“i’m so sorry. but also you’re welcome,” she flipped her hair over her shoulder, crossing her arms over her chest. “go ahead and put one on right now if you want, i know you’re bound to spend another hour in here anyway,” she said with feigned annoyance, but she was truly pretty blissed to have company. being at echo alone was not as scary as it was just plain boring, so miles’s reaction to receiving a couple of early gifts was enough to make lazing around there for her entire shift completely worth it. “don’t tell anyone i can be nice sometimes. think you can handle waiting ‘till christmas for the other ones?”
he played wounded at the accusation, but he knew just as well as she did that he would likely be spending more than one more hour perusing the selections; old dusty records were one of the few things in his life he paid due diligence to. and immediately after the go-ahead, he scurried over to the record player perched on the front desk, ready to rumble.
“hey, your secret is safe with me,” he replied, pulling know your chicken from it’s case as though it was a prized artifact. “and i can try, but now i gotta figure out what i can get you that’ll match up to this.” he mounted the record and pulled the needle, and soon miho hatori’s vocals were properly blasting through the store. “i already got a bunch of really wack stuff i found while thrifting, but i figure i should probably get you more than someone else's old junk, so if you’ve got any hints for me...” his face lit up into a shiny grin. “that’d be stellar.”
how he’d gathered the gall in his forever passive heart to speak up, throw a casual invite to dinky rink liam’s way. how he was now standing — very un-casually — against the wall of the rink, bright blue skates already laced, anxiously waiting for liam to arrive.
why liam actually agreed to this was possibly the most puzzling of all.
it would’ve been easy enough to pretend that this was nothing but two old friends reconnecting, with the promise of employee discounts on mediocre cheese pizza, crappy arcade games in desperate need of repairs, and an 80s themed skate session. that is, if he wasn’t who he is: a chronic overthinker who’s been single for far too long. instead, he’s stuck with the lingering thought that buzzes around in his brain like a fly — this is almost a date, isn’t it?
he shoves that thought back down as quickly as it resurfaces when liam enters through the doors and steps onto the garishly patterned neon flooring, and skates forward to greet him.
“hey! you actually came!” there’s a smile on his face, one of both genuine joy and extreme anxiety. “sorry about the, uh... smell? i’m pretty sure dave burned the corndogs again.”
Isa’s steps are silent even as she runs through the darkened streets, bag heavy on her shoulder as she looks determinedly for somewhere to hide. She’s pretty sure she lost the police officer that had nearly caught her, but that doesn’t make Isa any less urgent as she looks for a hiding spot just in case she didn’t. Isa pauses at the sight of a half open window in a darkened room, hesitating only a moment before she’s quietly making her way to that window and pushing it fully open, sliding her duffel through the opening as quietly as she can before she’s following it with cat-like movements and immediately crouching to make herself compact in effort to not be spotted as she slowly closes the window once again. Isa freezes at a sound from behind her, still for a few moments in the dark room as she tries to think of how to handle this before she is making a split decision.
Her back is still to her audience as she smoothly gets to her feet, and tonelessly says, “oh, good. You’re home.” Isa says as she begins to casually rummage through her bag, “I have reason to believe there is an evil spirit residing here. I am here to cleanse the household. Do you have any salt?”
miles is turned, wide-eyed and bewildered, with a bag filled with strange maroon jelly capsules held in one hand, and a spoonful of the red goop in the other. heracross is about to throw an entire fit from the confines of his terrarium, scratching against the side like eric andre outside of the DNC.
he recognizes isa, and his expression turns from terror to puzzlement. his first assumption upon turning and seeing a crouched figure by his window was that he was about to die so... at least things are looking up?
“uh...” his eyes dart around. his room is a certified disaster — unmade bed (outfitted with garishly bright blankets, of course), stacks of dusty records, strewn dirtied clothes. he hadn’t been expecting company; he didn’t have time to hastily shove everything under his bed, so now his shame is being fully witnessed.
“...let me, uh... feed him first,” he gestures to the Very Angry Beetle with his jellied spoon, “and then i guess i can go grab some salt?” there’s a beat. “i’m pretty sure all i got is, uh... morton?” another beat. “do you need fancy salt for evil spirit cleansings?”
echo records. in all her years in dingle, lorelai had never found a good enough reason to go into the shop alone. sure, she’d been dragged in there before by friends. musically-inclined people had always gravitated to her and, if you could believe it, those people tended to really enjoy the vinyl aesthetic. today, though, the writer’s block had taken hold of her and all she wanted was something new to distract her. maybe it was time to buy a turntable. there’s a first for everything. “hey, do you know anything about record players? if i go out and buy one, i’ll end up buying the cheapest, cutest piece of shit out there.”
miles is a true-blue fanatic for any and all retro aesthetics; not that it’s very difficult to tell, as he walks around day to day looking like he stepped directly out of an early edition of fruits magazine. so, it’s only logical he own a record player, and an entire slew of weird and rare vinyls to pop into it. today, he was on the hunt once more (as is a biweekly routine, at this point), sifting through mass piles of fresh deliveries to find a potential hidden gem.
he looks up from a thoroughly beat up copy of songs in the key of life when he’s spoken to, blinking a few times before he fully registers the question. “oh, uh, yeah, actually, i do!” his lips quirk into a smile, and he hastily sets down the mass pile of records from his lap onto the floor. “i mean, i’m not an expert or anything, really, but, uh, i do own a record player? i think that... uh... qualifies me...? somewhat?” a beat. “um, what exactly are you looking for?”
“why you dissing jamie foxx?” she tilted her head with a grin. “i have really good memories associated with blame it featuring t-pain. i can play it right now if you want,” she asked as she crept into the back room, not really serious– she was jamming too hard to lady miss kier’s crooning. “i guess i can show you a couple of these a little bit early,” she called through the door as her fingers picked through a fairly sizable stack of personal inventory.
“okay.” she opened the back door, clutching the records to her chest before stepping over towards him. “if i show you these right now you still have to pay for them, so i picked the cheapest ones,” she said, handing over a used copy of the score by the fugees and a single of know your chicken by cibo matto. “these actually came in, like, this summer, so i honestly deserve an award for holding onto them for this long.”
“hey, no shade to jamie,” he held up his free hand in defense, carefully setting the album down like a criminal caught red-handed with a prized jewel, “but best night of my life is a certified garbage album.”
he was promptly distracted from this rampant jamie foxx distaste by the sweet allure of cheap and hidden vinyls. his heart instantly kick-started in his chest as she emerged, clutching the treasures close to her chest — the excitement of long withheld albums could not be denied. he gently took them into his hands like precious cargo, eyes blowing wide the second he registered the true gold he had cradled in his grip. “no way...... know your chicken?!” his eyes popped up to meet hers, a childish grin blooming on his lips. “you’ve really been holding onto these since summertime?” he shook his head playfully. “all the wasted days that we could’ve been blasting them, man.”
isla was leaning on the counter perched over a magazine, twirling a lock of hair around her finger with one hand and taking a cosmo quiz with the other. it was a slow weekday afternoon at echo, and the volume of the music playing was a bit higher than usual as she was pretty much alone– save for miles, of course. her friend and bandmate had been sulking around the R&B section for nearly forty minutes. with a huff, she flipped the magazine closed after the quiz didn’t give her the result she wanted, deciding to actually get off her ass because she could not handle this boredom. “find anything good yet?” she asked, beginning to dance to the sound of deee-lite ringing through the shop as she wandered over to him. “if you’re having trouble it’s probably because i hid everything you’ll like so i have something to give you for christmas.”
miles wasn’t thorough with most things — he had a massive pile of ancient laundry that he’d been switching between his desk chair and bed for actual months — but music was a realm that deserved his utmost attention. he’d been combing through albums for ages, tongue subconsciously poking between his lips, as he tried to unearth something he hadn’t seen before. (seeing as echo was on his daily schedule at this point, this was an entirely futile quest.)
his head popped up from the album he’d been closely studying — a sealed vintage prince album, which he’d been en route to setting back down after glancing at the price — and offered a giant goofy grin as she boogied over. “very clever,” he commented, putting the album back in place, “and it also explains why i’m not finding anything that isn’t super pricey or...” he deftly lifted up a jamie foxx album, face scrunching in displeasure, “this.”
hello hello this is holly back at it AGAIN, this time with a much nicer boy i promise! if u wanna plot smth, as per usual, u can hmu on here OR on discord <3
MILES KAUFMAN | 22 | RETROGRADE’S RAPPER
he was adopted when he was an Actual Infant by an unhappily married couple who felt obligated to have a child, but didn’t wanna actually dedicate the time to a pregnancy. his parents both have rather intense and time consuming occupational choices: his mom is a surgeon at a nearby upscale medical center, and his father is the dingle chief of police, meaning they also had high expectations of where their son would go in the future. alas, his passions lie solely with music, as he has a song in his heart and he’s gonna share it with the world!!! his parents were, obviously, less than keen about this artistic pursuit, and make it very clear every time they see him.
he didn’t really have many friends growing up. the few he had ditched him once they got tired of being endlessly taunted, so he spent basically the entirety of middle school alone in the corner with his headphones on. he was very frequently bullied, which made his self esteem absolutely plummet + gave way to the slow development of pretty awful anxiety issues.
music, as cliche as it is, was his Savior during these rough periods, which is part of why he feels so compelled to follow it as a passion. if he can help anyone else through the pure treachery that is middle school, he will at least feel like he’s accomplished Something on this earth.
he loves any and all kinds of music. you’ll rarely catch him without a pair of headphones around his neck. his entire social media is him broadcasting whatever new wacko songs he finds, and spotify discover weekly is his best friend. some of his fave artists are anamanaguchi, cibo matto, gorillaz, kero kero bonito, anderson .paak, kevin abstract, daft punk, and cosmo pyke.
he was in a slew of different bands in high school - which got him out of the middle school slump and made him some new (better) friends - but the only one that somewhat took off was a three-piece bitrock group called galatea, named after the moon that orbits neptune… but also after a villain from bubblegum crisis tokyo 2040. they closed up shop when they graduated and went their separate ways, but definitely solidified the kind of music miles wants to create + the fact that music is his Calling.
he initially seems like he’ll be a lot more serious & tough than he is, mainly because he has somewhat of a resting bitch face, but the second you start a conversation you realize he’s a grade a goofball. he makes dumb jokes, is waaay too loud, has a slew of niche and nerdy interests, and loves himself a good solid meme.
on the topic of these interests: he’s a huge dweeb who’s permanently stuck in the 90s. he has a passion for vintage video games, tacky thrift store clothing, classic comics, and discontinued foods. he owns basically every old gaming system under the sun, and has a vast collection of obscure games. he can scream about classic pokemon for three years straight, trust.
he works at the skating rink, because while he is clumsy in regards to basically any other sport, he is an EXCELLENT rollerskater. even though he works there, he still spends an excess of his off hours skating around to some nice 80s tunes.
he dresses like an entire damn fool, and is a true sucker for bright primary colors. you can spot him from miles (lol) away with the kinds of colorblock-y garments he chooses to step out in day to day.
he owns a pet stag beetle named heracross, who he literally imported from overseas as a larvae back in 2016. it took months of research, endless back and forth discussions with exotic pet stores, and a couple hundos, but heracross is now a healthy and feisty 2 year old boy.
i have a fun about page right here, and a pin board right here if those are intriguing! thank u for reading ily
