'summer love' and everything goes perfectly. Books are books, and never a reality. With a sigh, you get up and out of bed, and over to the wardrobe. You put on the usual leather jacket, white tank top and ripped jeans then shuffle out of the bedroom door.

The kitchen was a tip. Boxes of cereal tipped over on the counter, crumbs on the floor and socks lay on the island seats.
"Someone had a party" you snicker, sniffing one of the socks. Ben, your immature friend, obviously had some other guy round. He certainly didn't have a clean sock in his whole wardrobe. Always hooking up with some new guy and giving the old (and certainly weird line) of:
"Oh the stools are broken, sit up there, I'll just be a second" somehow flirting with the guy, then getting up there and... Busy. You don't know how on earth this works, but it does, and you need advice from him. Chewing a breakfast bar from the cupboard, you lean against the kitchen island and check up on your Instagram one more time. You hear a door open and look up to see a guy you've never seen before exit a bedroom.
"Had fun?" You ask, barely looking up again. You feel the awkwardness radiating off of him as he mutters something.
"Sorry, I just- I didn't know he had a... Sister?"
"Friend," you shoot back,"But sure. You wanna use a sticky note and put your number on the side as usual?"
That's how it's always worked. They leave the room, write their name and number on a piece of paper, and never seem to get a call back.
"Hope to see you soon!" He says, meekly, then exits the room.

9:05, at work. Working at a cinema isn't the most exciting. You're just waiting for when your sister comes back home and can pay for the apartment rent for a month.
"Excuse me, one child to see..." You glance up from your nails and look at the teenager standing there with such confidence it's pathetic.
"What seat?" You ask, trying to sound in the slightest bit interested. Just another customer. Not even listening to their answer, you take out your phone and see a text from your sister.
'Just landed. Meet me + my colleague in airport soon. C u l8r!'
"What kinda bitch does that?" You groan, then realise the customer is staring at you. They look old enough to know that you swore, but young enough to somehow be personally offended. In attempt to make it better, you give them free popcorn for the film before going over to the manager to sign out.
"You what?" He says, not seeming interested in the slightest.
"Look, my sister needs a lift from the airport and I really have to take her, and-"
"But what about your work?" He looks you straight in the eye, glaring.
"Well, there's still other people to work, I'm not the only one capable of serving strangers popcorn." You try to avoid too much eye contact as you speak.
"This is your last chance, Y/N. Make it count." He slides over the clipboard with sign out. Old fashioned, you think, that's useful. You thank him, then go out back to your car.

The road is full of traffic. Trying to get anywhere around 9am is a nightmare anyway, let alone near an airport. You check your phone again.
'Going thru security now. May b bit late' reads the latest text from Elena. You roll your eyes, before opening your music folder. Connecting your phone to your car, you select Me Gusta to play for about the 500th time and sigh. This'll be a long trip, you think.

"Medium creme based caramel frappuccino." You say, handing over your Starbucks card. Turns out Elena, your sister, was held up somewhere in security, and with her workmate going on their phone so much she had to wait for them to look up to walk round a corner. You have time to spare to get a Starbucks. Once you leave, you see a swarm of people leaving the terminal. One tourist after another,  with an occasional person arriving from a holiday. Then appears your sister. Swishing her curled hair to untangle her sunglasses from them, she then turns to face you. Her eyes have a fake shine as she smiles at you.
"Y/N!! Good to see you!!" She pulls you into a hug, being careful not to chip her acrylics, "How have you been?"
She doesn't give you a chance to say anything before she continues.
"Look, M's on their way over, so can we wait? Oh how nice of you to get me my favourite drink! But is it ok that I'll give to M?" She grabs your drink and stares at it for a while, then keeps talking, "They were held up in there. Some people said they recognised him! I mean, what are the chances?"
You shrug, now annoyed that your drink was taken away from you. Then Elena gasps.
"Oh my god, they did collect a crowd!" She hands you the drink back and, eyes firmly planted in one spot, lunges into the swarm of screaming girls.
Your heart stops.
Emerging from the crowd with your sister by his side, comes the one. The only. Mikolas Josef.