Chapter Text
The life of a musician is not for everyone.
Sure, some are created with a natural affinity for such things. Be it with their voice, their knack for timing, their boundless creativity, or even their quick memorization. But not one can truly make it without practice, and not with one skill alone. The time and effort that goes into creating art in any one of its forms is countless. No piece is without its flaws, but what else would one expect from the minds of imperfect souls? To create art is to take a part of oneself and display it to the world. To see the smiles your creation brings—even if just to one person—is easily the highlight of it all. Some may marvel at it while others may scoff, but that’s no reason to get discouraged. No one is perfect.
Our lives aren’t made cookie cutter after all.
That’s what Mint Choco Cookie believes at least, but Rockstar has his doubts. Yeah, he admits he couldn’t have made it as far as he did without help from others like Carol, and he knows that as tight as he thinks his work is that everyone can be a critic. Not everyone will love him and that’s fine. Every song written could’ve been done differently and that’s fine too. Whatever.
But Rockstar refuses to call the commotion that is DJ Cookie’s music “art”.
Rockstar’s songs aren’t exactly pretty or classical, but at least his music has meaning behind it. Meanwhile, DJ’s songs are a cacophony of pre-recorded sounds twisted and mashed together in a huge mess. There’s no meaning to it. Just noise. Sure, maybe he only listened to one of their songs, but Rockstar doesn’t need to hear more to know it’s all soulless nonsense.
DJ Cookie’s music is trash, and Rockstar will tell anybody who’s willing to listen.
That’s actually what he’s doing right now. He and his friend Cheerleader Cookie were hanging out and getting something to eat when Rockstar began. He went on about so many things that bothered him about the cookie. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t take any notice to the girl’s irritated expression as she sipped on a glass of milk.
“I just cannot stand them. At all. Period,” he finishes his speech and looks back up to her, “You feel me?”
“Yes, Rocky, I get it. You’ve told me this already,” She reminds him. Cheerleader sets her empty glass on the table with a thunk and she leans closer to Rockstar. “Four. Different. Times.”
His face shifts in confusion. Looking back, he doesn’t remember ever talking to her about anything that bothered him recently. Surely, if he’d been repeating himself like that, she would’ve smacked his arm and told him to snap out of it. However, he hasn’t received such a smack for at least four months now. He has no idea what she could be talking about. “I don’t remember talking to you about this before.”
Cheerleader reaches down to pull something out of her left pocket. “Nope. You texted me! Look,” she says and pulls out her phone, tapping the screen a few times before turning the device towards him. She quickly scrolls with her other hand as she adds, “Four times in less than two weeks!”
He takes the phone from her hands and scrolls a tad more. As he does this, the girl gestures to a nearby waiter and asks for more milk. After they nod and leave, she pouts at Rockstar with wide angry eyes, waiting for a response.
He gently sets her phone down and slides it across the table. “See, that’s probably because I delete my text conversations after they aren’t important anymore to keep my phone from getting cluttered.”
She squints, not believing him for a second. She rolls her eyes as she takes her phone and stuffs it back in her jacket pocket. “You say that, but clearly this is still important to you. For some reason.”
Caught in his excuse, Rockstar sighs and placatingly holds up his hands. “Maybe, but all I’m saying is-”
“Is that you think DJ Cookie is the worst, you’re way better than them, you don’t get why everyone likes them, and you hate DJ Cookie. I know,” she mocks. Cheerleader shakes her head and crosses her arms on the table. “You’ve never made such a big fuss about it before though. You’re usually so chill. What’s got you so worked up that you’re ranting and raving to anyone within two feet of you?”
Rockstar frowns. He knows for a fact that if he tells her why, she’s going to tease him for it. He’ll probably have to tell her anyway, but he doesn’t want to just say it outright. He turns to the side, resting his cheek on his hand. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh, don’t give me that angsty teenage crap,” she scolds, leaning back in her chair. “We’re too old for that now.”
“Time is an artificially made concept,” he drawls.
“That doesn’t give you the right to be a wuss. Now tell me!”
With no arguments left, he simply turns his head further away from her. He knows it’s pointless, but he’d prefer to avoid the inevitable conversation as long as possible. He hears her practically growl and slam her hands on the table. He still doesn’t look back at her.
“Rockstar, I swear to-”
“Um, Miss?”
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Cheerleader turn to the source of the voice. The waiter from earlier has returned with her drink. She quickly flushes and takes the drink, quietly thanking them as they turn and shuffle away. Rockstar returns to avoiding her gaze. He hears her take a sip of her drink then let out a deep breath.
“Look,” she speaks so quietly, her gentle voice coercing his head to finally turn back, “I know you don’t like delving into things that make you feel insecure, but I also know that if you don’t talk about it, it’ll keep eating at you until you feel empty. Then you’re not gonna wanna go out or perform or move or eat and I...” She rests her arms on the table again, one hand on top of the other, “I can’t bear to see you like that again.”
That makes him grimace. Whether she knows it or not, she’s playing the guilt card on him. What’s worse, it’s working. Rockstar’s tried so hard to forget that time. It always manages to come back though, a grim reminder of how easily he could’ve wasted away. For a moment, he considers turning those memories into a song. Maybe it could serve as a lifeline for others going through the same thing he did, and show them that there’s hope. He’d probably have to go to Carol for help with the lyrics though, and he’s not sure he wants her to know about that. For now, he just wants to avoid repeating that cycle.
He reaches over to pat Cheerleader’s hands and apologizes. She gives him a weak smile, and he pulls back before finally saying what’s on his mind. “It’s just...y’know how we’re having that celebration around mid-June?”
She nods. “For the Summer Solstice, right?”
“Yeah. Well, since Cheesecake is hosting it, she called Mint to help with the music. He obviously said yes, but also said since there’d be so many younger and more lively cookies there that he was worried his music alone wouldn’t be exciting enough to keep everyone entertained. I personally think that’s ridiculous, but whatever.” Rockstar rattles all this off so quickly that an average cookie may not catch what he’s saying, but Cheerleader’s heard enough stories and gossip to easily keep track of everything. “When I heard about this, I gladly offered to join in to help give the music more of a kick to it, y’know? But as it turns out, Cheesecake already got help from someone else! Can ya guess who?” He presses his lips together in a line as he finishes.
“She booked DJ?” she asks, “I didn’t think she knew them.”
“She doesn’t,” Rockstar corrects. “According to Mint, she talked to Sparkling who talked to DJ, and that’s how she booked them.”
“I see,” Cheerleader nods, then looks back to him with a squint. “Wait, are you telling me you’re upset because you think your ex wants to work with DJ and not you?”
His hand smacks right into his forehead and he groans. “I knew you’d think-” Rockstar cuts himself off before glaring at her, “Mint being my ex has nothing to do with it. He’s still my friend, and he’s made it pretty clear that he likes my sound. Sure, I know I’m not perfect, and if he thinks my music isn’t what should be played on the Summer Solstice, that’s fine.”
“You don’t sound fine.”
“What really bothers me,” he continues, “is that he picked DJ! Of all cookies! Like, if he’d picked Carol, or Macaron, or someone else I don’t know of, that would’ve been whatever. But he knows how I feel about DJ, and he’d rather work with them than me? It just pisses me off!”
“Rocky, it sounds like you’re making a cake out of a crumb here.” She stirs her glass of milk with her straw as she speaks. “Cheesecake’s the one that booked DJ, remember? Maybe Mint doesn’t necessarily want to work with them, but thinks it’d be the best way to keep everyone entertained. That doesn’t say anything about him ignoring your feelings to me.”
He snorts and points at Cheerleader, who only stares at him as she drinks more milk. “That’s where you’re wrong, sister.” He brings his hand back to rest his head on it and waves the other in front of himself. “Mint’s not someone who’ll do things when he doesn’t want to. He’s a sweetie, but surprisingly stubborn. So the fact that Cheesecake booked them and he didn’t refuse, plus him not taking my offer to help out means that he actually wants to perform with them.”
“Or,” Cheerleader argues, “it just means he doesn’t not want to and you’re blowing this completely out of proportion. What’s the big deal anyway? They’re just performing on the same stage for one night. It’s not like they’re gonna become the best of friends or anything.”
“They aren’t just performing together, Cheery,” he says, shaking his head. Then he stares at her like he’s delivering earth shattering news:
“They’re collabing together.”
She blinks once.
Then twice.
And after another sip of her drink, she says, “...so?”
Rockstar looks at her with a bewildered expression, not saying a word. His hands raise and flail about for a moment before gesturing back towards her. “What do you mean ‘so’?! Don’t you know that music is guaranteed to bring people closer together?! It’s scientifically proven that listening to music and singing together can strengthen the bonds people have with each other,” he informs her, banging his hands on the table. Cheerleader quickly grabs her glass to keep it from falling as he does so. “If they’re writing songs together, then one of my best friends is gonna be friends with someone I hate! Then he’s gonna wanna invite them to hang out more which means I’m inevitably gonna have to hang out with them too, and that’s an accident waiting to happen!”
“You really have that little faith in him?” she asks. “Even if they do become friends, Mint’s not an idiot. He’s at least smart enough to know not to put you two in the same room together.
“Still, he’ll be fraternizing with the enemy!”
“Oh please, don’t make it sound like some forbidden love story. He has Cocoa, remember?” she chides him.
“I’m not! I just-” he cuts himself off and rests his forehead on his palm. Sighing, he then brings his hand up to brush through his white hair, staring down at the table. “I don’t want them in my life any more than they already are, okay? Actually, I don’t want them in my life at all but, y’know.”
Cheerleader sighs. Her blonde ponytail swishes from side to side as she shakes her head. “Jeez Rockstar, you’re so...” she twirls her hand as she searches for the right word, eventually settling on, “silly.”
He’s almost positive that’s not what she actually wanted to say. She was probably going to say “dramatic”, but knew that would only serve to make him more upset. He rests his cheek in his hand again, only mildly grateful at Cheerleader’s use of censorship.
“You get how I feel though, right?” he asks, “Don’t you have at least one cookie that just makes you so mad?”
“Well, when you do stuff like this it kinda frustrates me,” she frankly states. Rockstar pouts at her and she brings her hand to her chin, tapping it in thought. “But...I can’t think of anyone I hate as much as you do.”
“C’mon! What about that one other cheerleader you had to compete with all the time? With the black hair and red clothes?”
“ Her?! No way! She was always such a good sport. How could I hate her?”
He grabs his hair with both hands and tugs it in frustration. “I don’t get you. You really don’t hate anybody?”
“Not to the extent that you do, nope.” She takes another sip and Rockstar drops his head to the table, groaning. Cheerleader sets her cup back down and says, “Y’know, people like to say that girls are emotional and complain all the time, but I only ever hear this type of talk out of you and a couple other guys I know.”
“Can I have their names? Maybe they’ll understand my plight.” he says sarcastically.
She groans at him. Before drinking more of her milk, she shakes her head and states, “You boys. All so dumb.”
Rockstar snorts and responds, “DJ’s not a boy, but they’re dumber.”
She glares at him again. “Stop that! I know you don’t like their music, but you can’t blame others for having different tastes than you. That’s just how life is.”
“Well then, life sucks. I hate it,” he mumbles.
“Oh, grow up Rockstar.”
He flinches at her words. In a moment, he remembers a fight from over a year ago. There’s a dull pain in his chest and his throat tightens. The angry tone of a voice that made his heart stutter reverberates in his ears. It almost sounded like he was back in that moment, when everything had gone wrong.
“Rockstar I swear, you can be so childish sometimes!”
‘No!’ his mind screams at him, ‘No, no, no! Not this again! That’s over! I apologized! Things are better! We’re friends again! I don’t want to do this again!!’
A few taps on his shoulder bring him back to reality. He raises his head and takes in Cheerleader’s expression, her blue eyes filled with worry. “Hey, you okay?”
He slowly nods and takes a deep breath. “Yeah, m’fine. I just...remembered something.”
She apologizes, but Rockstar quickly waves it off. Cheerleader frowns at the table before something catches her eye. She calls for Rockstar again and points in front of him when he looks up. “I think your hunger might be getting to you. You should really eat that.”
His eyes land on the plate resting in front of him. On it lays a jelly sandwich that he ordered earlier but never ate. He considers himself lucky that not once did he accidentally punch or faceplant in it.
He looks around for a moment before spotting another waiter walking by. Calling for their attention, they turn his way to see him make a quick square with his hands and ask, “Can I get a box?”
As they leave, Cheerleader looks nervously between the two of them. “Rockstar-”
“I’m fine. I’ll eat it once I get home, okay?” he attempts to console her. Cheerleader’s eyebrows furrow and the worry doesn’t leave her face at all. With a sigh, he relents. “Tell ya what, I’ll send you a picture when I do for proof, alright?”
She finally relaxes a bit. Closing her eyes, she quips, “If I don’t get that pic in the next hour, I’m coming over and force feeding it to you.”
That gets a chuckle out of him. Cheerleader quickly finishes her milk and Rockstar packs away his sandwich after getting the box. She leaves a tip on the table and they both head to the register to pay. When they get their total, Rockstar reaches into his pockets, only to discover that he left his money at home. He reluctantly turns to his friend who quickly gets the message, pulling her money back out with a roll of her eyes.
Rockstar apologizes as they walk away, but Cheerleader waves her hand at him. “Don’t worry about it. You can pay me back by buying me snacks at the Summer Solstice celebration.” She replies. He settles for a weak hum rather than actually answering. That makes his friend suspicious, and she squints at him while he turns away. After a moment she asks, “You’re not going, are you?”
He proudly responds, “Not a chance.”
She throws her head back and groans. “Are you kidding me? You can’t just bail! Cheesecake’s been working so hard to make sure it’s a party that everyone will enjoy. If you don’t go, she’s gonna think she failed and it’ll crush her!”
“And if I do go I’m either gonna boo at DJ, start a fight with them, or some other thing that’ll definitely cause a scene, and then she’ll know she failed,” he argues as they head out the door. “It’s a lose-lose situation here.”
Cheerleader rolls her eyes again. “Come on, you can behave yourself for one night.”
With his eyes closed and hands behind his head, Rockstar says, “No I can’t.”
“Gah! You little-!”
“Yoohoo~” a distant voice calls over.
Rockstar opens his eyes while Cheerleader turns her head. Approaching them is a cookie with long brown hair and a puffy white dress, looking like a chocolate covered marshmallow. She bounds joyfully towards them, waving all the while.
“Hey CocoAH-” Rockstar yelps as he gets pushed aside by his friend.
“Cocoa!!” she shouts as she runs to meet the other. The two girls hug for a moment. When they let go Cheerleader jumps with joy. “I haven’t seen you in so long! I actually just mentioned you earlier. Ain’t that a coincidence!”
Cocoa giggles softly, “It’s wonderful to see you too. As well as you, Rockstar.” She nods to him with a gentle smile and he waves back at her. Cheerleader grabs her attention again and the two talk for a bit longer. He hangs back and lets the two catch up with each other.
“Whatcha doin here anyway?” Cheerleader eventually asks. “I figured you’d be at home or with Mint.”
Cocoa looks embarrassed as she says, “Well, I suppose I don’t do too much else...” then she shakes her head, explaining “But I’ve heard they started selling hot cocoa over where you just left! Since Minty’s gone out to practice for Cheesecake’s party, I figured I’d come over and see how it is! Maybe I’ll buy some for when he gets back.”
“Practicing for the party, huh?” Cheerleader repeats while not so subtly looking back at him. He glares at her in return.
Cocoa nods. “I actually heard a sample of what DJ and him are working on the other day. I must say, it sounds amazing already.” Her kind words make Rockstar grimace. He can’t believe that even Cocoa is getting swept up in DJ’s stupid siren spell. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever heard before, and it makes me feel like I’m seeing a new side to Minty. I’m very excited to hear how it turns out!”
Cheerleader turns to him once more and states, “Sounds like you’ll be missing out, Rocky.” He only grumbles at her. Cocoa looks confusedly between the two and asks what she means. The other waves her hand and explains, “Oh, he’s just being bitter again. You know how it is.”
Rockstar rolls his eyes. Cocoa stares at him for a moment before the realization dawns on her. She brings one hand up to cover her mouth then steps closer to him. Looking up at him, she asks, “Rockstar, are you not going to the party?”
Oh no.
Her worried expression and sad tone are already enough to make his heart hurt. To make matters worse, she bats her big brown eyes at him. The way the light bounces off them makes them shimmer much more than normal, and it looks like she may start crying. With her looking at him like that, there’s no way Rockstar can let himself disappoint her.
“W-WHAT?” he shouts, his voice cracking. “What’re ya talkin’ about? Of course I’m going!”
Cheerleader’s eyes pop wide open at his declaration, and Cocoa tilts her head to the side. “Really?”
“Tchyeah! Wouldn’t miss it for the world!” he responds. Cheerleader squints at him once again.
Cocoa breathes a sigh of relief. “Oh, that’s good. For a moment I was worried something may have happened,” she admits. Tilting his head, Rockstar asks what she means, and she continues, “Well, it’s just that you and Mint would always go see each other perform, so I thought if you weren’t, you two might’ve had a fight like last time. It just breaks my heart thinking about it, and I don’t want you two to go through something like that again.” She waves a hand in front of her, dismissing the thought with a smile. “I suppose I worry too much for my own good.”
Rockstar returns the smile. “It’s real sweet that you care, Cocoa, but I promise we’re alright.”
She giggles again before frowning and turning back to Cheerleader. “Wait, then what was it you were talking about?”
She opens her mouth to call him out, but Rockstar slides in between the two, interrupting with, “Oh, you know how Cheery is! Hearing all kinds of stories from everybody. She must’ve gotten a lil’ confused.” She peeks from over his shoulder and tries to get his attention but he ignores her and gestures back to the café they came from. “Hey, didn’t you say you had some hot cocoa to try? I hear it’s a limited time offer, so you better get going before they’re gone!”
“Oh, I suppose you’re right!” she agrees and begins walking to the building. “We should all meet up to chat sometime. Message me when you’re available so we can figure something out! Goodbye!”
They both wave as she runs off, Cheerleader letting out a weak “bye-bye” after her. Grey and blue eyes stay on her until she opens the door and heads inside. When she’s out of sight, Cheerleader steps in front of him and asks, “What was that?”
“Okay, did you not see how sad she looked?!” he defends, hand pointing to where she’d left. “Trying to say no to her at that moment was like trying to say no to Spot!” That’s not even an exaggeration. One time he gave Spotlight Fan so many treats that it had a harder time floating around.
She shakes her head at him. “You can’t be serious. You literally just gave me all those reasons why you didn’t wanna go, but then Cocoa comes in,” she looks to him with doll-like eyes, fluttering her eyelashes, “and bats her eyes,” then she furrows her brows again, “and suddenly that’s all out the window?” Rockstar shrugs and gives her a sheepish smile. Cheerleader glares harder, pokes his chest and says, “You need to grow a backbone already.”
“Ma’am, I’m a cookie,” he responds, “I don’t have any bones.”
“Whatever,” she sighs, stuffing her hands in her pockets. “So, now that you are going, does this mean you’re actually gonna behave and not pick a fight with DJ again?”
Rockstar shrugs once again. “That sounds like a hassle.”
“It is the least you could do to not screw up such a big night for Mint. Can’t you at least try.”
Thinking about it, he supposes it really isn’t fair for him to be so upset about this. Mint’s allowed to hang out with whoever he wants, and Rockstar shouldn’t keep him from that. If he’s perfectly honest with himself, he might still be scared that the other wouldn’t want to be around him anymore after their break-up, so he keeps trying to make sure he doesn’t ditch him. They’ve been friends for so long that he doesn’t know what he’d do if they didn’t even talk anymore. But as upset as he is, it doesn’t give him the right to decide who he works or hangs out with.
“Fine. I won’t try and start anything,” he relents, then quickly tacks on, “but I am gonna complain the whole time.”
Cheerleader smiles and shakes her head. “That’s as close as we’re gonna get I guess,” she says, patting his shoulder. She turns and walks away, tossing a quick farewell to him. He waves to her before heading down the other way.
He’s really not looking forward to that party, but he’s already sealed his fate now. He sighs, looks up to the sky and thinks to himself, ‘Welp, guess I’ll die.’