un perdedor

well there goes his cool and mysterious image.

both hands cup miles’ cheeks (as gently as possible amid his panic, of course) to ensure hyojin’s looking the other dead in the eye when he tells him, “i swear on my life i love you.”

the look of shock on hyojin’s face is most certainly mirrored on miles’ own. all this time, he has existed under the impression that his music is actively despised by ekko — he has been throwing heated glares his way anytime they are placed in a room together. (at least… as heated as he can manage. as annoyed as he is, he still has instagram on quite a few of his playlists. sue him).  

then it is hyojin’s turn to sputter out a few sentences, and miles sees the suave persona fall to pieces right in front of his eyes. it is endearing, truly, watching as the industry’s charmer — who was just throwing out honeyed flirtations — become a mess of hurried affirmations and wide-eyed panic. it makes miles like him even more, though he would rather burn up in the flames of his own embarrassment than admit to these fanboyish affections.

alas, the ball quickly coasts back into miles’ court, and it is his turn to morph into a full wide-eyed panic. there are gentle — and surprisingly warm — hands cupping his cheeks, soft brown eyes locking onto his own. he tries in vain to control the heat rising in his face. that proves to be an impossible feat.

the admission of love is enough to make his heart feel like it’s about to burst out of his chest.

“i believe you!” it comes out much more intense than he intends, but his mind is still playing the words ‘i love you’ on repeat. by some miracle, his gaze remains steady. “….i, uh, just mean that i’ve been a fan of yours for like… forever, honest.” he blesses every god he knows that he manages to find some footing. “but then i… heard that you… hated us…….” his eyes finally fall, as guilt sets into his expression. “i should’ve just talked to you first, man… i’m sorry.”

Send ✄ for a favorite movie of my muse’s.

Send ✚ for one of my muse’s prized possessions.

Send ✿ for a happy memory.

Send ♡ for a friendship headcanon.

Send ♬ for a childhood headcanon.

Send ☼ for a dream headcanon.

Send ♧ for a cooking headcanon.

Send ❧ for a food headcanon.

Send ★ for a talent headcanon.

Send ❀ for a crush my muse has had.

Send △ for a sex headcanon.

Send ➷ for a sports headcanon.

Send ♤ for a ‘dislike’ headcanon.

Send ♆ for something my muse hates.

Send ⊗ for a phobia headcanon.

Send ☾ for a sleep headcanon.

Send ✜ for a fear headcanon.

Send ☠ for a death headcanon.

...

as hyojin compliments the other, his flirty smile naturally tugs at his lips; a constant whenever he was trying to appear cool (bluffing had become just one of his many talents after debut). ergo, with the sole purpose of pushing miles to the brink, hyojin claps the other on the shoulder before leaning in to whisper.

“you’re quite handsome in person.”

suddenly, the anger drops from his expression, swiftly replaced with a mix of confusion and panic. was he mad at the wrong guy? he could’ve sworn the jab had come from ekko — his previous infatuation with the artist made it hard to forget the feeling of pure betrayal — but now here he stood, singing praises of smoke and mirrors’ innovation and asking for a CD. and placing a hand on his shoulder. and offering a whispered compliment that made an unwanted heat bubble up in the pit of his stomach. could he not be allowed to live for one single day?

“but... i thought.... weren’t you.......” his brows furrow, eyes darting anywhere but hyojin’s face as he struggles to close off a single statement. previously lauded composure had flown away with the wind. now he was meandering through his sentences caveman style. he took a beat to relearn the korean language.

“i thought you didn’t like the band?” he finally garners enough courage to look hyojin in the eye, though very clearly uneasy with the contact. “that we always do the same concept?”

“Are you good? I can leave if I… I’m just fucking stupid.”

miles had never been the type to believe in miracles, though he ardently tried to be. life had pelted him with so many lemons that it had begun to feel near impossible to make anything resembling lemonade. his audition for wonder records was one of the first spoonfuls of sugar that the world had offered him, followed by his debut with smoke & mirrors. since then, life had been kinder — sweetened cubes of sugar instead of the usual downpour of sour.

this felt like he’d been hooked up to an IV pumping glucose straight into his bloodstream. it was a miracle if he’d ever seen one.

his heart typically fired at the speed of light under significantly less intense circumstances, but he’d never felt more certain that he was seconds away from meeting an untimely death. there were tender touches to his hair, the light brush of fingertips over his jaw, a calloused thumb tracing over his lips, and his eyes darting to look at anything but yongjun. his ribs rocked in his chest the moment he felt the warm press of lips on his cheek, mouth refusing to open up and say something, anything — body shell-shocked and frozen, mind running two seconds behind, a jumbled mess of a dozen stupid ideas of how to react.

the moment their lips met, his brain fell silent.

even after yongjun pulled away, stumbling up and leaving the sharp bite of cold in his wake, his mind remained empty. he swore he could hear an error sound reverberating in his skull.

and then the buffer faded, brain finally catching up, his eyes blinking out from a vacant stare, legs picking him up off the chilled ground before he even really knew what he was doing.

he didn’t consider how much inebriation would affect his movement — the walk to where yongjun was standing was more like a staggering hobble. he practically fell onto him upon contact, body heavy, arms curling around and pulling him into his chest. the surge of confidence rushing through him at the confirmation that his affections weren’t entirely one-sided, aided by the flow of booze twirling in his bloodstream, led him to pull back, leveling his gaze. the only word he could manage to force out of his mouth was “hey,” which poured out in reassuring stream, hands desperately cupping yongjun’s cheeks. it was as though he’d been put on autopilot — his face was led forward by force, lips crashing against yongjun’s in a sloppy kiss. it landed more near the corner, and he could tell it wasn’t anywhere in the realm of being good, but hell if it didn’t feel fantastic to do after years of aching longing and hastily torn gazes.

with ( @fmmiles​ )

hyojin has never been a paranoid person, but he swears the kid from smoke & mirrors consistently stares at him whenever they’re in the same room. it hasn’t been just once, nor twice, but AT LEAST ten times where he’s caught the other looking at him (and in turn, himself looking at the other). sure, he could be a fan of ekko or even ekko.ism, but hyojin’s pretty sure the guy’s glaring and yeah–definitely not a fan.

confusion floods him as he tries to figure out if it’s even him the other’s glaring at. almost nobody is in the dressing room aside from a few stylists who are too busy with their phones to pay attention to them, so it’d be stupid of him to think otherwise. anyhow, it’s been months of hyojin and miles (if he’s remembering correctly as they’ve never been formally introduced) exchanging glances. or rather, miles glaring and hyojin staring back trying to figure out what the other is playing at. either way, hyojin’s been desperate to talk to the other. usually he wouldn’t give a shit, but miles seems nice and hyojin’s a small fan of smoke & mirrors so the whole ordeal just … doesn’t sit right with him.

he decides to go for it before the window is missed.

“hey,” he calls, ensuring he has miles’ attention before crossing the room, “miles, right?” a grin tugs at his lips as he gives a slight bow to the other in greeting, noting that he’s far more handsome and (annoyingly) buff in person. “i’m park hyojin, or ekko–whichever. i’ve seen you around a lot and i figured i might as well introduce myself?” as he speaks, hyojin unknowingly continues to lean into the other’s space, not used to talking to people he isn’t already comfortable with. “you’re born in ‘94 too, right?”

it’s probably the most basic introduction he could have given, but sue him, he’s testing the waters. he’s just hoping miles responds in a kindly manner and sates his months-long curiosity. hyojin really doesn’t know why he cares as much as he does, deciding to chalk it up to the fact that he doesn’t have many same age friends.

honestly, he’d considered himself a big fan of ekko. 

even from the days where he was simply ekko.ism, miles had diligently kept tabs on his work. what wasn’t to like? hip-hop vibes, electronic beats, smooth vocals — it was only a bonus that the man behind the name was incredibly attractive. 

but even for someone with a tendency to forgive and forget, his opinion went entirely sour with the publishing of a single interview. miles isn’t much bothered with negative comments regarding himself — he’s seen one too many forum posts from high school classmates — but coming across any vitriol thrown in the direction of his members ignites an anger within him that usually remains stagnant under the surface. with a snide comment regarding smoke & mirrors’ music, his view on ekko nosedived into heated glares and purposeful avoidance. 

and now they’re in the same room, everyone else preoccupied but the two of them. he prays to every god he knows that he isn’t approached — despite his anger, he’s still as frightened of real confrontation as ever, settling for a quietly distant irritation. with the initial hey, he knows that the gods have not listened to his desperate plea. 

he offers a half-hearted bow in return, expression sitting firmly between suspicion and nervousness as hyojin presses further into his space. he can’t help but lose a few moments as he takes in all of his features. it only serves to make him angrier. 

“yeah, miles kim.” his arms cross over his chest. he can’t help the momentary swell of pride in his chest at his own level of composure. “i know you.” 

Hence, he naturally placed a hand on Miles’ arm and squeezed it lightly. “I mean, you can talk about Pokemon and make me a billion mixtapes if you want. I’ll listen to them just like I’ll listen to you until the sun rises, babe” Yongjun said with a smile. “You’re pretty cute, you know that? I’m surprised there’s no one linked to your arm yet.”

the chill of the night air was nowhere near enough to quell the burn slowly creeping up miles’ neck. his heart only had a mere second to rest before yongjun had a warm hand on his arm, followed by dialogue that sounded as though it’d been plucked straight out of his wildest dreams. the frantic thumps against his ribcage were partners in crime with the swarm of butterflies flitting around in his gut — sometimes he could swear yongjun was actively trying to kill him.

the swell of anxious thoughts culminated into one: he could really use a beer.

—

it was somewhere between freezing and the actual arctic, but the warm haze of booze had hastily enveloped him in its embrace. not to mention he was sitting side-to-side with yongjun, head lazily coming to rest on his shoulder, body heat in radiation between them. it had always impressed miles what booze was able to do with his mental state. untangling the bundle of nerves into something a little more manageable — albeit, often stupid — was a feat only alcohol could accomplish.

his heart had quieted down, and the abrupt flutters in his stomach had dulled into a gentle warmth. yongjun was talking, and miles was unable to pry his eyes away from his lips as they moved. the booze inspired burst of confidence wasn’t near enough for him to close the gap between them — even in a tipsy daze, his brain still fired off alarm bells at the mere thought — but it was just enough to pull yongjun‘s hand into his, chilled fingers interlacing.

♥ ┋ starter for @fmmiles!

“i always wanted to learn how to play an instrument.” dawon mutters, tracing her fingertips over the top of a piano which sits in amongst other, various instruments. she was lying, slightly. she did play piano and guitar, and rather well; although the two of those seemed a little generic in her eyes. “instrument asides from guitar and piano, that is.” she adds on with a small chuckle. she’s accompanied by miles, whom in her eyes, seems to be really good when it comes to the whole instrument thing. in a way, she sort of looked up to him, even though he was already some sort of big-time idol and she was just her, jung dawon, a trainee approaching a decade in the basement. 

dawon being dawon, struggles to search for a direction to push the conversation towards. she is darn well convinced that her childhood has stunted her ability to communicate her thoughts coherently. “what’s it like being in a band?” she asks suddenly, looking across to miles with a raised brow. “y’know, not being in a stereotypical idol group?” dawon always thought bands were cool, and it was exciting to see that more of them were popping up. it was rather refreshing in a way. dawon wishes she had a similar opportunity.

from the dinky toy piano he had as a child, to the rusty trombone rented out by middle school band, and even to the abrasive otomatone currently residing on his desk, unusual instruments had accompanied miles through his whole life. though the bass had been his ride-or-die in his ventures of the musical world, he’d always had a knack for picking up at least the basics of most instruments he stumbled across. 

and yet, he finds himself startled at dawon’s interest in him. he’s quickly comforted by the fact that the subject in question is one he has no issue talking about. "it’s really nice,” he admits, looking up from the sheets of music he’s been hastily scribbling notes on. he has no problem with the aforementioned idol groups — truthfully, he considers himself an avid fan of quite a few — but that had never really been where he belonged. “there’s more control over the music, y’know?” his lips curl up into a grin. “and... i really can’t dance.”