Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A gaggle of fangirls were gathering by the back exit of a livehouse, making a fuss. The rock music inside had quieted down just a while ago and they were biding their time.

“I wonder when they’re gonna come out!”

“I can’t wait to see them! Even if it’s just for 5 seconds!”

Ratio was also biding his time, watching just a distance away. He was different from these girls. Though he respected their dedication, he had another, bigger purpose and was willing to wait even until they dispersed. 

Eventually, the unassuming metal door clicked and the girls squealed in unison. The stars of the evening, indie rock band The Galaxy Rangers, emerge through the door, looking weary after their performance, but still with their usual spunk. They serviced the girls, giving them autographs and selfies and accepting their gifts, but they didn’t stick around for long, having mastered the art of politely shoo-ing these straggler fans away. 

Though the keyboardist, Aventurine, lagged behind, enjoying the interaction more than his bandmates. Despite his own fatigue, he played along with the fans and chatted with them with his usual flamboyant poise and sense of humor. It was no wonder he had more die-hard fans than the rest.

Once the blond was done pleasing his fans, he said his goodbyes and turned around to follow his bandmates. That was Ratio’s cue for action. He slipped through the girls going the opposite direction and grabbed Aventurine’s wrist, stopping him right in his tracks. “Please wait.”

The keyboardist looked back at the owner of the surprisingly strong grip and his eyes widened, though his facial expression didn’t betray anything, still wearing the same haughty smile he showed his fangirls. “Oh? A male fan? That’s unusual for us!” But I’m sorry to disappoint, I can’t stick around for too long. A man’s gotta get his beauty sleep!” He said with exaggerated regret, complete with shake of his head and a sigh like it was the end of the world. These flashy, but still calculated gestures were exactly what made him appealing on stage. 

Despite that, Ratio let go of Aventurine’s wrist, sensing the other wasn’t going to dismiss him. Yet, at least, so long as there was curiosity in his eyes. 

“I don’t need long. I’m Veritas Ratio of IG Production. I’ve been a fan for quite some time now and I am making an offer for The Galaxy Rangers to sign with our agency.” He pulled out a name card from the breast pocket of his suit and handed it to the blond, who looked up at him in clear surprise.

“Please, relay this to your bandmates and contact me with your decision, regardless if it’s good or bad,” he said without dilly dallying. “Have a good rest, Aventurine.”

When Aventurine didn’t move from his spot, nor even stop staring at him, he asked, “Is something the matter?”

The blond shook his head as if he were waking himself from a dream. He quickly put on his usual smile. “Ah, it’s nothing. I’ll make sure to tell the others, of course. Have a good evening, doctor,” he said in a hurry, almost like he was nervous, but he covered it up with a wink and a wave of his hand (complete with a flick of his wrist), as he finally ran to catch up with his bandmates.

“... Doctor?” a bewildered Ratio asked himself. While he thought that was strange, he didn’t realize this one incident would bring the band’s complicated past back to the forefront again.

Chapter Text

Aventurine sighed for the nth time at the table that night. It seemed like even the sight of their usual post concert junk food and desserts at the Astral Express diner wasn’t getting rid of his foul mood. The others didn’t pay it mind at first, still riding the concert high, but also, they knew Aventurine far too well to fall for his attention seeking ploys, usually easily solvable by giving him his favorite catcakes. But when that wasn’t the case, then at least Boothill knew that it was (probably) serious.

The vocalist slung his arm around the blond’s shoulder, poking his cheek, with enough force to annoy him and strip off his facade for a second. “Bestie, what the hell?”

That elicited a few giggles from the others. It’s like annoying Aventurine was a hobby of theirs. 

Boothill asked back, “No, what the hell to you . What’s gettin’ ya’ all down, buddy? Yer sighin’ even with cheese fries and a good ol’ catcake in front of ya’!” 

“Perhaps he was unsatisfied with our musical ninjutsu earlier?” The drummer, Rappa, piped up from beside Boothill.

Argenti, the rhythm guitarist, sitting across from them, shook his head. “Nonsense, Rappa dear, the audience’s cheers were simply spectacular tonight! As is every other!”

The bassist of few words, Acheron, just nodded in agreement, already stuffing her face with her burger.

“Aeons…” Aventurine sighed again. “Why the hell did I call him doctor ?”

“Who?”

“A fan I was talking to earlier. And he was a handsome one too…” 

The others gave him mixed reactions. Boothill rolled his eyes. Rappa and Argenti, bless their good souls, seemed actually intent to hear more. Acheron, well, she looked about as interested as she could get. Though now that he had finally gotten their attention, - he knew better than anyone they were a very easily distracted bunch, after all,- he could finally get to the actual important part.

“Also,” he continued, tone changing from frivolous to serious like he was flipping a switch. He pulled out Ratio’s namecard. “He’s from an agency and wanted us to sign with his label.”

Mild intrigue turned into vested interest as the other’s heads immediately turned to Boothill,  their vocalist, lead guitarist, and their de facto leader. Now it was his turn to sigh, like he half-expected it, and said, like he’s said dozens of times in the past, “Buddy, y’know we don’t care for signin’ with agencies.” 

Despite his words he still picked up the namecard to scrutinize it anyway, Rappa peeking over his shoulder to get a glimpse too.

“What a pleasant surprise though! I thought we were already notorious for rejecting offers!” Argenti commented, he seemed at least a little bit flattered.

“It’s all over our socials. And our site,” Acheron added. “Either they’re new to the scene or very tenacious. I respect it.”

“Listen, I just thought it was interesting,” Aventurine said, feigning nonchalance.

“This is the doctor ninja in question.” The drummer slid her phone onto the table and on the screen was the agency’s website. On the page were details on their small team of staff, among them was a handsome blue-haired man in a suit, and written below his picture was his name and his role in the company. Veritas Ratio, Producer, Manager. 

The blond’s eyes lit up upon seeing him. “That’s him! Also he’s not a doctor, that was my mistake…”

Boothill whistled. “Damn, that really is a handsome feller!” A smirk grew on his face as he added, “Yup. That’s a Doctor face, aight.”

The others nodded along, completely in on the bullying. 

“Doctor Ratio! Doctor Ratio!”

“It does have a ring to it.”

“Drop it guys, please! I have no face to show him!” Aventurine overreacted, the way he knew they wanted him to, and the table had a laugh.

Before the group could digress too much though, Boothill turned the conversation back to the topic at hand. “Aven, I don’t give a rat’s ass if ya’ wanna suck his dick or whatever. But we ain’t signin’.”

“Boothill….” Argenti shook his head, chastising the vocalist’s crudeness. The latter only huffed in response.

Aventurine raised an eyebrow, choosing to ignore the crass comment. He’d known the man far too long to get mad at something so trivial anyway. He put his elbows on the table and leaned in, all business-like, a habit he learned from being employed by the IPC. “Boothill, bestie, I just thought we should discuss it properly first.”

“Aventurine,” Boothill warned, more sternly than before. He didn’t often call Aventurine’s full name like that. It even made the others nervous too, seeing as these two tight friends do not often disagree. “Ya know how I feel about those corpo pigs.”

The girls looked on in silent concern. Argenti, though, had his usual smile on, seeing the perfect opportunity to intervene as he always did. 

“My silver cowboy,” he reached to grab Boothill’s hand with both of his and ran his thumbs over the back of his palm. Like magic, the vocalist’s expression immediately softened. 

“Should we not give them a chance? We hadn’t had an offer in a long while, and he did so despite knowing we would most likely reject him. Perhaps Doctor Ratio has good reason for his persistence,” the redhead reasoned. It was a solid argument, and Boothill couldn’t retort. Besides, Argenti had always been his one weakness.

It didn’t stop him from being annoyed, though. Damn the guitarist for always being right. He clicked his tongue before relenting. “A’ight, fine. Aven, set up a meeting with the doc for us. Countin’ on ya’.”

Aventurine tried not to look too pleased upon hearing that. “Gotcha, bestie. Also, seriously, drop the Doctor thing.”

They managed to gather everyone for a meeting with Ratio late afternoon, just about a week later. With their day jobs (and for some, night jobs), it was already hard to schedule practice sessions and concert dates. Being able to gather everyone so soon off of the usual band practice felt like an auspicious sign, or so everyone would like to believe.

Currently, they were sitting at their usual diner, opting for a more casual setting while getting a cup of the best coffee in town in their systems. Rappa still looked nervous however, so Boothill held her hand like any good older cousin would.

“Thank you for taking the time to meet me. I’m aware that it’s difficult,” Ratio said, extending a hand to Boothill. “I’m Veritas Ratio, manager and producer from IG Productions.”

Boothill took his hand and they shared a firm handshake. “Yup, you’re the doc. Heard all about it from Aven over there. Glad to meet’cha.”

Ratio’s eyebrows rose at being called “doc”. He sent a brief look to the blond, who could only laugh awkwardly in response (and kick Boothill’s leg under the table). He made sure to shake everyone else’s hands as well and got introductions done and over with. His demeanor was more casual than they expected, and it helped to relax them. 

“I’m happy to meet you all. I’ve been a fan for a long time now,” he said and everyone’s faces lit up. Sure, they had heard from Aventurine, but hearing it straight from the doctor’s mouth hit different. With the ice broken, Ratio quickly got to the heart of it, making his offer, introducing them to his company’s policies and philosophy, and then his own motives. Though it felt like a casual conversation, his sincerity shone through.

“I urge you to give it a good think. You’ll find that your goals vibe-” he cut himself off, cleared his throat, and corrected himself. “ Align with ours.”

Aside from a quiet snort from Aventurine, the rest seemed to take Ratio’s claim earnestly. Argenti and Rappa looked curious and half-convinced already, always trusting in the good intentions of others. It was hard to tell what Acheron was thinking as usual, though at least her reaction wasn’t negative. But of course in the end, whatever happened, they would follow their leader’s decision. 

“Sure thing, doc,” Boothill said, eyes unwavering. “But don’t be too disappointed when we refuse.”

Without betraying his true thoughts on the matter, Ratio just answered, “Duly noted.”

After the frankly pleasant exchange, the others went on their merry way, Ratio back to his office, Aventurine and Acheron off to work, and Rappa to her college friends’ house, to finish an assignment (allegedly). Argenti and Boothill stuck around to have another round of coffee, and then dinner, to finish up for the day. Currently, they were walking off the calories at Penacony’s famous and bustling riverside promenade.

“Can’t imagine workin’ nights, man,” Boothill commented about Aventurine and Acheron’s lines of work, a dealer at an IPC casino and a bartender respectively. 

“The same way they find it hard to conceive of themselves arising from bed before noon,” Argenti joked and it got a laugh out of the vocalist. 

The two exchanged small talk about their own jobs, digressing into just about any topic they could talk about, until eventually there was nothing left to say. They had no qualms on enjoying each other’s company wordlessly though, taking in the ambience of the sunset together. Despite the hustle and bustle of cars passing by and lively businesses just across the street, the hectic city life felt far away and every other sound seemed to fade, now just white noise behind Boothill whistling a Rangers song.

The redhead simply watched as Boothill’s metallic colors permeated into the air around him, coloring it a beautiful gunmetal, silver, and brass. Moments like these were the biggest relief for Argenti. After all the city was a cacophony of dissonant sounds and colors and they were not always beautiful to behold, not like his silver cowboy’s. But precisely because it was so beautiful, so perfect in its sheen, that he could see even the smallest imperfections.

“You’re full of vigor today, my silver cowboy,” he commented. 

“I’m always happy, rosey. I got a job I love playin’ airsoft every day, I’m makin’ music with my best friends, hell, we even got loyal fans. I can’t ask for more,” Boothill said with his usual confident grin and then he continued whistling.

But Argenti could see how the colors around him were muddled, like there was a cloud covering the metal, preventing its shine. He’d seen that happen time and time again. Sometimes the effect was subtle, like today. Sometimes it was stronger, to the point he couldn’t even see the metal underneath the fog. He had never been able to pinpoint why though. His synesthesia,- a gift from the Aeons, he was often told in his youth- more often caused him doubt than certainty in these moments. Whatever the cause was though, it was definitely related to the meeting earlier.

“What do you think about the doctor’s offer?” Argenti asked, trying to fish out anything that might help him figure it out.

“Ya’ know what I think about it.”

Argenti didn’t respond, just waited for Boothill to clarify himself. He was closely watching any changes in the latter’s colors. But the man had known him for long now and he knew what Argenti’s unfocused gaze meant. Quickly, the fog disappeared and the metallic colors shone through once more.

“I think nothin’ of it. The doc was nice and all, but still. We ain’t signin’.”

The redhead knew that he shouldn’t, couldn’t , pry any more. After all, the last thing he wanted was to hurt Boothill, even if he felt a pang in his own heart. “If that’s really what you want, Boothill.”

“It sure damn is,” the vocalist asserted, and the topic was dropped for the night

3 years ago

The band was in low spirits, still, even when the incident had been a month ago now. They were convened at their usual diner, Boothill, Argenti, Aventurine, and Rappa, discussing their next steps, though there wasn’t much to do for now besides recruit a new bassist. Despite the next steps being clear, it was still hard to get morale high again, for the whole band but most especially Boothill. He was bitter. Angry. Yet another thing those IPC bastards took away from him. And their bassist, ex -bassist, Aurum, was no better than those greedy corpo pigs for abandoning them. Silence took over the table, as everyone was deep in their own thoughts, but their attention was grabbed when the reporter on the diner’s vintage style TV announced,

“Here’s a look into the new rock band to debut under IPC’s Scorchsand label!”

On the screen was Aurum along with a bunch of strangers, his new bandmates, being interviewed, smiling like idiots at the attention. Boothill clicked his tongue.

He cursed. “Motherfucker. IPC’s gonna drop ‘em in no time anyway. The second they stop sellin’. I know it.”

Rappa averted her eyes and stayed silent. She couldn’t disagree. After all she had a justice burning in her heart and righteousness running in her blood as strong as her cousin’s, perhaps wishing for retribution too. Aventurine meanwhile, seemed like he wanted to be anywhere but there. It was awkward for him, being employed by the IPC (albeit not in the entertainment division), and he chose not to comment. 

Argenti however, did not approve of this attitude. It was souring everyone at the table, and he hated to see their vibrant colors so muddled and distorted. But he knew that chastising was also not the way to go. What they needed was grace, grace that he himself was trying to give his friend on the TV, who he had known all his life, slept and bathed with as a child, ate the same food, breathed the same air and shared a dream with.

“I know this is hard, Boothill, everyone. But please, celebrate his success, just like I know he would if we were in his place. I’m happy that his dream has come to fruition.”

Aventurine was quick to agree, not being able to bear this mood any longer. “You’re exactly right, my friend! Come, I’ll order us a round to celebrate!” He got up to place an order at the counter, taking Rappa’s hand and dragging her away from the table. “Your choice for the night, Rappa!”

She obediently followed, understanding the blond’s intention, and soon enough they were out of earshot. 

Boothill huffed and pulled his hat over his face. His metallic colors were barely visible under a coat of thick fog. “Guess it was a good thing he left. He gets glory, and you get one less motherfucker as a friend. You’re better off with us. I’d never abandon you.”

Argenti found it hard to smile at that. There were too many mixed feelings. But he did anyway. He grabbed Boothill’s hand in both of his. “And I, you. I believe in you,” he said. This, at least, was the truth, and only the truth. 

Boothill seemed only to pull away further from him at that statement, his colors receding along with his body. “I’m sorry, ‘Genti.”

The redhead felt a pang in his chest. But so long as Boothill needed comfort, so long as his hand was in his, he would give it to him. He ran his thumbs over the back of the vocalist’s palm. “Goodbyes are a part of life. I simply chose the future that I wanted. And it is one where I’m making music with you.”

Contrary to his expectation, though, Boothill’s colors distorted even more, the metallic sheen all but gone. “Why’re ya’ goin’ so far for me, ‘Genti?” 

Argenti hesitated. Perhaps this was the right time to tell him his long held secret. “You changed my life, Boothill. I…” 

He trailed off. Because he knew Boothill, past his sounds and past his colors that so often confounded him. He saw how the man was biting his quivering lips. And so, he shut his own. He didn’t want to hurt him anymore.

“Consider this a favor to you, my silver cowboy,” he said, instead. “Surely, your justice that shines brighter than anyone else’s will do well to repay me someday.”

At that Boothill managed to muster up a laugh, sounding more like the strong leader Argenti knew him as. It was all he needed to hear.

“Ya’ bet your ass I will.”

Chapter Text

Despite being rejected, Ratio was persistent. He kept visiting them, be it backstage at the livehouse after their shows, or just randomly dropping in on their practice sessions (no thanks to Aventurine, who gave him their studio address much too easily). Every time, without fail, he would ask them to sign for his label again, and every time too they refused. Aventurine was keeping count, of course, for the shits and giggles he said, but it was clear he enjoyed the doctor’s company. Soon they began treating him more like a friend, and he was present at their aftershow junk food sessions too. 

“Aren’t’cha actually obsessed with us?” Boothill asked him. “I mean, sure you’re a friend now, but you’ve been chasin’ us for… how many times now, Aven?”

“It’s 39 times today!” Aventurine answered, much too proud of his achievement.

“Yeah, that.”

Ratio shook his head. “This isn’t an obsession. I’ve simply determined through extensive online survey that acquiring you would be a big W, ahem, big plus for both parties.” 

Aventurine snorted at that.

Ratio ignored the interruption and made a bold statement. “I urge you to pay attention to your current situation, and see for yourself that I’m right.”

“I see what you mean, doctor. But sometimes your words are incomprehensible,” Acheron commented and Aventurine laughed harder, unable to stop himself from slapping the annoyed doctor’s back a couple times or a dozen. 

“Listen kids, he’s what you call chronically online,” he explained and Ratio didn’t even refute, just sighed exasperatedly.

Argenti gasped. “Oh no! It’s chronic? How could we help?”

And that didn’t help Aventurine’s laughing fit at all. Ratio sighed even harder. “You lot are idiots.”

The blond wiped his tears as his laughter finally calmed down. “And that’s why you’re so obsessed with us!” He joked. Ratio didn’t say anything, just took another sip of his drink.

“See, when he goes quiet like that, you know it’s true.”

“CTFU, Aventurine,” Ratio warned and the keyboardist just started giggling like a schoolgirl all over again.

“What does that mean?” Acheron asked.

Rappa answered, much too sure of herself, “Calm the fuck up.”

Boothill retorted, “Yeah, I dunno about that.”

“Close enough,” Ratio answered without providing further explanation and everyone shared a laugh.

Their lighthearted conversations continued over food and desserts, spanning every single topic that could ever come up, and with the interesting lives everyone led, they would be hard-pressed to ever run out. Eventually the topic circled back to music and the Rangers, their shows, and all the shenanigans that came with it. Ratio listened with vested interest, although he was looking carefully for a moment to ask a question he’d been meaning to for a while.

“Your personalities are all quite different. One wouldn’t think you’d mesh well enough to play music together. I sometimes wonder how you all met.”

They gladly regaled the tale of the band’s formation, how each relationship was formed, intertwining with each other like vines. But silence took over the table when it came to the addition of Acheron. She also stayed quiet, knowing it wasn’t her story to tell. Of course, Ratio knew of the story behind her joining. He had done extensive research on the Rangers before approaching them after all. But he wanted to hear their version of the story.

“Ya’ see, we had a different bassist before Acheron here,” Boothill began recounting, bitter hatred he hadn’t let show for a long time seeping in his words. “But he left us for the IPC.”

3 years ago

A huge rift had formed in the band. While they hadn’t been active for very long at all, the IPC wanted them to sign with them, likely to take the initiative before any other label nabbed them. However, Boothill didn’t trust the IPC and he doubted their motives. Aurum meanwhile, didn’t care. He wanted to make it big, and the IPC was his golden ticket. Discussions turned into disagreements, which turned into arguments, which turned into fights. As a consequence, the sound-proof room of their studio had seen more use suppressing the sound of loud yelling rather than their music. 

“They don’t fuckin’ care about us! They just wanna take dibs! The Oswaldo Schneider bastard only wants to sell !” Boothill’s angry voice resounded in the studio. 

“Who fucking cares if they only wanna sell? It’ll be us they’re selling!” Aurum retaliated, just as loudly as the vocalist. 

“They’ll drop us the second we ain’t fuckin’ profitable.”

“You’re just saying that ‘cos he dropped your sorry ass five fucking years ago!”

“How fucking dare you-!”

The rest could only look on as the two continued to hurl insults at each other. Aventurine was sitting a distance away, looking increasingly uncomfortable. It was clear he didn’t want to be there, but was just staying out of obligation. He had remained a neutral party in all the discussions, being an IPC employee himself, to keep any bias out of the decision. Rappa hid herself behind Argenti, who gladly shielded her with his big body, though it was mostly useless to drown out the shouting. She used to actively contribute to the discussions, her sense of justice compelling her to side with her older cousin. But now that it had more often devolved into petty arguing than not, she stopped talking. 

So it all came to Argenti. 

He felt dizzy. Overwhelmed. The mix of ugly, distorted colors in the room, permeating even into the foam in the wall, was making him nauseous. But he had to do something because deep down, he had already made his choice.

He and Aurum shared a dream once upon a time, back when they were still teenagers and still each other’s worlds. But at some point their dream had diverged. Argenti knew that his lifelong friend’s dream was no longer his own. If he chose Aurum, he would have to leave Boothill, his muse, the one his heart yearned for. But most importantly he’d have to leave the music that they had built together. 

“Argenti!” 

The calling of his name snapped him out of his thoughts. Aurum was looking right at him, red-faced from anger, but there was also desperation in his eyes. “You’re with me, right?!” 

“Aurum, my good friend.” Argenti mustered as much courage as he could and he took a deep breath. “I support you and your endeavors. You know that more than anyone else. But I can’t join you.”

“Are you kidding me?” Aurum’s voice shook and Argenti had to convince himself he didn’t hear it. “You’re just abandoning our dream? Throwing me out? We’ve been through shit together. We clawed our way out of that church and survived to get this far and now you wanna back out? Give it all up for this failure ?!”

Boothill wanted to interject to defend Argenti, but the redhead was faster. He knew those ugly colors, had seen the greed and vanity that had taken hold of his friend, who had once shared his humble beginnings. But what he couldn’t tolerate the most was the love that he no longer felt for their music. He had never been angrier in his life. Angry at his friend, for letting such ugly desires fester in him, and at himself, for pretending not to see the signs. He realized that for a long time now, he had already lost the kind friend he once thought of as a brother. 

“Don’t you dare speak of him like that.”

Everyone fell silent, even more silent than it already was, not expecting such rage from the normally diplomatic and peace-loving man. The man who had brought them all together was now about to tear them apart.

“Leave us, Aurum. Good luck at the IPC.”

When a defeated and angry Aurum left the room, a piece of Argenti’s heart went with him.

Chapter Text

“I urge you to pay attention to your current situation, and see for yourself that I’m right.”

Ratio’s words had been ringing in Boothill’s head the past few days. It was said like an innocuous comment in an even more innocuous conversation but the man was serious. They may not have been friends for very long, but Boothill could tell that this was especially directed at him. So he listened, if only to prove the doctor wrong. 

He stayed behind longer after their next show to help Aventurine placate the fans waiting for them where they shouldn’t be. The keyboardist found it strange, but didn’t give him more than a quizzical look, focused on keeping their fans (well, mostly his die-hards) happy. They flocked around them, asking for autographs and pictures, and some brought small gifts and letters with them. Just like usual, Aventurine serviced them and Boothill followed his lead, listening to the girls’ compliments and questions.

“Aventurine! Boothill! I’m a huge fan! I really am! But I haven’t been able to get tickets…” One of them confessed apologetically

Another whined. “There’s even been scalpers for your tickets recently! Last time I only got in after buying one for 3 times the original price!”

The girls started angrily cursing at the scalpers together. Aventurine stopped them before it got out of hand though. “Come on now. Pretty girls like you shouldn’t be using such vulgar words,” he chastised with a dramatic sigh. “The scalpers are truly a sad bunch of opportunists, but surely this won’t stop you from trying to get tickets next time?” 

“Of course not!” The girls answered in unison. Boothill was impressed by how quickly the blond got the situation under control. Aventurine really was not one to be trifled with, with how easily he captured others’ hearts.

“Boothill!” The girls turned their attention to him. “Would it be possible to get a bigger venue next time? I wanna see the Rangers on a bigger stage!” One exclaimed, and the others excitedly agreed. The vocalist didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t want to disappoint his fans, he realized, and he was sure it was the same for Aventurine too. But unlike himself, the keyboardist was quick-witted and equally quick-lipped, and he knew exactly how to let them down gently.

“We’re flattered that you girls think so! You make a difficult request, but we’re always trying our best, so put your trust in us, and keep supporting us, alright?” He implored, kissing the backs of their hands one by one and ending with a wink. The girls squealed, fully melted by Aventurine’s charms, promised to come to their next show and went on their merry ways, as satisfied as they could get without even watching their show.

Aventurine waved with a smile until they were out of sight, and then immediately the weariness he’d been hiding became visible in his eyes. He didn’t often let his facade fall, but in front of Boothill, his long time friend, he could let go, if only a little. And Boothill knew behind that weariness was also sadness and frustration. The two walked together to catch up with their bandmates, letting the quiet help them regather themselves.

“Man, how d’ya do this every time? It’s damn exhausting,” the vocalist complained light-heartedly, breaking the silence. Aventurine laughed, sounding more like himself, and huffed his chest proudly, all peacock-like.

“What can I say, I got pro gamer moves.”

Boothill shoved his friend lightly and joked. “Ya’ve been hanging around the doc too much.”

Aventurine laughed again, not refuting the statement.

“My bad, Aven. I shouldn’t’ve put it on ya’ all the time.”

The blond snorted. “You’re being weird today, bestie. Did the corpo pigs start to fly today?” He joked, to which the other rolled his eyes. He then continued, more serious this time. “It’s all good, don’t worry about it. Sure, it’s exhausting, but the girls came all the way here, waiting out in the cold of the night, just to maybe see us for 5 seconds. Obviously I wanna make them happy,” he explained. 

Boothill could only hum and nod, thanking the Aeons for his kind friend, always strong and true. Aventurine wasn’t the type to be sentimental for too long though, so he added, “Besides, I’m not the one losing sleep writing our songs. Law of equivalent exchange, y’know?”

The vocalist snorted. “Listen, with my shit memory, my own songs are the most ya’ can get me to remember!”

“We been knew.”

The two laughed and shoved each other playfully like they had always done, but the horsing around was interrupted when a notification sound came from the blond’s phone.

When he dug it out of his pocket,- it was a new model and it was bedazzled to all hell- and saw who it was, his expression immediately lit up in a way Boothill had never seen before. Though it was easy to guess why. He wasn’t blind to not see the eyes his best friend had been giving the good doctor.

“That the doc?” 

“Heh, guess there’s no use hiding it from you, bestie. We’ve been talking, yeah.”

Boothill raised his brow. “I guessed that part already, but… Just talking? Not suckin’ his dick?”

“Yeah, for now, but Aeons be damned if I’m not trying!” Aven gestured dramatically, and it made the other chuckle.

“He makin’ ya’ happy?”

“Yeah, well, what can I say, I like men who can give me some semblance of stability in my life. And the uptight doctor is exactly that. Sometimes even a bit too much,” the blond answered in his usual frivolous tone, but Boothill knew he meant it. 

“Stability, huh…?”

Occasionally, Rappa would visit Boothill at his workplace after university classes, bringing her four friends with her for no reason other than hanging out and sometimes watching some noobs suck at airsoft. Boothill just let them play around, as long as they didn’t enter the grounds (at least not unprotected) and well, it made the place more lively and he wasn’t one to refuse the company. The five friends were currently huddled in the waiting room seats, intently watching something on the phone and making a fuss.

“Ahh! I wish there was a closer fancam of this that didn’t suck!” One of the girls, March, whined, beating her fists up and down in frustration.

“It’s hectic in the standing section,” the gray haired-boy, Caelus remarked, and his twin, Stelle followed, “And people in there are assholes.”

The raven-haired boy, Dan Heng, shuddered, like he was remembering something traumatic. “Tell me about it. Please never take me to another concert.”

“But at least let us take you to one Mechanical Fever show. Their musical ninjutsu is legendary enough to be the talk of the ninja capital,” Rappa said in her usual incomprehensible manner, but everyone understood what she was saying. They knew her so well, and it brought a smile to Boothill’s face.

Gepard, the groundsman, emerged from the back door that led to the grounds. “Ground’s all clear. Ready to close up,” he reported dutifully as he took off his protective equipment and put his airsoft gun away. Luka came in from the door next, looking completely battered. 

“Man, why was this last crowd actually so good at the game? I kept getting hit left and right. I thought they were supposed to be noobs,” he whined, but just like Gepard, he properly put away his equipment and his gun. “Ground’s all clear, boss.”

They discussed the day’s happenings and with nothing out of the ordinary, Boothill made sure to tell them good job and dismissed them for the day. That was when Luka heard what Rappa and her friends were watching.

“Mechanical Fever! Oh man, I’m so sad I didn’t get to go to their latest concert!” He joined the huddle, watching the screen intently. 

Gepard followed suit. “Ah, my sis, er , Serval’s band. I was at this concert in the VIP seats. I think I took a couple videos.”

“Show us! Show us!”

Boothill was starting to feel a little left out (he won’t admit it though) and approached the excited bunch. “Geez, it can’t have been that good of a concert right?” He huffed, but watched the footage on Gepard’s phone curiously as well. 

One thing they learned from this video was that Gepard was absolutely shit at holding the camera. But even with the shaky footage, the blinding lights, the way the music reverberated through the air, and the ecstatic cheers of the audience were very palpable. It wasn’t even that big of a venue, but it was definitely bigger than any livehouse the Rangers have performed in.

Boothill saw how his baby cousin’s eyes shone upon seeing that. He knew the girl almost his entire life and he saw that in her wide eyes lay more than just admiration or fascination. It was desire. She saw herself standing in the same place as Mechanical Fever, a band she had looked up to for many years. She wanted it with her soul. 

And as if in response to hers, the fire of his own old ambition lit up again, and it was all he could do to keep it abay.

The following Friday, it was Boothill’s turn to do a little work visit. He thought he’d stop by Bar IX to see how Acheron was doing and get a little bit of that heavenly Asdana’s White Oak in his system. He took a seat at the counter and Siobhan, the bar master, let him and Acheron have a little chat while the customer flow was low. 

“Asdana’s White Oak.” The bassist-bartender slid a glass of the drink toward him. The clear, honey-colored liquid sparkled beautifully in the bar’s lighting, and inside it was a glistening metal ice cube, shaped like a bullet. Boothill admired the beauty of the drink, it was like he was seeing it for the first time every time.

“The bullet suggestion was really good, Boothill. They’re selling like catcakes,” Acheron said. “People love the aesthetic.”

“Heh. I’m a genius, ain’t I?” The man gloated. He took a sip of the drink and immediately the sting of alcohol spread all across his body. It was exactly what he needed. 

Acheron wasn’t a person of many words, but exactly because of that Boothill found her presence strangely calming. They exchanged some small talk but it didn’t take long for him to ask her something that’s been on his mind.

“Why’d ya’ even join us in the first place, anyway?”

She didn’t seem surprised by the sudden weight of the conversation. In fact, she didn’t miss a single beat as she answered, “Because Aventurine looked troubled.”

He should have expected such a non-answer, but he knew she wasn’t the type to joke around. So, he clarified his question. “That’s it? But he musta told ya’ about what went on. Weren’t ya’, like, wary? The band was in shambles. We coulda easily had a big fight again and ya’ woulda been dragged right in the middle of it!”

She took a moment to think. “It’s nothing that serious, I feel,” she said, matter-of-factly. “Besides, I was a fan.”

Boothill almost did a spit take. “Ya’ were?! Shit, why haven’t I heard of that?”

“‘Cos I didn’t tell you.”

“That was a rhetorical question…”

She just continued, following her own pace as usual. “Aventurine invited me to watch one of the Rangers’ shows once. He was excited. The stage was the happiest I’d ever seen him at that point,” she recounted, smiling fondly. It was clear how she truly cared for her friend. “And, frankly, your music inspired me. I picked up the bass again even when I hadn’t played since high school. Getting up to speed again was tough, though.”

“For real…?” Boothill was in awe. He didn’t realize just how much the music he wrote inspired others. Or rather, he forgot. He dug in his pocket for his wallet. In the transparent card compartment were a few pennies, not even 1 credit. They had always been there, but over the years he had come to take them for granted.  

He bit his lip, conflicted. Every day he was only seeing how Ratio was right. But he wasn’t ready to admit it. He couldn’t. Not yet.

Acheron sent him a knowing smile. “For real.”

Boothill took the next chance he could to have his last one-on-one, hoping at least this would give him more successful results. He finished early at the airsoft ground today,- a group of friends had booked the ground the entire day but decided to end it early,- so he decided to drop by Argenti’s workplace, a LARPing venue, to pick him up and maybe go for dinner after.

The second he stepped into the venue, he felt like he was in another world, with medieval set pieces and cast members dressed in fantasy cosplay. Among the post-campaign chaos,- mostly clean-up and people celebrating with some tavern-style beers,- he easily spotted Argenti with his rose red hair. He was in his silver armor costume, holding his mock lance. He must have been playing the role of a knight NPC today. 

It didn’t take long for the redhead to notice him there, as if he had a radar or something. “My silver cowboy! You’re here!” He looked ecstatic to see him. He was a big guy from the get-go, but he looked even more tall and imposing in his armor, in contrast to how he was running toward Boothill like an excited puppy. It was strangely endearing and just like that he forgot what he originally came there for.

He tried not to look too happy when greeting him back. “Hey, rosey. We finished early so I thought I’d pick ya’ up, grab some dinner. Y’know, same old.”

“You’re in your cowboy outfit!” Argenti exclaimed, looking absolutely pleased.

“Yea, had a themed game for someone’s birthday today. So why not come in full gear, y’know? Ya’ shoulda seen Gepard in a cowboy fit. Straight up silly lookin’. And he was wearin’ his hat over his helmet all game!”

Argenti laughed openly at his story. He didn’t do that often. Really, it was only around Boothill. And damn, did he love the sound of that laughter. Even in all of this noise, it was the only thing he could hear. 

“Brings back memories, huh? Us in these,” the vocalist reminisced.

Argenti’s laughter died down and what replaced it was an affectionate smile. “Indeed. Our meeting was truly fate weaving its finest tale!”

“Fate’s a bit much, ain’t it? But sure, it was a crazy coincidence.”

The redhead shook his head. “Perhaps it was an ordinary meeting to you, but to me, it was nothing less than fate.”

Boothill didn’t know how to respond to that. Argenti’s emerald greens were staring him dead in the eyes and he was 100% serious. Before he could get too flustered under that intense gaze, the rose knight was fortunately called away to help with clean-up. Not wanting to get in the way, Boothill chose to wait outside the venue and get a little smoke in, accompanied by the memory of their first meeting.

4 years ago

“This LARPing shit better be fun or I’m beatin’ your ass,” Boothill grumbled as Rappa dragged him inside of the venue. She was in a ninja costume and Boothill, of course, opted for a cowboy outfit.

“You are a cowboy, and I am a ninja, so I think this will be legendary,” Rappa said, and he rolled his eyes, but he let her have it, after all it wasn’t like he wasn’t happy to be dressed up like the characters in his favorite westerns.

Generally, the venue was medieval fantasy themed, but today was a free-for-all day, and people showed up in many different kinds of outfits, aliens, samurai, robots, you name it. It was their effort to attract more players by widening their target audience. Of course, they set up a beginner friendly campaign for today too.

At first, Boothill found it embarrassing to be acting out a cowboy so seriously, but with everyone else falling into their characters, he eventually got into it too (though he won’t admit it). He caught a flash of vivid rose red and shining silver deftly flitting through the crowd and he found himself on his feet to follow it. His eyes had always been pulled to bright red things for reasons his terrible memory couldn’t quite recall. 

He stopped in his tracks when he saw the person those colors belonged to though. He was inhumanely beautiful in his shiny silver armor with gold plating and a rose engraved on his right shoulder. It even made him hesitate to approach. The man he was ogling, no, appreciating , noticed him and sensing he was nervous, approached him instead.

“Is something the matter, sir cowboy soldier? Do you require assistance? Allow this humble knight to aid you.”

Ah , Boothill realized upon seeing the man’s armband. He was an employee, a cast member as they were referred to here, and would probably not break character unless necessary. He didn’t have any good reason to disturb his work anyway, so he just shook his head and said, “Oh, nah, it’s fine. I jus’ liked your, uh, armor… ‘s all.”

The handsome redhead’s eyes widened upon him uttering his first words. He looked shocked, but Boothill didn’t know why. But that expression went away quickly as he gathered his composure to play his role once more. “This armor was crafted by one of the best armorers in all the land! Quite a beauty isn’t she? Well, if you do not require anything from me, I shall now return to my post, as should you.”

Boothill played properly for the rest of the first half of the campaign and then come break time, he chose a corner to stand in, eating the medieval style bread and potatoes they served at the “tavern”. Rappa had disappeared to god knows where, and he made sure to give off enough of a don’t-talk-to-me aura to prevent anyone from approaching him willy-nilly. Although he wouldn’t have minded if it was that silver knight.

Then as if the thought alone summoned him, a familiar voice called out to him from the crowd.

“Sir silver cowboy!” The beautiful redhead he had been appreciating earlier was approaching him, surprisingly the only cowboy in the venue today. He wasn’t wearing his armband, which meant he was also on break and wasn’t currently in character.

“Oh, you’re the knight from before,” Boothill tried to seem nonchalant about it, but he was sweating bullets. Only because he was tired from the LARPing, of course.

“Indeed, that’s me! I must say, your colors are absolutely stunning!” The redhead complimented.

Boothill tried to decode what he was saying and thought he had the gist of it. He must be complimenting his awesome outfit. “Heh, obviously. Cowboys are cool as shit.”

“I haven’t seen your beautiful silver in a long time! The way it shines is simply magnificent!” 

Now, this is where Boothill lost him. Despite the incomprehensibility of the compliment, the way the knight’s eyes sparkled with fascination felt very sincere and it was enough to fluster him. Instead of addressing the nice words however,- he wasn’t good with compliments- he instead opted to point out the obvious contradiction in the knight’s words. “Huh?! Ain’t you the silver one?”

“Argenti! There you are!” A gray-haired young man, about Rappa’s age, approached them, followed closely by a similar looking young woman. They were wearing sci-fi-esque techwear, with random straps hanging loose that didn’t seem to serve any purpose.

“Ah, Trailblazers! You were looking for me?”

“Yup. Oh, hey, who’s this cowboy?” The young woman asked, scrutinizing Boothill from head to toe. With one look at Boothill’s perplexed expression, they immediately figured out what was going on.

“Don’t pay too much attention to what he says,” the boy advised.

“He has synesthesia. He sees weird things,” the girl followed, like she was finishing the boy’s sentence.

Synesthesia. That explained all the weird color comments. It was fascinating though, Boothill didn’t think he’d ever meet someone like that in his life.

The knight, Argenti, shook his head, his long red hair swishing along with it. “I do not appreciate you two making it seem like I am hallucinating,” he said. “I consider it simply as the Aeons bestowing me with the gift to see beauty in all things.”

Boothill kinda lost them again, too busy staring at Argenti and the way his hair, redder than roses, moved with his every gesture. Soon enough, the twins got called back by another young girl with pink hair carrying a cool looking bow, and once again he and the knight were alone.

“Argenti,” he called randomly, just because he wanted to see how the knight’s name felt on his tongue.

“Hm?”

“That your name?”

“Indeed it is.”

“Ya’ definitely look like an Argenti.”

The redhead’s face lit up. “Why, thank you, silver cowboy!”

Boothill held back a laugh and opted to roll his eyes instead. “That wasn’t a compliment, rosey.”

Argenti didn’t seem to care though. In fact, he looked quite pleased. “Did you know argentum is an old word for silver? That’s why I think our meeting is no less than fate.” He grabbed the cowboy’s hand with both of his and stared into his eyes a little bit too intently. It was making Boothill blush, but he couldn’t look away from that emerald green.

To regain some semblance of control in the conversation, Boothill dug through his jacket pocket and luckily, he found what he was looking for.

It was his name card. He had forgotten to take it out of his pocket for a while and for once he felt thankful for his shitty memory. It was old, faded, and frayed at the edges, since it had been washed in the laundry several times, but his name, phone number and title as an instructor at his airsoft ground was still clearly legible.

He handed the card to Argenti, whose eyes lit up in fascination upon seeing it. “Wow! I’ve never received one of these before. You must be quite an important person, Boothill!”

The comment made the cowboy feel smug. The corner of his lip upturned into a cocky smirk. “Heh, ya’ bet I am, so don’t waste this opportunity, rosey.”

“I would never,” Argenti said as he held the card delicately in his hand like it was the most precious thing in the world.

And damn, was Argenti a man of his word. He did not miss the opportunity. In fact he took it as soon as possible. He texted Boothill the very same evening, and not even a few days later, they were meeting at the Astral Express, at the redhead’s suggestion. The redhead knight claimed the diner had the best coffee in town and who was he to refuse?

Though it wasn’t exactly a private meeting, as Rappa had basically invited herself to it, insisting that Boothill’s friend was her friend too. Initially he was a bit worried that the two wouldn’t be able to communicate at all because of their… quirky communication styles, but strangely they immediately understood each other. If anything it was him that was being left out of the conversation. But he was fine with that. Seeing his beloved not-so-baby-anymore cousin being lively and getting along with someone was warming his heart.

At some point he excused himself to go to the bathroom and when he came back Argenti was looking at him with those familiar sparkles in his eyes and he knew it wasn’t a good sign.

“Silver cowboy!” Argenti grabbed his hand in both of his. This felt like deja vu. “I finally meet you again!”

“The fuck ya’ talkin’ ‘bout? I was gone for five minutes!”

“Your music is simply magnificent! Please, sing for me next time!” Argenti practically begged.

Boothill’s neck immediately snapped to look at Rappa. On the table lay her phone showing a video of him busking with his guitar in Aideen Park when he was younger. The culprit just shrugged, like she did nothing wrong. “Crimsonlance knight said how your colors would look beautiful practicing vocal ninjutsu. Little did he know you have mastered the art.”

The man had to fight the urge to run his hand over his face. “Rappa, darlin’, y’know I don’t do that shit anymore. ‘S old history.”

The girl just tilted her head in bewilderment. “Even though you’re still writing new musical scrolls and vocalizing when you think no one is listening?”

Argenti’s eyes only lit up even more upon hearing that. And Boothill couldn’t even get mad at her because she was being 100% sincere. “Shit, ya’ got me there.”

“Anyway,” she continued, “Crimsonlance knight is not just any ordinary ninja. He has advanced musical ninjutsu too.”

The cowboy’s eyes widened in surprise. “Ya’ play music? Like the violin or sum’n?”

Argenti finally let go of his hand to fish his phone out of his pocket. “No, the electric guitar! Just like you!” He showed Boothill a video of him and another man playing the bass, covering a song that was popular back in the golden age of rock. Besides the fact that a man like Argenti was playing rock of all things, it also surprised him to learn that these videos were publicly uploaded on a platform. 

“That man playing the bass is my good friend, Aurum. We had been playing together for a good while now,” he explained.

“I see…” Boothill clicked off of full screen mode to check their channel and subscriber count. It was devastatingly low for how damn good they played. “Why don’t y’all show your faces in the videos? I think you woulda been way more popular. I mean you’re…” Beautiful , was what he wanted to say, but he trailed off instead as red crept up his cheeks.

“It was at my behest. I simply did not want people to watch us only for the physical things. There is beauty in sound itself, a myriad of colors dancing in the air. I would love for people, even if they cannot see what I see, to listen to us for that,” the redhead answered. He looked very sure of himself. It was clear he believed whole-heartedly in his philosophy and Boothill found himself admiring the dedication. If only the corpo pigs in the music industry believed the same.

But Argenti’s next statement surprised him once again. “But our meeting is compelling me to change my mind.”

“Huh? What’cha mean?”

“Please form a band with me, Boothill. Me and you on the guitars, my dear friend on the bass, and you, Rappa, on the drums, if you are so inclined.”

Rappa nodded. “Of course this ninja will join you. It will be legendary.”

The cowboy balked. “A… a band? Are ya’ for real?”

“Yes. And we shall perform shows for the people, together!”

“You’re jus’ gonna abandon your whole approach to music? And besides, ya’ ain’t even heard me sing before!”

Argenti shook his head and for the second time that day, he took Boothill’s hand in his. “I have. And I am not abandoning my beliefs. Rather, it’s because I want more people to know of it, that I am asking this of you now, my silver cowboy.”

Boothill couldn’t look away from the staunch determination in those emerald greens. And there was a part of his heart that was moved by the excitement and earnestness. He had to try his damndest to hide the grin growing on his face. There were still people who cared about music, about real hard rock the same way he did. It was lighting a spark of hope inside of him.

“Well, shit, ‘Genti. Guess we gotta now,” he relented, and he swore that was the happiest he’d ever seen a man look in his life.

Chapter Text

Ratio had been biding his time. Though he had enjoyed forging friendship with the Rangers,- it would come in handy for their future professional relationship- he had also been carefully observing their behavior, especially that of their leader. Said leader and frontman had been acting differently recently, he could tell. He was more reserved and he had something eating on his mind. This was exactly what the producer-manager was waiting for. It was time to go all in.

He called Aventurine to meet with him privately. Usually, it was casual. He had unfortunately taken quite a liking to the keyboardist, not that he would admit it any time soon. But this time it was for business and he made it clear that it was so.

“What I’m about to ask of you is going to be hard. Are you prepared?” He asked the blond with a level of graveness that he hadn’t yet shown until now.

Aventurine blinked, surprised at the doctor’s seriousness, but he still managed a laugh, “Pft, what, it can’t be that bad, can it?”

“I want you to fan the flames within the Rangers.”

It took a matter of microseconds for the blond to figure out what Ratio meant, smart and cunning as he was. It was then he started to look a little nervous, but he played it cool. “What? You want me to start a fight?”

Ratio knew he would react like that, though. While he had gained Aventurine’s trust, IPC casino’s star dealer also wasn’t one to step into fire just because he asked. So he had to reassure him in the best way he knew how. “There’s a good reason, of course. I’m making a wager on the Rangers’ future. And I’m going all in.”

The blond’s ears perked up at that, now more intrigued knowing Ratio had something quite possibly life-changing up his sleeve. “Tell me more.”

“I will propose a deadline for the Rangers to make their decision. And all you need to do is to give your leader… a little nudge.”

Aventurine smirked. Evidently, he already knew exactly what he had to do. “Ezpz.”

As his final nail in the coffin, Ratio said, “Do not tell anyone else about this. You’re the only one I trust not to mess it up.”

The blond’s smirk grew. “I’m all in, doc. Let me place my bet on you.”

Aventurine must have been rubbing off on Ratio, because he felt himself smirking too. “Good luck, gambler. May your schemes be forever concealed.”

The band was tense. Ratio had just given them a deadline to make a decision and they only had a few days. It was too sudden. They forewent usual band practice to have an emergency meeting at the studio.

“This is fuckin’ shady, y’all, I don’t trust it. Why’d he suddenly turn tail on us like that?!” Boothill was understandably frazzled. After all, Aventurine knew that the man had come to trust Ratio like a friend, and that this was the last thing he had expected.

“But he’d been trying for so long. I think he’s been plenty patient with us,” Acheron reasoned.

“But this ninja thinks it is strange. The doctor wouldn’t put us in such a precarious situation,” Rappa argued. But rather than disappointed or betrayed, she just seemed befuddled.

“I agree! The doctor only wants the best for us, as he always has. He’s a good man,” Argenti said, ever trusting and positive in such moments. 

Boothill clicked his tongue, annoyed at the other’s lack of suspicion. “ Is he, though? I’mma be real right now. This smells rotten.”

The discussion carried on, mostly about Ratio’s intentions, and in extension, his agency’s intentions. At this point, they knew very well the company’s policies,- Ratio made sure to get it in their heads every time he came by- and were picking them apart like picking the bones off of fish. Though they were struggling to find anything truly bad or incriminating, neither about Ratio nor about IG Productions, Boothill was of course picking at straws for anything even remotely fishy.

Aventurine didn’t contribute much to the discussion thus far, but he decided this was the perfect moment to throw in his first chip. “Then let’s sign. I don’t see the problem,” he said, light-heartedly, to ease into the plan.

Boothill sent him an incredulous look. “You don’t see the problem? Aven, I thought ya’ were smarter than this.”

This was exactly what the dealer wanted. The leader was inching closer to his bait. He threw in the next chip. “I’m being serious,” he asserted, pretending to be offended by the insult to his intelligence. “This is the smart decision.” Another chip. “Think about it with that big head of yours, Boothill.”

The vocalist looked even more cornered and he retaliated. “But we’ve been fine up until now!”

The blond decided to up the intensity now, as he threw more chips onto the table. “Exactly, my friend. Up until now. You’ve seen it. You know it. There’s more to it than just this! Aeons, open your damn eyes!”

Boothill was breaking, Aventurine could see it. He didn’t have that much of an argument from the get-go anyway. He glanced at the others to check on them and he knew he was doing a damn good job because Argenti, who could see more than the average person, looked nervous. Acheron’s expression didn’t betray much, but he knew she wouldn’t try to intervene because Rappa was already clutching onto her arm. Being the good older sister figure that she was, she wouldn’t want to agitate the younger girl any more than this.

Now all he needed was for their leader to take his bait, the deciding chip. “Ratio is right, Boothill. Listen to him.”

Boothill balked, he looked more than incredulous, and he lashed out. “What the fuck, Aventurine?! What did the doc do to ya’? Bribed ya’? Sucked ya’ off?! Fuck, I thought we were tighter than that!”

A small part of Aventurine was hurt, though he was prepared for it. He wasn’t that easy, and he knew Boothill knew that. But this was just his good friend’s defense mechanism and all that was left was to disarm it. It was time to place his bet. And that required him to be more honest than he had been in a long time. Aventurine forgave his friend in his heart, he needed to, before grabbing both the latter’s shoulders and gripping it tight.

“I’m saying this because we’re tight, Boothill. I love the music we make. And I want to make more of it, way more of it and for a long, long time. You know better than anyone I don’t say that lightly. Hell, I could walk out right this instant and I wouldn’t be worse off!”

Boothill took a breath, but then swallowed. He wanted to listen to Aventurine’s words, and that was all the gambler needed.

“I’ll be the first to admit, I treasure my security. My life… It wasn't the easiest. You know that. And the way we met wasn’t pretty, but you still became my friend. So, to hell with security, I treasure what we have.” Aventurine ended with a smile. He definitely understood now what Argenti meant when he was always touting about having grace. 

Realization flashed across Boothill’s face, and instantly after, regret. “Aven, I’m- I’m sorry. That was shitty of me. I shouldn’t’ve…”

“My friend, my best friend,” Aventurine said with the most sincerity and love he had ever mustered. At this point, he wasn’t even acting or thinking of the plan anymore. These were his true feelings. “What is stopping you? I know that this was your dream too, back then, before Oswaldo Schneider, before the IPC, before all this bullshit happened. Where’d that raw ambition go?”

8 years ago

Boothill was just dropped by Oswaldo Schneider, in favor of Robin. She was a shining star, an idol, a singing queen who would sell millions more than him. Compared to her, he was nothing, just some ruffian on the street who ran away from his family. 

It wasn’t like he couldn’t make music anymore. He could, he could anytime, he knew. Music was, had always been, and will always be with him. But the betrayal stung. The anger burned him to his very core. Oswaldo Schneider had promised him everything and then took that same everything away from him. It was never about the music, only money.

Aventurine was with him, sitting in his usual corner of the Aideen Park. But today he wasn’t there to gather an audience. He couldn’t muster up the strength to pick up his guitar, not when every billboard in the city showed Robin’s face. It was evident how easily everyone fell for her angelic charm, with how they stopped and stared.

“How could they do this to me, Aven? To anyone?” He despaired, tears welling up in his eyes. Aventurine had never seen the man so headstrong shed tears before.

“I threw away everything for this shit. There ain’t no goddamn soul in this city wantin’ this more than me!” He snapped, a mix of furious, frustrated, and… heartbroken.

“I know,” Aventurine only said, patting Boothill’s trembling back. He knew the older man felt more comfort in the warmth of his hand than through words. The latter leaned into his shoulder. Boothill was strong and kind, enough to show grace to Aventurine when others might not have. But now, the normally larger-than-life man looked vulnerable and small.

“I woulda done my damndest to make it work, Aventurine. But he still threw me away. And the worst thing is, I saw that Robin girl. Heard her with these ears that work like a charm and I know that she’s a real singing queen. So then who in the goddamn hell am I supposed to be mad at?!”

Aventurine just let Boothill pour all his frustrations and tears out, his hand running up and down his back.

“Hey, bestie?” He called after the man’s sobs had died down.

Boothill sniffled, before responding weakly. “What?”

The blond pulled out his phone. It was old and the screen was so roughed up that you could barely see what was on it. Displayed was a picture of a group of people in protective gear holding replica guns. “Do you wanna try airsoft with me?”

Chapter Text

Boothill left the studio. He said he needed to think and cool his head. Apart from Aventurine, everyone was restless. Argenti especially. Was he going to have to make a choice again?

“Argenti, my friend,” Aventurine put a comforting hand on his back. His colors were kind, like a bird’s feathers, spreading and enveloping him, and Argenti felt like he could breathe again. This was still the same Aventurine he knew and loved.

“The same thing won’t happen again. Aeons forbid I make us go through that again. Like I said, I treasure my security,” the blond reassured. “Let me let you in on a little secret. I lied a little earlier. ‘To hell with security’? Heh, my security will always be with you guys.” He put a finger over his lips and winked.

Everyone’s colors cleared up at Aventurine’s words.

Rappa relaxed her grip on Acheron’s arm and she came forward looking like her usual courageous self. She grabbed Argenti’s hand as a way to ask for his favor, a gesture she learned from none other than himself. “Crimsonlance knight, you must convince silvergun shura. He is being held back by his own shadows. I can see it with my ninja eyes that know him better than anyone,” she said.

Acheron also approached him and gave his shoulder a firm pat. “Talk to him,” Acheron urged in that straightforward manner of hers, but she had a knowing smile on her face.

Argenti looked at all his friends encouraging him and then at all their colors mixing to form the most beautiful gradients. Their trust in him was palpable, but he didn’t quite feel he earned it. “Me? Wouldn’t Aventurine be better?”

The man in question shrugged and shook his head in played-up exasperation. “Look, I’ve known him forever, but he’s never quite listened to me the same way he does to you. Go to Aideen Park. I can guarantee you he’s brooding over there. He’s probably at his usual spot at the-”

“I know,” Argenti cut off his yapping, because he had heard all he needed. Without any explanation and without even grabbing his things, he went out to chase his muse, the one his heart yearned for.

The others watched him go, wishing him the best in their hearts. Acheron was the first to break the silence.

“What was that about?”

She and Rappa quizzically turned to Aventurine, who gasped in realization of what this all meant. “Holy catcakes…” he marveled. “You guys, this is crazy. ”

Argenti finally reached Aideen Park, where Boothill used to busk when he was younger. He flitted through the crowd, hoping to get to the cowboy’s old spot from back in the day. And just as he thought, there he stood, watching another young musician stand where he used to.

He reached out to grab the man’s shoulder. “Boothill!”

The vocalist jerked in surprise, not expecting the interruption to his brooding session. “Aw, fuck, ‘Genti! Ya’ scared me!”

Argenti just sent him an apologetic look, but he didn’t say anything more. The two watched the young musician in silence, until he finished his song. They joined the crowd in applause and made sure to throw some coins into the young man’s guitar case.

“Y’know it used to be me in that exact spot,” Boothill reminisced, more fondly than anything. He walked away, wanting to go somewhere more private. He’s had enough of the Park’s blinding lights. Besides, he knew Argenti wasn’t there to listen to some teens on the street.

The redhead followed suit, no questions asked. “I know.”

The cowboy chuckled. “Heh, did Aven tell ya’? Ya’ found me immediately. Place is too damn big. Shoulda taken ya’ the entire night.”

They arrived at an alley, a dark nook in between two buildings. At the end of it was a railing, and beyond it, a view that truly let them see how the Park, no, the entire Golden Hour district, was elevated on a platform, like a paradise above the mundanities of daily life. Boothill leaned against the railing and with practiced movements lit up a cigarette. He took a long breath and exhaled even longer. The smoke dissipated in the air.

Argenti watched the colors around the man closely, distorting and discoloring in all sorts of ways despite his apparent composure. But still, even after knowing him all this time, there was no way to divine his feelings. Such was the limit of his eyesight. And he wished, now more than ever, that he didn’t have this gift.

He pleaded, “My silver cowboy, please, tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I owe ya’ one, rosey,” the vocalist said, taking another puff of smoke. “Ya’ chose me when ya’ didn’t need to, hell, no reason to. Ya’ coulda made it big like your friend over there.” He nicked his chin to a screen atop a high building, Aurum and his bandmates displayed in all their glory.

“I chose you because I wanted to,” Argenti asserted. It was the truth and only the truth. But why was it that Boothill seemed to crumble under that weight?

“But why , ‘Genti?” He asked, desperate, frustrated. “I ain’t worth so much loyalty. I quit music for god damn airsoft , fuck me. And I was just fine with that.”

“But you love airsoft.”

“Hell yeah, I do. It’s cool, y’know? Closest ya’ could ever get to shootin’ some baddies in the wild west.” He made a finger gun and made shooting gestures, complete with the pew-pewing. “But y’know what? I love music too, my whole damn life. Hell, I guess ya’ don’t need me tellin’ ya’ that.”

Boothill took another deep inhale. Argenti watched in silence until the cigarette was burned as far as it could and it was snuffed on the railing. 

“Then, my dearest Boothill,” he said and then asked the same question Aventurine asked him earlier. “What is holding you back?”

The older man sighed. “I felt like I made the wrong choice, ‘Genti. At every turn. How could I watch ya’ end a friendship and cry-” At Argenti’s surprise he just rolled his eyes and kept talking, “Yeah, I saw ya’ cry, ya’ thought ya’ were bein’ sneaky? But how could I not regret it, when I ain’t never seen your tears before or even ever since? I can’t see what ya’ see, Argenti. But I know ya’ too damn well.”

Argenti felt almost naked being exposed like that. He was used to being the one doing that, not the other way around. He didn’t realize Boothill had watched him so closely like that, nor that he saw him cry “in secret” in the aftermath of the incident.

“I concede, Boothill. Of course, I was hurt and it’s painful to remember, still. But why must that hold you back today?”

“If we signed now, what difference would it’ve made if we’d just signed with the IPC back then? The outcome woulda been the same but without all this god damn drama. It’s like I’m goin’ back on myself and on you . I can’t do that to ya’, ‘Genti. I don’t know what the right choice is when everythin’ I do feels wrong. But I can’t help it. I want it, I always wanted it, and it’s killin’ me… But I don’t wanna do ya’ wrong.”

Boothill was trembling, his breath was shaky and his voice was strained. Argenti could see that much without ever needing to see the colors. They were now dull, dented and tarnished, like old worn metal, used and abused. He wanted to polish that metal and smooth out its dents, so that he could see the beautiful gunmetal, silver and brass again. Just like the very first day he saw him.

“Boothill, there’s something I never told you. It’s a secret I’ve kept close to my heart for more than a decade now.”

“Shoot, ‘Genti. Nothin’ surprises me anymore when it comes to ya’,” Boothill said, but Argenti was willing to bet that he was going to prove him wrong.

“Aventurine didn’t tell me where your spot in the Park was. I… I knew. I watched you often, when I was but a church orphan with no penny to his name.”

He then began regaling the tale of his youth.

11 years ago

It used to be that the church, the Dewlight Pavilion, was Argenti’s whole world. He thought that he would find his true purpose in the same place that took him in and raised him like their own. The church was all he knew and the other orphans were the only peers he had. They were trained to sing in the church choir and were expected to stay as adults, as a way for them to keep their music alive with the dwindling interest in their religion.

“Your eyesight is a gift from the Aeons to see the beauty of the world,” the priest, old man Gopher Wood, often told him. And he believed it whole-heartedly.

But as he grew into his teens, he began to question whether the glorious but oppressive gold, white, and marble of the church was all the world had to offer. He would be remiss to doubt the church that had taken care of him so well, but he told of his troubles to Robin anyway. She was a fellow orphan, the church’s star singer, and sister of the favorite candidate priest, Sunday. But most importantly, she was his friend and confidant.

She took but a moment to ponder before telling him in a hushed voice, “Meet me in the courtyard tonight after curfew, Argenti. I’ll take you to the most wonderful place in the city, where you can hear all kinds of music!” 

“Ok. But what about Sunday? And Aurum? Can’t they come too?” The redhead asked.

“Mm… Someone might notice if too many people are missing,” Robin reasoned. “And… my brother might get mad at us. So it’ll be a secret. Our secret,” she said, putting a finger over her lips and giggling in glee, very much the picture of a young teenage girl. Argenti saw logic in her decision and copied her gesture.

“Our secret.”

She remained similarly excited all throughout the day, even as they had to walk up the stairs all the way to the Golden Hour district, not having enough money in their pockets to take the public transport. 

She showed him the sights animatedly, and Argenti tried to match her enthusiasm. The Golden Hour was beautiful, teeming with life and sounds and colors. But it was overwhelming. Not all the colors swirling in the city air are beautiful after all, and it almost made him crave the security and majesty of the church again.

Robin took him to a very large park (Aideen Park, she said) teeming with buskers and modern nightlife. There was an enormous fountain in the middle, visible from everywhere and beautiful in all its glory, but Robin took him to a different fountain at the corner of the park. It was small and very modest but it looked like it had centuries of the city’s history behind it. However, while the fountain was fascinating, Argenti’s eyes and ears were pulled to the shiny metallic hues coming from the young man in front of it, perhaps only a few years older than them. He was clad in a makeshift cowboy costume, singing and playing his electric guitar.

It was the most beautiful thing Argenti had ever seen. But for the first time in his life, rather than what his eyes saw, he was more enthralled by what his ears heard. The rolling drums on the backing track blaring on the speaker, the melody of the electric guitar piercing through the air like a bullet, and the cowboy’s singing voice like a lion’s roar… they shook him to his very core.

Robin saw how awestruck he was and she shared in giddy excitement, “Bet you never knew there was music like this, huh? This is called rock! Cool, right?”

“It’s… beautiful,” he said, because it was the truth and only the truth.

She giggled at his speechlessness. She said, “The cowboy comes here often. And every time he has a crowd around him. It’s amazing, right?” 

He nodded. He definitely understood why the people were drawn to him so.

The boy finished his song and the audience clapped. Some of them threw coins and bank notes into his guitar case in appreciation. Argenti’s eyes lit up at the opportunity to approach the cowboy rockstar, but when he felt in his pockets, they were empty. He had used up his allowance.

Robin, ever kind and giving, took his hand and dropped a few coins, no more than a few meager pennies, on his palm. “Here. Give this to him, Argenti,” she encouraged with a smile.

“But, I can’t… it’s your allowance…” he hesitated, but Robin closed his fingers around them.

“It’ll make you both happy. And to me that’s well worth my money.”

“My sweet Robin, I swear I will repay you someday,” Argenti swore, but she just giggled, clearly not taking his very serious oath to heart. 

“OK, now go before you lose your chance!” She gave his back a little push and a thumbs up.

Nervously, he approached the singer, coming closer than the others who only threw their tips to him. He handed the coins right into the cowboy’s palm. And, while apologizing to the Aeons in his heart, he grabbed the stranger's hand with both of his.

“Your performance was magnificent. I’d never seen anything like it. Please continue singing, whatever happens.”

The cowboy’s cheeks tinted red and he pulled his hat over his face. “Heh, ya’ flatter me. I’m just some kid in the street,” he said. The silver around him shone brighter as he flashed a toothy grin. “Thanks a lot, bud! Don’t’cha worry, I’ll keep singing even if I’m dead!” 

It was only then that he let go of his hand, trusting the cowboy to remain true to his word.

Suddenly there were fireworks coming from the central fountain, followed by flashy pop music spreading its bright rainbow colors all over the air. The crowd around the cowboy dispersed, all moving toward the sound like moths to a light.

“Argenti!” Robin called his name and grabbed him by the wrist. “Come and let me show you my favorite idols!”

As he was dragged by Robin to follow the crowd, the singing cowboy, now standing alone, waved at him with a smile. The way the vibrant silver dulled and receded pained his heart, the most hurt he had yet felt in his life.

Ever since that day, Argenti would regularly sneak out to go to the park. Sometimes with Aurum, sometimes with Robin. They listened to all kinds of music in his quest for beauty, but he always found himself returning to watch the singing cowboy with the guitar— who at some point started bringing his blond friend on the keyboard along, which Argenti celebrated greatly in his heart.

With their eyes and ears opened to the world, three orphans shared a dream: to get out of the church and to be free to make the music that they loved. He and Aurum started saving all their allowance, even sneaking out to do odd jobs for just one extra credit, to buy records, and eventually their own guitar and bass. He didn’t have a credit to spare for his favorite star, so he only ever watched from afar.

Until, one day, the cowboy stopped performing at the park. No matter how long Argenti waited, no matter how far he searched, he never saw his silver cowboy again. He thought, why didn’t he ever approach him again, even if it was with just one penny? 

But he buried these regrets deep in his mind and hoped, believing in his heart of hearts, that music would reunite them again, that they were connected as long as rock roared in their souls.

Chapter Text

Argenti finished telling his story, expecting Boothill’s disappointment or even anger, but what came after the visible shock was a raspy laugh. “Hah. What the fuck, man? All that and then it wasn’t even music that brought us together, but LARPing ? Aeons, how fucked can it get?” There were tears flowing freely down his face but Argenti could see that they were not those of sadness. After all, his colors were gleaming as bright as can be. 

The redhead couldn’t resist the mirth that swelled up in his own heart, and he took the other man in his arms. Boothill wasn’t a small man by any means, but he fit perfectly in his embrace.

“Shit.” Boothill tried to hold back his sobs, but they mixed with laughter and it was impossible to tell them apart. “Grown ass man and still cryin’ like a baby. Fuckin’ pathetic.”

“Nonsense,” Argenti comforted, running his arm up and down the other’s back.

Boothill leaned into him some more, releasing the tension in his body. “Why didn’t ya’ ever tell me? Ya’ know my memory fuckin’ sucks! How the hell would I remember ya’ from a goddamn decade ago?”

“I wanted to,” Argenti admitted. “But whenever I attempted to, it looked like it was going to hurt you. I also didn’t want to do you wrong, dear to me as you are. So I kept it to myself.”

Boothill chuckled. “Your eyes fuckin’ suck as much as my memory.”

“Believe me, I had my reasons. I know what I saw. But it’s true that these eyes have more often hindered me than helped me. Especially when it comes to you.”

“And why’s that?” The cowboy looked up at him in curiosity. Argenti took the opportunity to caress his cheek and wipe away his tears. The older man flinched away at first, but then leaned into the touch. And in that moment, somehow, everything Argenti saw and felt, everything that happened and everything he did, made sense.

“Boothill, my dearest, my muse, my most beautiful silver cowboy,” he said and couldn’t help a smile when the other’s face flushed red. “Your voice, your music, your colors, I want to be surrounded by them forever until the end of time. But I want to be something to you too, to inspire you as you inspired me, to become the roof above your head when it rains, to become a warm blanket on the cold winter nights, and to be there for you as certainly as the sun rises in the morning. I think I love you.”

At that, realization dawned on Boothill’s face, like he was also having the epiphany of his life. “Shit, what the hell, rosey?” He asked, a grin growing on his face and affectionate mischief in eyes. “Ya’ make an entire speech and then ya’ only think ya’ love me? Your noggin’s not really up to the task,” he teased and now it was Argenti’s turn to flush red as bright as his hair.

“I…” The redhead was at a loss for words. “I apologize.”

Boothill took great amusement in this and he laughed boisterously, back to his usual self. Finally he reciprocated Argenti’s embrace and he ran his hand along the rose red hair. “You’re cute, have I ever told ya’ that?” 

The redhead felt shy at that, not used to being the one complimented, much less by the love of his life. “Thank you,” was all he could muster as his face grew even warmer. 

“And y’know what?” Boothill leaned in to steal a kiss, completely blindsiding him. Not that he minded though. “I think I love ya’ too.”

As they shared another kiss, silver colored the Golden Hour.

When they returned to the studio, the other three were excitedly bugging them about what happened, Aventurine looking particularly smug. Obviously he immediately started teasing them relentlessly. He had the intuition to call Ratio over too earlier, and even the usually stone faced man was smiling, happy to see everything resolved. The two apologized for causing such a ruckus, but no one minded, the outcome was great after all.

“I’m glad everything is settled. And I apologize if my persistence led to some conflict,” the doctor said. “Now, it’s time for you to spill the tea.”

Rappa tilted her head in bewilderment. “Is spilling tea a sort of tradition this ninja is not aware of?”

Acheron stated seriously, “We don’t have tea here.”

Aventurine giggled like a schoolgirl seeing the slight blush on Ratio’s face as he corrected himself. “I mean, it’s time for you to share what happened.”

So they did just that, recounting the story from the very beginning, with the others adding (inaccurate and irrelevant) embellishments to the events from their point of view. It was a wonder Ratio wasn’t tired of listening to them yet. At the end, Boothill said,

“Doc. I’m giving it a serious think to sign with ya’. I may not be the best leader out there, I mean, ya’ saw it yourself. But I know these folks like the back of my hand and I can tell that they want it too.”

The other’s lit up in excitement at the statement. “About time, loser!” Aventurine cheered and the others followed. Boothill slapped the back of the blond’s head and the latter just laughed, taking joy in their leader’s annoyance. “Shaddap, y’all.”

The vocalist cleared his throat. “Anyway. Doc. It’s gonna be hard trustin’ ya. Industry hasn't been really kind to me, ya’ see. That’s why I’ve been a stubborn asshole about it. But I wanna try.”

Ratio smiled at the frontman’s honesty. He had won his bet. “Of course. We will make sure to gain your trust and do much more than what you bargained for.” He paused. “But we don’t have to discuss this today. I say a celebration is in order. Shall we?”

The ever fun-loving Aventurine immediately agreed. He started gesturing dramatically. “Doctor! You’re a genius! Anyone up for that happy hour in Bar IX? I’m starving and parched!” 

Acheron chuckled at his antics. “I’ll get Siobhan to give us a discount.”

The blond hugged her ecstatically. “You’re really the best, sister!”

Rappa, meanwhile, was already absentmindedly drooling. “Mm… this ninja could use some fries.”

Unanimously, everyone else began packing up their things and leaving the studio, while Boothill, incredulous that his earnest talk got interrupted, just stood there dumbly, Argenti beside him.

“What the hell, doc? Just when I felt like gettin’ serious?” The vocalist grumbled, though his irritation immediately went away when the redhead laughed and held his hand. He reciprocated, easily, like he was meant to do that all his life.

“Fate will always wait for the right timing, my silver cowboy. After all, even if it took long, it proved that we are connected.”

Boothill let go of his hand, pretending to be disgusted. “Quit it with that cheesy shit, rosey,” he said, grabbing his things and walking out the door, and Argenti followed that silver like he had been doing all his life.

Bonus Round

10 years ago

“Who the fuck are ya’? Where’d that handsome thing on the profile pic go? Also ain’t ya’ way too young?” Boothill complained upon first meeting with Aventurine, holding the red wig he’d ripped off the blond’s head in his hand.

The blond laughed, despite his plan being foiled. “It’s called catfishing. That handsome thing? Doesn’t exist. Although I think I’m pretty handsome myself. I just have a baby face!”

Boothill sighed. “Whatever, man.”

Though he was caught red-handed in his catfish-and-swindle scheme, he showed no fear. After all, he had nothing to lose, quite literally. In fact, he was still conducting his little business.

“Listen, bestie, I know you’re upset but help me out a little. It’s just a little survey.”

“... Shoot.”

“Why’d you swipe right on “my” profile? I gotta attract more people who grew up comfy like you. I wager next time I’ll get a guy who actually still has something to offer. A less astute one, preferably.”

Boothill rolled his eyes at the blond’s yapping. “Well sorry I ain’t sittin’ pretty playin’ the piano at my folks’ anymore.” He took a puff of smoke, seriously considering the answer to the question. “I dunno. Red hair.”

Aventurine laughed again, incredulous. “That’s it? That’s unhelpful.”

“Yeah.” The cowboy pulled out his wallet and stared at the pennies in the transparent card compartment. They didn’t even amount to half a credit. “That’s it, I guess.”

There was a story behind that, the blond sensed, but he wasn’t going to pry. Not yet, at least. Where was the fun in revealing it all now? Besides, as a have-not in a city as rich and glorious as Penacony, the lack of judgment was as green of a flag as he could find. It’d be a waste to not at least try to befriend the guy. And maybe “befriend” him too.

“You know, you’re a pretty handsome guy yourself. What d’you say we have some fun? And trust me when I say I don’t make this offer to just anyone,” he said and added a wink as a cherry on top. 

Boothill scrutinized the blond for any other tricks, but he seemed sincere enough this time. Plus, there was nothing wrong in taking an opportunity when it arises. “Eh. Might as well.”

Suffice to say, the night did not work out as planned. 

It must be the lack of red hair.

Chapter Text

It hadn’t been too long since they signed with IG Productions, but the bureaucratic business was settled quickly thanks to Ratio’s preparations. Surprisingly, he wasn’t kidding about doing more than they bargained for. There were already posters and small billboards promoting their band, now rebranded as Guns and Roses. Though they weren’t modest compared to the huge screens often hogged by IPC artists, they still felt proud of their achievement. Rappa always pointed excitedly whenever she spotted one, Aventurine would randomly break out a victorious smirk whenever he thought about it (he’d try his damndest to hide it, though), and even Acheron was more animated nowadays. 

Argenti and Boothill had made it a habit to walk around Aideen Park in the early evenings, whenever they could. There were always new things to see and new music to hear, and everything was always more enjoyable together. Today, they had already spotted a few posters on the way to the Park and another few inside of it, and were still keeping count.

“Gotta be thankful to your friend from the church for this, huh? I don’t think ya’ told me her name, though. Or I forgot. A lot was happenin’ that day, can’t blame me,” Boothill said. “You gotta let me meet my first fan, ‘Genti.”

“ I was your first fan, though…” Argenti sulked. The vocalist found it cute and gave the redhead a little noogie, and just like that he was placated. His figurative dog tail was wagging. “It will be difficult, but I can arrange something! I will definitely introduce her to you!” 

Boothill tilted his head, perplexed. “Difficult? Why, she live outta town or sum’n?” 

“No… Not exactly…” It was then that a gigantic screen atop a building started showing an ad of Robin’s latest album. Argenti pointed at it excited, “Ah, look! That’s her!”

Boothill rolled his eyes, thinking the other was joking. “Hah. Real funny, rosey.” 

Argenti only smiled innocently, not understanding why the man thought he was joking. He was, of course, 100% serious.

Boothill did a double take. “Wait. The top idol, the singing queen, Robin ?”

“...? Yes…?”

The vocalist suddenly started guffawing, hard, to the point where he was tearing up. It didn’t matter if everyone was staring. After all, fate had played such a long game with them and he found it poetic, to a degree that was fucking hilarious . 

“Shit!” He exclaimed, wiping his tears. Argenti, who didn’t understand what was so funny, could watch in concern. “Now I really can’t be mad at her! That motherfuckin’ pig Oswaldo Schneider had a fuckin’ point!”

“Hm? My dearest cowboy, what could that mean?”

“Ehhh, I dunno. Maybe I’ll keep this a secret from ya’ for a decade too. ‘S only fair!”

Argenti looked crestfallen at that. “Whaaat? My love, please don’t do that!” 

Even when Argenti pleaded like his life depended on it, Boothill only laughed. This was a story for a rainy day.