there are times when elly wonders how far down on the evolutionary scale idols really fall. generally speaking, idols are considered the exception to the rule that nobody’s perfect, but god fucking damn it if moments like this didn’t make her second guess the reality of just how absolutely stunted the lot of them were. although - really, it’s not like she’s got anything better to do. if it’s not this, it’s spending another hour in a van with her managers and being toted to her apartment like a toddler. she tries not to let it show on her face when she turns to look at benji and his quickly made t-shirt, but the look on her face teeters somewhere between exhausted and resigned. “you couldn’t at least do it in bubble letters?” she comments, despite herself, humoring his idea and taking it into her own hands to observe up close and personal. to be fair, it was marginally better than having idols walk around with shirts that said shit like “suck a dick, Eliza (:” and “porn treat” in languages that they couldn’t read, but then again, it also read as an S.O.S. which - fair. she pauses and observes the older man. she takes a second to clasp a hand on his shoulder, squinting.
“is this a cry for help, benji oppa? because i’m actually incredibly fucking poor and i don’t want to be held responsible for you having a breakdown on instagram live because i couldn’t give you five dollars to kickstart your emotional outlet clothing brand.”
dealing with doni and coni’s attempt at humor slash borderline emotional abuse was enough of a drain, to be entirely fucking real, so it wasn’t a far reach to assume that the last few hours of their lives had been the breaking point. maybe shitty idol specific t-shirts would be benji’s fenty by rihanna, or in a less optimistic way, his selena gomez makeup brand.
“i also don’t think i’ll be much help if taylor swift copyrights it - she put a claim on a lesbian wedding, i don’t think she’s above putting the hammer down on a random asian dude.” she takes another pause, tilting her head to observe the shoddy piece of clothing, as though contemplating how to improve upon it in a way that wouldn’t compromise the chaos of it. it takes her only a moment before she steals his pen away, uncaps it with her teeth and crosses out dead to replace it with “aliven’t”. “there. it’s topical! and now we’re co-business owners. what now?”
bubble letters. yikes. he couldn’t tell if there would be more humor in the monstrosity of bubble letters, or flame letters, like those thrasher shirts. the initiative was appreciated, but benji still replied with a shrug. “i was on a tight schedule. gotta keep the factories pumpin’ for that sweet, sweet supply and demand.” he didn’t mind letting her take the shirt, or even the overthinking gaze she scrutinized with. the trouble was, it was difficult to discern what these types of people were thinking exactly.
when a hand clasped his shoulder, he looked at it, then back at her, and cracked up. him. benji. breaking down in the semi-public. over a t-shirt. he doubled over, trying to catch his breath, and wiped stray tears from his eyes. when he could stand back up, he let out a breath to center himself again.
and even beyond that, benji couldn’t imagine she was that poor. idols never were as poor as they wanted to come off. which-- a callout for his trainee self as well. benji was an equal opportunity judgmental bitch. “if i was gonna have a breakdown over all idols’ emotional outlet clothing brand, i’d be smart enough to do it in front of a rich old man, not teens who have to steal their parent’s credit card. that’s what we call in the fashion industry, business brained,” he finished, tapping his temple twice.
his stomach still hurt a bit from that laugh. he stretched his torso, once on each side. “don’t worry, if she tries to sue me, i’ll just seduce her boyfriend. then we’ll have a throuple and she’ll be so in love with me she wouldn’t dare hurting her random asian.”
naturally benji might have been surprised at the move to take the sharpie from his hand, but after spending this much time talking to the girl, it was more of an expectation. what he wasn’t expecting, was her to write something funny. a quick laugh started, but ended as soon as it began, when she started speaking again. “nah, nah,” he interrupted, and swiped the sharpie with too much gusto for the simple move. “you can’t weasel your way into being my business partner that easily. i need references, business plans, a small loan of a million dollars.” he looked back over the shirt, a put on face of pondering to mimic her earlier one. “aliven’t makes us sound like zombies and that’s so fuckin’ sexy of us.” he put the sharpie back in his backpack, took off his shoulder and held it out, with a, “hold this,” at which point he dropped it. whether she held it or not didn’t matter to him. there was nothing important in there anymore. he took the shirt back from her, and slipped it over his head, then hit a pose. “eh?”
