Hands + violin

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Okay Tumblr finally let me follow everyone! So a FULL HELLO! Here’s the run down of your resident classical music enthusiast. And you can read more of her profile [here], other headcanons [here], and some plots [here]! 

Originally posted by fly-once-again

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Reblogging again because... come at me!

pampered.

gain is by no means on time, but she still shows up when woojin expects her to, so he’ll let her have that. the exasperation is clear on his face, but he smiles all the same, reaching over to snatch the hat off her head. its rude to wear hats indoors after all. “good morning to you too, gain-ah.”

no manners this one. or at least, she rarely saved them for him. it’s moments like this where he wonders if she’s doing this on purpose to get a rise out of him - she’s certainly never so lax and lazy with her students or other colleagues, and he knows that their older peers don’t scare the daylights out of her like they do him. “i ordered nothing for you,” he says, deadpanning as he sets her hat on table, flicking the brim out of curiosity and ending up flicking it to the floor.

smooth.

he chokes, ducking down to pick it up and brush off imaginary dust before he hands it back to gain. “yes, i ordered a while back so our food should be coming soon.”

A laugh almost comes out, but she contains it to just a short hiccup of amusement before pursing her lips. It was out of character for him to give a cold shoulder (honestly, that was her role, between the two of them) so it took her by surprise, though she found it funny rather than anything else. Watching her hat tumble off the edge of the table, the corners of her lips turned up again, the frantic way he moves even more comical.

“You are bad at trying to be mean,” Taking her hat back and hanging it of the back of her chair, her attention came back as she put her chin on her hands, leaning on her elbows. She batted her lashes over innocent appearing eyes. They both know he had hardly ever been angry with her, much less for something like brunch. “You’re always nice to me, oppa. Are you upset with me, this time?” 

Gain keeps the sweet face as the waitress comes back to deliver their food. Unfolding her napkin, she sets it over her lap before taking up her fork and knife. “Do you think the campus cafe will ever start taking requests and suggestions seriously? I’m tired of them saying they make crepes when it’s really just a stack of pancakes. It’s not fair.”

she goes for the coffee, then follows up with a step-by-step viewing on how to construct the perfect rainbow grilled cheese. it’s a sickly looking thing, vibrant reds where there shouldn’t be, greens that look like they’d be more at home at a reaction plant than anywhere near her mouth. the coffee sloshes about uncomfortably in her stomach as she thinks about this, thinks about the fact she could be spending her time much more productively.

but michiyo’s discomfort is soon replaced with relief when she finds gain stepping right into her office a few minutes later—her graceful presence offers a much appreciated distraction from questionable recipes and the burden of unfinished work. she pulls out a spare stool out from underneath the desk and pats lightly on the wooden seat, gesturing for her friend to take a seat. “hey,” she says, taking the stack. one by one, michiyo splays them out on the table, eyes widening at the variety and quantity of choice. “i’m not picky.” she says, but there’s one that catches her eye. “this one looks promising,” korngold, much ado about nothing. “what’s this, shakespeare for the violin?”

Accepting the offer of the stool, Gain carefully tucks her skirt under her as she takes the seat. She watches as the cases are splayed out, a little bit anxious to see how they are received by the other. Despite being known for having a penchant for classical music she did enjoy other things too, though it was a secret hope that Michiyo would pick up the Seoul Orchestra cd--for her own personal reasons--but Korngold was good too.

“That’s a few hundred years more modern, but yes, kind of,” she laughed quietly. She perked up a little, the hope that she might have a buddy to go out and support the performing arts together was exciting. “You like theatre, too?” Gain was about to continue talking about the disk, but stopped, catching sight of the screen of her colleague’s computer. 

Normally she wasn’t one to get distracted, though in her defence the video had been paused on something quite abnormal. It takes only a few seconds for the pause to get weird, and with a crinkle of her nose, she tears her gaze from the vibrant... sandwich? “I’m sorry, but I hope you’re not planning on making that.” 

We tread the icy path slowly and cautiously, for fear of tripping and falling.

pampered.

she’s late but that’s not unusual. frankly, woojin has been coming in later as well, because no matter what time he shows up, gain will be glamorously tardy, designer sunglasses atop her nose like they’ll do anything to hide her hangover pallor. he folds the newspaper he’d been reading - boredom - and glances up at the cafe door. it’s their usual saturday morning haunt, and he doesn’t care what ring of hell gain had drunk herself into because for all his politeness, woojin doesn’t actually like to be kept waiting. 

raising his hand, he beckons over a waitress and orders enough for the both of them. if gain doesn’t show up then he’ll just have to eat it all himself.

In the majority of areas in her life, Gain was impeccable in the time management department. Always on time and prepared for the day’s events at an given moment. Though, however much she wanted to be a perfectionist, the truth was that no human was without fault and perhaps the person who (unfortunately) saw this the most would be her colleague and friend, Woojin. Undoubtedly there were a lot more people in the world she would rather not see her running late, so at least it was him. 

She had swung the door open to the little cafe and walked in casually, not a beat rushed at all as she made her way to the usual table the pair were seated at, despite knowing that he had probably been waiting for at least a half hour. “Hi,” she said simply as she sat down--no sunglasses but a wide brimmed hat today--without a trace of apology in her voice. “Did you order already? The fruit crepe for me?”

lighten it up

     it’s not that bambam hates music class, but simply that he can hardly ever pay attention properly when his teacher is always wearing these outdated, god-awful clothes. honestly, he’d be perfectly okay with it if she at least had something on her person other than that same silhouette and a semi-decent bag. over. and over. and over.

     so it’s not too much of a surprise when, as the lecture continues, he ends up zoning it all out. he knows she said at the beginning that it’s an important lecture and that they’ll probably have some kind of quiz or something about whatever musical history or theory she’s discussing today, but he’ll get through it some way or another (read: coffee and friends’ notes… or luck). for now, however, the boy settles on merely staring at gain’s bleak clothing as even duller words go through one ear and right out the other.

                           ( god, this shit will haunt him if he doesn’t do something soon. )

     at least he knows to be patient throughout this ordeal; he waits until the lecture is over to raise his hand (he’s being as respectful as possible about this issue because he knows first-hand just how sensitive it can be— trust me, he’s had his fair share of failures), staying completely silent — as he should — until he’s called upon.

     “why do you, ah,” he begins, pausing because shit, he has to find a way to say this without sounding too rude, “always wear the same type of color? why not try something… brighter once in a while?”

A lecture was, contrary to some students’ opinions, one of her favorite parts of the day. It was consistent, structured, and she got to talk about something she was passionate about. Having that was good for her, as a little bit of a perfectionist it was comforting to know there was a schedule to follow and fall back on. Not only in her classrooms, but routine seeped into all the corners of her lifestyle. 7am coffee, tending to plants during lunch... something like a uniform to wear to work. 

When she called on the student, Gain instantly felt tension from head to toe. Silly, expecting a real question? Looking down at herself gave a flicker of relief. At least that was normal; the questioning of her clothes was absolutely not. In her eyes, she definitely did not stand out in a crowd, but her attire was feminine and elegant. Nipped at the waist, a full skirt, a short heel: a classic 1952 silhouette, one that surely was not doing anything terrible for her looks-- what was wrong with that? Maybe she did wear a lot of neutrals, but she liked it! 

Clearing her throat, she readjusted her composure before replying. “I cannot tell you that until you can answer why you might not try for a grade... ah, higher, once in a while. But for any other personal matters, you’re welcome to stay after class or see me during office hours.” Perhaps she didn’t have to play the devious role of a villainous professor, but sometimes she liked to. “Does anyone else have anything to ask about today’s lecture?”