Ramen, nori, rice, salmon, green tea, tofu, plum wine, Coke, chocolate, soy sauce, chilli sauce, fish sauce…fish sauce. I scrolled down my grocery list on my iPhone, knowing there was something I had forgotten – namely, fish sauce. I was going to attempt to make wok-fried chilli-bean cod tonight, and fish sauce was a vital ingredient. Slowly, dressed in my sweats, slippers and comfiest hoodie (its Sunday, I have an excuse), I found my way back to the aisle where I might find said fish sauce, and found the product I was looking for. I swivelled this time in the direction of the checkouts, and almost stopped dead in my tracks, going slightly slack-jawed. No more than ten feet ahead of me, stood a well-known celebrity, famed throughout Japan.

There could be no mistaking the wispy crown of platinum blonde hair, creamy tanned skin and tall, muscular physique. He stood out amongst the many other shorter, scrawnier Japanese men in the aisle, I noticed, and towered above the women. It had been a while since I'd seen him, and frankly I thought he had gone underground some years ago since the scandal that had broken out and brought his career to an abrupt end; so, naturally, I was surprised to see him.

Malik Ishtar – or simply Malik, as he had come to be known as – turned his head in my direction, and I felt my heart compress. I hadn't seen him in the flesh since high school, almost five years ago, now. He had always been popular at Domino High, excelling in everything, but his passion was for the arts. He had had an unreal talent for singing and playing the piano, and was perhaps the most unbelievable and beautiful dancer I had ever seen perform. He frequently appeared in the press, performing in theatre productions around Japan and even in some music videos for J-Pop superstars and hip hop artists from the west. The Japanese Ballet Company begged time and again to have him on their set, but he'd declined.

He had gone from strength to strength, and before the final year of school was out, he had signed a record deal. From then on, he'd exploded onto screens with catchy pop and hip-hop beats, belting out melodramatic ballads, breaking teen girls' hearts the world over. Being that he was Egyptian, he became a sensation in the Middle East, as well as the Far East. The songs he wrote spoke to the female agenda, mostly, singing about such hot topics as sex, love, eloping, and the like. When interviewed, Malik had spoken of his idols being among Michael Jackson, Usher and Chris Brown, and as such likened his own music and moves to theirs.

His rise to fame had included a controversial, on-off relationship with a female J-pop star known, also, simply as Yumi. Yumi was more or less the female equivalent to Malik, and so they gelled, but the relationship was also volatile, if tabloid fodder was anything to go by. She was like the Japanese version of Paris Hilton, with a string of broken engagements and affairs in her past as long as the Great Wall. She, too, was idolised, and desired by the majority of the young male Japanese population. They were the golden couple of the nation – until that fateful image made it to the media.

Yumi had been on tour in the United States at the time, when Malik had apparently become caught up in a three-day bender with other pop-stars that began at an awards after-party, including the usage of alcohol – far too much of it – cocaine, strippers – and boys. A photo of Malik getting hot and heavy with an unknown young man of around the same age had appeared on a social networking site and spread like wildfire around the internet thereafter. Several other images of the binge had surfaced, including the star snorting lines and posing provocatively amongst a pile of scantily-clad women.

Needless to say, the images didn't go down well with the public, his recording label, or – most of all – Yumi. His fall from grace had been spectacular, but Yumi's popularity had subsequently skyrocketed. She'd been the subject of pity for months afterward, and Malik's name had more or less become a dirty word. He went underground for a long time – some say he went back to Egypt to go into hiding for a while. Eventually the public forgot about the scandal, and it seemed he knew better than to try to make a comeback. His life as he had known it was over.

I stood, slightly taken aback, and absurdly surprised that I was standing agog in the middle of a supermarket aisle with this former pop-star when everyone else seemed to be turning a blind eye. Or just didn't know who he was, anymore. Malik's career had crashed and burned almost two years ago, now. I shivered when our eyes connected; he had the most stunning lilac eyes – one of the most striking features about him. I wondered if he would remember who I was; we had been in a few classes together at school, and had spoken on numerous occasions at social events like dances or movie nights with friends. It had never been anything more than that, though. We had only been acquaintances.

He lifted one hand in a greeting gesture and gave me a little smile. My heart rate quickened as I returned the motion. My legs automatically took up pace in his direction.

"I know you from somewhere, don't I?" his voice was still smooth, unmarred, like liquid gold.

I swallowed. "School."

"Of course. Sable, right?"

I nodded, and involuntarily burnt up a little. Damn my nonconformist, hippy family and their ideas about names. "It's been…quite a while, Malik."

"Since what?" his brows knit together.

"Since we've seen each other…" I trailed off, suddenly realising that he thought I was talking about his career.

Recognition came to his face. "Oh! Right, yes, you're right about that. High school…wow. Long time ago." He chuckled a little.

"I…I didn't know you were still in Japan," I charged on, seeing he was probably a little embarrassed.

"I came back just a few months ago." He said. "And as you can see, no one knows who I am, anymore, really." There was slight chagrin to his tone as he gestured to the oblivious passersby in the supermarket.

I felt slightly awkward. "Do you want to maybe, grab a coffee, or something?"

His brows relaxed. "Sure. That'd be nice."

Author's note: This is kind of just an intro. I don't know really where this idea came from, but somehow Malik tends to make a good celebrity in my mind. He just seems to possess the traits and qualities for superstardom, even though this story centres around his life after his career. Hope you enjoyed this – I may post more if I get good feedback. ^^