one x one with breadstick

[borahae.]

┌──────────────────────────────────────────┐

│
│
❝𝐈𝐅 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐎𝐍.
│
│
└──────────────────────────────────────────┘

[borahae.]

┌──────────────┐

│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│

full name: elliot frederick nimr
nicknames: elli [el-ee], eli [ee-lie], el
gender: cismale • age: twenty-five
sexuality: homosexual • height: 5'7"
weight: 130 lbs • fc: rami malek
physique: small but mighty
appearance: dark-brown eyes, olive
skin tone, long dark-brown hair, eccentric
fashion choices, large/prominent overbite
likes: singing, performing, adventure,
sweet foods, fashion, being around others,
storms, people with a sense of humor,
cats, partying, music, drama, writing,
using pet names, showing affection,
making a scene, piano, being validated
dislikes: egocentric personalities, tension,
arrogance, conflict, ketchup, disapproval,
silence, comments about teeth, boredom

│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
└──────────────┘

xxxxxxxxx

┌───────────────┐

│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│

strengths: adventurous, ambitious, clever,
eccentric, flamboyant, outgoing, excitable,
appreciative, charming, humorous, honest,
compassionate, lively, optimistic, patient
weaknesses: straightforward, impulsive,
forgetful, clingy, gullible, overdramatic
fears: being alone, being hated or
unloved, being labeled
other character notes: very open about
sexuality, confident in singing skills, unafraid
of judgement, always wants to push limits and
boundaries set by society, major workaholic
role/persona: lead singer
role model(s): freddie mercury, elton john
family: conservative, judgmental parents of
egyptian descent that live in london
(doesn't hold contact with them anymore)
xxxxxxx

│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
└───────────────┘

[breadstick]

name // michael knight | nicknames // mickey, to close friends only | age // twenty-four
gender // cisgender male | pronouns // he/him | sexuality // homosexual, closeted to all
nationality // irish | beliefs // agnostic panthiest | birthday // the twenty-third of april
occupation // guitarist; sometimes backup singer; flexible; sometimes helps to write songs
personality traits // blunt; passionate; quiet, unless specifically asked something; reserved;
motivated; calculated; compassionate; humble; bitter (keeps grudges); can be gullible;
awkward with expressing feelings; practical; light-hearted; open to new opinions
appearance // pale; blank expression; hazel eyes; dyed black, shoulder-length hair, usually
untamed; needs glasses, but often doesn’t wear them; photogenic but couldn’t care less

[borahae.]

xxxx▬▬▬𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐓 ! !
xxxxlead singer • cismale • twenty-five • homosexual

Coated in a light layer of perspiration, his already voluminous hair frizzing ever the slightest under the intensity of the stage light, the flamboyant male took a quick bow with his band mates and headed off the stage with a cheeky grin plastered on his face as their audience clapped and cheered. The audience this time around was perhaps their most impressive yet; from what he could tell, it seemed like there were nearly a thousand people out there, all singing, dancing, and cheering for their each and every move.
And to add it the euphoria of it all, they were in LA, playing at one of the largest venues in the United States; Microsoft Theater.

Strutting off stage in his skin-tight-leather bell bottomed pants, Elliot whistled cheerily to himself as he stepped out of limelight and broke into a quiet hum as he followed the body guards back to their group dressing room, the rest of the boys following close behind if not side-by-side with him. Tonight, they played especially well, and Elliot couldn't help but to find himself in a bit of a trance because of it: after all, it wasn't everyday they could perform at such an important venue, nonetheless leave the crowd amazed and wanting more.
Happily throwing himself into the chair beside his vanity as soon as the guards opened the door for the band, sloppily hanging one of his slender legs over top of the chair's arm, Elliot sighed contentedly and offered a small bit of laughter to his band mates as soon as the door was closed and the four of them were alone "They adored us! My god, that was chaotic. I'm exhausted."
After finishing their set, approximately an hour and a half long session of singing and dancing and performing, Elliot felt sufficiently exhausted. For him, his performances were as close to an ethereal experience as he could get; it was as if every time he opened his mouth, or shook his hips, he could feel whole other universes pour out from his heart and soul.
Eh. Maybe he was just sappy.

Turning the adjustable salon-style chair to face the mirror in front of him, eyeing his appearance with a small grin of satisfaction, Elliot puffed his chest out as if hoping to impress someone and adjusted his seating in a way to show off more of his already displayed chest, playing with a few of his rings on his fingers before messing with his long mane distractedly. His torso dressed in only a leopard print robe of sorts, several silver necklaces hanging down onto his bare chest as his only form of coverage, the male could be described as nothing less than a high class call-boy; that, or extremely flamboyant and devoted to fashion. Both of which applied.

His displayed chest showing evident sweat marks, Elliot adjusted his overcoat/robe on his frame and after a few more minutes of miscellaneous touch ups, turned contentedly back to his bandmates and threw his stray leg across his other one "Can you believe it? I mean, it seemed like yesterday we were playing at bars and dingy restaurants, hoping for something better to come along. Now look at us: audiences pay hundreds to see us play. It's kind of romantic." A slight lisp in his voice due to the vast space in his mouth, his large overbite and extended front teeth at fault, Elliot scanned all the faces of his band mates and admittedly felt a bit relieved when his eyes landed on Michael, his signature grin extending across his facial features as he addressed his closest friend among the group of them "And you! That riff you played in "For Yesterday" was absolutely stunning: I mean, if you weren't so straight mickey dear, I might even kiss you."
Blowing him a very dramatic and teasing kiss, emphasizing his statement as playfully as he could, Elliot pushed a stray hair back from his face before putting both hands on his lap, looking at the clock opposite him to check on the time. "Ooh, our party begins soon! Just another half hour and guests from all over will be gathering to celebrate our successful first show of the tour."

[breadstick]

MICKEY ! ! !

Mickey would have been lying through his teeth if he had said that he wasn’t the most anxious he had ever been in the face of their tour. It had all come up upon the band quite suddenly; all it had taken was a single smash hit in the charts, and their band had exploded in popularity. And with that popularity came the pressures and demands from the public, from producers and from large, global companies, to step their game up and better themselves every performance they gave, every song they wrote and sent to the public, every record they produced. He had never exactly wanted the spotlight - and although he had to admit, the attention didn’t bother him as much as it might have a few years ago, it was still something entirely different to be thrust in the centre in one of the most prolific performance stages. The mere thought reduced him to a shaking mess, and it was a miracle that he had even managed to contain his bouts of anxiety away from the band members themselves, of whom he would be spending the majority of his time with for the foreseeable future. Yet he had done it, he had somehow managed to go out there and give it his all, and damn, if it hadn’t felt genuinely good to have so many people clamouring over them. To Mickey, they were just normal, mundane people who had received some lucky stroke and were now regarded as idols in the music industry.

And now, following Elliot out of the limelight and into the dressing room, accompanied by his fellow band members, he could not help but feel as though he were on a high of exhilaration. He had never taken himself as a person to enjoy the adrenaline rush of large-scale performances, yet here he was, flushed red and coated in a layer of sweat and breathing heavily after his own anxieties and the rush it gave him to be such an integral part of the group of people he had become so close with over the years. As Elliot lounged about on his own seat, in such affluent poses poses as usual (such displays had become commonplace to Michael in particular, much to his own grievance), commenting on the state of their position as a whole and echoing his own thoughts of how far they had come from their roots, and how the crowd had only wanted more from all of them. It was more people than Mickey thought he had ever seen in his entire life combined, all packed into one stadium, all cheering for them, for more. The thought called up a smile onto his features as he brushed a hand through his hair, noting how much they ached after so much work on the guitar. Of course, he had trained to make them more resilient for longer periods of time, but relentless playing for an hour and a half was bound to take its toll on his muscles.

It was at that point, when Michael had made his way to his own chair and was leaning against it, studying his knuckles and humming quiet agreements to what Elliot was saying (listening in acutely despite his apparent preoccupation and lack of response), that the lead singer and arguably the star of the performance turned his attentions to him. He glanced up, a smile slowly growing and taking the place of a concentrated frown on his face at the praise he was offered. Had he not been so flushed from the last two hours, he would have most certainly turned a darker shade of red; but, thankfully, it was hidden entirely by the evidence of continual concentration and hard work. He had been lucky he hadn’t managed to mess the performance up for everyone, considering the circumstances the entire band was under, not least himself; so he could consider that a success, at least. It was by no means a perfect run (that could only come with time), but the praise he received from no less than his closest friend still struck him in a way that very few other compliments did. What, however, almost completely shattered his high of emotions was the off-handed comment that lay too close to comfort for some parricularly difficult issues he had never quite come to terms with. While Elliot had embraced his sexuality with never ending enthusiasm and flamboyance, never feeling the need to overtly explain himself and rather being content to let people know straight off the cuff, Michael found himself in a position where he had mulled over such issues for so long that he had forgotten the significance of such issues to some people. The deliberation came, not necessarily with accepting his tendencies to prefer men over any other, but with expressing it to anyone else. The comment, as harmless as it seemed on the surface, earned a pause from the guitarist as he regained his composure. Needless to say, it had thrown his guard off entirely, and in his rattled mind, still buzzing from the experience of performing to such a prolific degree, it too, him more time to overcome the comment than it may usually.

Additionally, he supposed, the punctuation of the overly exaggerated kiss blown in his direction didn’t exactly help his case, either. It was almost as though he was trying to taunt him.

Instead of opting for a direct response to it, Mickey avoided the subject entirely, finding himself more comfortable in accepting the compliment and responding to the other matters the band had to attend to instead of commenting on the casual reference to sexuality. “Says yourself,” He responded, gaining some zeal and enthusiasm the more he brushed off the issues that all but plagued his mind on a daily basis. “Did you see them screaming your name? They loved you out there. You were fantastic.” As always, The addition kept confined to his thoughts as he turned his attention to the upcoming event - something that only held connotations of dread and disaster. He didn’t usually mind parties; of course, he would rather sit quietly with a group of friends, as he had done previously with the others he was surrounded by now, than be in the centre of attention. Unfortunately, that seemed to be the entire premise of the party - celebrating their first successful tour performance. He knew he couldn’t disappoint the other boys - he knew they perhaps would not be too eager to hear the news that their guitarist wasn’t up for the escapade, but in such a state as he was, he realised it was probably worth asking anyway; if Elliot would somehow convince him, as he was sure he would end up doing eventually. It wasn’t as though this was the first time something of this caliber had occurred between them.

Eventually, after a moment of quiet deliberation, releasing the lean he had been burdening his chair with to stand upright and walk very slowly forwards to where his best friend was sitting, he piped up: “Elliot,” - a shaking voice, not a great start; although not necessarily caused by his doubts about the event, it could certainly be interpreted as such - “Is it ... absolutely essential that we all attend? After that performance, I’d say I’m pretty much wiped out for today. I don’t think I could manage being around so many people in such a short space of time. It seems just ... exhausting, personally.” It wasn’t as though he bregrudged the entire scenario, but being surrounded by people drinking and congratulating them with little means of escape to a quiet room didn’t exactly fill Mickey with such joy that it probably did their lead singer. “Perhaps I should take the night off and practice instead. There’s still some things I need to work on for our next performance.” He added, offering an alternative other than sleeping; of course, Mickey was dedicated to his work, and would not begrudge the practice of it even if he had been doing it for a million years. Such an excuse would come to fruition; so it was not exactly a bland excuse, but rather, a means of being more productive than wasting his time where he would not likely want to be. Having said that ... hanging out with his band mates would be nice, for a change. Such things occurred often, and would do so more so now, but not in an environment where they could completely be themselves. This was far from that vision, but it was the closest thing they would have for some time, which drew Mickey into a debate all on his own. He glanced at Elliot’s expression to await his response, sure that his earlier convictions would be confirmed in only a matter of seconds.

[borahae.]

xxxx▬▬▬𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐓 ! !
xxxxlead singer • cismale • twenty-five • homosexual

Absentmindedly fiddling with the many rings on his long and slim fingers, twisting and shifting them in a repetitive motion that was so instinctive he barely recognized he was doing it, the British singer kept his attention on the boys as they went to their respective spots and adjusted their own appearances as they saw fit and hummed contently. He couldn't help but to feel another bout of euphoric admiration hit him, watching as the others changed and made small conversation among themselves; after all, he was quite lucky. Lucky to be able to learn, laugh, and labor with such a lovely group of individuals.
Elliot knew first hand the idiocy and insolence one could suffer at the hands of society, and though he wasn't one to show it, struggled with consistent self-conscious and self-loathing thoughts revolving around his each and every flaw, his hatred generally being directed towards his blatantly disfigured teeth. One too many stares and one too many insults throughout his childhood and years of schooling left the poor Egyptian boy with some emotional baggage that seemed to be permanent, his prominent and extended overbite leaving kids with plenty of reason to tease him. But the boys immediately accepted him exactly the way he was, and Elliot knew that without those four idiots he'd have nothing he had today. His band mates were his family, and the singer couldn't imagine living his life any other way.
Even as his own parents abandoned him, claiming him to be tainted and unorthodox for always being honest (and a tad bit flashy) with who he is, Elliot had Mickey and Will and Ross.

Offering an unconscious grin of sorts, a pleased look on his facial features as he placed one of his elbows on the arm of the chair and rested his face on the palm of his hand, Elliot silently kept his eye on the group in front of him as William (the drummer) picked something up from his vanity and threw it in the direction of Ross as they playfully bickered about something or another and let out a light laughter. Accustomed to the light banter between the two of them, Elliot took the moment of friendly chaos to sink into his thoughts and couldn't help but feel astonished over how come the group had come, musically speaking.
He mean't what he had said just moments ago; it really did feel like just yesterday they were meeting in basements and dingy clubs to practice and play shows to groups of people who were either too drunk or too stuck up to care. At that time, most of them were at college for something or another, and weren't really seeking fame so much as a good time.
Compared to then, it was remarkable to think on where they were today, playing some of the largest venues in the world and wowing crowds all across the planet.

His body language exuding an aura of confidence as he shifted once again in his seat, sitting upright with one of his slim and long legs thrown over the other as his chest jutted out proudly like a lion, Elliot returned his attention to Mickey and couldn't help but let out a light laughter at his best friend finally spoke up and dragged his mind back from the gutters "Well, thank you darling." Tempted to offer another wink at his friend, but knowing Mickey enough to be able to tell he was already uncomfortable from before, Elliot cheekily grinned and pushed his frizzy mane back from around his right shoulder "I always say that if I can make someone happy or make someone smile, if even just for an hour or so, then that makes the whole thing worthwhile. I'm just glad to be able to be making money doing something I adore."

Watching quite intently as the black haired male trudged closer to him, raising a brow as if challenging his friend's purpose, Elliot offered a quick scoff and immediately reached forward to lightly slap Mickey's arm "Of course it is, my dear! Hmph...I mean, how could you even ask that?" Acting as if the Irish male had insulted what little he had to his name, the singer pouted and tried to feign being cross with Mickey, which proved to be a bit harder than he thought. It wasn't as if the scenario was that shocking, really; he was aware that his best friend wasn't one for the wild and chaotic scenes he seemed to thrive on, and certainly wasn't as enthusiastic about validation and congratulations as Elliot was, but the singer still relied on Mickey being by his side every step of the way. "It simply wouldn't be the same without you Mickey. We could hardly call it a celebration if you stayed back while we had all the fun."

Suddenly leaning forward and batting his eyelashes at the other male as if to sell his point, resting his elbows on his thighs and placing his chin on the palms of his hands, Elliot offered that same cheeky grin from before and unconsciously clicked his platformed and heeled boots together "Besides, without you, who would I have to hold me back from making dumb decisions? You know I'm hopeless without you, love"

[breadstick]

MICKEY ! ! !

The guitarist absent-mindedly gnawed lightly on his bottom lip as he turned his attentions to the other two band members, who were enjoying a friendly rivalry over something or other - Mickey had not been concentrating enough on their conversation to find out, only just swerving out of the way of some item thrown in the other's direction in an indication of playful roughhousing. It was not uncommon for him to become too lost in his own thoughts and to completely miss the point of a conversation, something someone had said to him, or an entire argument simply because he had failed to pay attention. It wasn't as though he was self centred; yet the only things he could ever find himself concentrating on, wholly, were singing and playing his guitar. His escape had always been music; unsurprisingly, that had made him rather a social recluse, not wholly wanting to interact with other people in favour of quiet nights in his room, playing his favourite songs and singing softly to himself as he did so. That was what had originally introduced him to the flamboyant, outgoing persona that was Elliot; having shared a dorm corridor in college with him while studying media production - quietly playing in his room in the first few weeks of studying there when the other had noticed he was a music fanatic, just like him. Quite surprising, really, that all this had happened in just a few years. It didn't seem any different between the four of them now than it had in the first year - goofing off together without a care in the world. Just, now ... they were playing for more people than just wasted college students on a Friday night. He was grateful, however, that the atmosphere between them - at least for now - was just as it had been for the rest of their duration together as a band.

Mickey was well aware that Elliot himself had convictions about society that were often bitter and ruthlessly condemning of the judgemental nature that was, apparently, inherent to the way it worked. People in society expected certain things from others, especially mainstream artists - a scene, of which, they were quickly gaining onto - and he was sure that all of them were aware of the fact that their ragtag group didn't exactly fit into the category of 'normal'. Elliot was quite obviously the most flamboyant and extroverted out of the four of them, and he made it no secret that he could not give less of a care for whatever society expected from them. Mickey himself was not exactly the epitome of your everyday, regular guy, but he was far less expressive about it when compared to the lead singer, to the point that, externally, he might have been considered the most tame out the four of them. He could almost laugh at that; if the public knew him as well as Ross, Will and Elliot did, they likely would not hold the same opinion. It was simply that he was more dedicated to concealing it, considering their boost in popularity.

He became aware that the man before him had spoken, only vaguely aware of the subject matter. Spacing out was probably not a massive issue for his friends to deal with at this point, but he had become good at guessing it when he had. It was not needed this time, however, as his best friend moved swiftly on, leaving Mickey to simply shrug internally at whatever had been said. It was clearly not all too important. Instead, his request finally addressed, the light slap on his arm earned an earnest laugh from the guitarist. He had expected as much, if he was honest; they were all well aware, by this point, that Mickey had never been one to go out for long nights, yet he usually ended up being dragged along by them anyway for the sake of being with his friends. He had very little interest in the actual proceedings of the night, and perhaps might have protested against the notion with that particular excuse if he hadn't been so aware that this would be very important for the band. He took a moment to think to himself, realising it might be all too self centred if he didn't turn up to the party, but finding the thought of it all too exhausting for him to deal with. Another glance at Elliot was all it took to swing his thoughts around once more; how could he possibly turn down another opportunity to spend time with him? Even then, the thought was soured slightly by the realisation that he would not have the opportunity to experience it how he wanted to; hand-in-hand with Elliot as something more than the simple friendship they shared now.

Perhaps it was also egocentric of him to say that he always felt as though he was living under Elliot's shadow. Of course, he loved him, and he was sure that the feelings were reciprocated to the degree of friendly companionship and nothing more; but in the traits he shared with the lead singer, he always fell short. It was a tiresome feat, really; he didn't want to keep up all the time, to be better than him, but at every turn he was admiring the man for something he had done. Constantly looking up to someone who was so close to him was draining, to say the least; and very few things could come close to the feeling of inadequacy that rose within him when he looked at their lives in parallel to one another. Despite this, his admiration did not fester from a feeling of bitterness or resentment, but out of a place of love. Perhaps it was fair to say that this, in itself, was why Mickey was at battle with himself; spending time with the subject of his affections, whilst also in the knowledge that these said affections were unrequited; and not reciprocated. Elliot flirted with every man he laid eyes upon, regardless of who they were. At first, his pet names had struck a nerve, giving him a small glimmer of hope, but now he had grown past that and was hoping to accept that these affections would never be returned.

At least, he thought he had grown past that.

Every time Elliot called him something remotely domestic, it sent his emotions into the inevitable spiral down the same path it had taken for so many months - or maybe even years. Elliot had no idea what he was doing, clearly; and if he grasped any idea of the discomfort Mickey felt, he would most likely chalk it down to the suggestions of close affection with another man. As it turned out, he was rather good at concealing his emotions and - as far as he was aware - no such hints had been exuded explicitly. He merely maintained the smile that remained from his previous laugh, raising an eyebrow and gazing down to meet the other's gaze as he pouted. Mickey was vaguely reminded of a child who hadn't been given a cookie, while the rest of the children had. He rolled his eyes at the over-exaggerated expression, wondering how he had ever thought he could get away with it in the first place. With a hum of agreement to the last statement Elliot made, he folded his arms across his chest and smirked at a particular memory. "Of course you'd be oh-so hopeless without me. You can't distinguish a look of intimidation from a flirtatious look." He tilted his head curiously. "I doubt you'll have forgotten the time I had to literally drag you away from that guy in the pub one time. Or maybe it was multiple times, I lost count." The memory had not been a pleasant one at the time, but looking back on it now, it was one of his favourite things to pick up on about Elliot's nature. He really just did not know when to stop sometimes, and it was usually up to Mickey to prevent him from getting into serious trouble for it. Having said that, however ... "But I'm sure you'd be fine without me. Ross and Will are just as capable as I am at hauling you away." A small huff escaped from his nostrils as he deliberated for a moment further. He knew, right then, that he would not get away from the subject that easily. It couldn't do any harm, he supposed; the worst thing that would happen would be that he fell asleep half-way through. If that happened, he knew it would end up being Elliot to Mickey's rescue. He doubted, with all the loud music and dancing that would most likely take place, he wouldn't catch a wink even if he tried. He supposed, after all, there was nothing to lose. With his mind already made up, he tilted his head, not saying anything to follow up from that, wondering how the lead singer would respond to such a comment.