Chapter Text
Jimmy is the most unluckiest, stupidest, clumsiest man in the entire world.
He can't believe how hard he fumbled, and how terrible his life is.
He's currently slouched on a bar stool, taking another swig of his drink before harshly putting it on the bar counter with a sigh.
It's orange soda.
Jimmy wasn't in the mood to get drunk, but he needed to do something. He had spent the last three days camping in this one bar, on the exact same seat, waiting and waiting, only for it to result in disappointment.
“Keep the change, Mumbo.”
He slides his payment to the bartender, who looks at him in worry. His beautiful moustache twitching as he hesitantly takes the money from the counter.
“Thanks, mate. L–listen, I'll let you know if I find anything, okay?”
Jimmy lets out a little smile, grateful for Mumbo's kindness, and nods.
“I'll see you around, Mumbo.”
The air outside is cold, making him tuck the scarf he's wearing a little closer to his face. Jimmy walks absentmindedly, still mourning his fate.
He replays that night over and over again, trying his best to remember, to maybe realize some miniscule detail that would help him. But no matter how hard he tries, he can't seem to grasp anything. It flies away like soap bubbles, beautiful and fragile, before popping—leaving no trace.
Jimmy is so distracted in his thinking, he fails to realize his surroundings.
He crashes into someone.
“Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry—” Jimmy panics, trying to reorient himself, pushing his body up from the ground. “Here let me—”
He pauses.
“... Scar?”
Scar is rubbing his head, seemingly trying to get rid of the pain of hitting it when bumping into Jimmy.
Oops.
“Scar, are you okay?” Jimmy asks worriedly. He crouches down, trying to hold the man back up.
Scar blinks at him. Those green eyes taking a while to process the person in front of him, before smiling when he recognises him.
“Jimmy! It's so good to see you, my friend!”
Jimmy gives him an awkward smile in return.
“Good to see you too, Scar.”
Scar is… Well, he doesn't really know what Scar is to him. He and Jimmy's brother Grian are sort of co-workers… business partners in a sense. But also, they kinda have a weird relationship going on that whenever Jimmy asks, Grian refuses to tell him more about it. Sure they're co-workers, but do co-workers spend every day sleeping in the same bed within their small travelling wagon cart cuddling each other? Do they share each other's clothes and washes the other's undergarments on laundry days? Do they parent three whole cats together and call each other ridiculous names like ‘handsome’ and ‘light of my life’?
Jimmy is not quite sure.
Also, Jimmy has only ever met Scar face-to-face maybe once or twice. Grian and Scar had been… ‘together’ for a good couple of months now, but due to the nature of their… ‘jobs’, they never settle in one place for too long, making it difficult for them to meet in person.
Scar gets mentioned, and appears very frequently on the siblings’ many video calls, ofcourse. But actually seeing the guy in real life is a whole different thing.
Scar lifts himself up with the help of Jimmy. He dusts himself, before crouching down to retrieve his red top hat, putting it back on his head.
“I knew we were going to see you, but I didn't expect it to happen so soon!” Scar giggles. “And with me getting a new boo-boo on my bum!”
“Wait, Grian's here? Why didn't you guys tell me you were coming?” Jimmy smiles. It's always nice to meet up with his family again, especially with every one of them so far away from each other normally.
“He wanted to prank you,” Scar shrugs. “I guess that boat has sunk.”
“... You mean that ship has sailed?”
Scar waves it off. “Well, they mean the same thing, anyway.”
They don't, but Jimmy isn't going to say that.
The man checks the watch on his hand, eyes widening slightly.
“Oh dear, deary me! Would you look at the time! Grian is waiting for me.” He mutters, adjusting his hat one last time before walking away, gesturing for Jimmy to follow him.
“Come along now, Jimmy. Let's go see your brother!”
Jimmy has no other choice but to follow the strange man.
Honestly, he has no idea how Grian thought it was a good idea to ditch everything he had to be with this random guy he just met.
Then again, it was Grian. So maybe he does have an inkling of an idea.
Jimmy sighs.
At least his brother is happy.
Scar takes him around the block, humming a strangely familiar melody as he goes through alleyways after alleyways.
Finally, they reach their destination.
Parked near a small hotpot restaurant is The Swaggon.
Grian has a hand propping his cheek up, lazily flipping through a culinary magazine with little interest.
All three of the cats are huddled near the heater, cuddling with each other to stay warm and nice with the winter air quickly coming in.
“Ohhh Grian, I'm home! And I brought a guest!”
Grian looks up, his eyes widening at Jimmy.
“Timmy?! Oh, Scar! I was planning on pranking him!” He complains, but stands up anyway to walk over to them, giving his little brother a hug.
Scar lifts both his hands up. “I didn't do anything. He crashed onto me.”
Grian huffs in annoyance.
“Well, consider yourself lucky this time, Timmy.”
Jimmy, despite being so happy to see Grian again, couldn't help but falter at the mention of ‘luck’. He tries to move on from his little glitch, happy to ignore it to spend some time with his brother and his business partner or whatever the heck Scar is supposed to be. But Grian notices, and he's not letting it go.
“Okay, what's wrong with you now?” Grian stares up at him with an eyebrow raised.
“Wh—wrong with me? Nothing's wrong with me!”
“Something is definitely wrong with him.” Scar nods.
“No!” Jimmy squeaks.
“It's okay, Tim. Don't bottle it up, you can tell me.” Grian pats his shoulder comfortingly.
Jimmy sighs.
“You're gonna make fun of me.”
“I'm not gonna make fun of you!”
Jimmy hardly believes that.
But Grian is never taking no for an answer. He had learnt that the hard way.
He sighs again.
“Three days ago, I went to a bar and met probably the most attractive man I've ever met.” He laments. “Normally I'd be too scared to do anything, but that night, something took over me. I don't know why but I just sorta… stood up and walked over to him.”
Grian whistles.
“Wow, didn't think you'd have it in you, Tim. Good job!” He teases with a grin, making Jimmy roll his eyes.
“Well yeah, anyway. He and I started talking, bought each other drinks and stuff. We talked about a lot of things, he was making this very cool video game, actually… I don't know, it just sounded so awesome, he's incredibly talented. And then we started dancing and... I just—it was one of the best nights of my life.”
He can't help the big smile from forming on his face as he thinks of that night again, chatting with the coolest person in the whole wide world, and dancing his heart out.
“That sounds a–may–zing, Jimmy. Did you get his number?” Scar asks, invested in the story.
Jimmy groans.
“Yeah, he gave me his number.”
“Well? Why aren't you calling him then?” Grian crosses his arms, already having an idea of Jimmy probably messing up somehow.
Jimmy hides his face in embarrassment.
“I lost the paper he gave me. I forgot his number, and his name.”
Grian, predictably, starts laughing.
Scar frowns apologetically, but Jimmy could see the little tilt of his mouth. He also finds it a little funny.
“Yeah, yeah, keep laughing at my misery. My life is literally ruined!”
Grian only laughs harder.
“Hey, it's okay, Jimmy. Things like that happen all the time!” Scar tries to console him.
“Really?” Jimmy looks at him skeptically.
“Well, no!”
He didn't even have the decency to hesitate.
“But not to worry, we can help you!”
Jimmy blinks in confusion.
Scar walks over to The Swaggon, pushing the covers up and revealing the various watches displayed both neatly and haphazardly in little containers and shelves. They glimmer and shine, reflecting the sunlight and each other—a fantastical treasure trove.
“Why don't you have a good time? On the house!” Scar winks, “family discount.”
Jimmy gulps. Right. Good times.
He was informed of this. Back when Grian first told them of the mysterious man he met on the side of the beach. The man who also happens to possess these magical powers that can somehow transport you into one of your happy memories—a good time.
Grian has recounted the experience so vividly, explaining how, yes, he really did get to see his memories again like it originally was, and no, Scar is not a hypnosis artist. He asked.
Even though Grian had explained it to him over and over again, Jimmy was still skeptical.
It just sounded too crazy.
But now, here he is—an opportunity to see the magic for himself presented to him, to experience what Grian had experienced all those months ago. Better yet, Scar claims that it could help him remember that string of numbers he so desperately wants to remember.
This all feels like a dream.
Those nonsensical, loose, yet ultimately, good dreams.
“Come on Tim, choose one. I know you’re curious.” Grian slings an arm around his shoulders, tip-toe-ing slightly to reach his height.
Well… it’s not like he has anything else to try.
With that thought, he reaches a hand out, grabbing on to the first clock that feels right.
He blinks, looking at the watch in his hand with surprise.
It’s a watch for sure. But somehow, something about it makes him think of something else.
The red hour hand stays unmoving in place, pointing up at the number twelve—pointing north.
It reminds him of a compass.
Like the ones in video games, the one that points you on where you need to go to start or finish a quest.
“Excellent choice, Jimmy! You did great!” Scar congratulates him, nodding his head in approval. “Now, you two gentlemen have fun! I’ll go ahead and order some hotpot for us.”
“Right,” Grian reaches a hand out. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Hesitantly, Jimmy puts the watch in Grian’s hands, not even having the time to panic as his consciousness slowly fades out.
-
When he is able to see again, he finds himself exactly where he wanted to be. Three days ago at the bar, in the crowded and exhilarating atmosphere of people mingling and dancing.
Live music fills the room with a soft, familiar jazz, making everyone feel warm and tender inside as idle chatter fills the room.
Jimmy can’t help but stare in awe.
He’s actually back.
It’s exactly like he remembers.
A hand taps his shoulder, making Jimmy jump in surprise.
“Alright Timmy, let’s find your mystery boy.” Grian announces blankly, not even commenting on Jimmy’s embarrassing shriek as he moves through the crowd.
Jimmy calms himself down, following him, still looking around in amazement. Grian wasn't completely crazy after all.
“So what does he look like exactly?”
“Um…” Jimmy blushes, the picture of the man appearing so clearly in his mind. “Blond hair, slicked, like flames. He has these wonderful eyes, and his teeth are pointy and crooked in the most charming way…”
Jimmy realizes quite painfully that he is yearning, but he could hardly care less. Every single word he said is true.
Grian hums, his eyes scanning the room.
“Oh, it’s that one isn’t it?”
Jimmy looks at where he’s pointing, before immediately going weak in the knees.
It’s him.
He looks as gorgeous as he remembers. Wildly flailing his hands around animatedly as he talks about his current project, smiling widely and showing off those cute little teeth.
Sitting right next to him, is Jimmy from three days ago, looking at the man speaking with nothing but admiration in his eyes.
Jimmy suddenly feels very embarrassed. Did he really look like that? Like a complete, lovestruck fool?
Grian snickers from beside him.
“This is a bit pathetic, Tim.”
Jimmy groans, not even able to defend himself.
Suddenly, the music changes. The band plays a slow, mellow, tune, inviting everyone to dance tenderly under the soft pink lights.
Memory–Jimmy stood up, giving a hand out to the mystery man with a shy smile.
Mystery man stares at him with a little bit of his mouth open, surprised at the gesture.
Seeing no immediate response from him, memory-Jimmy starts backing away, afraid he had crossed a line or acted too forward, but mystery man grabs his wrist before he could start apologizing. He stands up as well, smiling an awkward, but hopeful smile to Jimmy as they stare at each other in the eye.
They walk together to the middle of the room, under the disco ball, and start dancing.
Jimmy watches the entire thing with red cheeks. It’s just as magical as when he first experienced it.
They dance with the music, a little unsure if there’s any other moves aside from swaying their bodies side to side with each other.
Memory–Jimmy answers that question himself, doing a little experimental spin.
Mystery man laughs at the action, following him to do a little spin himself.
“You guys are made for each other.” Grian notes, annoyed and disgusted. “You better not mess it up this time, Tim.”
Jimmy is about to ask, when suddenly, mystery man stops dancing. He pulls a vibrating phone out of his pocket and answers the call.
After some muffled conversation, he hangs up, turning to memory–Jimmy with a disappointed frown.
He needs to go.
Memory–Jimmy pretends to be cool about it, saying some pleasantries like “I had fun!” Or “thanks for hanging out with me!”
Mystery man smiles at him. He pulls out a receipt paper from his pocket and writes something in it before giving it to memory–Jimmy.
His number.
Memory-Jimmy freezes, not having the chance to respond before mystery man grabs his coat from the seat and rushes out the bar, giving Jimmy one last little wave with a shy smile as he disappears from sight.
Grian pushes Jimmy forward to where memory-Jimmy is still standing, frozen in place.
“Go on, get that number, hurry!”
Jimmy stumbles, looking back at Grian who frantically waves his hands, telling him to go forward. Encouraged, Jimmy starts running to the center of the room, stopping right in front of the mirage of his past self.
He pauses for a moment, looking at his own face in bewilderment.
It’s so strange. Is this how people look at him? Just like any other human, he has never seen his own face, merely reflections or pictures of it. Seeing a past version of himself in a third person has somehow awakened a sort of weird protective feeling. Like he’s finally realizing that this is the person he’s supposed to be in charge with. This is the person whose happiness depends on him.
He shakes it off, pivoting to the paper held in his hands instead.
There, in rushed writing, is a name:
TANGO.
The letters are all in capital, with sharp lines and rushed ink stains, bold but soft.
Jimmy’s heart starts beating faster.
Ofcourse.
How could he have forgotten such a beautiful name?
It matches the man so well… Tango.
Tango, Tango, Tango.
A kind name for a kind person. Tango talked to him about his game, Tango smiled at him and listened when he told him about his worries, Tango danced with him under the disco ball, Tango gave him his number.
…Tango gave him his number?
His number!
Jimmy snaps out of his lovestruck trance, panicking as he tries to memorize the number written below the name, but it was too late.
He only got to briefly look at it before memory–Jimmy puts the paper in his pocket, walking back to the bar to grab his stuff.
“No, no, no, Jimmy you idiot, wait!” Jimmy calls out to his past self, who ignores him completely as he puts on his coat, walking out of the door with rose colored cheeks and a smile that stretches through his whole face.
“M–my chance!” Jimmy whines dejectedly, looking at his own silhouette disappearing more and more into the world outside.
Jimmy could hear a slap from beside him. It’s Grian with a palm on his forehead.
“How did you mess this up so badly?”
He couldn't even argue. He did mess up… bad.
“Grian, we gotta replay this again, o–or rewind it or something, I just got distracted—”
His brother shakes his head.
“No can do, Timmy. Once a good time is spent, then it is spent.”
Grian pulls the watch from his pockets, the already weak clock hands only getting fainter and fainter as time goes on.
“You’ve had your chance. The memory ends here.”
Jimmy lowers his head in disappointment. He really is the stupidest man ever.
The world gave him an opportunity twice, and he completely bluffed it. He doubts he’s going to get a third chance. The universe has probably gone tired and impatient of him.
“Hey,” Grian rubs his back, trying to cheer him up. “It’s okay, Tim. He’s just a guy. You’re a kind and handsome man, you’ll surely meet plenty more guys.”
Jimmy sighs.
“But none of them would be him.”
Grian smiles sadly as their vision starts to spin.
“Listen, we’re gonna eat as many mala hotpot that we want after this and replace every single one of our sadness with fishcakes and meat, okay?”
Well… Mala hotpot does sound nice.
Jimmy sighs again.
“I’m gonna eat so many mala hotpot, I’ll make the restaurant close early.”
-
When they go back, they find Scar sitting on one of the tables, patiently waiting for them.
He smiles, waving them over.
“So, did you get his number?”
Grian and Jimmy stay quiet.
“Ooooh. Um. Well, there’s a bunch of other fish in the lake!”
“It’s ‘plenty of fish in the sea’, Scar,” Grian corrects him fondly, to which Scar shrugs.
“Order for table number 5!” The waiter announces, pushing a cart with their soup and an assortment of meats and veggies.
“Oh, finally! I'm starving!” Grian cheers, already wearing the restaurant's apron. He's holding a pair of chopsticks in one hand and a ladle in the other, eyeing the trays of food laid around their table.
Jimmy blinks. Since when did Grian put that apron on? Or take hold of the various dining utensils in his hands?
Jimmy doesn't get to ask when Scar excitedly yells a “bone appetite!”, which he thinks is a horribly Americanized way to say ‘bon appétit’, as the two of them waste no time dumping the contents into the soup and attacking the floating fishcakes before putting it whole in their mouth.
He could only stare at their greed with a disgusted frown.
“I'm so sorry about them,” Jimmy turns toward the waiter, trying to save himself some embarrassment. “I swear, they're actually normal, functioning pe—”
The plan of trying to save himself some embarrassment has unexpectedly heavily backfired as he is now left with a rapidly increasing redness on his cheeks and an incredible amount of shame.
Standing before him, dressed in the restaurant's uniform with a bandana covering his hair, is Tango.
The same Tango from three days ago, the same Tango who gave him his number, the same Tango whose number he had lost, the same Tango who he meets again inside a good time, the same Tango whose number he had lost again.
Tango is their waiter.
“I–I… You…”
Jimmy chokes, his mouth opening wide in surprise.
Tango stares at him with a frown, unimpressed. He likely recognizes Jimmy since the moment he came out of the kitchen. Recognizes him as the guy who didn't call him back.
Tango lets out an annoyed huff, taking a hold of his cart, about to push it back to the kitchen.
Jimmy stands up.
“Wait!”
Everybody in the restaurant stops, turning to look at Jimmy, who is now unsure of what to do with all the attention on him.
“Tango, I—”
“Shhh!”
Tango looks around at all the eyes watching them in embarrassment. He makes a swift decision, grabbing on to Jimmy's wrist and pulling him outside.
“We're taking this privately!”
He gets dragged to the side of the restaurant, where the hot air from the various vents and pipes keeps them a little warm against the winter cold.
Jimmy takes a deep breath.
“Tango, I'm sorry, I'm such an idiot, I—”
“It's fine.”
Huh?
“Huh? I mean, really?”
Tango rolls his eyes.
“Yeah, I get it. You were drunk and just wanted to have a fun night. You didn't wanna continue things seriously, it's cool. It happens all the time.”
“What?!” That's not at all what Jimmy's intention was. Sure, there was nothing wrong with just wanting to have fun with no commitment, but Jimmy literally craves for Tango to exist outside that one night. He needs to know more about him.
“No, I didn't mean for it to be like that! It's just that—”
Tango lets out a bitter laugh. “You don't have to try and make me feel better, Jimmy.” He stares at the ground, trying to hold his pride. “We can part ways here, don't sweat about it—”
“No!”
Jimmy screams like he's a child throwing a tantrum.
“Tango, you listen to me!” He points a hand to his chest.
Tango's eyes go wide, nodding.
“I want you, man. I want you so, so bad.” Who cares if he's acting like a child who is begging for his mum to buy him his dream toy cowboy? Tango needs to know how much Jimmy wants him.
“I want you as much as I want world peace, I want you as much as—” Jimmy pauses, trying to think of another suitable comparison. “I want you as much as those two—!”
Jimmy points to the vague direction of Grian and Scar inside the building.
“—want their mala hotpot!”
Tango stares at him in shock.
“Yeah, I'm so greedy for you, man. Like, y–you saw how they ate those fishballs? They’re me! A–and you’re like… you’re like the fishball!”
Tango’s shock slowly turns into disgust.
Maybe that wasn’t the greatest analogy.
Jimmy coughs. “W–what I’m trying to say is… I like you a lot, Tango… That night we met was one of the best nights of my life,” He would know that for a fact. Afterall, he had experienced that night twice and still thought of it dreamily. “I… I'd like to make more of those nights with you… if you'd like.”
Tango stares at him in disbelief. Undoubtedly happy, luckily enough, but also in disbelief.
“I–I don't understand, Jimmy.” He tries to search his face for an answer. “Why didn't you call?”
Jimmy sighs. Scratching the back of his head and looking at the sky, trying his best to stall before he inevitably loses some of his cool aura. Not that he had many to begin with.
“I lost your number to the wind.”
“...What?”
Jimmy is so embarrassed. God, why did he have to be such an idiot?
“I was walking home when the wind blew your paper away. I tried to catch it, I swear! The wind that night was just too strong, and your paper is so flimsy—not that it's your fault, of course! I just… I tried running after it, but then there was this crack in the pavement I didn't see, a–and a car honked at me—”
Tango starts to laugh.
“—and well, I tried waiting for you in the bar for three whole days, but you never came, so I became kinda depressed. But then my brother and his… Well, I would say boyfriend, but Grian never confirms or denies whenever I ask him if he and Scar are dating. Like, whenever I try asking, he would just say ‘guess.’ Like, what? what does he mean ‘guess’?! W–what am I supposed to guess? Anyway, these two sell good times, which is basically this magic watch that lets you travel back in time to your memories, and I used it to try and memorize your number, but I'm just so stupid, Tango, because instead of memorizing your number, I started dreaming of your name. Who does that?! I'm—I'm so, so sorry.”
Jimmy fully expects to see Tango looking at him like he's a freak, but instead, the man smiles at him sweetly with a blush over his cheeks.
“Wow… I mean… you really did all that for me?”
Jimmy could feel himself going breathless.
“I… Yeah.”
Tango deserves all that effort. Tango deserves all that effort and more.
They shyly look into each other's eyes. Tango slowly brings a hand to Jimmy's, trying to loop their pinkies together. Jimmy lets out a gasp, about to take his hands in its entirety, when suddenly—
“Timmyyyyyyy—!”
Jimmy groans.
Grian and Scar pops their faces out of the side of the wall, both their mouths still red and messy from mala soup.
“Timmy! There you are. We finished the soup without you.” Grian tells him matter of factly.
“Sorry, man!” Scar apologizes, but he didn't look all that guilty about it.
“What?!” Jimmy complains, still with his pinky finger intertwined with Tango's. “But I'm also hungry!”
Grian shrugs.
“I don't know, ask your new boyfriend if he wants to have dinner with you or something.”
Tango chokes.
“Oh? Wait, isn't that Tango? Tim, you found him!” Grian cheers.
“Hey, Tango!” Scar waves. “Welcome to the family!”
“Welcome to the fa—So you are part of the family?!” Jimmy questions Scar accusingly.
“Ofcourse I am!” Scar nods, wrapping himself in a hug. “Everyone on earth is one big happy family!”
“What?!”
“Don't mind him, Timmy,” Grian reassures him, giving his brother a mischievous grin. “You and Tango go enjoy your romantic dinner together, alright? Scar and I better be going anyway, people just yearn to experience the good times!”
Before Jimmy could complain that he and Tango are not going to have a romantic dinner together, Grian is already off, dragging Scar away with him.
He turns back to Tango with an irritated scowl. “Right. So sorry about him. We don't have to go on anything you don't want to, I'm sure you still have to do your work—”
“Actually,” Tango hesitates. “My shift has been over for a while now.”
“O–oh… Um… Well, have a good rest, Ta—”
“I'm saying that dinner doesn't sound bad right now.”
Jimmy blinks.
“What? Like, together? You actually wanna go to dinner together?”
He nods.
“Oh! Oh, okay. Um, I assume you don't want mala hotpot, then?”
Tango laughs, shaking his head. “No, not really.”
“Right! Uh, how about some burgers?”
“Sure! Anything! As long as you continue that story you were telling the other day.”
Jimmy smiles.
He is the most unluckiest, stupidest, clumsiest man in the entire world on any other day.
But for this one moment in time, he feels good.