Crack.

The walrus’s head snapped sideways as the sound of knuckles against bone and blubber resonated through the alley. Blood splattered onto the wall as the drunk flailed against it, barely staying upright. The shadow of a man filled my sight, and with a second fist, he sent the walrus to the ground with a hefty slam. The walrus rolled onto his back, holding his face with both hands, groaning and swearing.

“Pathetic.” The shadow growled as he towered over his victim.

I pulled in a sharp, audible breath.

Dark tousled hair touched his shoulders, shifting in the humidity. He turned, bringing his eyes to mine.

Kosmo Night.

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD

The moonlight brushed his features in pale light.

His eyes fierce, and his chiseled jaw clenched with stiff masseter muscles. He had a scar on his left eye that traced down to his high cheekbones. I always wondered how he got it. Even without a smile, his dimples were visible. His face sharp and commanding. He stood tall—6’3 to be exact. I know that from an interview. I have them all saved on my phone, ten minutes each.

Anxiety burst through me. I needed to say something—to thank him, to laugh this off and play it cool—but my throat was dry; a lump was stuck in there almost making me gag. All I could do was look at him and stare into those piercing, yellow eyes. They were so vibrant in real life. So intense. So—

I fell to my knees, a wet cough caught in my throat. I threw up onto the pavement, my innards splattering on the pavement. My ears pounded. I stared at my mess; my heart racing. I swallowed as bile threatened to rise again.

Kosmo crouched down next to me.

“Hey… everything’s okay now.” He stared at me; hands draped over his knees.

I brushed away tears, then looked at him. His black tufted tail twitched in the air, the strands slightly matted. He said in an interview once that he hates when his tail touches the ground, so he keeps it raised. His mane was messy, like usual. I always wondered if it would feel soft to the touch, or course? He grinned slightly.

Oh God I’ve been starring at him. I must look like a fool.

“… I-I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” 

Oh God, I do because—

“… I ruined your boots.”

“I don’t care about these.”

He isn’t mad?

“You… shouldn’t be in this alley.” He added.

I swept my sleeve across my mouth. “I know, I know. Uh—I just needed to get these pins to you…”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“To me?” One brow lifted. “And how do you know who I am?”

Fuck.

“Oh I-I just had a feeling.” I blurted too loud. “You know. You look like a… a Kosmo.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, strong… uh, space energy.”

“Space …energy?”

“Yeah!”

“… Hmm.”

“I’m not like a stalker or anything.”

“Course not.”

“I-it was just a lucky guess.” I popped a convincing smile.

This was just my luck. I’m face to face with my favorite porn star, and I look like absolute shit. And the cherry on top, I have vomit breath! Oh God, he must think I’m disgusting. And this smell… I stared down at my vomit.

Shit, his boots!

I reached into my pocket grabbing the leftover paint rag I stuffed in there earlier.

“C-can I wipe off your shoe?”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“P-please?”

He went quiet. I reached down and began to wipe my mess away feeling the hardness of his boot beneath the fabric. At least I didn’t eat much.

I finished, and he said, “For a stalker, you’re really nice.”

“I’m not a stalker!”

He stood up, “Just a fan?”

“I’m not a fan—a fan of what?” I pushed myself off the ground, my knees shaking with adrenaline. I debated if I should drop the act but the thought made me die inside. Hey, I’ve seen your massive dick, and I like watching you fuck. Can I have your autograph?—GOD I’m SUCH a creep. I’m going to hell. My whole family is going to hell.

“Hm.”

His height rivaled my 5’7 frame. I brought my attention to the box on the ground.

“It’s the space energy.” I bent, lifting up the box.

Great cover Sai, I’m sure he’s buying it. Fuck, is he buying it?

“Uh-huuuhh… Why don’t ya let me take that box?”

“S-sure.”

Last night he was on my phone screen, and now he’s in front of me?

I had watched a thirst trap of him on my phone. The lighting was a dim red. He was visible from the ribs up, shirtless and eye-fucking the camera. His right peck shifted as he rhythmically moved his arm. Now he’s here, tall, dark, and handsome—with wild eyes that could will me into anything—am I dreaming?

“So, can I look inside Miss-I’m-Not-A-Fan?”

I nodded.

He reached in, pulling out a pin. He turned it around in his finger tips, examining it. “Nice to see our logo like this.”

A sheepish grin fell on my lips. Praise from Kosmo Night? I AM dreaming!

“Thanks for doing these. I’m surprised anyone took the job.” He placed the pin back.

“Oh—it was no biggie.” Not like I had broken a nail, crushed a few fingers and spent my dwindling money on a button maker for the chance of it being you.

Was it worth it?

FUCK YES.

“Well, let’s get to the bar so I can pay ya. No signal here.”

Right, money.

I glanced over at the drunk. His half-covered belly bloated with air every few seconds as he breathed. I debated calling the cops, but dragging this out gave me anxiety, and if my parents found out they would force me to come back home. I just wanted to move on and forget. Like I always do.

“Want me to kick him?” Kosmo had his eyes fixed on the walrus.

“N-no, no. It’s okay. He’s not worth it.” I let out a breath then turned toward the dim-lit road ahead; Kosmo followed behind me.