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Summary
He called himself Delic, which had to be one of the stupidest stage names Hibiya had ever heard.
"Like Psychedelic?" A puff of acrid cigarette smoke hung between them. Hibiya wrinkled his nose as the fake blonde gestured with calloused fingers, "It's, it's cool, cause it's the opposite of my aesthetic— with the suits and the— "
"Yes, I understand." Hibiya interrupted, wondering if this project was going to be way more taxing than he originally signed up for.
The script was garbage. It was some kind of buddy-comedy without the comedy, full of undeserved emotional moments followed by an excess of out-of-pocket comments that seemed like they never should've made it out of the writing room.
His character was a prince, with a tacky gold cape and gloves that didn't breathe. With an accent he had to fake and soles higher than he was comfortable with. It felt more like a child's Halloween costume than something he'd have to pretend was the pride of generations of royal seamstresses. Fake jewels, fake gold, fake motivations.
It was tragic, truly. He'd played better characters than this.
Delic/Hibiya AU - Actor AU