Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

They were in a band.

Maybe not the most popular, they’ve been doing this since college and only really had one hit song a few years back. They still have gig offers, sometimes even opening acts, but it’s getting fewer and far between. Rent is hard to pay but are fortunate enough to be sent food every now and again by their respective families.

Tonight was one of their luckier days.

They were the last to play, though what’s usually reserved for the most anticipated act, theirs was scheduled to finish at 3 am as the bar closes. It’s a regular one they perform at, and they didn’t mind getting pushed back since so many rookies were playing that night. They even help out with the cleanup.

Wildberry yawned, laying on the old sofa in the cramped green room. He noticed that Chip hadn’t gone back yet, his bandmate’s coat draped over him. It’s not an unusual sight, who knows, maybe he went out to buy breakfast. It wouldn’t be the first time.

He looked over to the dresser and noticed a singular bouquet on the table. Strange, he had thought it was for the other bands, it’s been a while since they received such a gift. But when he approached the present, he noticed the usual card placed in the middle was gone, leaving an awkward space. Maybe it was for another band.

He hears the door creak, not exactly expecting Chip to look so sour when he entered. The other man is obviously hiding a card in his hand.

“Didn’t find breakfast?” Wildberry tried lightening the mood.

He received a small but brief chuckle, followed by a shake of a head, “Buy one for me.”

Chip walked up to the bouquet and slowly slid it to Wildberry. “It’s for us.” He briefed, though not amused.

It made the bigger man worried, did it come from something unwanted? A weird fan or a stalker? They exchanged looks and it seemed like he understood. It’s the same one Chip gave when agencies tried signing them up to their label, talking to him in corporate speak he tried understanding for their sake.

Wildberry has asked why he’s never invited to these meetings, but when Chip sternly said: “It’s only you that they want.” He didn’t inquire further.

Chip looked more puzzled than usual, but it’s clear he only looked like that because of fatigue, Wildberry didn’t want to push and gave him a bit of time to think things through. His bandmate pats him on the shoulder, grounding him before walking off and packing their things.

“Grilled chicken sandwich?” he said before leaving the door.

“Yeah,” a brief pause, “Get back home safe, alright?”

“No problem.”

The doors shut.

Chip looked back at the flowers, a nice mixture of yellow and white, something that didn’t quite fit their band’s image. He then looked at the mirror, his makeup barely off and yet his eyebags still shown through, he doesn’t think he’s fit to be argumentative with a white collared person right now. He doesn’t like how this person in particular is so convincing.

X

Chip is at a coffee shop now; he feels somewhat embarrassed for being the first customer at such a place. Thankfully his order is more straightforward (an americano) than the man in front of him, ordering something more akin to milk than coffee despite where they are.

The other man was well-dressed, as he expected, though he’s still surprised by how young he looked. Blond, green eyed, and speech smooth as room temperature butter. Nothing Chip hasn’t dealt with before, but the offers he’s hearing sounds too good to be true, it’s suspicious.

“I don’t want to buy you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” The man starts, mixing his cold drink before taking a sip (who drinks iced milk first thing in the morning?).

The language was almost dehumanizing, buy? They’re not cattle.

“You’ve made that clear.”

“I have?” he smiles at his drink, “That’s good,”

“You’re offering too much.”

“Is that a bad thing?” the blond pushes, “Haven’t you been looking for a sponsor?”

Chip bites his lip. He doesn’t want to agree right away, lest he get himself tied to the other man’s words. Looking down to think over on what to say.

“Equipment.”

“Yes.”

“Marketing.”

“Of course,”

“Cost of living!”

“Why not?”

“Does this not sound crazy to you?!”

A pause. The blond man’s face has grown increasingly flat as Chip lists out what he’s willing to pay for, it was almost creepy.

“It does.” The man picked up his drink again, “But I want you to have it.”

He sounded so sincere it almost pissed Chip off, but he restrains himself. “Why?”

“I see potential—”

“No. A legit reason. Something from you. As a person.”

A longer pause, a longer look at his drink, and a longer sip of it. The blond seemed hesitant, suddenly nervous after walking up and offering him full sponsorship without a care mere hours ago. He suddenly looks uncomfortable in his own skin.

“You’re very earnest, Mr. Chip—”

“Chip is fine.” He cuts immediately, nearly laughing at how overly formal it was.

“Right,” he coughs, “You still look out for others despite your own condition, and as someone who’s been watching your band for a while now, I think it’s about time someone does the same for you.”

Chip thinks it over, once again sounding too good to be true, it’s like that trope of a millionaire suddenly finding interest in the run-of-the-mill main lead. He... doesn’t like what position that trope puts him in, maybe it’s Wildberry who’s the lead here and he’s put in a non-existent love triangle somewhere.

“And no caveats? No tricks?”

“No.” he shakes his head for emphasis, “I like your sound, I want to keep it that way as much as I can.”

“And the music rights?”

“All yours.”

“And what do you gain from this, exactly?”

“That’s something I can’t tell you.”

Chip squints. Another suspicious detail to think about. The other man seems to notice he’s losing the band man and continues.

“Think of me as a fan who’s willing to pay for anything, a whale, if you will.”

“That’s not very encouraging.”

“I’m not expecting any privileges out of this.”

“That sounds... less convincing.”

The blond finally sighed, seemingly tired. He has been waiting to talk to the other man way before the show started, his fatigue is catching up. He doesn’t know if that’s something Chip was aiming for, a way to get rid of him right away.

“What would you want then?” dejected, almost like a kicked puppy.

“What would you do if I said yes?”

The blond’s face almost lights up, Chip doesn’t know if it’s genuine joy or the other man pouncing at an opportunity.

“I would recommend you a drummer, first.”

Interesting. The band has been relying on synthesized drums their whole career, sometimes having guest drummers, but never really sticking to one. He admits it’s been limiting, especially since Chip is the only person actively songwriting for them. He’s almost impressed.

“And then?”

“Introduce you to some producers, and maybe propose to play opening acts.”

It all sounds very concrete so far, it’s definitely something they’ve been trying to do the past years, especially after their one-hit wonder. Lacking a PR manager and budget was probably the biggest hurdle at that point.

“...Those are some things I’ve heard before.”

The blond breathes, “I’m sure you have...” he starts, then changed the subject. “You’ve barely touched your coffee.”

Caught off guard, Chip looked down at his drink, it was almost cold. It suddenly felt a bit awkward, the conversation coming to a halt as he drank, he probably shouldn’t be doing so on an empty stomach.

“One gig.”

“What?”

“One gig.” The blond repeats, “I’ll sponsor one gig for you, the way I’ll manage you, and whatever happens next is completely up to you two.”

Another pause, another sip of his drink. It’s getting more tiring to refuse, the coffee in his hand having the opposite effect of energizing him.

“...I’ll talk it over.”

The blond’s face lights up once again, quickly reaching into his inner pocket to take out his business card—that is, Chip thought he was. Instead, he pulled out a small notepad and started jotting down his number, briefly pausing to write his name before putting down ‘Clotted’ as one. He ripped the paper and passed it to Chip.

“Is this your real name?”

“Yes,” he said, certain, “I’m just not used to using it.”

That sounded odd but he didn’t want to pry. Taking the piece of paper and looking it over, the handwriting was almost mechanic, like straight out of a printer.

“...Please tell me your decision as soon as possible.”

“I will.”

A brief pause, a relieving one for once. They start drinking their respective drinks, as if finally having the time to start their day. It was a comfortable silence, for some reason Clotted’s pure excitement is rubbing off on Chip, he feels like he’s getting swayed too easily that day.

An hour passed and Chip finally excused himself, knowing that he had to have breakfast and brief Wildberry with everything that had happened. His bandmate would probably tell him to rest first, hopefully he’ll remember everything after that initial nap.

Clotted nodded his head, slid in a ‘safe travels’, before Chip went to the cashier. He’s surprised that his drink was already paid for, but then again, it’s in line with what the blond had been promising him since they met. Maybe it’s a way to ease him into the offer, but he didn’t want to think much about it.

X

“Wow that does sound like a stalker.”

“Right?!” Chip was finally able to loosen up, still sprawled in the pullout bed to compensate for the one-bedroom apartment. “He got me while I was tired as fuck too, he probably planned that shit.”

“At least he didn’t follow you home.”

Chip shuddered, “Fuck man, don’t say that I wouldn’t know.”

“Sorry,” he said, knowing that his bandmate wasn’t really angry at him. “Can I see his number?”

Chip rolled over, having a hard time reaching his back pocket, still in his jeans as he’s yet to take a shower that morning. He pulled out a number of receipts, not sure which one actually had the blond’s number on it, leaving Wildberry to search for it for him.

“A drummer would be nice though,” he said while looking over the papers.

“Yeah,” Chip yawned, “maybe we can just recruit them and go.”

Wildberry laughed, agreeing, then crumpling up the unneeded receipts when he found the one he needed. He then pulled out his phone, piquing Chip’s interest.

“What’re you doing?”

“Searching up his number online.”

“Ah, right,” he yawned again, turning to look over his bandmate’s shoulder, “I forgot you can do that.”

Wildberry typed the number out, then wait patiently for the results, he’s not sure if Chip is paying attention due to his snoring. But when he found his answer, he didn’t feel like waking his bandmate up.

It would make sense why this ‘Clotted’ person would sponsor so many of their needs so readily, it really feels like those tropes Chip talked about. The man’s number was followed by the Custard Company all too frequently, the picture of the CEO looking a bit too familiar with how Chip described the man he met. Only their names didn’t align, but then again, there was that doubt of it being a real name.

The Custard Company was a conglomerate of many things, but music was certainly none of them. Perhaps they’re trying to branch out? But it puts into question why they would scout them specifically. Could it be so it’s easier to manipulate them? Or that this company sees enough potential in them to lead this charge?

Wildberry closed the search results. He wants to gamble on this, he wants to see which is true. He feels a bit guilty about not wanting to tell his bandmate, but if he did, he feels like Chip would immediately reject it. For once, he wants to take risks.

Maybe it was because they’ve known each other for so long, but Chip has always been protective of him, always looking out for him and sometimes hiding things from him. He couldn’t imagine all the offers they’ve been given without Wildberry’s knowledge, maybe this time he can switch the roles, just this once.

His gut tells him they have to take this, he wants to take this.

He turned around to reposition Chip into a more comfortable sleeping position, his bandmate sleeping like a rock, snoring louder than usual. He picked up the blanket he’s not using and gave it to Chip and added the number to his contacts, walking out the house to talk to Clotted and take up his offer in place for them both.

“Hello?”

Chapter Text

Wildberry was waiting at the entrance of a studio he’s never been to, he’s definitely heard of it, but knows that they can’t possibly rent the place out with their budget. It was intimidating, but Clotted has done nothing but keep his word for the past week, whether in person or through his—their drummer, Financier.

She’s waiting with Wildberry outside the studio, not that the place was closed, but Chip has yet to find a parking space. With roads so narrow and in the middle of town, it’d be a miracle enough for Chip to find any in the next hour. Thankfully Financier is a good conversationalist despite her deadpan face (though Wildberry is one to talk).

“Secretary and drummer is still surprising to me.”

Financier laughs, acknowledging how absurd her roles are, “It’s always been a hobby.”

“Did Clotted know?”

“Always has,” she paused, “I offered myself this job though.”

“It beats the one in the office, huh?”

“Does that need answering?”

Wildberry laughs, no, being in a band is definitely better.

He noticed a familiar figure walking down the street, followed by a newly familiar one. It seemed that both Chip and Clotted parked around the same place and met in the middle, his bandmate looking more awkward than usual, perhaps not used to being around someone so corporate.

Clotted seems puzzled that the two waited outside, sure it’s Wildberry’s first time at this studio, but Financier could’ve escorted the band’s bassist first and waited again outside. Then again, he and Chip are close, perhaps the latter told him to wait for him. It’s quite adorable.

“The place is not locked, y’know.”

“I know,” Financier answers.

Clotted rolls his eyes in amusement, a bit endeared before walking up to open the door himself, inviting the others in.

Chip quickly joined with Wildberry and pulled on his arm, embarrassing, but it’s the only way to get the bigger man’s attention. The latter suspects it’s to gossip about something Clotted did or go on a rant about his conspiracy theory on what they gotten themselves into. He’s glad it’s the former.

“He rode a bus here.” He whispered.

That almost stopped Wildberry in his tracks. Clotted could afford the studio but not a car to it? before he could ask further, their walk had stopped.

Clotted had opened the studio door, one far bigger than what they’re used to and already having an engineer testing out the sound. They exchanged cordial greetings before the band was left alone, probably briefing something completely different outside. At least that gives Wildberry more time to be curious.

“Financier, how did you get here?”

She seemed puzzled but didn’t see the harm in it. “I walked here.”

Wildberry didn’t add to that, but Financier seemed to catch on.

“I don’t need a ride back,”

“N-no, that’s not—”

“Wild, drop it.” Chip urges.

And as if on cue, Clotted came back into the room. He seems to ignore the awkward situation he came into, but as if ignoring it, he quickly talked over what they were doing that day.

The band only really released singles and EPs, Clotted thinks it’s time to make it a complication album, basically rereleasing their whole music in a newer shinier box. Chip didn’t hate the idea, but worried about what would change, Clotted assured them that he’ll take them through the whole process.

Today they’re rerecording their songs with Financier’s drums in mind, so it wouldn’t 100% be a carbon-copy, hopefully that way it didn’t look like the band is selling out. They were ushered to play the instrumentals with newer (and better) equipment and were free to look around in between sessions.

Surprisingly, Wildberry was the most nervous, perhaps because he was also the most excited. It’s not that distracting, but as if the man had known them forever, Clotted urged the bassist to do better.

“You can turn your back on us, Wild.” He spoke through the glass, “just relax.”

The bassist looked over to his long-time bandmate, the latter giving him a small smile as if to assure him also. Financier then gave him two thumbs up, it makes her look quite goofy, but he’s touched by the sentiment. He takes a deep breath and nods, seemingly enough of a signal for Clotted to count down before their first professional recording.

X

The recording took longer than either of them expected, the sound engineer even offered to give them another day to rerecord the rest of the songs and another day to just record vocals. Chip was honestly surprised that the offer was given so easily, he had thought they were going to yell their ears off for taking so much of their time.

He looks over to Wildberry who seems to agree, though he feels like they should ask Clotted about it. Said man had left the studio hours ago and has yet to come back, thankfully the atmosphere was comfortable enough for them to exchange numbers and talk casually. Financier also seem to be well acquainted already, it’s definitely a lot more fun than Chip would’ve thought.

Minutes later they hear the door open, followed by the smell of food. Clotted seemed to have picked them up somewhere while he was gone, and looking at the time, he couldn’t have chosen a better time.

It was fried rice with a side of grilled salmon and asparagus beans, still warm, all portioned into six plastic food boxes, enough for them all. Clotted even went and brought orange juice in case they wanted something else than water from the dispenser.

“I think you mislabel this one,” Financier spoke, her lunchbox opened, “These smells spicy.”

Clotted slipped a quick ‘whoops’ before taking her box, smelling it, and confirming that he did get it wrong. He switched it out with his own meal.

“No, no switch with mine,” the engineer said, “No way you can handle that.”

“But I made it?” Clotted laughed but didn’t hesitate to switch his box once again.

“You made this?” Wildberry, now curious.

Suddenly, Clotted seemed nervous. “Ah, yes... I wasn’t able to get a catering in time.”

“Busy, huh?” the engineer butted in again.

Clotted nodded.

Wildberry now turned to Chip, who’s been quietly eating the whole time, probably trying to copy the recipe in his mind but too prideful to ask Clotted directly. He wants to tease about it, but the moment they made eye contact, Chip immediately looked away as if embarrassed already.

“You have his number,” Wildberry whispered.

“I can make it better.”

“Alright Mr. chef.” He teased.

Noticing the whispering, but not what they’re saying, Clotted seemed worried it might not be to their taste. He can’t help but ask, but Wildberry seem to ease him immediately.

“We like it.” he assured, “Chip just thinks he can do better.”

Chip, despite being the vocalist, seems to want to keep things quiet, but once he heard Clotted laugh, it’s already too late.

“Financier’s kitchen isn’t exactly the best equipped.”

“Hey.” Financier butted in; mouth halfway full but Clotted brushed it off lightheartedly.

Before the conversation could derail further, the engineer briefed Clotted on the current recording situation, seemingly all business the moment payment is mentioned. The talk was long, with the engineer explaining that they’re more than happy to rent their studio out with their current pay, but Clotted was also quite persistent on paying them fairly.

Clotted seemed to be friends with both of the people he has hired, but the air of formality is almost awkward. Chip wonders if there’s a reason for that.

“Are you two okay with that?”

“Sure,” Wildberry agreed for them both, honestly by this point Chip will just follow whatever he wants, it’s too late otherwise.

“Chip might have to record by himself for vocals,”

The vocalist merely waved his hand to agree.

Clotted didn’t seem pleased, but he’s not going to push it. “I’ll text you the details.”

“Yes sir.”

Another sigh before he turned to sit down and finally eat, it was a bit awkward but maybe it’s more because of the fact that everyone was too busy eating. They quite quickly went back to business after though, relistening to the new recording and seeing if there’s anything they can tweak. Though as the day passed further, Chip finally made his first decision that day to end the session.

They packed up their things and are ready to leave before Chip turns to Clotted for once, “It’s late, are there still busses around?”

“Oh,” he said after a nervous laugh, “that’s alright, worst case scenario I’ll—”

“Should we drive you?” Wildberry offered but received a small hit on his arm.

“I’m the only one who can drive.”

“No, it’s alright, really,” Clotted assured, “if I go now, I should be able to make it,”

They went their separate ways for real this time, honestly the two bandmates didn’t realize how much time they spent in that studio, no windows and all. Wildberry would fault it to how tedious Chip is when it comes to their music, what with the sound engineer being more than happy to indulge in it, sometimes getting carried away as well.

It was cold that night, obviously, Chip had already wordlessly given Wildberry his coat to fight it. He had explained that the car was parked quite far, but he’s somewhat glad it was, at least it’s an opportunity to start asking.

“I thought you only agreed on one gig?”

“Well, I mean, yeah,” the bassist starts, “But it’d be weird for us to have a show all of the sudden, right? We’re also bringing in way too many new things already.”

“I mean, yeah,” he groaned, trying to justify his suspicion still.

“I know you’re worried.”

“Of course, I am.”

“Things’ll be fine,” he bumped Chip’s shoulder with his own, “As long as we’re together, yeah?”

Chip can only smile, a bit amused that he’s being assured for once. He can’t help but look back and remember how he used to be the one to comfort Wildberry whenever kids his age would bully him about his appearance, nothing but an empty threat usually works for those problems. But as they grew older, their problems started being a bit too complex, a bit too vague, and he never liked that.

It has always been hard for Chip to open up, even with Wildberry, he’s just glad the latter is patient enough with him.

X

Their days after went as planned. Since they’re more familiar with what to do now the recording went smoothly, they were honestly impressed at how quickly Financier was able to adapt to their style, as if she’s been listening to them for years. They never asked her about it, really, but Chip feels like Clotted had something to do about it.

Today was different though since all they needed to record was vocals for the day, Wildberry had offered to go with him for emotional support, but it seems like the vocalist had things he wanted to say their newly acquainted blond businessman alone.

“Oh, is it just you today?”

Chip didn’t answer, thinking that it was obvious, but also to deter the other man to make unnecessary chatter. He had asked Wildberry to go get groceries that day and he’d like to make it home by dinner.

Clotted pulls his lips thin, getting the message, turning to look out the door if their engineer has arrived that day. He had also briefed Chip about bringing a vocal trainer, thankfully the latter didn’t seem offended at the offer.

Soon enough the others arrive in a timely manner, Chip loosening up his expression and greeting the newer faces. He’s surprised that he recognizes the vocal coach, not that they’ve met, but he’s seen the person making videos on the internet about just that. He didn’t think they were actual vocal coach for hire.

They were briefed on Chip’s band, their sound, and what he hopes for this session. They seem enthusiastic and almost immediately urged to do vocal exercises together before starting, hopefully this’ll go over easy.

Like the days before, Clotted would excuse himself in the middle of recording, and for once, Chip asked around.

“Does he always do that?”

“Leave? Yeah.” The engineer was taken aback, he didn’t remember Chip being talkative.

“No, like... cook.”

“Oh!” they laughed, “I mean sometimes? He doesn’t do it in the office though—Oops.”

“You also work under Clotted?”

“I mean—yes, but I promise this is my job first and foremost!”

“I don’t doubt you,” Chip assures, “I’m just seeing a pattern.”

“I think Mr. Clotted just like supporting artists,” the vocal coach chimed in.

“It’s hard to believe that...” Chip comments, and it seems the other two in the room understands.

“I just learn to accept the help.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers, y’know?”

Chip seems more confused with Clotted’s motivation, it really just seems like his only motivation is supporting their band. He doesn’t know if he should apologize, though he feels like the latter would probably brush it off, remembering how he agreed with how absurd their deal was in the first place.

The confusion seemed to carry over to the recording, the coach even urging him to take a break while they text Clotted about the situation.

“He’s bringing bulgogi.” They announced to no one in particular.

“Oh, nice! I miss those.”

Chip stayed quiet; he feels like the other man’s menu is on purpose. He takes quite the pride in cooking, so he can get competitive, but there must’ve been a god with sense of humor out there that made Clotted cook the exact thing he wanted for dinner.

He’s going to wait if it’s actually good before deciding to trust Clotted or not.

X

“Oh hey, welcome home.”

“Hey.”

“...? you bought take out?”

“...No. Clotted cooked.”

“Is it fine reheated?”

“I asked for the recipe, it’s fine. You can ask for more.”

“...OK.”

Chip seemed more dejected than usual, though Wildberry doesn’t think anything bad actually happened. He had the same face when he won second place at the school track race tournament, so he probably just won second place in a nonexistent cooking competition. It’s quite funny, the bassist thinks.

Chip placed the lunchbox in a steamer and let it reheat while he went ahead and shower, Wildberry feels like it’ll just be him eating that night, but with how long his bandmate went to work, he’d let it be.

The food was something familiar, but definitely smelled different than the one Chip cooks. He can see why the vocalist would be somewhat upset about it, the texture was different, taste a bit saltier but considering it had to be eaten with rice, he didn’t mind it. He thinks that maybe Clotted had more access to pricier ingredients, but seeing how Chip reacted, maybe it’s something completely different.

The other man joined for dinner a bit after, hair still wet, and briefed about what’s next after this. Clotted had promised to him to text the details later, but it’s a nice conversation to have while the two wind down for the day.

Wildberry thinks it’ll be easier from now on.

Chapter Text

Today was something out of either of their element. Clotted had arranged a photoshoot, he hopes they could insert a mini magazine when selling physical copies of their album, complete with interviews and retrospectives.

They never had one before, and certainly not one with stylists and makeup artists on the scene, it’s almost nerve-wrecking. But like the days before, the staff Clotted hired seem friendly and familiar with them, speaking of which, Financier was there in his place that day.

“We looked over the concept and your, uhm, ‘pinterest board’ to get the gist of today’s concept.”

She talked formally, a lot different from the drummer they met weeks ago, casually quipping to those around her. They had seen her in her work mode, but never really worked with this side of her. It might be too much to ask of her to act more like their friend, but seeing that a more leadership role is needed, they didn’t pry.

“I’ll bring in the photographer in to talk things over with you,”

“Are you joining us?” Wildberry asked before she left.

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re part of our band,”

“Technically.” Chip clears.

“Yes, I know, but—”

“I think it’d be nice to have you in it too.”

Financier smiles, finally, in a more friendly way. “I’ll talk it over.” She said before finally leaving.

They were left in the green room for a bit, Wildberry took to looking around at the complimentary snack station and picking up ones he knows they both like. He hears Chip cautioning him about taking stuff, but he knowingly ignored it, coming back with the nutty chocolate bar already opened and broken in half.

Chip just rolled his eyes and grabbed a piece, nonchalantly eating it while he leans onto the main sofa of the room, thinking of nothing in particular. Meanwhile Wildberry turned his attention to the television and seeing if it works, a bit surprised to see that it’s connected to the security cameras outside. Suddenly feeling a bit nervous looking at all the hardworking people.

Among the smaller screens, he spots Financier finish talking with someone and walking away. The photographer must’ve been on their way.

Soon after, the door was loudly opened, and the photographer cheerfully made their entrance.

“Good morning! Hope I’m not intruding on anything!”

The question feels like it’s implying something, but Wildberry also thinks it’s just the way they talk. Either way it doesn’t seem like the photographer mean any harm, they just seem very excited about the shoot.

“Good morning, I’m Wildberry.”

“Oh, the pretty one?”

He blushed, it was probably the first time he heard a compliment so head on, Chip can’t help but laugh.

They continued to sit down and talk about how the shoot was going to go, all while the photographer complimented Wildberry on the vibe he wanted for their album. Things like props and lighting were discussed, one of the stylists even came in and ask what type of makeup the two used so they can match it the best they can.

The photoshoot was going to be a simple one, Chip thinks that’s somewhat ironic considering how many high-quality works is in play, but Financier assures that things like that can still be enjoyed still.

The shoot involved a lot of harsh lighting, sitting, and most of the photos are closeups, putting an emphasis on their painted faces. There was a lot of focus on Chip’s sharp eyes and Wildberry’s face shape, its things fans have pointed out were their charm points, the photographer seem to agree.

During Wildberry’s turn, Chip notices Financier talking (flirting?) with one of the stylists before walking into a different green room. Perhaps she had always planned to be in the shoot but wouldn’t be taking hers with the other two. He chuckles at himself a bit, she apparently has a knack for teasing them.

Shoots involving both of them felt professional and Chip kept laughing whenever he noticed Wildberry trying to keep a serious face. One would think this will delay things, but the photographer loved it, really showing how close they are as bandmates. They think their fans would appreciate a band that doesn’t take themselves so seriously as opposed to strictly professional ones.

Financier then made it back to the shoot, now wearing something in line with the band’s aesthetic, but her face still serious as ever.

“Clotted will be interviewing you while I have my shoot.”

Wildberry’s face seemed to beam and then drop when she spoke, it seems like he still wants to have a photo with the three of them.

“Do you have time for one photo?” the photographer asked, observant of the bassist’s expression.

Financier tilt her head, contemplating, but then hit them with a “I was just about to ask that.” Which made Chip laugh.

She walked around the two of them who are sitting on stools, not really sure what to do with her arms before settling on putting them behind her back. Chip joked about looking like their teacher and she responded by elbowing his back, which made Wildberry laugh. Next thing they knew was the photographer telling them they were done.

Their drummer told them that Clotted was waiting at their green room and Chip’s face immediately changed, he was teased for being a drama queen by Wildberry before he brushed it off and walked away first.

He expected Clotted to be sitting pretty on the sofa somewhere but was taken aback to see him in something more casual, though still admittedly looked like a nerd (who wears a sweater and button up combo if they aren’t 80 years old?).

“Hello,” the blond starts, “I had a family outing today and can only make it now, I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

“No, it’s fine.” Wildberry answered before Chip could say anything.

“Didn’t thought you were the type to go out.”

“Where’d you go?” the bassist changed the subject immediately, hoping that Clotted paid no mind to the teasing, sitting across Clotted. Chip is now forced to sit next to the latter.

“Oh, you know, rich people things,” he played along, “Golfing and such.”

“Wow,” Chip laughed, but more in amusement.

“Now, now, I’m the one interviewing you here.”

“Oh right!” Wildberry joked, pulling on Chip’s arm to sit down, the latter rolling his eyes.

“I will ask basic things about your band and go from there; I want to remind you that this album aims to reach new audiences to promote the show you’re doing six months from now.”

“Yeah, yeah, blah blah.”

“C’mon man,” Wildberry sterns.

“I understand your reservations for me, but please keep it professional, yes?”

Chip feels a bit insulted but takes a deep breath before silently agreeing that he’s being petty, sitting up straight and opening the snacks Wildberry left on the coffee table in the middle.

“Oh that’s...” he hears Clotted mutter under his breath.

“We can share,” Wildberry noticed, “You bought them anyway.”

The blond laughed, that’s quite true, but he bought it for the two of them. He shakes his head as a way to say it’s fine then reached into his bag to reveal his clipboard, assortments of paper nearly sticking to. He politely coughed as a way to start the interview, and the other two (mostly Wildberry) listened.

X

Financier got back and checked up on the band in their green room to find Chip sleeping on the sofa while Clotted close by, rewriting the things that were recorded on his phone. Wildberry on the other hand, is busy cleaning the makeup off of him.

“Am I due for an interview?” Financier whispers.

Clotted shook his head, “We can do that whenever.”

They both still had an office job when they’re not managing the band, which is quite the toll, and Clotted isn’t exactly a hands-off boss. He’s basically an extra staff. He treats a lot of his subordinates like equal coworkers, considering he’s still young himself, it’s easy to put himself in a more casual and friendly relationship with them. Though Financier thinks it also makes him susceptible to being taken advantage of, less by his staff, but rather by his employer, in which case that’s his father.

“How was golf?”

Clotted sighed, “the usual.” His voice is a lot different than the band is used to hearing.

“Are you good at it?” Wildberry asks, now curious.

Seemingly forgetting he and Financier aren’t the only ones in the room, he puts up his façade almost immediately. She would say that’s his ‘customer service’ persona, she feels like the other two would agree.

“I’m quite good actually,” he starts, “I should take you sometimes.”

Something about Wildberry’s face makes him look perplexed, perhaps seeing the switch in the blond’s voice was a bit too sudden, but a part of him understood where it might come from. Chip is a bit of the same, but the bassist has seen the ‘hidden’ part of his bandmate enough to see it as the default. He wonders if it’s the same for Financier with Clotted.

“I think Chip would get frustrated in the middle of it.”

As if on cue, the vocalist groaned loudly. It’s funny to think he has a sensor for whenever Wildberry teases him.

“Oh? Is he bad at sports?”

“I don’t think he is,” Financier chimes in, “Not with that build, at least.”

“I just think it’s too slow for him.”

“What sports does he like?”

“He used to like track and field,” Wildberry finally turns to them, “But he’s been playing basketball after he gyms.”

“Of course, he gyms...” Clotted muttered again.

Financier whistled, followed by Clotted lightly pushing her, blushed face covered.

Oh.

That felt like something Wildberry wasn’t supposed to see.

He didn’t want to say he had his suspicions. Sure, Clotted stated that he was basically a fan, and he seems to be very professional despite that, so the thought of the blond having feelings for either of them never occurred to him. He’s not sure if it’s appropriate to bring it up but knowing that Chip will probably react negatively to it made him hold out.

“Food’s here by the way, that’s why I’m here.”

Clotted turn to facepalm, somewhat wanting to laugh, seeing that his embarrassment was so easily brushed off. Though he’s glad that the topic changed, he’d hate to explain his reaction to Chip going to the gym to Wildberry.

“I’ll be right with you.” He said instead, tapping on his clipboard.

“You know you could’ve used a laptop.” She teased again, but only received a hand wave.

“I’ll go with,” Wildberry speaks up, as if to escape the awkward scenario he made up in his mind.

Financier gladly took that offer, waiting for the bassist by the door while she talks about the menu that day, crunchy mashed potatoes to be exact. Wildberry kind of likes how much of a foodie she’s turning out to be the more he knows her. Though he can’t help but be a bit worried when he sees Chip with his eyes opening as he leaves.

X

The next few weeks, the band was then briefed on their show; where it’ll be, the setlists, and if they want to sell merchandise when they do. It gets a bit overwhelming especially since Clotted had promised to keep them as involved as much as he can, but that may have backfired a bit on their free time, which they were used to having a lot of. Perhaps there was a reason that things like this are handed off to the manager fully.

Today they are focusing on rehearsals, and in turn what setlist they’re going to use. They’re doing this mostly in a studio Clotted had rented out while the venue itself is still being decided, Financier is once again covering in his place.

They decide that their title track would be something to start off with, and then easing them into their once viral song towards the end before hitting them with a slower song for the finale. The show was hopefully going to end before 10 PM, and they would like to send off the fans with something of a lullaby. Clotted thinks it’s very sweet.

The rehearsals is going well, obviously, both Chip and Wildberry has been playing together for years now. Financier on the other hand was still catching up, sure they recorded together, but that could still be edited out later in post, this time she had to match them in real time.

“Are you nervous?” Chip finally asked, maybe sensing something different from the last time they played together.

She pursed her lips, but finally answered, “yeah,” a deep sigh “I’ve never actually played in front of an audience.”

“No way?!” Wildberry half shouted.

“You don’t look like someone who gets nervous.”

“Haha.” She said flat, “This is mostly why it’s kept as a hobby.”

Chip feels like commenting on something, like how it’s reckless of Clotted to recruit a complete amateur but remembers Wildberry telling him that she volunteered for this position. He won’t deny her skill, but if the blond knew about it being a hobby, then he surely would’ve known about the stage fright.

“There’s no way you never played in front of someone.”

“If playing with someone counts.”

“Sure.”

“It wasn’t a drum, though.”

“As long as you played on a stage.”

“Okay, but what do you want me to do with that?”

“Just imagine you’re only playing with them.”

“You make it sound easy.”

“Or...” Wildberry finally joined, “Just look at our backs, you’ll be looking at them a lot anyway.”

She finally laughs, which eases the tension a bit, though it’s obvious they should take a break for now.

Chip was the first to say it after one more song, volunteering to walk out and grab some drinks from the vending machine outside, though he didn’t listen to the request asked of him to buy something other than water.

The other two made eye contact, and Wildberry was the first to start a conversation.

“Who did you play with?”

“Me?” she chuckles a bit, “not to surprise you, but it was with Clotted.”

Huh?

“We used to be in piano classes together but I hated it.”

They’ve known each other that long?

Why is it that everything he learned about Clotted is always in the absence of Chip, it feels like such a missed opportunity to make their vocalist at least be a bit more tolerant of their current manager. It’d certainly feel more natural than Wildberry straight up telling Chip about it, he feels like that would make less impact.

Speaking of which, Chip is back, and like their first day at the recording studio, he’s back with Clotted.

“Oh, you’re here for lunch.”

“Yes,” he starts, placing the bag of lunchboxes on the only table in the room, “The venue meeting finished early so I thought I’d visit.”

“Is it true that you play piano?” Wildberry asked instead, catching the blond a bit off guard.

He laughed it off, a bit awkward, “used to, I rarely play it now.”

“That explains why you’re so music savvy.” Chip comments, but nothing else, heading over to grab his lunchbox before sitting on the floor.

Clotted holds back a smile, making it look a bit lopsided, but he manages. “Thank you,” he coughs, “That means a lot coming from you.”

Oh my god.

Wildberry turns to Financier who seems to be snickering about something, she’s definitely seeing what he’s seeing.

It’s only been a while since he discovered that Clotted might have feelings for Chip specifically, sometimes he would look back at how the blond reacts and pick it apart. And if someone like Wildberry wasn’t able to piece it together until after a whole month of meeting him, then Chip would absolutely have it all go over his head. A part of him understands the fan—manager-talent dynamic that might make things awkward, but a part of him also wants them to get along. He isn’t sure if romance is the answer but it could be one of them.

“You should eat too, Wild.” The blond stopped his train of thought, perhaps he wants to ease things too.

He was handed a differently labeled lunchbox before he can pick one for himself, “I made some brownies, do you mind tasting them first?”

“You just have time for everything, huh?” Chip quipped, though was largely ignored.

“You didn’t tell me! I want some,” Financier butts in instead.

“You’ll get them later! This one is for Wildberry and Chip!”

The three had a good laugh and mostly talked while having lunch. Clotted wanted to excuse himself before they start rehearsing again but Chip stopped him, saying that a manager should look over things like this, maybe even give feedback on what they could do.

Wildberry was a bit surprised, it feels like the first time Chip actually wants Clotted to be involved in something. Did something happen?

The blond didn’t put up much of a protest, or rather, he’s always been like that, but this time it felt like the choice given to him was something he actually enjoys. Maybe it’s a way for Chip to give his thanks without saying it aloud, because he seemed to play his guitar like he would a live show.

It seems like no one in the rooms wants to comment on the change of playstyle, but like any other fan, Clotted watched in awe (and maybe longing?), it’s basically a free concert.

The day passes by further, their manager not really making any comments throughout the whole session. It made them somewhat nervous, but they would sometimes catch the blond smile to himself whenever they play certain songs. Perhaps he’s savoring it, knowing that he won’t see the same view once their show actually happens.

They were there until the studio closed, saying goodbye at the storefront and wishing each other a good night.

X

Clotted returned to his apartment later that night, the place exactly like he last left it, everything messy except for the kitchen. He can’t risk anyone getting sick because of his cooking after all, but scattered paper and clothes? As long as those don’t interact directly with their food it should be fine, right?

He sighs, he needs to clean up. It’s only 9 PM, he can spare an hour or two to do it. Though he doesn’t feel like he’ll finish it completely, receiving a phone call from his father right before he starts. That was encouraging.

“Hello father.”

“Are you moving back any time soon?”

Of course he’d ask about that again, he’s finding it very hard to force Clotted to do any errands when he’s living on the other side of town. He will plead about his old age and needing assistance (despite all the butler and maids he has), or how lonely he is (despite throwing parties with his investors often), or how it’s what his mother wanted (a lie).

“I believe I have already rented out the place until next year.”

“Yes, yes, but a small fine for cancelling is no problem for you.”

“I would like to fulfil my end of the contract fairly, father. It’s what you taught me after all.”

Another lie. He doesn’t have nearly as much to pay for it, despite renting the cheapest apartment he can find, the neighborhood is still considered expensive. Which, if he was honest, was partly his father’s fault, he knows the latter would be suspicious where all his allowance went if it didn’t go to ‘an expensive condo’ here.

For the past three years he’s been taking up jobs to sustain himself, while every coin his father gave to him was for the band, and if his father found out he was investing in music, he’d be immediately deprived of the little freedom he has. He can’t risk that, especially since he’s so so close.

His father hummed through the phone, somewhat flattered that his son is reminding him what a good father he is (also a lie).

“And how’s work? I heard that your productivity has been slowing ever since you got there. Care to explain yourself?”

Another lie to get him to move back in, he knows that their productivity has actually been increasing, amazing what paid time off and employee benefits gets you. Though Clotted thinks his father is disappointed that he isn’t making more money, squeezing his workers dry.

“Father, please, I just moved here.”

“That sounds like an excuse.”

Was it? he’s technically juggling three jobs and an annoying father as of now, and he’s actually doing a good job at it. He knows the one making excuses is his father instead.

“I see, I apologize. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Well,”

Shit. He shouldn’t have said that last part.

“Yes?”

“I planned a two-week vacation tomorrow,”

Oh, so that’s what it is.

“I think it’s a good time to see if you can fill my place?”

That would be somewhat flattering if this wasn’t the 15^th time, he knows his father just doesn’t want to do any work.

“Of course,” he tried smiling through his voice.

It seemed efficient enough because he could hear his father smirk, feeling triumphant that he once again roped Clotted into things he doesn’t need to. Though Clotted is also playing a few tricks, he knows after around the 3^rd time filling in for his father, there really isn’t much work to be done. Their employees is more than sufficient to sustain themselves, worst case scenario he only needs to sign paperwork in his stead.

“Great! I know I can count on you.”

The line disconnected, not even a courteous goodnight, but if he was honest, he shouldn’t suspect it.

Clotted once again looked over his apartment, still messy, but still manageable. He contemplates a bit whether he can postpone the cleanup, seeing how his father had drained most of his energy.

He sighed. No, he needs to do this now, he’d still have to make appointments with the venue’s sound and lighting crew the days after, then ask if the stylists from their photoshoot were available for hire again when the show starts. There’s still much to do, it wouldn’t hurt to do the easiest first.

Chapter Text

Their album was released with great reactions from fans and critiques alike.

Clotted had offered to commission some influencers to promote the album the week after its release, but the band went against it, they wanted the reaction to be as authentic as possible. Financier even pointed out how it’d make them look like industry plants, which isn’t always good.

Thankfully it worked in their favor. Of course their once viral song is making its rounds again, but a lot of their other songs are getting a decent amount of attention as well. It was somewhat nice to see the discussion of their band resurging again, some from new fans and some from those who reconnected with their music.

Wildberry can’t help but be glued to his phone during break, looking at the positive comments and posts he sees, so much so that Chip scolds him.

“Rehearsals started 5 hours ago.” He joked, pulling the bassist’s phone away from him.

“Wait, no—I’m almost done!”

“Wild, c’mon, we only have 3 months from now.”

“Alright, I’m sorry.”

The two bandmates are practically rolling on the floor now, it started off seriously, but the moment Wildberry rolled to get his phone it was basically play time. Financier doesn’t feel like saying anything, mostly because she’s gathering her breath, Clotted even had to place a bag of ice on her back while they watched.

It’s not that they’re taking it easy, but it’s evident that the stress was getting to them. Financier turns to the man behind him.

“Do you have enough?” she whispered.

“Yes, don’t worry about it.”

“You can crash at my place if things go south.”

“Oh, please, it’s fine.”

“I don’t want you moving back there.”

Clotted stayed quiet. He made a bet with himself that if investing in the band is a success then he can have a reason to stay, to keep involving himself with music. But if it fails, then he would at least not have any regrets, and return to inherit his father’s business a little happier than he would be.

“...let’s just hope things turn out well.”

“It will.” Wildberry chimed in, catching his breath after rolling around.

Clotted is a bit mortified. He’s worried how much the bassist heard, he doesn’t want to burden the band with anything involving him, he just wants them to focus on their music.

“I don’t think Chip has ever failed at anything in his life.” The bassist continued, picking up his guitar once again.

“There was that one time I failed making cheesecake.” He retorted.

“I meant as a band!”

“I have a cheesecake recipe if you want.”

“Of course you’d have one.” He muttered, seemingly annoyed while he picks back his guitar, “text me later.”

“Alright,” his tone moony, Financier looks away as if holding her laugh. “I’ll leave you then.”

The band waved him goodbye, Financier and Wildberry making sure to wish him a safe way home. Chip on the other hand, was focused on getting back to rehearsals, but his eyes lingers on the door as the blond leaves.

X

“Did Clotted send you his recipe yet?”

Wildberry is now sprawled on the couch, his hair still wrapped in a towel. He had heard Chip go out of the bathroom and was feeling quite hungry himself, the latter is always on kitchen duty after all.

“No,” he yelled across the apartment, walking towards the kitchen before he spoke again. “He usually texts me around midnight.”

Wow, guess Clotted is a lot busier than Wildberry thought. He wants to be concerned, but he’s also now curious how often the two texted each other. Maybe they developed a friendship right under his nose.

“Do you guys only text about recipes?”

Chip paused as he entered the living room, shirt slightly wet after his shower. “Is there something you want to know?”

Of course, the vocalist read him like a book.

“I mean,” he starts, “I don’t really text Clotted myself—and you don’t seem like someone who’s talkative, so I’m just curious, y’know?”

It’s better for Wildberry to just be honest, he’s terrible at lying anyway.

“What do you take me for?!”

Chip’s voice playful, grabbing WIldberry’s towel and twisting it further. It’s funny to hear that from his bandmate considering that Wild was the shy one when they were younger, and if he was honest, still is.

“Wah—alright, alright, I’m sorry!”

They kept at it until Wildberry’s towel was unfurled completely, with Chip walking to the kitchen to start making dinner. Maybe he should’ve teased the vocalist further but knowing that Chip is in the kitchen right now, it’ll be dangerous if he made the latter flinch.

Wildberry turned on the television while he waited, switching to the movie channel to see whatever is on. Most of their nights are always like this, though they’re probably more tired than usual because of rehearsals. He wonders if them being more successful than they are now would change anything... he certainly hopes it doesn’t.

“We don’t really talk much.” Referring to his texts with Clotted. “It’s always business.”

“So he’s still boring through texts, huh?”

“...I think he tries not to.”

“Yeah?”

“He sends a lot of stickers.”

“That’s cute.” Wildberry said what Chip would be too embarrassed to admit.

It was. It is cute. He didn’t want to go into detail about how the stickers were all illustrated characters, some were even (what he deduced) pictures of his pet cats. He doesn’t even want to begin with how the blond types, with all the extra letters at the end of sentences and emoticons that he had to type out manually.

As if on cue, Chip’s phone rang. Wildberry picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Oh, Wildberry! I’m guessing Chip is busy?”

“No, he’s just cooking.” He rolls off the couch, “I can put him on speaker.”

Clotted hesitated a bit before saying yes, Chip himself felt a bit nervous when Wildberry placed the phone on their small dinner table.

“Hey,”

“Hello,” a light cough, “guess I didn’t give you the recipe fast enough.”

“It’s fine. Maybe you can teach Wildberry instead.”

“Hey!” Wildberry whispered, he wants to exclude himself from this conversation as much as possible.

Clotted laughs, Wildberry thinks he’s never heard it before. “Maybe,”

“You’re busy, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s fine, I can teach him myself.”

“Like you actually teach me any cooking.”

Clotted laughs again, it’s a bit refreshing to not be talking about business for once.

“...About tomorrow.”

“More work?”

Whoops, spoke too soon.

“It’s just with the marketing team for the concert.”

“Oof,” Wildberry said aloud, but he quickly regretted it.

“I’m sorry, I promise it’s just about the promotional materials.” A long yawn, “things like posters and social media posts, things like that.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

“I’ll try scheduling the meeting later in the day so you can get more rest.”

“What about you?”

“...I’ll be fine.”

Promise? Chip wanted to say but didn’t want to seem so vulnerable in front of WIldberry.

It seems like Clotted got the memo.

“I promise I’ll be fine.”

“OK.”

He can hear the blond smile against his phone.

“Goodnight,”

“Night.”

The line ended exactly as he finished cooking. Chip didn’t want to look up and see how Wildberry was judging him for the way the conversation went, though he knew he couldn’t escape that for long. But dinner went quiet as usual, only the movie channel playing in the background as they eat.

“I’m glad you two get along.”

Chip raised his eyebrows, guess it looks like he’s critical of Clotted when they’re at work.

“I mean, considering how you talked about him when you first met.”

“Heh, I guess so.”

Wildberry kept it at that, a part of him thinks that Chip himself isn’t all that confident in their friendship yet. It’s been a while since either of them made friends, at least he has a very outgoing family, meanwhile his bandmate’s family is more recluse. Even more so, knowing that most of them moved out of the city without Chip.

He volunteered to wash the dishes while Chip turned off the TV and turned off the other lights, pulling out the bed from the sofa and grabbing his usual blanket from the laundry room. Guess he was going to listen and sleep earlier than usual that night, either that or he’s exhausted.

“Sleep early tonight, yeah?” Chip reminded Wildberry as he walks into his room. He sounded melancholic for some reason, maybe it really is fatigue.

“Yeah, no problem.”

X

Even more time has passed and the band is now doing dry rehearsals. There is only a week left before the show. The venue wasn’t the biggest, only having a capacity of 300. But considering they are doing it from Friday to Saturday, they feel like it’s more than enough.

Chip was walking back to the greenroom to get a drink, the one he had on stage had already run out. On his way, he can hear a faint playing of piano, probably one of the staff having it as background noise while they check on the speakers. But as he listens closer, he notices that it was a piano arrangement of one of their songs.

He remembers seeing a piano somewhere, but he didn’t know it could be played. He only knows one person that would.

“You know we can use a pianist sometimes.”

Clotted jumped in his seat, his lips pursed, eyes looking down as if afraid of being watched.

Chip found it a bit alarming, it’s like Financier’s case of stage fright but somehow worse, is it because he’s a fan? Or did something happen the last time he played it?

“...Thank you.”

The vocalist then sat next to Clotted, the latter even scooting a bit further to give him room. He then starts playing a simple children’s rhyme, though one the blond has never heard before.

“You make those piano covers I see online, aren’t you?”

Clotted sighed, hiding his face. He’s even more embarrassed now, considering those covers from were from ages ago, all the way when the band just started. They didn’t have any of their songs digitally uploaded back then, so the blond had to frequent their shows to even remember what to play.

“Why’d you stop?”

He contemplates how much of the truth he wants to say. The band knows that Clotted is rich and works at an office job, but he doesn’t want to go into detail about how he’s inheriting the company he works for soon. He decides on something easier.

“Parents, y’know? despite them paying for lessons.”

Clotted moved his hands back to the keys, lightly pushing Chip’s own hands away to make room for himself and started playing what he started.

Chip laughs, “guess I was the opposite.”

“I guess so.”

“...Are you jealous?”

“...Is it jealousy if I want you to succeed?” he turns, smiling but something in his eyes made him look sad.

Maybe he was projecting somewhat, maybe this way he can feel involved with he admires so so much. He hates how invasive it makes him sound, stopping his playing again halfway.

“I don’t think so.” He looked back, for some reason it felt like forever.

Chip glid his hands through the keys, startling the blond a bit, then stood up.

“I should get back.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Hope you can make covers again.”

Clotted was then left alone, the adrenaline finally dropping, resulting in him (almost) hitting his head on the piano. He was only there to tune it; how did it end up like this?

“Thank you.” He whispers to no one in particular.

X

They blinked and the show’s about to begin, adrenaline rushing through the bandmates’ veins, Financier having the worst of it. Thankfully the more experienced two kept recommending her ways to overcome it, apparently making puns was the most effective, which translates into the other two members continuously making them between songs. Their audience was also very welcoming of her, which eases her performance.

The show was an overwhelming success, with tickets being sold out a week after it was announced, something the two had never experienced before. They basically threw a celebratory party before the show had even started.

They couldn’t believe the show was ending so soon.

Right now, they are changing their clothes before doing the encore, giddy while hearing the excited cheers from the crowds die down. They have to catch their breaths as well after all.

The two hear Financier shout from outside their greenroom, probably telling them to hurry up, but Wildberry pointed out how distressed she sounded. Was she getting nervous again? they quickly put on their shirts to check the situation, only to find her and a couple of guards holding someone back.

They had greying blond hair.

Wildberry froze. He recognized who that was.

“Sir, I can explain!” she yelled, a guard protecting her from getting her hair pulled.

“Bullshit! You probably dragged her into this!”

Something in Chip snapped, because he’s now running up and trying to push the older man away. But before he could, the man looked at him, furious.

“You...!”

Did he know Chip before? Why was he so angry?

“Chip, get out of here!” the other guards said.

“We need her to be with us!”

“Chip, It’s fine!”

“No, it’s not!” Wildberry joined.

The old man charged towards the two bandmates instead now while everyone else tried to stop him. Chip can hear the other staff pleading to call the cops, others asking for help.

He panics. The last time he had a fight was in high school, and he definitely didn’t have the reflexes for that now.

He sees something in the background.

It was Clotted.

“Father!” he yelled, loudly. He wonders if the audience could hear them, but this is more important.

The man immediately turned, face red with anger.

“You bitch,” he starts, “I pay for your stupid ‘transition’ and this is how you repay me? Wasting MORE money behind my back?!”

“But we are making money, we—”

“BY HOW MANY PERCENT?! TWO HUNDRED? DON’T MAKE A FOOLD OF YOURSELF!”

Clotted immediately froze. Despite all his talk about handling his father, the last time the man was this angry was when he first asked for puberty blockers. He hasn’t found a way to handle this scenario just yet.

“I-I’m sorry, I’ll come back I promise, just wait—”

“No! You’re coming with me, now!”

“I-I can’t I—”

“Now.”

The room is quiet now. Clotted trying his best not to shake as he nods, taking a deep breath before letting out a very weakly agreeing. His father immediately grabbed his arm, twisted it, and walked him out the door. All while everyone else watched, it felt almost maddening.

Chip only realized what happened when he heard the door shut.

“What the fuck—Why did you—”

“Chip.” Financier starts, still clearly startled. “We’ll talk later, ok? I’m sorry, let’s just do our encore.”

“What do you mean—”

“Chip,” Wildberry grabbed his shoulder, also still shaken, “Let’s go, yeah?”

His face still perplexed, still furious, but he guesses it’s something Clotted would want. He gave them this stage after all, it’d be a waste if they just up and left, right? It’s—it’s not fair that Clotted doesn’t get to see the end of it, but maybe saying goodbye would’ve hurt more.

He sighs.

“Fine,”

The encore was more emotional that night. He had proposed this idea as a way of lulling their audience goodnight, but now Chip can’t help but sing it for Clotted’s sake instead. Hoping he has a safe way home, that he sleeps well.

He feels tears start forming, but he can’t afford doing that while singing, his throat will suffer.

Chip hears the audience collectively aww. When he turns, it seems that Wildberry is crying in his stead.

Financier didn’t look up the rest of the night.

Chapter Text

It has been a week since their show ended, and activity from the band was basically nullified. Less because they needed Clotted for it to continue, but more so because they’re too demotivated to take any gigs or interviews after what happened.

Today was no different.

“Hey, Wild.” Chip knocked, and he reluctantly opened his room door.

His bandmate didn’t say anything about how disheveled he was, or how messier his room was, but it was 5 pm and they needed to go out that day.

“Give me 5 minutes,”

“Alright.”

Wildberry walked out to their bathroom, the sound of water running followed after.

Chip waited for him at their front door, he had already packed their dinner and extra portions for that night. He also had the location they needed opened on his phone already, it’ll be quite the drive there considering the time. Though they decided it’s more important to do this now.

X

They arrived at the apartment door and rang the bell but didn’t get a response. They would call, but she’s been ignoring their them after the incident, probably thinking it was her fault somehow. But after hearing the news from her (past) coworkers, they feel the need to visit her.

Wildberry had mentioned that Clotted and her had known each other since childhood, and hearing that his father blamed her first for the whole thing, it’s probably hard for her to disagree.

“Financier?” Chip starts, “We bought dinner.”

No response.

“Chip made some really nice kimchi pancake—”

The lock clicks.

They wanted to laugh but felt that it was inappropriate considering how she’s been locking herself up from then. The door creaks open a bit.

“Don’t laugh.” Her tone is indistinguishable, now Wildberry doesn’t know if he should actually laugh or not.

Chip elbowed his arm before he invited himself in, the latter followed.

Her house wasn’t as dirty as they thought it was, probably because it seemed like she’s been camping on her couch most of the time. Blankets and all.

Financier’s apartment was no bigger than the bandmate’s own, though it was definitely better furnished. The kitchen seemed the cleanest, though when Chip walked over to see what she had, he only finds an empty fridge, immediately turning to her in worry.

“I’ve been eating from the convenience store.”

Wildberry, who was closest to her, gave her a hug. It was probably the first time someone has touched her after the whole thing, and he seems to give out the best hugs. It really got her waterworks going.

“It used to be filled with his cooking but it didn’t feel right eating them—”

“Hey, c’mon, let’s eat first.”

Financier is very close to crying, but it’s comforting to know she’s in company with those who understands her. She sat back down at the couch, Wildberry also walking to the kitchen to get water for her, meanwhile Chip cleans up her pans before using them to reheat the food they brought.

It was a familiar sight, but somewhat hates that everything reminded her of Clotted now.

X

The dinner definitely cheered them up a bit, considering they hadn’t talked or teased each other for a while, but as the night settled further, they knew they had to talk about one thing. Or really, about someone.

“Did you lose contact?”

“Yeah, I was basically fired the next day.”

“Oh.”

“His father also made him block my phone number,”

“You too, huh?”

Wildberry tried lightening the mood, “At least you can join our band full time now.”

Financier smiled, taking a sip of her drink as if she was thinking it over.

“You don’t have to. I mean, not after we get Clotted back.”

“You say it like it’s easy.”

“I mean we’re used to being tight on money, I think losing a big sponsor is fine.”

“So it all comes to money now?” she teased, and Chip rolled his eyes knowingly.

“With the way his dad was yelling at him...”

They stayed quiet after that. It seems like Chip was the one caught most off guard with the existence of his father, Financier would know of course, but Wildberry...

“How long did you know about him?”

The bassist’s lips pursed, feeling a bit guilty, “from the start...?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I know you’d say no otherwise.”

Chip sighed, “you’re right about that.”

“Do you regret it though?” Financier adds.

Chip has always had his reservations when corporations try to be in their literal business, but he will admit that Clotted doesn’t treat them as badly as he expected it to be. And if he was honest, he kind of liked it, even networking them with people in the industry (who also happens to be his employees), it feels like he actually has their best interest in mind.

He turns to Wildberry, as if looking at him for answers, maybe too embarrassed to say it himself.

“I don’t,” the bassist said, “I’m not sure about you.”

He groaned, “I don’t either... I want him back.”

Financier whistled, which surprised Chip, guess she never outright teased his relationship with Clotted. Wildberry is also seen covering his mouth, probably smiling.

“Well if you want him back, I suggest kidnapping him.”

“That’s... a bit extreme.”

“His father would probably limit his time outside anyway,” she starts, “and Clotted probably doesn’t want to come back.”

“Why not?”

“He thinks himself of a liability basically, which is stupid.”

Financier placed back her drink, taking a bit of the pancake before hugging her legs, making herself small. She thinks back of her childhood with him, how he always gives himself up at times like this, how she wished he leaned on her more. Maybe they’d both just live simpler lives that way.

Wildberry leaned next to her, probably because she started looking sad again, the latter didn’t push him away.

“I think he’d at least wants to see us.”

“He does,” she stressed, “he wanted to throw a congratulatory party after our show, he wanted to say goodbye properly,”

“...Let’s do one then.”

X

The two started calling up people that Clotted had introduced to them, seeing if it was possible that they could possibly trick him into coming to a meeting. Some of his (still) current staff said that the man himself has been doing work remotely and hasn’t made any appearances even with his father, though they will try to support the band in any way they can.

They’ve thought about going directly to his house, Financier knows where it is after all. But knowing Clotted’s father, security is probably higher than it was previously, and if he ever knew that the band orchestrated such a thing, he’d put them in jail. So walking up to his house was funnily the most dangerous option.

Financier was his secretary, and looked over his schedule and what he might make an appearance for, even went further, and crosschecked it with her former coworkers in secret. Maybe they can invite themselves as an act for an event Clotted might attend, which in itself is a gamble, most of these events would probably rather hire a trot singer than a band.

“Maybe you should try it,”

“Wouldn’t that just be me singing?”

“We could try acoustic,”

“Again, that feels like that’s just me again.”

“No? there’s acoustic bass.”

“There’s also a cajon to replace drums!”

“And can you play it?”

“Okay let’s just look for something else.”

“Hey!”

The most appropriate occasion seem to be a wedding which... well it’s definitely difficult. Clotted is an only child, and his nephew still need parental guidance whenever he signs up on a website. There could also be family friends, but it’s still debatable whether he would show up.

Financier has her head in her hands, Chip cautiously drags her cup of coffee away from her.

They’re currently at a coffee shop now, one that opens 24-hours, it’s become their usual meeting place for this now. They even offered to play live sometimes so they’re allowed to loiter more.

It’s been over a month since they last saw Clotted, and he has yet to make any appearances anywhere, Financier said that even his house staff is worried for him. Being locked up in his house is probably not good for his health, and they don’t want to visit him when he’s in a hospital bed. God forbid.

“Does Clotted celebrate anything?”

“Hmm... not really, he doesn’t even celebrate his own birthday.”

“Damn,”

“What about new years’?”

“Depends, I feel like his dad would go on vacation without him.”

“Okay everything I learn about his dad is making me mad.” Wildberry pouted.

“Tell me about it,” Financier said.

They stayed quiet after a while, running out of reasonable ideas, not being able to think of ways to get to Clotted without hurting anyone in the process. Wildberry yawned, guess it was already quite late.

“What now?”

“They can’t limit everything,”

She paused, then turned to Chip. “Where are you going with that?”

“He still works remotely, maybe we can meet him like that too.”

“He’ll know it’s us.”

“Or even worse, his dad will.”

“Maybe we don’t need to send it to him.”

“Like post it publicly? And hopes he sees it?”

“Very Gatsby of you,”

“Didn’t knew you were paying attention in class, nerd.”

“Oh? And you happen to get it? nerd.”

“Alright you two,” she refocuses the conversation, “how are we supposed to ‘publicly’ invite him, huh?”

“I think I know what Chip means,” Wildberry snickers, “He just thinks it’s embarrassing.”

“What? Like write him a love song?”

“I’m not—forget it.” he sighs, “I thought we’re saying goodbye,”

“We are,”

“But I really don’t want to,” the bassist muses. “I also want him back; I want him to manage the band again.”

“Me too,” she adds, “I don’t know if I want my old job back, though.”

They have a laugh, pausing to eat the dinner they were having at the band’s house. It’s a bit cramped, but cozy, they’re also used to it by now. Sometimes they wonder if they could also squeeze Clotted in there somewhere.

The other two immediately pester Chip about writing his song after dinner, though he would scold them about how he’s not exactly sure what kind of song he wants it to be. He knows a love song was brought up, but he feels like it should cover all of their feelings towards Clotted, not just Chip’s—allegedly, he won’t deny he has feelings but will not elaborate on what it is.

Financier retires for the night quite late, wildberry escorting her until a taxi picks her up. Meanwhile Chip stays back and cleans up the mess, partly brainstorming lyrics in his head, it’ll probably be the fastest song he ever wrote.

X

It’s been 52 days.

He’s still not allowed outside his room, only having his windows opened 6 hours of the day, his food delivered to him. Everything from cleaning his room to changing his sheets was handled while he’s present, he would say that’s his only human interaction, but his father’s maids were barred from speaking to him. it’s isolating.

He would listen to music while he worked, but now that he’s home, he’s afraid that it might leak, and he doesn’t trust his father’s staff enough to not snitch. Even if half of them raised him.

It was supposed to be a normal workday. He had hoped that today’s meeting would reenergize him, it sounds sad, but it’s the interaction he looked forward to the most. But when he opened his virtual meeting room, he saw a link.

One of them had anonymously dropped it, and the room was empty, so he can’t tell who sent it. He knows the link leads to a video sharing website and hesitated to open it, but a part of him is also scared that it might be gone before he gets to watch it.

He sighs and copies the link. He will focus on the meeting first; he will have time.

X

Chip heaved a sigh.

The band had continued their activities at the bar they regularly go to, doing night gigs as usual and helping the staff clean up after. The biggest difference was that Financier finally joined them, though if they were honest, it was just extra arms for closing time.

They are now in their greenroom, catching their breath and wiping off their makeup. They have more flowers given to them now, though the two can’t help but search for the one that Clotted might’ve sent them.

Their most recent video had explained that they’ll be performing at this bar from then on, hoping that the blond would visit them, or at least give them something while he’s away. They did explain that the song was for someone specific, not really caring if their listeners could relate to it or not, it was their song.

What they didn’t expect is the man to forcefully open the door behind them.

“Clotted!” Financier first spoke out, running up to him before being stopped.

He looked angry, but his eyes were wet, and breath heavy. It seems like he ran all the way here and forced himself into the building, is he finally here to say goodbye?

“WHY ARE YOU BEING DIFFICULT?”

“ARE YOU SERIOUSLY MAD RIGHT NOW?” Chip offends, standing up from his seat.

He feels Wildberry stop him in his tracks, probably trying to calm him down as well, but Chip feels too furious to listen to anything right now.

Is Clotted serious? All this time worrying about him, whether he’s eating or sleeping well. Sure, Financier warned about Clotted not wanting to be back, but what is he doing here then? Was it necessary for him to say it face-to-face? Why go the extra mile to piss them off?

“We could’ve just ended everything there! I’d be happier if you—”

“Would you?!” Financier now yells, her voice shaky, starling the blond.

“Don’t encourage them!”

“We’re just being honest, and you’re not!”

“What do you mean—”

Wildberry immediately hugged him, mostly to stop the yelling, but also because he missed Clotted so much. He’s crying now, he’s not sure if it’s because he’s happy the blond is here or because he’s hurt that the latter doesn’t want to be here. And considering his size, their former manager can’t really pull away.

Financier followed suit, calling Clotted every other word for stupid, also crying.

It looks ridiculous from where Chip sees it, but the sight calmed him down enough to have him sit down again. He looks over to the table, grabbing a water bottle and drinking one for himself as the cries died down.

Financier was the first to pull away, mostly because it was hard to hug him while Wildberry was doing the same, wiping off the snot of her nose as she does. She noticed how Clotted had also calmed down and was suppressing his own tears, it reminds her of their childhood.

“Wildberry...” he chokes. “I’m not running away again.”

“Promise.” He didn’t ask, more demanded.

That made Financier’s laugh a bit, before closing the (frankly almost) broken door behind them.

He loosened his grip, but not really letting go, mostly because he’s still cautious. Wildberry feel a hand rubbing on his back.

“I knew you were sensitive, but I didn’t expect this much.” He teased, earning him a giggle from the bigger man.

“So you’re coming back?” Financier asks finally, reaching out to grab the blond’s empty hand, hopeful.

“I didn’t plan to,” he admits, “I just wanted to say goodbye, but I got so worked up when I saw you all.”

They all laugh a bit, before Clotted finally decides to break down to tears, with Wildberry letting him go and sit him down. Chip passes a water bottle in front of him while Financier finally has room to hug him. Their reunion was sweet.

“I’m scared.” Clotted breathes, “I don’t know if anyone followed me.”

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s fine, you can crash at my place, remember?”

“What if they hurt you? I wouldn’t forgive myself.”

“We can handle it, I promise.” Chip finally said. “As long as you’re our manager, I’m not letting anything happen to you.”

That surprisingly calmed Clotted down a bit, Financier feeling comfortable enough to let go of him after rubbing his arm, then passing a water bottle to him. He hears Chip turn to tell Wildberry to drink as well, considering he was the first to cry.

He hears the bar staff come in and ask what happened and if anything broke, to which the others had to explain the best they could, that it’s just a misunderstanding and would compensate for anything broken (thankfully nothing was). Though they must’ve explained Clotted’s situation because they were allowed to stay longer, Chip was even handed the keys.

The band take turns sitting next to Clotted while they change clothes, calming him down the best they can while discussing what to do next.

“They know where Financier lives,” he starts, “I don’t want anything to happen to her.”

“Alright that’s fair.”

“Should we go to our place?”

“No... please no, what if they follow you?”

“Like I said, you’ll be fine.”

“This isn’t about me!” he regretted yelling again, but he meant what he said.

He feels a pair of hands grab his own, unfamiliar, only to look up to see Chip looking up at him. The vocalist is basically kneeling in front of him, it felt so wrong, he looked away.

“Hey,” Chip starts, “I get where you’re coming from, but you gotta understand you’re as important to us as we are to you, ok?”

Clotted breathes, then feels a squeeze in his hands before Chip got up, petted his head, and called the others over. The vocalist didn’t dismiss his concerns, asking if they should think things over again.

They decided on a hotel that had a family room available, just so they don’t have to be separated, for Clotted’s sake. It’s quite far, and he feels somewhat guilty because it’s going to be expensive, he promises to cook them breakfast when they decide to go back to either Financier’s or the other two’s place.

Most of them slept on the drive there, and immediately fell to their beds. The family room only has three, with Chip opting out from sleeping early, saying that he’ll switch with Wildberry after lunch.

Clotted felt a bit anxious when falling asleep, but calmed down when he felt Chip tuck him in.

Maybe he’d have a good sleep for once.

Chapter Text

Clotted woke up with the beds between him empty but was relieved when he saw everyone huddled over the small table at the end of the room, Financier contemplatively looking at her phone. Chip is sitting across from her while Wildberry stands behind him, they’re all looking at the same thing.

Wildberry notices him first, and cautiously asks the blond to come over. When he saw who was calling them, he could understand the concern.

“Pick it up,” he said, “put it on speaker.”

Financier was a bit surprised, but did as she was told, feeling a bit relieved when a familiar voice came out the line.

“Hello? Did you do something?”

It was their sound engineer who was allowed to keep his job under Clotted, or, well—

“Uh, technically, no?” she answered, which is true, technically Clotted did the most yesterday.

“Ok, well, something must’ve happened because the boss’ name is basically deleted from the office.”

Wow, alright, kind of an overreaction on his dad’s part, but a part of him thinks it’s a golden opportunity for his father to get rid of him without scrutiny. Though if he’s like this for his business, Clotted can’t imagine what he did to his existence at home. It’s probably the worst.

“Is everyone alright though?” he asked.

The engineer stopped himself mid gasp, probably surprised to actually hear him, and that he’s not actually dead and has been replaced with a robot.

“Yeah,” they whispered, “we’re just working directly under your da—Mr. Custard now.”

Clotted is now worried about his (former) staff, though he isn’t sure if he can actually do anything, but it seems like their engineer could gather what he’s thinking based on the silence after.

“Are you with them?” they asked, referring to the band.

“...I am.”

“Good. Stay with them.”

“What about you guys?” Financier worried.

“Eh, we’ve worked without you guys before,” they assured, “besides, I think they’re shutting this branch down the next few years.”

“That’s horrible.”

“We’ll probably be passed around,” they hear the phone rustle a bit, “but if I’m honest I’ll definitely quit by then.”

A fleeting laugh, probably to distract how dreadful he feels, like everything was his fault. Of course their engineer reassured him, even joking about how he should totally hire them again when they need a new song recorded, before ending things off amicably.

Clotted, who was sitting at the edge of a bed the entire call, felt relieved enough to fall back to it. The others wondered if he needed more time to process the whole thing but was surprised when he asked to go to the bank instead. Which they did (after a very late breakfast).

X

Things have gone as Clotted expected. His main bank account was blocked, same with other accounts under his deadname, only one was left, and the money would probably be enough someone to live off of for a year.

“I thought you already did that,”

“Change my name?” he laughs, “No, my father thinks it’s too confusing.”

They then went around to buy a new phone number, wondering if it’s enough to get his father off of his tracks, but the man probably doesn’t care. It’s more of a symbolic thing for Clotted, starting things anew like he did years and years ago.

Financier suggested that they go buy him some clothes, considering he is homeless now, Chip even offered to give him some of his own.

The band got carried away and spent the whole day shopping for things that Clotted might need, with the original two members giving the others how to live as two people in a one-bedroom apartment. Though the more they go on, it sounded more like the two were complaining about each other, which was fun to hear.

As night approaches, they decide to head back, they drove quite far that day, the drive back is going to be the same. Wildberry and Financier had retired and are sleeping on the back seat of the car, not even waking up after they stopped to fill up gas.

“Did you sleep at all?” Clotted asked, head leaning on the slightly opened window.

“No.” he rather not fight over it. “I’m used to it.”

“Alright.”

Clotted didn’t want to fight over it either, he thinks that Chip was probably too anxious to do so.

They continued to drive, the road quite empty considering how late it was, only to be taken by surprise with a truck speeding through. It startled Chip enough that it swayed the whole car, waking Clotted up from the light sleep he was in. He turns to see the vocalist shaking, but still driving, worrying him enough to finally ask Chip to drive to the side. Thankfully he listened.

He lets the adrenaline die down a bit, wiping off the cold sweat off of his brow. Chip feels a hand on his thigh.

“Sleep a bit,”

He sighed, grabbing the blond’s hand, squeezing it.

He’s a bit frustrated that the two are rarely ever alone, mostly because he can feel himself cringe whenever either of them do anything the others would consider romantic. This was no exception.

He then felt the hand slip out of his grip, moving to grab his head and slowly to the other’s lap. It was awkward, less because Chip is flustered out of his mind (wondering if Clotted is fully awake when doing so) but more because of the emergency brake he’s inadvertently laying on.

Chip looks up to Clotted smiling at him, playing with his hair, and sometimes rubbing his sideburn. It was intoxicatingly intimate; too distracting for him to sleep.

“Clotted?”

“Yes?”

“Are you, awake?”

“Hmm... partly,”

He feels Clotted’s hand on his cheek again, Chip finally having enough courage to kiss it, earning him a giggle. He felt himself smile, which was a bit embarrassing, but calmed down a bit when he saw the blond slowly dozing off. He doesn’t realize he’s also falling asleep.

X

Chip was the last to wake up, though he’s surprised he wasn’t teased to death when he did, he thinks Clotted had something to do with it.

They continue to drive back to Financier’s place, helping Clotted move in the whole day. Though other than it being tiring, it was more fun with company (and the band is quite food motivated). They decide to have dinner to celebrate.

“Y’know we’ve kinda talked about this...” Wildberry says suddenly, maybe his one bottle of beer already got to him, Chip glares at him.

“Talked about...?”

“Joining the band?”

“You have, have you?” Clotted muses, turning to Chip who’s trying very hard to avoid eye contact.

“Yeah, but you only play piano,” the bassist continued, “but I think it could still work.”

Clotted hums, but Financier seems to have recollected herself enough to join the conversation, “that’s not true,” she starts, “he can play guitar too.”

“A little,” he corrects.

“But all you play is their songs,” she hiccups, “you can basically replace Chip if you want.”

“I’m right here.”

“I know.”

Chip gave up being angry, half of them are basically drunk, he himself probably getting caught up. He’s not sure about Clotted though, for some reason he doesn’t act all that different, either that or he always acts like this. They don’t know each other enough to tell.

As the night grew darker, Financier was later escorted to her room while Wildberry was left sleeping on the floor (their sofa was far too small for him), Clotted was placed on it instead. Chip could basically sleep anywhere, but it seems like the blond didn’t want him to stray too far.

He grabbed the vocalist’s hand, though not necessarily asking him to sleep together, more to ask him to talk more. Maybe it helps him fall asleep faster, Chip wouldn’t know.

The other man sat at the couch, close enough to Clotted so they can whisper whatever they want. It’s another intimate scenario, one where Chip wishes (again) that it’d be just the two of them, though he can’t complain when the blond asked for his hand again.

“Do you really want me in the band?”

Chip contemplated before nodding, “I feel like you’d have more fun that way,”

“What about managing?”

“You can do both,”

Clotted laughed, “Am I being paid double?”

“You won’t do all the managing,” Chip pouted, “I just... want you to be more involved.”

Clotted hummed, letting go of their hands and caressing Chip’s cheek again. The latter leaned into it, seeing that the blond’s stare was as blank as ever.

“Do you always do this?” Chip asked.

It must’ve made Clotted self-conscious, pulling away instinctively before his hand was grabbed again.

“I don’t hate it,” he explains, “I just want to know,”

“No,” Clotted starts, “I just really want to kiss you.”

Chip froze, his mind doing mental gymnastics to justify that he didn’t hear what he just heard, face noticeably heating up.

“Are you drunk?” he asks instead.

The blond pouted, nodded, and turned his back on Chip. The other man looking dumbfounded, wondering if he messed things up.

“Goodnight, Chip” he says, before the vocalist’s could overthink what happened.

He looked at Clotted’s back, not really knowing what to look for, but knowing that the latter had fallen asleep after a while. Chip continued to lay down, trying his best to fall asleep after whatever just happened.

X

“I think you fumbled it,”

“Shut up! Die! No one asked!”

“You did ask!”

Chip is now laying face first on the couch, Wildberry consoling(?) him while still eating a bowl of fruit salad. It’s been days after Clotted moved in with Financier, but the bassist guessed that this was too much for him to keep quiet about.

“I see why you had to tell me point blank about how he feels about me.”

“Because you’re dense?”

Chip nodded.

“Hey, I mean, third time’s the charm?”

“Aren’t we meeting up to rehearse then? I can’t... do that in front of you guys.”

“Wow, okay, I thought you’re supposed to be the older one here.”

“I am!”

Wildberry sighed, “Look you’re not going to always have time alone with him,” turning to look at Chip, his bowl placed down, “but like, loosen up, I think everyone knows you like each other.”

“They do? I mean—” he coughs, lifting his face up, “I don’t like like him.”

“You thought about kissing him.”

Chip’s face immediately flared up, which made Wildberry snicker. Goodness he is so easy to read when it comes to this. The vocalist reacted by playfully shaking his roommate, never really finding the words to express anything.

X

Chip is now standing at the bus stop in the middle of town, Clotted had asked him to pick the other up and accompany him while they talk with event organizers for the band’s next appearance in a music festival. Granted he didn’t need to, but he also (not so) subtly asked the blond for a date and maybe drive him home after.

He sees the next bus approaching, with Clotted walking out of it soon after. He wore something a lot more casual than he usually does, seeing that he doesn’t have to clock in on an office job after this. His face is brighter too, probably happy that he gets to do what he wants now.

“Kept you waiting?”

“The bus has a schedule, so no.” he joked, for some reason Clotted found it funny.

It’s been months since Clotted moved in with Financier, which is also around the same time he took Chip’s offer of joining the band, being the second guitarist and occasionally playing the keyboard when needed. It definitely needed some getting used to.

Turns out Clotted actually had a lot to say about the band’s music, but never spoke out about it because he’s saying it from a fan’s perspective, or worse: a corporate perspective. But now that he’s a member, he can input as many critics and suggestions as he wanted, which was honestly nice. It can be kind of the echo chamber when Chip and Wildberry talk about their taste in music.

Clotted also seem to be more than comfortable assigning the band jobs now, like a manager would. Financier is used to it, taking up the role of secretary again band financing the band. Wildberry was given an easier job (Chip thinks), being the creative lead for the band, making their album covers and promotional material. Chip’s job was vague, he’s basically an errand boy, but juggling being the band’s frontman and songwriter, he’s glad it’s flexible.

The town was crowded that day, the blond instinctively grabbing on Chip’s arm as they walked, not wanting to be separated since the latter doesn’t quite know the place yet.

Chip is still getting used to how affectionate Clotted is. He first noticed it with Financier, which is granted since they’re childhood friends, meanwhile Wildberry was always spoiled, so the blond immediately catered to it.

“You know I thought you were shorter,” he mused, lightly teasing.

“No, Wildberry is just tall.”

Clotted laughs again, though they stayed quiet before he tugs Chip to the side, walking into a coffee shop where they’re supposed to meet with the event organizer.

It seems being overly formal took over Chip’s head so much that he didn’t realize Clotted was holding on to his arm the whole meeting.

X

The date that Chip had asked Clotted out for was a picnic at the town’s park by the river, though he didn’t really have the time to prepare any food for them to eat. Thankfully Clotted seems excited to eat the instant ramen from the nearby convenience store, even buying the sweets he’s heard about.

They sat at one of the picnic tables, the place surprisingly less crowded than Chip thought, probably because it’s the weekday. Though it was nice to see Clotted eat everyday snacks like some sort of delicacy, guess that what happens when you’ve only eaten cooked meals your whole life.

They talk over the things they discussed with the event organizer, the logistics, their budget, and their time. Chip would never say that he wished they talked about something else, mostly because Clotted is so excited about it, it’s his first time performing in front of such a large audience after joining the band.

“We won’t have time for dates like this.”

“What?” Chip asked, flustered.

“Nothing,” he says instead, and it seems like Chip got the message, but still confused on how to backtrack.

It stayed quiet for a bit, Clotted playing with his leftover instant ramen looking to see if there’s anything left (there isn’t), though was surprised when Chip reached out for his hand.

“Yes?”

“Is this really fine?”

“...? What do you mean?”

“You’re like, my fan and manager and band member,” he starts, “I just don’t...”

“I think it’s fine,” Clotted assures, “I thought I was being invasive, trying to be your manager and all.”

“I thought you were joking when you first told me you’re a fan,”

“Is that so?” he giggled.

“Yeah? You were trying to make me to trust you.”

“It didn’t work?”

“No! Wildberry made me do it.”

Clotted laughed again, that seemed to ease whatever tension they had, enough to have Clotted pull away and grab a snack from the pile they bought.

“How do you eat this one?”

“Are you serious?” he teased.

They stayed at the park until late in the afternoon, leaving when Clotted remembers that he needs to buy things for dinner. Of course, Chip accompanied him, maybe buying something for his own home. He later dropped Clotted off like he hoped for but didn’t expect the blond to kiss his cheek before leaving.

“Don’t forget to check you email!” he shouted before walking into the apartment building while Chip froze in his seat.

Even after a date and a literal kiss, Clotted still manages to be a stick in the mud. Not that Chip hates it, he should’ve expected it, he’s just glad this means there’s many more where that came from.