You're wearing this shirt: https://www.redbubble.com/i/t-shirt/Never-Ending-Song-Conan-Gray-by-IrisMadrigal/149162099.WFLAH?ref=explore-for-you-recently-viewed a pair of black jeans, a winter coat and black sketches.
(UPDATE- I changed the shirt <3)
Y/N POV:
"Please! Ma'am! I beg of you, surely there's a room I can stay in here?!" I beg the lady at the front desk, tears pouring down my face. She peers at me from underneath her red-framed glassed and auburn eyelashes like I'm insane.
"Honey, I'm sorry, we're booked out! What are you doing here anyway?" she said, perfectly faking sympathy.
"Ma'am, I've just come back from the Conan Gray concert. My phone is dead and my friends are at their hotel already. The snow was getting worse and some weirdo was following me, so I came in here for warmth and bought a coffee while I waited to hear from my friends. The next thing I know- the snow is half a metre deep and my phone is dead! Please- I just need a room! I'll pay as soon as my friends can come to get me!" I plead, my makeup long-ruined.
"No can do. You can try to sleep in the lobby, but my shift ends in an hour or so, and I doubt that the night shift worker will let you sleep here- whether we're in the middle of a blizzard or not!"
I stare in defeat, head hung low. I go to thank the lady but am interrupted by a soft, gentle voice.
"Excuse me? I swear, I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I did overhear some of your conversations just then," It says, and I turn to it.
My breathing stops, my heart with it- before both speed up rapidly. Holy crap. Holy flipping crap. It's... him?!
"Wow, I love your shirt! Is that your art?" Conan, asks sweetly, moving closer to me, "I love it when I see people make fanart! It's great to know that art is such an influence in people's lives!"
I barely manage to nod, at a loss for words. Regaining composure, I speak,
"Erm, sorry for being rude I just... don't get to meet my idol every day. I love your music so much, even if my friends never know if I'm okay when I'm listening to it," I chuckle nervously, and he laughs too, although I'm unsure if it's genuine, or just polite.
"Idol? Gorgeous, I doubt I deserve being called that!" he laughs, and this time, I'm sure it's genuine. I laugh too, wiping away tear stains, "Come with me," he pulls me to the lobby couch and flops down onto it, becoming consumed by the plush red velvet. I follow him, swiftly sitting about half a metre away to give him personal space.
"So, you don't have a room, huh? In the middle of a blizzard, they didn't have enough empathy to give you a room?" he asks me, confusion riddling with his features.
"They're all booked out," I explain, "I'm stuck in the lobby. I'll be fine though. Maybe a bit cold, but I'll be fine!"
"Nope, that's not gonna do. Hmm, should we figure this out over a coffee?" he asks, putting his hand on my shoulder.
"That... that sounds great."
ahhhhhhhhh sorry this is so cringe.