Chapter Text
♪ • . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁꒰ঌ·𓏲ּ𝄢·໒꒱ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. • ♪
“Why are you calling?”
“Figured you weren’t sleeping,” Mumbo replied, a yawn coming through the speaker immediately after. “And neither am I, so..”
Grian rolled his eyes, putting his phone on speaker mode and setting it on the table where he sat, “You don’t sound like you’re awake by choice,” he noted.
Mumbo huffed, “Not sure what you’re talking about,” he yawned once more, “what are you up to?”
Grian looked over the messy papers he had laid out all over his kitchen table, each with different lyrics and lists and ideas. He had been at this since he came home with groceries a few hours ago, “Just getting ready for bed.”
“Right,” Mumbo said, taking a breath, “well you and I both know that’s a lie. What are you actually doing?’
Grian sighed, wishing that Mumbo had just taken the bait, “Writing songs.”
“Songs, plural. How are you–? Oh god you’ve covered the kitchen table again, haven’t you?”
Grian’s silence said enough.
“Buddy, you need to head to sleep,” Mumbo said, the sound of his blankets being moved coming through the phone, “We’ve got to get going early tomorrow.”
“9:00AM is not early for me, Mumbo, you know that,” Grian replied, picking up one of the random pieces of paper to scribble down a line he thought of, “How does this sound; Somewhere alone is when I die, on the banks of some canal. The river bitter tears I try to hide, and even fools will believe in lies.”
Mumbo considered the words, “Well when you speak them it’s not that good, yeah? But I can see the potential.”
Grian hummed, writing the note on the side of his paper, “I was thinking that it would be one of the songs you use the violin for,” he mused, throwing the paper to the side once more.
“I do like those songs…” Mumbo trailed off, “Also, just be aware that I know you’re distracting me from the issue at hand. You’re not as slick as you think you are, Grian.”
Grian groaned, placing his head in his hands, “How did you even know I was awake? Was it Pearl?”
“Nope,” Mumbo said simply, “just had a feeling. Last tour you were up for days before we left, do you remember that?”
Grian’s mouth opened agape, “No– no, not at all.”
“Right, okay. Well you were,” Mumbo took the phone away from his ear, his voice getting quieter as it walked away, “I need you to put all of your things in a neat pile and go to sleep. You can work on them tomorrow while we're on the bus.”
“We’re going to be way too hyped on the drive for me to write music. This is the last time I get to before we leave,” Grian said, fussing over a new verse he had picked up, “how does this sound—”
“Nope, no more,” Mumbo declared, “pack it up, or else I will call Pearl and she will force you to.”
Grian made a noise of shock, “You wouldn’t dare,” he said, already cleaning up the papers strewn about. Maybe if he cleaned up and then went back out to finish his work… Yes, that would work.
“You know I would. And don’t go thinking about ways out of this, just head to bed, you spoon.” Mumbo said seriously, and Grian could almost feel the stare he was being given through the phone.
“I don’t enjoy how far in my head you are,” Grian noted, picking up a chorus line that somehow had made it on to the floor. “You might as well just live in my brain with me.
“That’s what happens when you pick three people to spend all of your time with,” Mumbo yawned.
“More than three!!” Grian argued, “and you are just as bad.”
Mumbo laughed, “I never said I wasn’t,” he yawned once more, sounding like his jaw was about unhinge.
“You should go to bed, Mr. Jumbo,” Grian said, “I’ll let you go.”
“You promise you’ll go to sleep?” Mumbo asked, too tired to argue.
Grian nodded before remembering that his camera was not turned on, “Yes. I promise.”
“Okay, goodnight Grian. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow, Mumbo.”
He hung up the phone, putting it in his pocket. He finished tidying the last of his papers, gathering them into a neat pile to place in his travel bag. As he headed to his bedroom, he thought for a final time that night if there was anything that he was forgetting for tomorrow. Checking off the itemized list that he had practically memorized by now, Grian had a very important thought.
He remembered that the last time the band had gone on tour, Mumbo ended up forgetting any tea bags that they could’ve drunk, causing them to have an early detour because Ren deemed it a worthy venture to make.
Passing the kitchen, Grian grabbed the tin he used to hold all of his different flavours of tea. He made sure to grab a box of coffee pods as well. Thinking he was done, Grian turned to leave before having another urge.
He sighed, grabbing the hot chocolate powder as well. In the back of his head he had the thought that the last time he had even thought of using this was with…
No.
Nope. Not going there today. Not when he’s got so much to look forward to.
Grian sighed. Holding the different hot beverage activators along with his papers, he made his way to his bedroom to sleep.
♪ • . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁꒰ঌ·𓏲ּ𝄢·໒꒱ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. • ♪
“Dude, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you gone,” Pearl laughed, stepping on the gas as the lights turned green.
Grian smiled, glancing at Pearl, “You know I’ve been on tour before, right? Like– this is not your first rodeo.”
“I know, I know. It’s just… aghh!!” Pearl groaned, hitting her hand on the wheel, “I’m going to be so bored. You haven’t been gone for this long since highschool.”
“It’s only a few months, Pearl,” Grian consoled, “I’m sure it will be over before you know it. Maybe you might make some friends! That would be a new development for sure.”
“Hey! I have friends,” She protested, keeping her eyes on the road as she playfully hit Grian. “I’ve actually got plans with Shelby, Drift, and Cleo if you’d believe it.”
“From the pottery studio?” Grian asked, “I’m so proud.”
“Oh, shut up,” Another smack came his way. “Y’know what? Maybe this won’t be so bad.”
Grian nursed his cheek, “No way that didn’t bruise,” he mumbled before processing what his sister had said. “Wait, what?? How dare you say that?”
“Do you want me to be upset or not?” Pearl said, turning into the Life Records’ parking lot. “This is very confusing, Gri.”
“I don’t know,” He answered truthfully with a sigh, “promise you’ll call?”
“Who would I be if I didn’t?” His sister replied, “do you need help with your bags?”
Grian shook his head as he unfastened his seatbelt. “No, I’ve got it, thank you,” he climbed out of the car, taking his bags from the backseat.
Pearl smiled at him, “See you soon?”
It was their sacred phrase, one that had been used since his exchange year of high school. They never said goodbye, the words too final, too close to a permanent ending between the two of them. Instead, they preferred this.
“See you soon, Pearl,” He echoed back, shutting the car door with a ‘clunk'.
Grian sighed, watching her vehicle pull out of the parking lot. The tour was definitely going to be rough without her. He was going to miss their mornings chatting over coffee, movie nights, taste testing the new recipes she was trying out for her café, and so much more.
The pair had been thick as thieves for a long time now. His earliest memories with her replacing whatever their parents had been like. She always told him he was lucky to not remember, though he wasn’t too sure.
He turned around once he lost sight of her, trying to make himself seem more approachable as he headed towards the tour bus. Grian looked around, relieved to see the band’s manager, Ren.
“Grian!!” The man cheered, right on cue. “Exactly the guy I wanted to see! How are you doing?” The brunette met Grian in the middle of his walk, giving him an enthusiastic slap on the back.
Grian found his that face subconsciously formed into a smile, Ren’s energy had always been contagious, “Honestly? I’m super excited,” he said after a brief moment of consideration, “I still can’t believe that this is all real.”
Ren hummed, “Agreed, mate. This tour is going to do incredible things for Spanners– and the other two bands, of course.”
“Nice save,” He let out a laugh. “Speaking of, where is everyone else?”
“Mumbo and Skizz are helping load everything onto the bus… and Martyn is probably calling Tuff Guys because they were supposed to be here ten minutes ago.”
“Oh, they’re gonna be in trouble,” Grian whistled, “glad I’m not them. What about the other band… uhm… what were they called?”
“The Bamboozlers?” Ren pulled out his phone, checking the time, “I think Joel, their manager, mentioned that they would be a bit late. Something about their guitarist having a wardrobe issue.”
“What? We haven’t even–” He cut himself off, “nevermind, I don’t even wanna know.”
Grian heard Martyn approaching before he could see the man, “What do you mean Etho and Bdubs are fighting over moss?! No, no, that's not an acceptable reason for running behind. I don’t care, mate! I expect to see your asses pull into this parking lot in the next twenty minutes.”
Grian turned to glance behind him, spotting Martyn’s furious face as he stormed towards the pair, “You know, you’d think after all this time I would start to take an angry Martyn seriously… but no, it’s still just as funny.”
Ren laughed, “Don’t let him hear you say that.”
“Let me hear you say what?” Martyn asked as he stopped beside Grian.
He considered telling his friend, but one look at his scrunched up face was all it took to deter him from the idea, “Nothing, nothing at all. Tuff Guys giving you a hard time?” He said, having to avert his gaze to avoid giggling.
“Oh my gods, they’re infuriating!” Martyn groaned, sounding like he wanted to rip out his hair, “8:30 I told them to be here. I don’t even know if they’re on their way!! You’d think they’d have more respect for the one who got them this opportunity in the first place.”
Ren nodded, solemn and serious, “Yeah, the audacity,” he replied, a hint of amusement laced throughout his words.
Grian frowned, “I think that they had their spot secured in this tour before Ren even offered it to you, mate.”
Martyn shot him a look that warned not to push his luck.
Now realizing that if he stayed any longer than he would be the one on the chopping block, Grian decided that it was time to take his leave, “Which bus am I on?” He questioned, pointedly not acknowledging the attitude he had been given.
“That is a good question,” Ren hummed, taking out his phone once more. “It says here that Martyn and I are on Eagle One… You’re on Eagle Two with Mumbo, Skizz, and a few others.”
Grian smiled gratefully, “Thanks, Ren. At least someone has respect for their performers,” he said, beginning to walk towards the two buses so he wouldn’t have to face his friend’s wrath. “Give them hell, Martyn!” He called out when his back was completely turned, hoping to fuel the angry wrath inside of the guy.
Oh come on, it was hilarious!
He found his bus on the first shot, not that it was difficult. Hanging in one of the windows— probably connected to Skizz’s bunk— was a bright red “Mumbo for Bass” poster taped facing outwards for the world to see. The drummer had insisted on making one after hearing about Grian’s campaign to elect him student council mayor in college despite neither of them being in the club to begin with.
It was weird to think that he hadn’t known Skizz nearly as long as he had known Mumbo. The two of them had originally met the guy through their friend Impulse during the second year of college. After declining the offer to drum for the band, Impulse had been kind enough to redirect the pair to his roommate, who was actually majoring in music.
They had taken a few weeks to really warm up to each other, but now Grian couldn’t imagine what his life would be like if they had never met.
Grian hauled his belongings up the stairs, almost tripping as he climbed. He had made sure to pack light after the previous tour he had been on with the band. It was a good thing that only Spanners and Ren lived on that bus, because every other bunk was reserved for Grian’s multitude of bags. At the time he’d insisted that it was all necessities. But looking back? He definitely did not need to bring five sticks of deodorant.
He made his way to the back of the bus, noting the nice living space the group had been given. This tour bus was of much higher quality than his last one. There were six bunks total, four on one side and two on the other. Beside the two was what Grian assumed to be a storage closet. Skizz and Mumbo had claimed the two diagonal to the closet, their bags flung messily onto the mattresses provided. Grian quickly tossed his own things on the bottom bunk beside the pair, praying that someone he knew would sleep above him.
“Grian! Are you in there?” Someone called from the front of the bus.
“Yup,” Grian shouted in reply, hastily walking to greet whoever was there, “Mumbo!! What’s up?”
Mumbo grinned, walking back off the bus, “Same old, same old. We need you to help move the drum kit. Well, Skizz doesn’t think he needs help but you and I both know he’s going to drop everything.”
Grian laughed, following his friend into the open air, “He really overestimates his strength. Like— he’s strong and all, but not to that level.”
The two made their way into the building just in time to witness Skizz attempt to pick up three separate drums at once, “I’ve got it, guys! Don’t even worry about it,” he said, fumbling one of them. It fell to the floor with a clatter.
Mumbo stepped forward, picking up the snare drum, “It’s not even humanly possible to hold all of this at once. What were you going to do with the symbols?”
“Balance them on my shoulders, obviously,” Skizz replied, readjusting the load he had taken on. Eventually, he chose to drop one of them completely, allowing himself to focus on carrying the bass drum with the high tom attachment.
Grian laughed, “As if,” he said, grabbing the symbols in case Skizz decided to follow through on the idea.
Now with the last bits of their equipment, they walked— albeit slower and more cautious— towards Eagle One. The storage unit on the underside of the bus was already open, a few of the Life Records crew members waiting there to safely load everything on. Spanners thanked them for helping out, Skizz repeatedly telling them how amazing they were as they worked.
“I think we should get on our bus before Ren ropes us in to whatever he needs to double check… probably like the air inside each tire or something,” Grian said, glancing between the two, “Or worse. Martyn.”
Skizz furrowed his brow, “You like Martyn though.”
“A little too much sometimes,” Mumbo muttered under his breath, “ probably enough to cheat on us.”
Grian sighed as they all headed to their new home, “Mumbo, I am not going to leave Spanners to run off with Martyn. He’s Tuff Guys manager, he doesn’t even have time for that.”
“So you’re saying that if he had free time then you would,” Mumbo said, shaking his head. “Shame on you, mate.”
“I can’t believe you,” Skizz agreed, “I thought we all had something special.”
Grian climbed up the steps of the bus, “You guys are so clingy. It’s like I’m babysitting.”
Skizz laughed, taking a seat on the small couch in the living space, “Get used to it. You’re going to have no escape for quite a while.”
“Don’t remind me,” Grian joked, heading to the back of the bus with Mumbo, “at least there will be other people with us so I’m not stuck with you,” he spoke louder so that Skizz could hear him.
“Speaking of,” Mumbo said, “Do either of you know who else we're living with?”
Grian grabbed his bag full of kitchen supplies, determined to unpack all of it today, “I’d assume Tuff Guys, right? Three of us, three of them,” he walked to the front of the bus once more, setting his stuff on the mini dining table across from the couch.
Skizz nodded, “Agreed. Do you need help with all of your stuff?”
“Nope, I’m good,” Grian replied, taking utensils out of the side pouch and putting them in the first drawer he saw. “Don’t expect to be able to find anything, though.”
Mumbo came out with the kettle, placing it on the counter and plugging it in, “You guys want tea?” he asked, already knowing the answer, “Grian, you brought mugs, right?”
Grian dug into the bag, “Yes, I brought all of the kitchen supplies except for the things we need for tea,” he pulled out three different mugs. One with a photo of a goose with a moustache, another with a Napoleon Dynamite quote, and a third with a pattern of a parrot.
“Thanks,” Mumbo said as Grian passed them over, “...do you have tea bags?”
Grian blinked, “You forgot tea bags,” he stated, feeling a little triumphant for having thought of tis the night before. He sighed in disappointment when Mumbo didn’t reply. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out the rack he used to hold different tea flavours and honey.
“I would call you out for doubting his integrity, but I can’t because you were right,” Skizz said with a laugh.
“I also have coffee, hot chocolate, and a bunch of other food. Speaking of…” Grian trailed off, coming to the realization that the food should’ve been put in the fridge before anything else, “be right back!!” He called, already on the way to his bunk once more. When he came back with his second bag filled with food Grian was greeted with Tango and Ren standing on the steps into the bus.
“Hey guys,” Ren greeted, throwing what Grian presumed was Tango’s bedding onto the couch where Skizz sat, “Tango’s going to be living with you three. Get him settled in, please."
Skizz frowned, “What about Etho and Bdubs?”
Ren shook his head, “They’re with me, sorry guys. I’ve got to go, don’t get into anything disastrous. Mumbo, you’re in charge.”
“What? That’s not fair!” Tango protested, though it was to no avail as Ren had already made a mad dash for the exit.
Grian moved past Mumbo to get to the fridge, putting all of their produce and meat in there, “Tango, do you have anything for the kitchen?”
Tango shook his head, “Nope. I was too busy making sure that Bdubs was all packed… and I thought he and I would be on the same bus,” he signaled Skizz to pass his sheets back over, walking towards the back of the bus to claim his bunk.
“Tango, take the top bunk above me!” Grian called.
“I can’t sleep on top bunks, sorry!!” Tango shouted back.
“Why did they split Tuff Guys up?” Mumbo asked, quiet enough for the guy in question to not hear.
Grian didn’t reply, the question at hand not making sense to him either.
Skizz whistled, “Come on guys. Ren’s gotta get us all to bond somehow,” he said, stretching his arms above his head with a yawn. He sighed, “I hope the other band is nice, do we know anything about them?”
“Their manager’s name is Joel,” Grian answered, recalling the conversation he’d had with Ren earlier, “and their guitarist has a major wardrobe problem.”
“Joel is also their drummer, and the three others share main vocals,” Mumbo said as he poured the hot water into all of their teas, “I think the bass player’s name is Lizzie, and she’s dating Joel. The other two both play electric guitar.”
Grian glanced up at Mumbo as he pulled out his portable stovetop, “How do you know all this?”
“Etho and Bdubs went to college with Joel,” Mumbo shrugged, putting honey into Grian and Skizz’s teas “they performed with him once when Tango was busy, for Battle of The Bands or something. We were talking about it a few days ago.”
“So Joel and Lizzie will probably be together, yeah?” Skizz asked, “Meaning we’ll either be with them or the other two members.”
As Mumbo moved away from the kitchen area to sit with Skizz, Grian picked up the bag and took his place. He rifled through the cupboards to find an unopened one, beginning to place the random snacks he had brought in it, “Snacks go in the cupboard above the sink,” he announced as he picked out a bag of potato chips.
“They’re here,” Skizz announced to the two of them, sitting up in his seat to greet their new roommates.
Grian hummed, nearly done putting away all of the things that he had brought. While his back was turned to the door, he heard two pairs of footsteps climb the stairs to the bus, one of them greeting them, “Hey, everyone. I’m Jimmy,” he said, the grin on his face evident through his words.
“Good to meet you, Jim,” Skizz replied, “My name is Skizz, beside me here is my friend Mumbo. And over in the kitchen unpacking his numerous bags filled to the brim—”
“Hey! Everything I brought is absolutely necessary,” Grian chirped, waving a pack of gummies in the air.
“That’s what he said last time, yet here we are,” Skizz laughed, “anyway, as I was saying. The guy in the kitchen's name is—”
“Grian.”
Grian froze, the gummies falling out of his hand. They landed on the floor alongside Grian’s heart.
He hadn’t heard that voice in years.
Slowly turning around, his heart sunk even lower as grief he had worked through so long ago came flooding back in.
“Scar.”
♪ • . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁꒰ঌ·𓏲ּ𝄢·໒꒱ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. • ♪
“Are you excited for the show tonight?” Scar asked from the changing room, emerging shortly after.
Grian laughed, “Yes, of course I am. Biggest audience yet, ey?” he grinned, throwing a shirt at his boyfriend. “Put this on! You are not going out shirtless tonight.”
“But my abs!!!” Scar protested, “they’re for the world to admire. You know this.”
Grian stood up, walking towards him, “I’m serious. There might be people that can sign us, this could be our big break.”
Scar grinned, “So serious,” he mumbled, pulling Grian in for a quick kiss. “Trust me, they’ll love us.”
Grian flushed red, “And you, Mr. Goodtimes, are cocky,” he replied, placing his hands on the taller’s shoulders, “Don’t think you’ve distracted me, you still must wear your shirt.”
“But Griannnnn,” Scar bemoaned, “songbird, my dearest, clothing is restraining and I’m going to take it off halfway through anyways.”
“Then wear it for half the time and take it off half way,” Grian said, "at least let them think that you have dignity.”
♪ • . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁꒰ঌ·𓏲ּ𝄢·໒꒱ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. • ♪
“What are these?” Grian asked, staring at the bag in his hand.
Scar raised an eyebrow, “Cookies, for your secret lover.”
“Huh?? Who are you talking abo—” Grian continued, the pieces clicking together in his head as he spoke, “you mean Bigb?”
“I knew it,” Scar clicked his tongue as he crossed his arm. “Oh my gods, Grian.”
“It’s not like that,” Grian said sternly, “not at all, I swear it. When did you even come by?”
Scar ignored the question, obviously trying to keep his cool, “You guys looked like you were about to kiss! You were sitting, shin to shin at the fucking piano! So tell me, what else is it ‘like’.”
Grian gaped, “I’ve known Bigb since highschool. He's not even gay! He was helping me with a song, that’s it.”
“Right, and that’s why you went behind my back and told me you were out with a Mumbo.”
“It’s not— It was a surprise!” Grian pleaded, setting the bag of cookies down completely. “Scar, please trust me.”
♪ • . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁꒰ঌ·𓏲ּ𝄢·໒꒱ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. • ♪
It was like the world had stopped.
Scar. His Scar was standing right in front of him.
Grian took in the man, noting that he had barely changed. Piercing green eyes stared back at him, probably thinking the same.
“Uhm, do you two know each other?” Skizz finally asked, glancing between the pair as if they were from a soap opera.
The pair exchanged glances, trying to convey the desperate messages to each other. Scar opened his mouth to reply, “Kind of–”
“Nope!” Grian said at the same time. The two looked back at each other again, Scar silently urging Grian to speak, “Well, like we used to… in passing.”
“Yeah, friend of a friend situation, you know how it is,” Scar added on, giving an anxious smile to Skizz.
“...Right, of course,” Skizz said after a beat, staring at Grian in a way that let him know he was going to be telling the truth later whether he liked it or not, “Jimmy, do you need help with your things?”
“No mate, I’ve got it—” Jimmy began, cutting himself off as he looked further into the bus, “Tango??”
Tango, who apparently snuck up on Grian, sounded much happier to see a member of The Bamboozlers, “No way, my rancher!”
“Do you two know each other?” Skizz repeated, now looking between the new pair of old chums.
“Heck yeah, dude! Jim and I go all the way back to highschool,” Tango walked towards his friend, pulling him in for a hug despite all of the stuff he was carrying. “Lost touch in college, you know how it is.”
Jim laughed, hearty and cheerful, “Yeah, no bad blood, don’t worry guys.”
The pair pulled away, Tango grinning like it was Christmas day, “here, you can bunk above me. I’ll help you get your things,” he took half of the bags Jim was carrying, talking to him as they walked back past everyone. Silently, Scar followed behind them, avoiding eye contact with the three guys as he passed.
Once they were out of earshot, Skizz began digging, “Dude, get over here right now,” he whisper-yelled.
Grian complied, forgetting his gummies on the floor and moving to sit at the edge of the boothed table, across from Mumbo and Skizz. He wrung his hands nervously, leg taping on the floor against his will.
“First off; Mumbo, do you know about this?” Skizz turned to his friend who had been silent since their two new roommates arrived.
The man in question sheepishly ran a hand through his already slicked back hair, a strand falling in front of his face, “Yes. I did. But this was before your time, Skizz! I swear,” he hastily answered back.
Skizz shook his head, clicking his tongue, “Okay, okay, that’s fine. Grian, who is Scar in association with you? Should I hate him? He seems pretty hateable.”
Grian sighed, “No, Skizz, you don’t have to hate him,” he took a deep breath, stabilizing himself for his next words, “Scar’s my ex boyfriend.”
“What??” Skizz asked, jaw dropping, “first off; didn’t know you were gay but props to you. Secondly, he only seems more hateable. Third, I need a rundown of your relationship— if you want to.”
“No, no, I’m good,” Grian decided, “uhm– we dated for the first year of college, made music together… broke up cause he thought I cheated on him–”
“Did you?” Skizz laughed quietly at his own question, “nevermind, obviously you didn’t”
Grian nodded, “Yeah, he doesn’t believe that, though. Anyways, I’m blocked on everything, we haven’t spoken in like 3 years now… until now, I guess. But I’m over him, I’ve processed all of that stuff, trust me.”
Skizz nodded, “Right, okay.”
“Are you alright, Grian?” Mumbo asked, forcing Grian into eye contact, knowing the guy couldn’t look away first.
“I don’t know,” Grian shrugged, wringing his hands once more, “I kind of have to be, you know? We’re stuck with each other now.”
“I’m sure Ren and Martyn would move around the living arrangements if you asked,” Skizz suggested, obviously thinking hard about the situation, “the two of them could be here and you and Mumbo could be with Etho and Bdubs.”
Mumbo shook his head, “No, that splits up the three managers. It would probably be us trading with Etho and Bdubs.”
Grian sighed, letting his head fall to his knees so he was completely bent over, “I’m not making them move, they’re reconnecting with Joel. Plus, I don’t want to leave you here, Skizz,” his words came out muffled through his legs, but the other two understood.
“They’ll have other opportunities to see each other,” Skizz argued. A moment passed between the three of them, Grian assuming that Mumbo and Skizz were having a silent conversation while he was looking down.
“How about this,” Mumbo started, clearing his throat before lowering his voice again, “you stay here for now, and if you get uncomfortable or it gets too awkward or whatever, then we will request to switch around where everyone is sleeping.”
Grian groaned, moving to sit upright once more, “Okay, fine,” he agreed, knowing that he was not going to get out of such a tentative offer.
“And in the meantime,” Skizz spoke up, “consider us your two personal body guards!”
“Oh god, please. Anything but that,” Grian lamented, taking a sip of his tea. “That literally sounds like torture.”
Mumbo chuckled, “No, I think Skizz is onto something, mate,” he grinned, “you definitely need our protection.”
Grian frowned, shaking his head in protest. However agonizing the thought was of having his two friends constantly following him around, it was nice to know that they had his bad. He was really lucky to have such amazing people in his life, especially considering the people he had dealt with in the past.
He stood up to finish unpacking everything, stretching his arms over his head. As he worked, a singular goal formed in his head.
He had to be as normal as possible with Scar. There was no way he would change living arrangements. If Mumbo and Skizz didn’t know, they couldn’t make him.
It was fine!
This would be easy.
The three guys froze as they heard footsteps approaching, Grian’s face revealing the panic he felt despite trying to hide it. Skizz’s eyes widened and, without warning, he grabbed onto Grian’s arm, pulling him to sit on the couch between his two friends.
“What snacks did you bring, Grian?” Tango asked as he and Jimmy began rifling through the cupboards.
Grian kept his eyes on the two blondes, refusing to acknowledge Scar, who was now sitting in the booth of the table, “They’re above the sink,” he said, his voice way higher than usual. Grian cleared his throat, “If you take snacks you are required to buy more at the next rest stop,” he added on, thanking the gods above for restoring his vocal chords to their former glory.
Jimmy opened the cupboard, gasping loudly, “Oh my goodness!!” He exclaimed, pulling out a bag of chips, “I haven’t seen these since I went to Japan!”
Grian laughed, “I get them shipped here. You can have some, just leave a little for me,” he said, shoulders loosening from being scrunched up to his ear.
“When did you go to Japan?” Tango asked Jimmy, “and when did you go to Japan,” he cocked his head towards Grian.
“Exchange year,” Grian replied, shrugging, “it was an… interesting year, but their food was to die for.”
Jimmy nodded, “I know right?! I went with my friend Oli like a year back. I miss all of the random flavours.”
Tango’s brow furrowed, “Do you speak Japanese, Gri?”
“Uh— no. No one at my school did. Again, weird year,” Grian said.
Tango hummed, taking a seat at the table. Jimmy opened the bag with a satisfying pop, following suit. He took a chip out, taking a bite, “Holy crap, this is good!”
Grian smiled, “Mhm,” he agreed. The room lulled into silence, Grian beginning to feel Scar’s eyes burning into his head. He looked to the floor, hoping to seem uninteresting. He didn’t know if his tactic was working, but anything would help.
“So,” Skizz said eventually, “Jim, Tango, you knew each other in highschool?”
“Oh, yeah!” Tango said enthusiastically, launching into a long explanation about growing up together.
Grian tuned it out, counting off a breathing exercise in his head. He felt Mumbo move beside him, an arm wrapping around his shoulder in a comforting manner. Grian sighed in relief, leaning into his friend’s embrace. He braved a glance towards Scar to find him now looking out the window, his eyes glazed over. Grian then looked up at Mumbo to find him glaring at the guy.
“Hey,” Grian said quietly, elbowing his friend, “stop, he hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“What?” Mumbo asked, “oh, right. Sorry,” he said, matching Grian’s volume and not sounding sorry at all.
Grian yawned, allowing himself to close his eyes for a few minutes.
Mumbo snorted when he noticed, “I told you to go to bed earlier last night.”
“I listened!!” Grian argued.
“When I called you it was 2:00am, Gri,” Mumbo stated, “that is not early.”
“Whatever,” Grian yawned once more, drifting off to Tango’s storytime.
♪ • . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁꒰ঌ·𓏲ּ𝄢·໒꒱ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. • ♪
After waking up from his nap and realizing that he not only trapped Mumbo under him for an hour but also that Scar was the only other one in the living space, Grian had made a beeline for his bunk, closing the privacy shutter and claiming sickness for the rest of the day to remain alone.
He had woken up early the next morning, earlier than usual. Grian was used to rising with the sun, a habit that he hadn’t ever been able to break and a reason why he didn’t bother closing his blinds at night. But when his eyes opened to get up for the day, he was confused to find darkness greeting him. Grian checked the time, simply blinking as his screen showed him that it was only 5:20 in the morning.
He sighed, knowing that there was no way he could fall back asleep now that he was up. Grian pushed open his privacy curtain, climbing out of bed silently so as not to disturb all his sleeping bunkmates. He tiptoed to the living room, laying out on his couch and opening his phone to play a game for a while.
And then his phone died.
Grian paused, berating himself for not plugging it in overnight– did their bunks even have outlet plugs? He’d have to check next time he was in bed. He groaned, letting his phone fall to his chest as he thought of what to do now.
He frowned as he thought of what to do now, his question immediately being answered with a growl coming from his stomach. It seemed breakfast was in order.
Grian stood up and took five steps to make it to the makeshift kitchen, pulling out the portable stovetop that he had hidden away in a cupboard. As he brought out eggs and sausage, he thought back to what sparked the band to bring actual food on tour.
During their last tour, Spanners had not considered the effects of eating sandwiches and fast food for a month straight. They had thought to bring a kettle for tea, but ultimately decided that anything to cook with was unnecessary for only four weeks of travel.
Yeah, it turned out to be a bad call.
By the end of the shows, everyone was sick of sandwiches. Together, they vowed to bring actual food on their next trip no matter what. Grian hadn’t realized until now that he was the only competent cook in the band. Sure, Mumbo and Skizz knew simple recipes like grilled cheese, but he was coming to the conclusion that he was about to be elected to cook quite a bit over the tour. Unless Jimmy or Tango pulled master chef skills out of thin air.
♪ • . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁꒰ঌ·𓏲ּ𝄢·໒꒱ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. • ♪
“Yeah, Grian!!” Joel called out, waving the man over when he turned around, “can you come get your guitar? I don’t know if you let anyone else handle it.”
Grian walked over, “Of course,” he replied, pulling his instrument out from under the bus, “you’d be right. It’s a lucky charm thing– I can't have people touching my guitar.”
Joel laughed, nudging his shoulder, “I get that, mate. If I could be that way with my drums, I would.”
“You, Tango, and Skizz are sharing one set, right?” He asked.
The man in question nodded, “Yep. But hey, I think it’ll bring us closer together, like a family,” he said the word with emphasis, raising his eyebrows at Grian. “Like us, we’re family, right?”
Grian frowned, “Yeah… sure,” he said awkwardly, “what does that entail?”
“Nothing!!” Joel assured, “we’re just family! There is nothing weird about it, trust me.”
“...Okay,” Grian spoke after a beat, “yes, we’re family,” he backed away slowly. “I’m gonna go move my guitar inside now.”
Joel laughed as Grian turned away, following some stage crew into the building. The guy didn’t seem bad, per say. Just odd and weirdly insistent. He made his way to the back room behind the stage, propping his guitar against the wall and waving to the others in the room.
“Grian!” He looked up at the sound of Bdubs’ exclamation, “I haven’t seen you yet, man!” He approached his friend, giving him a tight hug.
Grian coughed as the shorter guy squeezed the air out of his lungs, “Hey, Bdubs,” he replied, nodding at Etho and Tango as they watched the pair.
Bdubs pulled away, dragging him towards the other two members of Tuff Guys, “How have you been? Getting along well with Jimmy and Scar?”
Grian’s shoulders tensed at the question, and he took a millisecond to force himself to calm back down, “Yeah, Jim was pretty nice. I didn’t really talk to the other guy, though,” he replied, glancing at Lizzie and Scar as they stood on the opposite side of the room to ensure that Scar had not heard.
Tango grinned, “Jim is fantastic,” he said, an odd look in his eyes that Grian couldn’t pinpoint. He seemed to come back to reality after a few moments, clearing his throat, “Scar too, he’s quite funny from the little bit that I’ve spoken to him. He seemed a bit— on edge? So I was trying to give him space.”
Bdubs’ jaw dropped slightly, letting out a little ‘ooh’ at the gossip, “It might be his first tour, plus with all the new people. Honestly, I’m not sure why Ren and Martyn split up the bands for living arrangements.”
“I think Joel said something about knowing you and I, dubs,” Etho finally said.
Tango’s brow furrowed, “It doesn’t really make sense, though I’m sure they have their reasons,” he lowered his voice as he continued to speak, “but it seemed like Scar did know someone… Grian?”
Grian gulped, “What?” he asked, feigning ignorance.
Tango gave him a look that told him not to play dumb, “Come on, man. You two obviously have history, what’s going on?”
Bdubs jaw dropped once more, turning to Grian rapidly, “You know him???”
Grian very quickly realized that he had two clear options laid out in front of him, to lie or to come clean. It was likely that if he lied his friends would catch on, especially because they had known each other for a long time now and been forced into many lie detecting tests during team building exercises with Ren and Martyn. However, telling the truth would probably be worse for both him and Scar.
Grian wanted to be mature about the situation, he didn’t intend on dragging others into his past relationship issues. It’s been years since everything went down, surely Scar would see him as petty if he aired out their issues to Tuff Guys.
So, Grian simply shrugged, trying to put on a persona of nonchalance as he spoke, “I mean, we were in a class together in college. Otherwise, no, I don’t really know him,” he stretched his arms up over his head, “it was just a shock to see him, I didn’t know he was into the whole… band scene,” he added on at the end, now blatantly lying.
Scar had always been into the idea of being in a band, it was how they met after all.
Tango nodded, and Grian almost grinned with joy as he realized he was getting away with this, “That makes sense. I just wanted to make sure there wasn’t any history between the two of you.”
“Nope,” Grian confirmed, shaking his head solemnly while giddy inside. In the midst of his internal celebration, he made eye contact with Etho. The man’s brow was furrowed, and he was looking at Grian in what seemed to be disbelief. But he didn’t say anything, so Grian considered it a win.
Grian shifted his wait between his feet, “I should go help bring more stuff in. Joel was saying something about family and– I don’t wanna let him down.!” He said, trying to sound enthusiastic as he excused himself from the conversation.
Bdubs groaned, “Oh goodness, he’s hitting you with the family stuff aswell?” he groaned louder when Grian nodded, “I swear that wasn’t a thing when we were in college.”
“Yeah, it must be new,” Etho confirmed, still looking at his friend suspiciously.
Grian forced a laugh, backing away from his friends, “Well, see you guys!” He quickly walked out of the room, turning his head away as he passed Scar and Lizzie. It took a while to get out of the concert hall, having been a while since Grian had navigated a space like this.
When he finally made his way out, heading over to Joel once more to be of assistance.
“Ah, you’re back!” Joel smiled, “thought I scared you off, mate. You are just in time to help– Jimmy!!” He shouted, looking behind Grian.
Jimmy jogged towards the pair, “What’s up?”
“You two are… matched in strength,” Joel observed, looking between the two guys. “Can you help with the drum kit?”
Grian made a disgruntled noise, “I feel insulted, don’t compare me to Tiny Tim.”
Jimmy barked out a laugh, “It’s Jimmy, you definitely know that. Also– I’m so much taller than you?!”
“Height is a mindset,” Grian shook his head.
“Okay, you guys can settle your differences as you bring the drums in,” Joel cut the pair off, pointing towards the bus. “Off you pop.”
The two followed the instructions given, silently moving to stand in front of the drums, “This is going to take multiple trips,” Jimmy noted, beginning by taking the cymbals.
Grian nodded, “Yeah, mate,” he grabbed two drums, “we’ll come back for the bass drum.”
The pair began the trip back inside, “So,” Grian began, “you and Tango?”
Jimmy smiled softly, face flushing, “He’s a good guy, I’m glad we get to reconnect.”
“Right,” Grian said, “and there’s nothing else going on with you in regards to him?”
“What?!” Jimmy spluttered, looking at Grian in shock.
Grian laughed, “Come on, you look like a lovesick puppy, Tim.”
“It’s Jim. You don’t even know me!” He protested.
“I guess that’s fair,” Grian reasoned, “but you know I’m right.”
They carried the last bits of the drum in, bantering the whole time. Grian was grinning throughout it though, their talks reminiscent of how he spoke with Pearl. He could definitely tell that him and Jimmy were going to get along well.
“Grian!” Bdubs called as they were walking up the steps to the stage. “And Jimmy, was it..?” Jimmy grunted out a yes in response, more focusing on not tripping as he maneuvered backwards. “Perfect. Just the people I wanted to see. Skizz and Mumbo brought back lunch for everyone, so come over when you finish up.”
Grian smiled at his friend, “Thanks, B,” he replied, now turning his attention back to the man in front of him, “I hope it's grilled cheese.”
Jimmy made a face, “What? No, that would be awful. I want sandwiches, hopefully ham.”
“I’m sorry about your luck, but my bandmates would never buy sandwiches,” Grian laughed as they set the drum down, allowing stage crew to step in and set it up properly, “it’s a whole thing, trust me.”
“You’re joking, mate,” Jimmy said, groaning when Grian didn’t let up, “I can not believe this, I’m on a bus with lunatics.”
“Yep,” Grian began heading to the back room, listening to Jimmy’s footprints as the man trailed behind. “Sorry about your luck, at least you’ve got Tango and Scar.”
The two reached the back area, immediately being greeted and taken away from each other by their respective bands. Grian’s stomach growled as he eyes up the table now filled with different kinds of wraps, “Please tell me you’ve bought BLTs,” he asked his friends as they went to grab their food.
“Obviously!” Skizz proclaimed, placing his hand on his chest in shock, “do you think we're monsters or something?”
Grian caught sight of his favourite wraps, snagging one up albeit too eagerly for someone who had eaten breakfast a few hours ago. Spanners went to find somewhere further from the center of the room to sit, Grian content to listen to his two friends argue about whatever they were miffed at today. He had the pleasure of hearing both of the men accuse him of ‘cheating’ on them with Jimmy, and then with Joel afterwards. It all felt very reminiscent of when they had done the same when Grian had recognized Martyn during scouting.
Grian observed how people were laid out in his tour group. Etho, Lizzie, Joel, and Bdubs all stood kitty corner to him, the latter two seeming to be in a very heated discussion and Etho and Lizzie simply laughed. Tango, Jim, and Scar were speaking quite softly, leaving Grian to wonder what it was about. And finally, Martyn and Ren stood by the food, eyeing the crowd with an odd glint in their eyes.
Grian watched as Ren shook his head, speaking softly to Martyn before raising his water bottle and clinking it with his wrap, “Attention! Attention!” he called out, a much more effective method to get everyone’s eyes on him, “Martyn and I have come to the solemn conclusion that you guys are not acquainting yourselves with each other quick enough. It will mess with our vibes for the concert tonight,” he gave a pointed look to Spanners, who were the only ones exclusively speaking to each other, “Therefore, we shall do an exercise. Everyone, pair up with someone you do not know.”
Grian found himself laughing with Mumbo and Skizz, their boss’ antics always bringing smiles to their faces. They bid each other a temporary goodbye, leaving Grian to find a partner to talk to. He went through the list of people in his head, realizing that the only one he hadn’t socialized with yet was Lizzie. As he spotted her he noticed that the girl was already moving towards him, a grin set on her face.
“Hey Grian!” Lizzie said, taking Grian’s hand in hers and shaking it politely, “I’m Lizzie, I work with The Bamboozlers as their bass guitarist and part time vocalist.”
Grian smiled back, “I play bass too,” he replied, “though I am like— our only vocalist. Mumbo does backing sometimes but he’s quite shy on stage, you know how it is,” he shrugged, taking a closer look at the girl in front of him. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly why, but she seemed to be very familiar, “Do I know you?”
Lizzie laughed a little, as if she was expecting the question, “Probably. I used to be a solo artist, does Shadow Lady ring a bell?”
Grian’s jaw dropped slightly, the connection making sense. Her hair looked incredibly different, now parted down the middle and a lighter pink, but it definitely was Shadow Lady, “No way!! She— you’ve been a big inspiration in my music. I’m so honoured.”
“Awww, thank you,” She replied, looking away when her face flushed. “I needed to get away from the solo life, you know? It was quite lonely. When I met Joel, it just made sense to start a band. And then we found Scar and Jimmy, it was wonderful.”
Grian nodded along, his shoulders tensing at the mention of Scar. Hastily, he forced himself to relax, “That makes sense, yeah. I used to be in like— a two person band? But we fell out and solo music was really draining. I’m super glad for Mumbo and Skizz.”
“Huh,” Lizzie mused, narrowing her eyes slightly, “y’know, that reminds me of Scar. Maybe you two would get along.”
Grian forced a laugh, coming out much higher pitched than usual. He could practically feel the sweat forming above his brow, “Maybe! Hey, I heard that one of your band mates had a wardrobe malfunction yesterday? What was that about?”
“Oh! You guys were told about that?” Lizzie giggled, turning to glance at Jimmy. “Yeah. Joel and Scar woke up in the middle of the night and hid all of Jimmy’s clothing. He was furious when he woke up.”
“That was… not what I was expecting,” Grian admitted, a smile finding its way to his face. “I love it, though. It actually reminds me of the time when I—“
“Okay!” Ren called out loudly, interrupting his train of thought, “it’s time to switch! Go find someone new to speak to, please.”
Lizzie and Grian said their goodbyes and Grian looked around the room to find Joel, having decided that he had talked to the guy the least. Once he spotted the guy, he frowned. Mumbo had already started chatting him up.
“Grian?” Someone tapped his shoulder from behind. Turning around, Grian was greeted by Etho, “We’re the only ones without partners.”
Grian furrowed his brow, “But I know you…” he glanced over to Ren, finding his manager engrossed in a conversation with Scar. After a moment of consideration, he smiled at his friend, “Nevermind, what's up?”
Etho shook his head, placing both of his hands on Grian's shoulders, “No. We’re skipping the smalltalk.”
Grian was tempted to step away, knowing that Etho had never been one for physical touch, “Excuse me?”
Etho didn’t let up, lowering his voice as he continued to speak, “Do you want to form an alliance with me?”
“What??” Grian searched his friend’s eyes, “are you okay, mate?”
“I’m fine,” Etho assured, “but you’re not. Something with Scar, I don’t need specifics,” he sighed, tightening his grip on Grian’s shoulders, “I just know something is up. Do you want to form an alliance?”
Grian swallowed hard, knowing that he should’ve predicated that Etho wouldn’t believe his lies, “…Sure. What exactly does this entail?”
Etho finally let out a smile, “If either of us says ‘duck’, we have to help the other one out of the situation. Simple.”
Grian furrowed his brow, “That’s an oddly specific code word. Wait, do you have an issue with someone here as well?"
“Not exactly,” Etho sighed, his eyes blurring as he looked beyond Grian.
“Okay! Thank you for participating, hooligans can go back to eating,” Ren said, releasing Grian from the odd interaction he had found himself in.
♪ • . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁꒰ঌ·𓏲ּ𝄢·໒꒱ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. • ♪
Grian’s leg bounced uncontrollably as he applied his stage makeup. Tuff Guys had just left to go do their sound check. They were in the final stretch before the concert and, to put it simply, Grian was losing his mind.
He groaned in frustration, his concealer not blending the way that he wanted it to. Grian dropped the brush he was holding, letting his head fall on the desk with a clunk.
In just a few hours, he and his two friends would be on stage, giving it their all for their fans. Grian knew that he had no reason to be nervous, Ren had handled everything that might go wrong. But he couldn’t help it. The show had to be perfect, otherwise thousands of people spent all this money for no reason.
Someone tapped on his shoulder and Grian begrudgingly lifted his head to be faced with Mumbo, “Grian? Are you alright?”
He considered lying, but after noticing Skizz behind his friend he knew it would be useless, “I’m just… nervous.”
Skizz pulled out the chair next to him, sitting down to be on his level, “Come on, G-sharp, you can talk to us.”
Grian swallowed, taking a deep breath, “What if something goes wrong? The mics could fail– or the lighting– or I could forget my lines. People paid to see us, I don’t want to let them down.”
“Oh, Gri, I think we all want everything to be perfect,” Mumbo said, his expression softening ever so slightly, “But, if anything, I feel like the imperfections make the performance more authentic.”
“Yeah!” Skizz grinned, “I went to this concert one time, and this guy’s fingers started bleeding while he was playing the piano. But he continued, and it was so metal. Little things like that are good.”
Grian sighed, “I don’t know.. what if it’s something we can’t recover from?”
“Come on, you think Ren and Martyn would let that happen?” Skizz asked, reaching forward to ruffle his hair. “They’ve got this.”
“Skizz, should we enact Plan C?” Mumbo said, glancing at his friend.
Grian furrowed his brow, “What?”
“Hmm… Yes, I think we should,” Skizz rose from his seat, taking Grian’s arm to help him up as well, “Up you get, we’re going out.”
“Wh– Huh???” Grian spluttered, lowering his voice, “But we’re about to be called for sound check!”
“Nope, The Bamboozlers have to go first, plus Tuff Guys aren’t even close to done. We’ve got at least an hour or two,” Mumbo said, glancing towards the band queues up. “Speaking of, we should let them know we’re heading out.”
“Yeah, probably,” Skizz answered, moving to approach the band and consequently taking Grian with.
“Skizz, my man!” Jimmy cheered, going to dap up his friend, “what’s up?”
“Jiggles! Mumbo, Grian, and I are going on a little outing, mind covering for us?”
“...Jiggles??” Grian mumbled, “where the hell did that come from?”
“Does Ren know that you’re leaving?” Joel asked, crossing his arms.
“Nope!” Skizz replied, “but you’re not going to tell, are you?”
“...No, I won’t,” Joel said after a moment of consideration, “just be back before you have to be on stage, and if you get in trouble I don't know anything.”
Jimmy watched the conversation, a smile playing on his lips, “I’ll cover for ya, Skizz.”
“Thanks! You are Him, Jimmy,” Skizz grinned, turning around and heading back to Mumbo with Grian in tow once more.
“Are we set to go?” Mumbo asked, earning a nod from the two of them, “right, let’s take the back exit so we’re not spotted.”
The three of them made their way through the hallways of the building, Grian still incredibly confused, “Can I know where we’re going?”
“There’s an ice cream shop a few streets down,” Mumbo explained. Opening the door and allowing his two friends out of the building before him.
Grian immediately lit up at this, “Seriously? We’re hosting a coup for ice cream? You guys are insane.”
“Don’t act like you're mightier than us,” Skizz laughed, “come on, the store is this way.”
The walk was a little longer than Mumbo let on, but with his friends time seemed to fly. They spoke about the stark contrast between this tour and the last so far, all three laughing the whole way through. Eventually, the trio made it to a quaint little shop, a pure sounding bell ringing as they entered.
The place outshone regular expectations of what an ice cream shop looked like, ornate floral carvings etched into wooden pillars that made their way up the walls and connected on the roof. Their menu was vast, having everything that Grian could think up.
Behind the countertop was a girl with faded pink hair, she appeared to be switching out ice cream tubs. As she looked up to greet them, her jaw dropped slightly. Despite this, she was able to grit out a simple, “Welcome! Are you ready to order or would you like to look at the menu for a little longer?”
Skizz smiled, “If we could just have a second, please,” he replied, moving to inspect their flavours.
Mumbo combed a hand through his short black hair, leaning towards Grian and pointing up at the menu, “What does that part say?”
“I told you that you should’ve had your eyes checked before we left town,” Grian laughed, but ultimately read out the parts of the menu for his friend.
After a while, the trio gave their orders. The girl at the counter got to work immediately, whipping up the three different ice creams in what seemed to be a record time. She motioned them over to the register, wringing up the treats and giving them their total.
As Skizz fished for his wallet, she appeared to gather the courage to speak once more, “I’m so sorry– but I absolutely adore your music and I’m actually going to your concert tonight, may I please get a picture?”
“Of course!” Skizz said, tapping his card. “What’s your name?”
The girl grinned from ear to ear, “It’s Julia,” she pulled out her phone, opening the camera and turning so that they were all in frame, “my friend and I have floor tickets for the show, I think we’re close to the front. Smile!”
Grian waited until after the photo was taken to reply, “That’s so cool! We’ll make sure to look for you, then.”
“Oh– okay!!” Her grin got impossibly wider, “Thank you guys for stopping in!”
The three of them thanked Julia, moving to sit in one of the empty booths, “Pistachio ice cream, Mumbo? Are you mad?” Grian laughed, sliding in beside his friend.
“Hey! Do not hate on my pistachio, it's the best flavour,” Mumbo argued, bumping his shoulder against Grian’s.
“No, Mumbo, it really isn’t,” Skizz cut in, taking a bite of his ice cream and letting out a satisfied groan. “Oh, this is the stuff.”
“Why do you have to make such— odd noises?” Mumbo asked, scrunching his nose. “Skizz, you are the most verbally expressive guy that I know.”
“I don’t make odd noises! What are you talking about?” Skizz said, glancing up from his ice cream to be met with two doubtful looks, “Okay, maybe I do. Is that a crime?”
“No, no. Not at all,” Mumbo replied, staring down into his ice cream in response to the eye contact Skizz was trying to initiate.
The three of them practically devoured their ice cream, and Grian had to convince the other two that going up for seconds would not be a good idea. They thanked the girl at the register on the way out, Grian having forgotten completely about his pre concert nerves.