dead air.
@ideden, late night radio guesting ( prompt, +5 exp, +5 skill )
san’s there to promote his new solo track. and that’s the thing about solo promotions, he needs to push himself out of his comfort zone. usually within the confines of olympus, he’s allowed to sequester himself away, at least to an extent. plaster his back to wallpaper and let himself bloom. he doesn’t like talking, isn’t the best with words. doesn’t like putting on his prescribed act when he can help it. but promoting as san and san alone means he needs to develop his own answers. means he needs to un-stick his tongue from the roof of his mouth and try not to ramble his way into thinning nonsense. means he actually needs to pay attention instead of sitting and wondering if anyone’s going to offer him free food.
he’d be a liar if he said that parts of it don’t make him uncomfortable. but with olympus as an entity gone (and on break, the fuckers), it has him relaxing just a bit. they don’t get along for the most part, it’s not the world’s biggest secret behind the scenes. most of them make san feel like he’s skittering on the edge of things. either that or angry. until he’s bottled up with it and grinding his teeth together. so he doesn’t have to sit tensed, wondering if someone will throw an arm around his shoulders. pretend they’re closer than close. doesn’t have to worry about whether or not someone will slip in a snide, underhanded sort of comment meant to try and hurt in ways that they can brush off as teasing. it’s exhausting, all those mental games. and it’s the sort of environment san grew up in. you learn to fight back, you learn to attack first and question later. because if you don’t, you’ll get cut down.
somewhere along the line, san had gotten sick of being cut down.
so it’s better and more terrifying all at once. and he hadn’t been looking forward to the radio show his manager told him he’d had. radio shows mean a constant dialogue broken up only by songs, recommendations. but when he finally shuffles in and spots yena, some of his unease drips away. of all the people that could’ve been sitting next to him, she’s probably the best pick. she probably understand more of what knocks around inside of his head than most people. probably understands that he’s a fucking mess right now, even if he doesn’t exactly look it.
“oh thank god,” is the first thing out of his mouth after general greetings to the show’s staff as he shuffles inside and sits down next to her upon noting that commercials were still playing. “i thought they were feeding me to the wolves,” he admits with a laugh, chews at the tip of his straw before he drinks down the dregs of his coffee.
