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There’s a dull, odd feeling when Acorn realises that he’ll never be as good as the other students.
It started when he was young, just starting to get into singing. It happens when he first hears Till sing for a practical. It’s nothing short of amazing, and he felt the direction of his life change, to be dramatic. In short, it was really good. Perhaps too much head-banging and snot-filled tears for him, but definitely good. Cheers surround Till, and it’s kinda funny how fast he blushes at the attention.
Sua goes soon after Till, and it’s just as life-changing as the last. It’s soft and syrupy sweet, his mind could get stuck in it for the rest of his life. Or something like that, he never really was good with words. It’s everything lovely in this world, and Acorn falls in love, or as they call it, falls head over...something. He really needs to catch up on his studying. Excited whispers travel through the small crowd of children after her performance.
His own turn comes, and it’s… okay. Mediocre at best, downright bland at worst. There’s a customary round of applause after his, without the fervour of the last two, and he feels absolutely humiliated.
It wasn’t good enough. It wasn’t good at all. His owner is going to be furious, because if he couldn’t even do well on a damn pratical, how would he get on ALIEN STA—
“Psst.” Someone pokes his side gently, interrupting his internal monologue. It’s Till, surprisingly, hair still a little messy from all the head-banging, “You did good.”
Still a little shocked, Acorn says, “Huh? T–thanks?”
Till nods, “But don’t sing from your nose.”
“...What?”
“Your singing is a bit too… nose… nosey?”
“Nasally?” He corrects.
Till shrugs, “Whatever it is. But you need to sing from… here!” Till circles around his stomach area with his finger.
“What?”
“It’s true!” Till puffs up, cheeks reddening a bit, “It makes your voice more stable.”
Acorn looks at him in suspicion, already doubtful of whatever Till’s yapping about, “And how do you sing from there?”
Till’s expression changes into a more prideful one, “I’ll show you how to do it later— promise!”
It’s hard not to smile when Till gets so giddy about “singing from your stomach”, and he feels a bout of laughter coming on.
“Whatever you say. Promise?”
“Promise.”
__
Acorn feels an oncoming headache about to absolutely explode his brain, and splatter goo everywhere. At least that's what he hopes is going to happen, as he cannot stuff any more vocabulary in his melting brain. What the hell is a disacc— di…. di something. God, he’s really done for.
It absolutely does not help that he’s sitting next to 2 dumbasses. Mizi is dozing off 4 minutes into class (a new personal record for her), and— oh god, she’s leaning on him. Is that drool? Mizi, whatever dream you’re having must be great, but please don’t drool on him.
Till is sure doing… something. Definitely not what they’re learning in class. Instead, he’s headbanging, something that he did not lose from his childhood. Acorn did not like him, but he also didn’t hate him. Maybe some weird secret third thing.
There is no way these are the supposed musical geniuses. Guess what? They’re all failing. Because Mizi and Till aren’t even trying. And here lies Acorn, the only one here actually trying but still failing because he’s surrounded by these dumbasses.
Wistfully, he looks up ahead to Sua and Ivan at the front, where all the academically excelling students sit. It must be so nice and peaceful not to deal with absolute idiots all the time. Although now that he’s looking at it, Ivan is definitely annoying Sua. Probably arguing about the answer. I’ll save you one day, he vows to Sua.
“Nathing—” Till sings under his breath, “Nathing—” He suddenly groans in frustration, at whatever the hell he was singing. What was “nathing” anyway?”
Till starts again, “Nathing… Nothing!” He finally gets his rhythm back, going back to singing, “Nothing was my everything…”
At some point, Till gets too excited and accidentally smacks him on the arm. Acorn has to reach out to Mizi to make sure she doesn’t fall off.
Till immediately gets embarrassed, “Sorry..!” He pitifully squeaks out, and is this really the guy that some people gossip about being “extremely violent”?
Acorn half-heartedly shrugs, “It’s okay.” He’s currently trying to do the infamous task of transferring Mizi’s head off his shoulder and onto the table without waking her up, so he wasn’t really listening.
“I’m sorry…” Till mumbles again, just as sad and pathetic as the last one. Acorn successfully gets Mizi off, and ouch, his shoulder is sorta stinging…
“Huh?” Acorn responds again, “I already said it’s okay, don’t worry about it.”
That doesn’t quell Till’s fears at all, and he opts to stare sadly at his worksheet in front of him. “Okay…” He whispers, barely audible. It’s times like these that Till gets so sad and pathetic that Acorn just wants to squish his cheeks. Or shake him around a bit. Or stuff him in his pocket. He looks like a pitiful, wet creature that it’s almost cute and endearing.
He’s not quite sure when he started thinking of Till as “cute”...
__
There is a sharp, consuming fear as he stands behind the stage. He remembers the first time he saw the brackets for ALIEN STAGE, and it was a miracle that he even qualified for it, but then he saw who he was going up against in the second round and—
He remembers seeing Durian and Marty, who were also in the same situation as him, quietly whispering words of comfort to each other. They were just simple fodder for this, just there to make the other contestants look better. They’d die and get replaced, names forgotten in a few years.
The days passed by, and graduation kept on creeping closer and closer. They cherished every bit of freedom and happiness they could get, because now their lives had a timer. Tick, tick, tick, it went.
But now, he stands behind the performance stage with Till, with a booming voice coming from the nearby loudspeaker that they’ll be on soon.
His heart pangs with grief as he remembers the last round. Tears prick at his eyes, but he swallows it down.
Till looks determined. All odds point in his direction after all. It was weird to see a timid boy turn out to be like this. He counts the time left before they go on stage in his head, palms sweaty. Tick, tick, tick.
He’s had a good run, he tries to convince himself. He had friends that he loved and… that was mostly it. But it was enough. Right? Right.
Now he was going against his not-friend-but-not-enemy that he sorta regrets not getting closer to (but if he was, this would be even worse. The segyeins were cruel). Because, admittedly, Till was sometimes cool with his electric guitar, but he’d play it way too loud at night, and Acorn would lose so many hours of sleep because of it. And there was one thing that Acorn could now acknowledge to himself, now that he was minutes away from death was that Till was cute at times. Like when he got embarrassed and he’d start blushing… or when he’d eat too fast and have rice grains around his mouth… or when he gets really into singing…
Hey, at least Acorn’s dying to him. At least he gets one last song with him.
“Till,” Acorn starts, finding his voice, “Let’s make this a good round, okay?”
This catches Till off guard, guilt flashing on his face.
“...sorry…” Till could barely get out, only audible if you were listening carefully.
Acorn forces a smile, “It’s okay.” He takes a deep breath, feeling his heartbeat slow down.
Tick, tick, tick.
He no longer felt scared.