Photographs - Oneshot
Title: Photographs
Author: kayjayloves
Chapter: 1/1
Pairing: Tablo/Brian
Band: Epik High, Fly To The Sky/Solo
Genre: fluff/romance
Rating: PG
Warning: none
Disclaimer: 'fraid I don't own these loves.
Synopsis: Tablo would probably call it destiny, looking back on it.
Comments: for simply_emotion ~ Because you're right, there isn't enough of this pairing D:'
---
take one.
Tablo would probably call it destiny, looking back on it. Something set in motion by a meeting and hello and some introductions, leaving him with a new name to remember. Brian.
He’s one of those people to remember instantly, the kind of person you can’t avoid (even if you want to). And by coincidence - or destiny - they get along, and the meeting blends seamlessly into a friendship.
Because Brian’s one of those people not to forget.
take two.
“Hey, hey film me,” Brian says, and he’s shoving a video camera into Tablo’s hands. They’re in the studio, Tablo’s show done and over for the day, with the staff moving around them like ants moving over insignificant scenery.
“Okay.” Tablo says and Brian’s pulling him into one of the other rooms - a back room with no windows open to the crowds and too many clutters of paperwork. And then Brian’s turning, spinning around the room (he looks like an idiot) and Tablo starts laughing and can’t stop. Brian’s laughing too, and he’s pulling the camera from Tablo’s fingers and turning it on both them, his arm slung around Tablo’s shoulders.
And then he’s kissing him. Tablo still can’t stop laughing, even with Brian’s lips against his own and wait - what flying through his thoughts. The video camera beeps, and Brian pulls away (Tablo’s nearly breathless now, choking on laughter he can’t stop) and he frowns, “Battery died.”
It seems so pointless, so random, so Brian - and suddenly Tablo wants to kiss him back.
(Brian doesn’t mention anything about it, after they’re kicked out of the broadcasting station and told to get some sleep, and everything falls back into normal routine. Nothing awkward, nothing uncomfortable, everything just like it’s always been. Just some evidence burned into a camcorder’s hard drive.)
take three.
Brian drops by at the most unexpected times, and Tablo’s created some sort of confusing logic by counting on Brian to appear when he’s least expecting it. So when Brian’s there at the recording studio (and it’s half-past midnight) Tablo’s surprised and unsurprised all at once.
Tukutz took the night off (“You’re mainly doing tracks you don’t need me for, so it’s fine, I’ll be back on Wednesday.”) but Mithra grins at Brian when he walks in before turning back to the monitor. They get through laying the base elements of one track and then Brian talks over the second, until Mithra’s rubbing sleep from his eyes and claiming they’ll come back tomorrow to finish up.
He leaves with a rustle of a coat and a threat of ‘Don’t come over tonight, my girlfriend’s going to be there,’ and then it’s just Tablo and Brian in the heaviness of two a.m. air.
Brian is already heading to the mic, free-styling raps and impromptu scales. He grins, gestures towards the equipment. “Tablo,” and then, “hey man,” in English. “Let’s get it started.”
Tablo writes three pages of lyrics that morning, incomprehensible phrases and ink-bled words. Later, Mithra raises his eyebrows when he walks in on Tablo sprawled across the floor, crossing out the less than satisfactory stanzas. “Got your own Muse?”
“An Euterpe,” Tablo says absently. “Or maybe Erato.”
take four.
“Hey,” Tablo says, the next time he sees Brian. “Want to come over sometime?”
He gets a yes and a grin, and then Brian’s impersonating someone and they’re laughing, and he only remembers Brian’s agreement when he appears in front of his door the next evening.
It’s in between the tequila, the long, impressive stories and the mournful confession of concerts that can never happen that something changes; Brian’s trying to down the last drop in his glass and Tablo’s staring at him - unfocused, thinking in lyrics. “Love is free,” he declares.
And Brian kisses him in-between the empty glasses and dirty dishes, with a seriousness that’s somehow expected and sweet and scary at all once. There’s no laughing this time, and Tablo can taste the music in it, the melody of his hands moving up Brian’s back and the harmony of Brian’s eyes.
It stops as quickly as it started and then they’re tumbling up the stairs, a new sort of smile on Brian’s face. “Love is free,” he declares, agreeing.
“And destiny,” Tablo falls onto the bed next to him. “is inevitable.”
------
A/N: Might be good to brush up on some greek mythology about the Muses xD
Comm/crits are love, as always <3
Author: kayjayloves
Chapter: 1/1
Pairing: Tablo/Brian
Band: Epik High, Fly To The Sky/Solo
Genre: fluff/romance
Rating: PG
Warning: none
Disclaimer: 'fraid I don't own these loves.
Synopsis: Tablo would probably call it destiny, looking back on it.
Comments: for simply_emotion ~ Because you're right, there isn't enough of this pairing D:'
---
take one.
Tablo would probably call it destiny, looking back on it. Something set in motion by a meeting and hello and some introductions, leaving him with a new name to remember. Brian.
He’s one of those people to remember instantly, the kind of person you can’t avoid (even if you want to). And by coincidence - or destiny - they get along, and the meeting blends seamlessly into a friendship.
Because Brian’s one of those people not to forget.
take two.
“Hey, hey film me,” Brian says, and he’s shoving a video camera into Tablo’s hands. They’re in the studio, Tablo’s show done and over for the day, with the staff moving around them like ants moving over insignificant scenery.
“Okay.” Tablo says and Brian’s pulling him into one of the other rooms - a back room with no windows open to the crowds and too many clutters of paperwork. And then Brian’s turning, spinning around the room (he looks like an idiot) and Tablo starts laughing and can’t stop. Brian’s laughing too, and he’s pulling the camera from Tablo’s fingers and turning it on both them, his arm slung around Tablo’s shoulders.
And then he’s kissing him. Tablo still can’t stop laughing, even with Brian’s lips against his own and wait - what flying through his thoughts. The video camera beeps, and Brian pulls away (Tablo’s nearly breathless now, choking on laughter he can’t stop) and he frowns, “Battery died.”
It seems so pointless, so random, so Brian - and suddenly Tablo wants to kiss him back.
(Brian doesn’t mention anything about it, after they’re kicked out of the broadcasting station and told to get some sleep, and everything falls back into normal routine. Nothing awkward, nothing uncomfortable, everything just like it’s always been. Just some evidence burned into a camcorder’s hard drive.)
take three.
Brian drops by at the most unexpected times, and Tablo’s created some sort of confusing logic by counting on Brian to appear when he’s least expecting it. So when Brian’s there at the recording studio (and it’s half-past midnight) Tablo’s surprised and unsurprised all at once.
Tukutz took the night off (“You’re mainly doing tracks you don’t need me for, so it’s fine, I’ll be back on Wednesday.”) but Mithra grins at Brian when he walks in before turning back to the monitor. They get through laying the base elements of one track and then Brian talks over the second, until Mithra’s rubbing sleep from his eyes and claiming they’ll come back tomorrow to finish up.
He leaves with a rustle of a coat and a threat of ‘Don’t come over tonight, my girlfriend’s going to be there,’ and then it’s just Tablo and Brian in the heaviness of two a.m. air.
Brian is already heading to the mic, free-styling raps and impromptu scales. He grins, gestures towards the equipment. “Tablo,” and then, “hey man,” in English. “Let’s get it started.”
Tablo writes three pages of lyrics that morning, incomprehensible phrases and ink-bled words. Later, Mithra raises his eyebrows when he walks in on Tablo sprawled across the floor, crossing out the less than satisfactory stanzas. “Got your own Muse?”
“An Euterpe,” Tablo says absently. “Or maybe Erato.”
take four.
“Hey,” Tablo says, the next time he sees Brian. “Want to come over sometime?”
He gets a yes and a grin, and then Brian’s impersonating someone and they’re laughing, and he only remembers Brian’s agreement when he appears in front of his door the next evening.
It’s in between the tequila, the long, impressive stories and the mournful confession of concerts that can never happen that something changes; Brian’s trying to down the last drop in his glass and Tablo’s staring at him - unfocused, thinking in lyrics. “Love is free,” he declares.
And Brian kisses him in-between the empty glasses and dirty dishes, with a seriousness that’s somehow expected and sweet and scary at all once. There’s no laughing this time, and Tablo can taste the music in it, the melody of his hands moving up Brian’s back and the harmony of Brian’s eyes.
It stops as quickly as it started and then they’re tumbling up the stairs, a new sort of smile on Brian’s face. “Love is free,” he declares, agreeing.
“And destiny,” Tablo falls onto the bed next to him. “is inevitable.”
------
A/N: Might be good to brush up on some greek mythology about the Muses xD
Comm/crits are love, as always <3