Chapter Text
They had just about started to pack away their stuff and clean out the remainders of today's practice, when Skizz bursted through the door with enough force to make the heavy iron bounce off the wall.
“Careful” Impulse chided, without looking up from where he was changing the settings of the drum pedestal back to default. “If that's leaving a dent you're the one to tell Cleo.”
“Ye-ye” Skizz answered immediately, and the way his voice almost vibrated with excitement did make Impulse look up. He still had his phone in one hand, and his cheeks glowed a little. “Forget about Cleo for a moment would ya?”
The others continued their busy work, not picking up on the sudden change to the almost sulking display he had put on before he left the room for a phone call a few minutes before.
Grian was trying to collect all his notes and papers that, of course, lay scattered across the already cramped room. Gem had already put her electrical guitar away, now picking up empty plastic bottles and half-empty snack bags they left behind. And Scar was apparently trying to untangle some cables, crouched underneath the electrical keyboard.
Impulse on the other hand stood up, giving Skizz his full attention. Clocking onto that, Skizz’s grin widened. He sounded a bit breathless as he spoke, as if he had run all the way down the corridor to their little studio. (Well not theirs, technically, but Impulse ignored that fact most of the time.)
“GIGGS got a gig,” he said, waving his phone a little.
That certainly got everyone's attention.
Grian and Gem, about to bicker whether or not a crumpled piece of paper was Gem's job to clean up or not, turned around in surprise while Scar only gave a pained grunt, as he hit the back of his head against the underside of the electric keyboard.
“What, how ?” Gem gasped, almost jumping a bit in excitement. “I mean where ? I mean-”
“What kind of deal did you make with the devil to get us a gig that fast,” Scar cut in. He sounded slightly more collected, but his voice still pitched a bit higher in excitement.
“Yeah we only decided to be a band like, 2 weeks ago,” Grian agreed.
And while Impulse wanted to correct him that no, they had been a band for about two years now and the only thing that changed was all of them graduating from university two weeks ago, he didn't. Because he saw that Skizz really wanted to tell them more about that phone call he just had.
“Ah, I didn't do much, not a big deal,” Skizz answered. The smile on his face did betray how big of a deal he thought this to be though. “You know, my brother has a friend that still owes me something for that marketing video Impulse and I helped him with, back when we just started university.”
“Oh I remember him,” Impulse pitched in. “Doesn't he build pools?”
“Yeye,” Skizz was waving his hand again. “That's not the exciting part, would you just listen to me dammit!” He was still grinning too much for the demand to have any bite. “This guy has a wife,” he explained. “And his wife is currently helping organize that street festival that happens in a few weeks, and one of the bands just cancelled . My brother told me over the weekend, and I told him I knew a band that-”
“That's AMAZING” Gem broke in, jumping up and down now, obviously not able to withhold her excitement in favour of the story anymore. “Skizz are you serious?”
Skizz nodded, heaving another deep breath, probably to stop himself from jumping up and down as well. “She just called me, she listened to your Spotify and watched that one video we made last year, and she says she'd like to have you play one of the earlier concerts. It's not much, I know, but-”
“It's a lot ,” Impulse cut in. “Skizz that's amazing .” He stepped around his drums to draw the taller man into a neck breaking hug.
“First concert, whohoo” Scar pumped his fist, leaning back. Grian gave a cackle at that, ignoring Gem as she shook his arm, still bouncing.
“That's big ,” Impulse reiterated, voice a bit muffled from how his face was squished into Skizz's shoulder.
Later, when they walked home, Impulse noticed that some of the excitement frazzled from Skizz's steps the further they went. He looked deep in thought.
“What is it, Skizzleman” he said, bumping their shoulder.
Skizz's thoughtful frown split into a grin. It wasn't as happy as before though.
“There's no hiding anything from you, is there,” he sighed. “It's nothing, Dipple Dop. Genuinely, it’s not important.”
Impulse gave a thoughtful hum. After a moment of silence he asked: “Mind sharing it anyway?”
Skizz hesitated, opening his mouth, closing it again. Opening it again.
Impulse's frown deepened. Usually Skizz wasn't someone that hesitated to speak, rarely ever, especially with him.
He stopped and Skizz stopped as well, turning to face him, but didn't look him in the eye.
“It's silly,” he murmured, low enough that Impulse almost hadn’t caught it. “I'm really happy for you guys, I am. Please believe me when I say that. And I'm happy I can help as your agent slash stage crew slash problem solver, but sometimes I also get, almost jealous?”
His voice pitched into a question at the end, and finally he looked at Impulse. “It's nothing, as I said. Just, I wish I could also stand up there with you.”
“Skizz-” Impulse tried, voice soft, but his friend interrupted him immediately. “No, it's not worth talking about. I knew that when you started to bring me to your practice nights. I knew you would have figured out anyway, that's why I told you. But please, don't tell the others?”
“Of course not,” Impulse said without skipping a beat. He did think this was something to talk about, especially because he would have loved for Skizz to be on stage with them, and because he knew how good of a drummer Skizz was. Better than Impulse even. But he also wanted to make sure that Skizz knew he got his back. He always did, after all.
Skizz resumed his walk after that and Impulse caught up to him after a few seconds.
“Do you still want to grab some food before we split up?” he asked.
This time, Skizz's grin seemed genuine again.
“You know I do, Dipple Dop.”