Okay but imagine it.
Person A of you OTP is a struggling author. Person B is an artist. They’ve both gone into the same coffee shop every morning for the past two years, both right at 7 a.m opening, but they’ve never spoken.
One day, Person A gets inspiration, so they start writing about Person B. Not anything serious, because they don’t know anything serious. They don’t even know Person B’s name. But they write it from an outsiders point of view, struggling to understand this person without ever having met them.
It turns out, there’s a lot about Person B that Person A never noticed.
Their charcoal smudged hands, their devastatingly beautiful eyes, the fact that they always get hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon, the way their tongue pokes out of the corner of their mouth when they draw.
After an entire novels worth of writing and weeks of watching and analyzing, Person A gets up the courage to ask Person B their name- they know practically everything else, why not?
Only, Person B gets up just as Person A walks over and they crash into each other. Person A gets coffee down their front while Person B’s sketchbook papers scatter on the floor.
All the papers are drawings of Person A.