he noticed the staring long ago. how could he not ? it's as brazen as everything else the woman does — sharp , like a silent dare , a challenge in the air like she's looking just to see if he'll offer his gaze back. ( he doesn't. ) instead , naji ignores her for the time being , shadow falling behind flickering lights , half - swallowed by the dark and half - swathed in neon pink. a cigarette burns low between his fingers — should he go outside ? he's deciding — but it does nothing to fight the perpetual scowl that is twisted onto his lips , even as he lifts it up again to take a drag. he's got an air about him that screams leave me alone , and , on a normal day , most people catch on quick. ( it is important to note , then , that he knows juno zhang is not 'most people'. ) her gaze sticks like static , and so does his bleary memory of last night , the wild woman on his doorstep and asking to stay like he's her last resort. less than twenty - four hours ago was when naji learned he can't say no to her , and , already it's proving to make things difficult. he knows this even as she approaches , brash and barefoot , bringing all her wit and audacity with her. the scowl twists deeper at her tone , eyebrows knitting together. the teasing otherwise rolls off his shoulders , but it does something strange , somewhere deep , just enough to make him wonder why she cares to notice what he's doing at all. his eyes fixate somewhere to her left , and he leans back further agains the wall. don't look chaos in the eye , that's not good for you. " hmm. " a noncommital grunt , like he isn't buying into her taunt. " where the fuck did you leave your shoes ? " he pauses again. " you wanna talk about being 'lost', yeah? " the implications of that are clear , but he's not insolent enough to bring up the night before. " or just here for a cigarette ? "
𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄, @najiikarim ! 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 : major's stinky loft.
the loud and shitty music blasting from the janky speakers and sweaty bodies slamming against her absurdly furry exterior aren’t enough to pull her stabbing gaze away from him ; meticulous examination made all the more obvious by the haze coating her inebriated brain. yes, juno’s never been — and never will be — someone who’s subtle ( because fuck that ), but right now, she’s doing absolutely nothing to hide the fact that she’s been staring, staring and staring some more. he seems lonely. he saved you last night. just move. and, like everything she ever does in life, she follows the first impulse that jerks at her bruised heart. wants to thank him, needs to — it’s been a gnawing itch that she hasn’t been able to scratch since stepping out of his home this morning. the altoids tin box that she filled with four hand - rolled joints burning her pocket, a symbol of unspoken gratitude. she can’t stomach the thought of not repaying him ... for some reason. kindness for the sake of being kind is a myth, after all. naked feet — she ditched her heels a while back and didn’t bother looking for them — carry her toward him in all of her messy glory, an inevitable curse. excitement pulses through her veins; this is the closest her prying eyes have been to him the entire night. what a thrill. “ lookin’ a little lost there … ” she says, not meaning to mock, but her words still have a sharp edge to them. “ never been to a party before, roadie ? no one’s gonna jump you. ”
✦ . ── WANTED ! ( ft. song titles as inspo . )
you're gonna go far — noah kahan
the relationship naji has with this person has grown into something undeniably familial. he misses his brother often , and maybe that's why he sought out someone who could understand him just as well . i'm envisioning a sibling bond built and a rare , easy connection that doesn't need much explaining . they're likely one of the few people who can get naji to laugh or smile often , and maybe even the person in static avenue who understands him best . he'd honestly do anything for them ( and maybe they'd return that loyalty right back ) .
the vibes are : teasing nicknames & we take care of each other & stealing fries off of each others' plates & unspoken loyalty & you came? you called & always knowing when the other is upset & easy laughter & fiercely defensive of each other & crashing on the others' couch & borrowed clothes & making pacts & pinky promises.
reckless driving — lizzy mcalpine
careful , careful naji doesn't do relationships , but there's something about this person that keeps him circling back . maybe it's because they know more about him than he cares to admit , or maybe because they're so different from each other—where he's quiet and withdrawn , this person is likely to be at least a little bit more open and expressive than he is . they don't hate each other , really , but i'm thinking there's some undeniable tension , the kind that lingers and makes it clear that there are some intense feelings being swept under the rug . this doesn't have to go anywhere , that's fully dependent on chemistry , but i'd at least love some eventual understanding !
the vibes are : fights that feel like a confession & intense eye contact & sharing earbuds & everyone can see it but them & stolen glances turn into eyerolls & shared cigarettes under the stars & "accidental" touches & sitting in silence but feeling understood.
heading south — zach bryan
naji’s relationship with this person has evolved from envy to a begrudging sense of respect. this person always seemed to have it all figured out ( at least , according to naji ) seeming to have the perfect life and a particular charm to go along with it . to naji , they represented everything he felt he lacked , starting a likely one-sided rivalry completely fueled by jealousy. maybe they're not as perfect as naji thought , and now he has to see them around , often in the same spaces because of the band . maybe he can sense their vulnerability right now , or maybe they're sick of his judgements , but somehow they're slowly trying to work around whatever tensions still exist .
the vibes are : sighing and rolling eyes at one another & usually avoiding working together too closely & awkward conversations & asking others what their opinion is & trying to remain professional instead of vindictive & keeping interactions as short as possible & trying to get along because it's what's best for the band & never really losing that competitive edge .
misc things !
past fling that ended on good terms ; decided they're better off as friends?
that one person who always comes to him when they need literally anything fixed
one of the artists please teach him your instrument ; he's a fast learner
any and all other plots welcome !
opening the door had seemed to welcome in the scent of alcohol , and it's heavy enough to make naji's stomach churn. he's already regretting his last drink — and the cigarette that went with it — and now he’s greeted with a familiar face , as well as the sight of blood staining the white of leo’s t - shirt. for a moment, he just stands there , blinking , as if his intrusion is some kind of joke the universe decided to play on him tonight. the other man seems quite drawn to those anyway ( jokes , he means ) and naji's half tempted to roll his eyes at him as he takes in the scene. but he's always been the protective type , and warmth wins out before annoyance can as he ushers leo in through the door . naji kicks it closed again behind them , only after offering the long line outside nothing but a brusque " wait a little longer. " " god , martinez , what are you smiling for ? and what the hell did you do to yourself ? " the fluorescent light flickers again as he dips down to rummage under the sink. it takes him a minute to find and grab the half - busted first - aid kit from under the sink , brown eyes flickering up to look at leo as he straightens himself to his full height again. he wrote off leo as the type to pull stunts like this long ago — it grates on him , but as he pulls out gauze and disinfectant , his usual exasperation sounds like something closer to concern. he tilts his head, gesturing for leo to take a seat somewhere. " whatever. sit still. gotta clean that shit up. "
this was inevitable. he'd been baited into doing a poor man's interpretation of missy elliot's 1,2 step when he'd tripped on his untied shoelaces and went arm-first into one of those ugly, glass coffee tables. it definitely could've been worse. if he hadn't caught himself, he could have cut his face, which as his mother always said, was his moneymaker. instead, he had a thin, but fairly deep, cut on his left forearm. he hadn't even noticed the blood at first. it wasn't until one of the others, white-faced and voice tinged with worry, pointed it out that he felt the warm trail of it down his arm. "shit," he'd said, ruining one of his favorite t-shirts to try and staunch the bleeding and immediately hustled down the hallway to the bathroom.
he cut the line with a few apologies and when he got any complaints, leo simply held up his cradled arm, white t-shirt darkening with each passing second. at least it didn't hurt. he was drunk enough for that, apparently. when he reached the bathroom door, he knocked quickly in rhythm and waited a thirty count before trying again.
when the door does open, leo blinks in surprise at a familiar face and wordlessly holds up his injured arm with a toothy smile. he figures it's a good enough reason to pound on the bathroom door.
“He was silent and reserved. But he talked to me. And out of every sentence that guy ever said to me, my favorite line might have to be: ‘I don’t talk much, but it was easy for me to open up to you.’”
— walkingirony (via wnq-writers)