EMILIO SAKRAYA 2024, Ph. Max Cremer

✦ . ── WANTED ! ( ft. song titles as inspo . )

you're gonna go far — noah kahan

the relationship naji has with this person has grown into something undeniably familial. he misses his brother often , and maybe that's why he sought out someone who could understand him just as well . i'm envisioning a sibling bond built and a rare , easy connection that doesn't need much explaining . they're likely one of the few people who can get naji to laugh or smile often , and maybe even the person in static avenue who understands him best . he'd honestly do anything for them ( and maybe they'd return that loyalty right back ) .

the vibes are : teasing nicknames & we take care of each other & stealing fries off of each others' plates & unspoken loyalty & you came? you called & always knowing when the other is upset & easy laughter & fiercely defensive of each other & crashing on the others' couch & borrowed clothes & making pacts & pinky promises.

reckless driving — lizzy mcalpine

careful , careful naji doesn't do relationships , but there's something about this person that keeps him circling back . maybe it's because they know more about him than he cares to admit , or maybe because they're so different from each other—where he's quiet and withdrawn , this person is likely to be at least a little bit more open and expressive than he is . they don't hate each other , really , but i'm thinking there's some undeniable tension , the kind that lingers and makes it clear that there are some intense feelings being swept under the rug . this doesn't have to go anywhere , that's fully dependent on chemistry , but i'd at least love some eventual understanding !

the vibes are : fights that feel like a confession & intense eye contact & sharing earbuds & everyone can see it but them & stolen glances turn into eyerolls & shared cigarettes under the stars & "accidental" touches & sitting in silence but feeling understood.

heading south — zach bryan

naji’s relationship with this person has evolved from envy to a begrudging sense of respect. this person always seemed to have it all figured out ( at least , according to naji ) seeming to have the perfect life and a particular charm to go along with it . to naji , they represented everything he felt he lacked , starting a likely one-sided rivalry completely fueled by jealousy. maybe they're not as perfect as naji thought , and now he has to see them around , often in the same spaces because of the band . maybe he can sense their vulnerability right now , or maybe they're sick of his judgements , but somehow they're slowly trying to work around whatever tensions still exist .

the vibes are : sighing and rolling eyes at one another & usually avoiding working together too closely & awkward conversations & asking others what their opinion is & trying to remain professional instead of vindictive & keeping interactions as short as possible & trying to get along because it's what's best for the band & never really losing that competitive edge .

misc things !

past fling that ended on good terms ; decided they're better off as friends?

that one person who always comes to him when they need literally anything fixed

one of the artists please teach him your instrument ; he's a fast learner

any and all other plots welcome !

naji's body relaxes almost imperceptibly as the familiar voice hits his ears , the sight of major's face clear in his hazy vision after he gets in a few hard blinks. the initial burn of irritation that has him clenching his jaw fades away , replaced with a feeling that's caught halfway between relief and embarrassment. the hand brushing at his temple slips down to rub his jaw , and he rolls his eyes — even in his drunken state he knows it's an affectionate action more than an irritated one — stepping further out into the hallway to join major where he's standing. " man , you scared the shit outta me , " he groans , even though they both likely know ' scared ' isn't the most appropriate word. naji has always been the type to come out fists swinging , and had it been an annoying stranger instead of the bassist , the conversation would've ended in a verbal or physical scuffle. tentatively , and after a minute of trying to make out the label , naji reaches out to take the gatorade from him. it's a sight for sore eyes , practically glistening under the party lights. " thanks , though — couldn’t pay me to touch that jungle juice. four loko was bad enough , maj. "

he shrugs as he twists the cap of the bottle off , hoping the words come off as nonchalant , but there’s an exhaustion somewhere in his voice. " was tryna hide out in the bathroom — " okay , he's chatty now , maybe that'll be a reminder to have fewer drinks next time. " — but clearly that isn't gonna work. know any good hiding places ? "

Sometimes throwing parties felt like being part of the babysitter’s club, or some shit – not that Major had ever babysat in his fuckin’ life! Nobody had ever been desperate enough to hand him a whole ass kid. He didn’t have enough family to make the whole, ‘little cousins running around the trailer park,’ thing a stereotype that applied. Major figured, though, that after seeing some of his bandmates lick down a drink or two, he might be able to put it on a resume. Major feats in daycare – who’d have  thought? 

“Yoooo, what’s all that noise?” His tone is false exasperation as soon as it leaves his lips – lightweight. Fun, and funny, and all that good shit: least he hoped that’s how it was all coming off. Major didn’t wanna overthink it, though; didn’t really wanna think on it at all! So he handed over the bottle of Gatorade he had in his baseball glove of a hand – the only unspiked shit he could fuckin’ find in the fray of the party. “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you, huh? I’m just out here lookin’ out for you, and shit, baby boy.” 

"You get into that Jungle Juice? Cuz, for the record - this is why I tell everyone to bring their own shit. Ain't no party like a rat loft party, because these guys don't give a fuck."

he noticed the staring long ago. how could he not ? it's as brazen as everything else the woman does — sharp , like a silent dare , a challenge in the air like she's looking just to see if he'll offer his gaze back. ( he doesn't. ) instead , naji ignores her for the time being , shadow falling behind flickering lights , half - swallowed by the dark and half - swathed in neon pink. a cigarette burns low between his fingers — should he go outside ? he's deciding — but it does nothing to fight the perpetual scowl that is twisted onto his lips , even as he lifts it up again to take a drag. he's got an air about him that screams leave me alone , and , on a normal day , most people catch on quick. ( it is important to note , then , that he knows juno zhang is not 'most people'. ) her gaze sticks like static , and so does his bleary memory of last night , the wild woman on his doorstep and asking to stay like he's her last resort. less than twenty - four hours ago was when naji learned he can't say no to her , and , already it's proving to make things difficult. he knows this even as she approaches , brash and barefoot , bringing all her wit and audacity with her. the scowl twists deeper at her tone , eyebrows knitting together. the teasing otherwise rolls off his shoulders , but it does something strange , somewhere deep , just enough to make him wonder why she cares to notice what he's doing at all. his eyes fixate somewhere to her left , and he leans back further agains the wall. don't look chaos in the eye , that's not good for you. " hmm. " a noncommital grunt , like he isn't buying into her taunt. " where the fuck did you leave your shoes ? " he pauses again. " you wanna talk about being 'lost', yeah? " the implications of that are clear , but he's not insolent enough to bring up the night before. " or just here for a cigarette ? "

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄, @najiikarim ! 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 : major's stinky loft.

the  loud  and shitty music  blasting  from  the  janky  speakers  and  sweaty  bodies  slamming  against  her  absurdly  furry  exterior  aren’t  enough  to  pull  her  stabbing  gaze  away from  him  ; meticulous examination  made  all  the  more  obvious  by  the  haze  coating  her  inebriated  brain.  yes,  juno’s  never  been  —  and  never  will  be  —  someone  who’s  subtle  (  because  fuck  that  ),  but  right  now,  she’s  doing  absolutely  nothing  to  hide  the  fact  that  she’s  been  staring,  staring  and  staring  some  more.  he  seems  lonely.  he  saved  you  last  night.  just  move.  and, like  everything  she  ever  does  in  life,  she  follows  the  first  impulse  that  jerks  at  her  bruised  heart.  wants  to  thank  him,  needs  to — it’s  been  a  gnawing  itch  that she  hasn’t  been  able  to  scratch  since  stepping  out  of  his  home  this  morning.  the  altoids tin  box  that she filled  with  four hand - rolled joints burning her  pocket, a symbol of unspoken gratitude. she can’t stomach the thought of not repaying him ... for some reason. kindness for the sake of being kind is a myth, after all. naked  feet  —  she  ditched  her  heels  a  while  back  and  didn’t bother  looking  for  them — carry  her  toward  him in all of her messy glory,  an inevitable curse. excitement  pulses  through  her  veins;  this  is  the  closest  her  prying  eyes  have  been  to  him  the  entire  night. what a thrill. “ lookin’  a  little  lost  there … ”  she  says,  not  meaning  to  mock,  but  her  words  still  have  a  sharp  edge  to  them.  “  never  been  to  a  party  before,  roadie  ?  no  one’s  gonna jump  you.  ”

✦ . ── picks a direction , it's ninety in memphis turns up the music so thoughts don't intrude predictably winds up thinkin' of elvis — and wonders if he believed SONGS COULD COME TRUE .

NAJI KARIM ( emilio sakraya) , he/him , roadie for @staticavenue .ᐟ intro. pinterest. spotify.

── .✦ penned by envy ( she/her , 21 ).

are you always this inquisitive with new clients?

just the criminals […] that’s a joke.

“Oh, you’re breaking my heart.”

The Breakfast Club (1985) dir. John Hughes

henry being just a 🤏 tiny little guy

Dellamorte Dellamore ,  Michele Soavi , 1994.