Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Impulse loved Skizz.

It was just a simple fact in life!

He’s loved him for as long as they’ve known each other. They’ve been inseparable since they’ve met, often found attached by the hip. Skizz was his bestest best friend in the whole wide world, so when their affections grew romantic and Skizz asked him to be his boyfriend, it was a no-brainer to accept. That had been about two years ago now, back when he and Skizz were nineteen and twenty respectively. They were twenty-one and twenty-two now.

Cohabitation seemed like a natural progression of their relationship, especially considering they were still young and not settled into their adult life enough to have a vast savings. There was a part of Impulse who regretted the decision, and he hated that he did. He loved Skizz, and he never wanted to see him in a negative light but… but living with Skizz had opened his eyes to just how badly Skizz’s impulsivity and gambling problem had gotten.

Or maybe Impulse was just overreacting, despite his best efforts not to.

Impulse had been letting his mind wander as he unpacked the groceries, taking up the role of putting them away in their proper places since Skizz had gone to the store. It was only fair, after all, and the two of them often tried to put in equal work. If one of them cooked, the other washed up after. If one person deep cleaned the bathroom, the other would tidy and vacuum the living room. It wasn’t a perfect system, but as long as neither of them felt taken advantage of, it worked perfectly well for them.

He had almost finished the task when he noticed a long, white slip of paper. Impulse picked it up without much thought and laid it against the counter. He ran his hand over it a few times to soothe the wrinkles and flatten it enough to read. Once satisfied, Impulse plucked it off the counter and started to skim through the items bought to ensure everything was in order.

Chips– how many? Four bags, yep, okay, got that.

Frozen pizzas– yep, I remember putting those away.

Bagels, got that. Good, good–

Eggs, cheese, and milk, staples, of course.

Orange juice and frozen fruit for smoothies– yep, yep, got that.

Impulse went through a similar process for the whole list, only taking a minute maybe two to give it a glance over. He was about to crumble up the receipt and throw it away when the final item caught his attention.

Astraveda Lottery Ticket Bundle

He buffered for a moment, blinking rapidly at the words. Was he reading that right? He hadn’t expected to actually find something off, so when he caught a glimpse of the last rung up item, he didn’t even know what to think. He was almost embarrassed at how long it took to fully process what he saw. Are you fucking kidding me?

His initial reaction was rage, because why the hell did Skizz buy– forty dollars worth of lottery tickets?

Impulse’s jaw dropped open when he saw that number. Forty dollars was a lot of money! They could have gotten double the groceries if Skizz hadn’t done that. He forced his lips into a firm line in an attempt to stay calm, not wanting to blow things out of proportion. They had enough tension between them even after they resolved their last argument; Impulse didn’t need to add fuel to the fire.

“Skizz,” Impulse started to get his boyfriend’s attention, keeping his tone even as he lifted his head to meet Skizz’s eyes once he turned toward him, “why did you spend forty dollars on lottery tickets?”

“There was a deal on them!” Skizz explained away with a wave of his hand, a shrug, and a grin wide of his face. “I was able to get so many, and it’s local, not national, so I bet I’ll win big! Don’t you worry there, Dippledop, we’ll make more than enough to cover those forty buck-er-oos; forty dollars is nothing in the lottery world.” 

“Ah, okay!” Impulse’s voice strained, though he hid it behind a smile, deluding himself into being reassured by Skizz’s reasoning. He wasn’t exactly thrilled at Skizz’s financial decision, for Impulse would rather Skizz grabbed forty more dollars worth of groceries, but…

But his gig as a mechanic was good, but it wasn’t that good! Not good enough to throw away forty dollars like it was nothing!

But he didn’t want to have ill will towards his boyfriend and best friend! He could let this go, just like he had the other things– there was no reason to cause issues because of a grudge! 

Impulse didn’t want to lose Skizz.

Besides, if the lottery tickets made him happy, then Impulse was happy. Seeing Skizz smile was enough for Impulse to shove away those lingering anxieties to the back of his mind. They both contributed to their cohabitation, but Skizz was his own person, and he was an adult, and he should be allowed to spend some of his money as he wished. 

He deserved to be happy. They deserved to be happy! Their happiness was more important than money, anyway.

It was fine! Everything was fine.

Skizz frowned with a slight tilt of his head. “What’s wrong, dude?”

“What do you mean?” Impulse asked half-heartedly, averting his gaze so he didn’t have to look his boyfriend in the eyes. Instead, he gathered all the plastic grocery bags to create a bag of bags. He then stored the bag of bags away so they were available next time one of them changed out the small trash cans or in case they needed something to carry something else in in a pinch.

“What do I–?” Skizz started to parrot, as if in disbelief, before stopping himself and shaking his head. “I’d tell you right now, babe, that’s why I’m asking! Like, straight-up, you kinda seem pissed, and I dunno why.”

Based on Skizz’s reaction, Impulse must have been glaring at him when he returned his visual attention to his boyfriend. Skizz put his hands up as a sign of surrender, quickly fumbling to add, “If you don’t wanna tell me, it’s no big deal, but I just wanted to check in with you, make sure my buddy is alright.”

Impulse snorted weakly at Skizz’s tendency to use platonic terms in a romantic way. Stars above, he loved him. Impulse loved Skizz so much his heart ached, something Impulse had accepted as a simple fact of life.

“Oh, man, I…” He sniffed in, rubbing his palm’s heel against his eye as he attempted to contain his tears. “Sorry, angel, I’ve just been… work has been tough, ya know?”

“Aw, Dippledop,” Skizz cooed, not wasting time to approach now that Impulse’s prickly defenses collapsed. He scooped Impulse into a hug, lifting him off the ground and squeezing him tightly before setting him back down. “I think we need an Imp and Skizz Cry and Cuddle moment to help you get all those icky feelings out and help you feel better! Maybe we can watch movies too, to help take your mind off it!”

Impulse leaned into the comfortable hold of his lifelong best friend, face buried against his top as Skizz’s arms wrapped securely around him. He breathed in deeply, taking in his familiar scent. It’s been years since they first met, yet Skizz still smelled like wind, rubble, camping, and blue cotton candy body wash.

…

Impulse was sure at least one of those was merely associations, though which was debatable.

Skizz smelled like the wind that he always seemed to love against his skin, wanting to ride his bike faster, and faster, and faster just for the way the breeze parted as they cut through it.

Skizz smelled like rubble, like the old wood and rocks Impulse and Skizz would discover as teenagers going through their breaking and entering abandoned buildings Haunted Houses phase.

Skizz smelled like camping, like those mornings they would wake up on the forest floor in their shared tent, either when going out with their dads or through the various scouting programs they signed up for as children.

Skizz smelled like the blue cotton candy body wash Impulse was using when they were seven– the night Skizz first slept over at his house and the day before Skizz begged his mother for the same kind– and he’s used it ever since, even now as an adult.

Impulse could never judge him for that, for he had similar habits. In fact, he found peace in the stability and consistency, enjoying the simplicity of using the same products and eating the same sort of foods and wearing the same type of clothing. It was safe, it was steady, and it had formed to be a simple fact of life! Plus, as an added bonus, it wasn’t an unnecessary risk.

Unlike buying lottery tickets.

“I would like that,” Impulse admitted, though he didn’t make any effort to move. Maybe he was just too mentally worn out. Maybe this was exactly what he needed. Maybe he just needed to rest and then he’ll feel better!

“Woo! That’s what I’m talking about, Dippledop!” Skizz cheered as he swept Impulse off his feet– literally! 

Impulse didn’t react, more than used to Skizz manhandling him like this when he wanted Impulse to move but Impulse couldn’t make himself. Impulse simply clung to Skizz as he carried him to the couch in their small living area, refusing to let him go even as Skizz tried to set him down. 

Skizz acted all huffy and annoyed, but Impulse knew him well enough to tell that he was joking. He didn’t even have to think about it, just instinctively knowing that Impulse’s refusal didn’t bother Skizz no matter how much he complained. Eventually, Skizz gave in and pulled Impulse on top of him for their snuggle session.

Impulse laid his head against Skizz’s chest, even as Skizz shifted to drape a blanket over the two of them and reach into the side table for the remote. He put on some comedy they’ve definitely watched already before pressing a kiss in Impulse’s hair. “I love you, Impulse.”

“I love you too,” Impulse murmured in reply, though he was only half there. He surrendered most of his emotions, not wanting to feel anything but contentment and comfort. He didn’t want to think anymore for it wasn’t doing him any good! He was exhausted in all forms of the word, and he didn’t want to stress or feel bad anymore. Impulse just wanted to exist, and nothing more.

Impulse clung to Skizz’s warm body, using the rise and fall of Skizz’s chest to lull him into a state of peace Skizz referred to as him going “jelly-limbed”. 

Jelly-limbed Impulse usually only came out whenever Impulse got too riled up about whatever it was that time, and Skizz managed to bring him back down. It didn’t matter what it was– a massive final to study for, a personal project not working out, a hateful critique of something he put a lot of effort into– for Impulse knew that, as long as they were together, it would be okay.

Right?

Impulse peered up at his boyfriend’s face about halfway into the movie, only to watch Skizz shift his attention from the screen down toward his chest with the movement. He smiled when they locked eyes, rubbing a hand against Impulse’s back. “You okay there, babe?”

“Yeah,” Impulse nodded, and he meant it. He did feel okay. They felt okay– better than okay– just as it was supposed to be. He pushed himself up, extending his arms and locking them at the elbows to gain the necessary height to reach Skizz’s lips. Once accomplished, he leaned in for a brief, chaste kiss. “Thanks for this.”

“A’course, man.” Skizz ruffled Impulse’s hair affectionately, a giggle rumbling in his chest. “I’m glad it helped.”

Impulse unlocked his arm joints, letting himself fall back into Skizz’s chest. Neither of them commented on the action, even as an Oomph! Was forced from Skizz’s lungs. Impulse simply snuggled in closer, arms encircling Skizz the best he could as he closed his eyes. “Mm… me too.”

Chapter Text

Impulse wasn’t feeling better.

Okay, “better” was a subjective term, and what even was “better” referring to in this instance? Better compared to what?

He wished he knew.

He just felt… off. It was like there was something in the air that was sapping every bit of joy from him the moment he managed to latch onto it, something he couldn’t quite identify.

Growing up, whenever Impulse felt like this, he would talk to Skizz, his best friend. Skizz was the most emotionally attuned and available out of their main friend group, after all. That wasn’t necessarily a hard feat to accomplish considering how emotionally constipated Etho and Tango were, but still!

Despite that fact, Impulse didn’t want to talk to Skizz about… all this. Not this time, anyway. He wasn’t entirely sure why– though he had some guesses– but something told him that he just needed space from how he’s been living. He needed to get out of his room, out of their apartment, and out into some fresh air. Since he lived with his boyfriend, Skizz was included in that.

Skizz was included in the forces that threatened to choke him out, its hand clenched tightly around Impulse’s throat without any sign of stopping...

It took him a lot of effort, but Impulse managed to get himself into the shower to wash all the grime that had built up, as well as change out of the same pair of clothes he’d been wearing the last couple days. His effort paid off, working to improve his mood, which only further proved Impulse’s theory. Why deter from the current method if the current method was working?

Case in point, Impulse felt that he could finally breathe again– like the figurative hand’s grip loosened around his neck– as he walked down the sidewalk with the sun warming his skin and the breeze rustling his clothes. It was insane how much a change in one’s environment could help improve one’s mood, and Impulse wasn’t often one for change.

Still, he continued forward, deciding to take the scenic route and walk to his untie’s place rather than drive. Untie Xisuma lived in a trailer park only fifteen minutes away by car. It would probably take triple that amount of time to walk there at a leisurely pace, so Impulse was looking at an approximately forty-five minute hike through Astraveda. Luckily enough, he had done this exact urban trail before so he knew there was pavement for pedestrians to traverse a majority of the way there. Even if there wasn’t, Astraveda had a decent amount of bike lanes, and he could always walk there in a pinch.

Impulse had made sure to leave a note for Skizz on the kitchen counter for when he woke up in addition to a text. Skizz had been out late the night before with some of his other friends, and Impulse had been asleep before he got home, so Impulse had no idea when he would be up and about or if his phone would be charged enough to see the text. 

Rock music played through his bluetooth headphones, the noise-canceling feature helping to block out the hustle and bustle of the city passing by all around him. Impulse hummed along to the music and murmured aloud the occasional lyric as he strolled along the sidewalk. 

Impulse would have been content to continue on like that all the way to Xisuma’s place, but his attention was snatched away by the buzzing in his pocket. It was only a notification or two at first, each ignorable on their own, but then they kept coming, one after another. The chiming became far too consistent for Impulse to ignore, and he didn’t appreciate that his music kept automatically dimming itself to let the message alert him through his headphones.

He sighed as he dug his phone out of its hiding spot and peered down at its screen. There were several new messages in the T.I.E.S. group chat, one he and Skizz shared with two of their closest mutual friends. Giving it a brief glance-over, Skizz didn’t appear to be awake for Impulse only spotted Etho and Tango’s names attached to each text. Holy fucking smokes, they’re really going at it–

Instead of responding via text, Impulse temporarily muted the chat, opened one of the two’s profiles at random, and hit the call button. He didn’t want to walk and text, smart enough to know that that was a poor idea. Impulse shoved his device back into his pocket and kept walking as the phone dialed.

As soon as it stopped ringing, Impulse was greeted with a flat “Who died?”

“Hello to you too, Etho,” Impulse chuckled, instantly realizing that he must have clicked on Etho’s profile. “No one died, I’m just walking to my untie’s place, and you and Tango were blowing up the TIES group chat.”

“Oh snap– we were?” Etho sounded mildly apologetic, maybe even surprised. “Sorry, I didn’t realize. Tango and I were just discussing different artists we may want to commission for our game.”

Tango and Etho were both working to become software programers for video game studios, but they had been working on an indie game together in their free time for years now. It had gone through so many changes and variations that Impulse lost track, but it made them happy, so he was willing to listen even if it all went over his head.

“Did you two settle on anyone?” Impulse inquired, more than ready to hand Etho the figurative microphone and let him have the floor. Calling Etho or Tango and then getting them talking about something they were passionate about was the equivalent of putting on his own personal podcast. It wasn’t the first time he’d let them chat away while he did whatever, and it wouldn’t be the last.

“–and the last time I let Tango move forward with an artist I didn’t vet first, we got scammed!” Etho sighed heavily, the exhale noticeably muffled– likely from the facemask Etho wore almost all the time to help prevent getting sick. He was immunocompromised so he got sick a whole lot more easily than anyone else Impulse knew.

“I don’t think Tango would mind waiting a few days for you to get back to him with a decision,” Impulse offered the advice. “We’ve been friends long enough to know how your body works. He’ll understand.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” his tone was less than thrilled, “I just don’t like it.”

“You put too much pressure on yourself,” Impulse cautioned, though that same sentiment had been passed between all four of them to each other at one point or another. They all had that tendency, and Impulse was no better at it than they were.

“Maybe,” Etho allowed unenthusiastically. He didn’t argue his point more, the fire that had been lit within him completely snuffed out at this point, leaving Etho resigned and quiet.

Impulse pursed his lips, not sure what he could say that would even help. “Well, Etho, I just got here, so I’m going to go. You rest though, alright? I’ll text Tango and let him know that you should be resting too.”

“Jerk,” Etho grumbled with no bite to it. “Enjoy your untie’s. See ya.”

“I will. See ya.” Impulse retrieved his phone again to hang up the call and send Tango a quick text before removing the headphones from his ears.

Impulse couldn’t help but be relieved when he finally reached Untie Xisuma’s front door. His chest was heaving as sweat soaked through his clothes. The fresh air had been nice, but he could have gotten that by driving over with the windows down. Stars, he hoped Untie Xisuma was actually home and not somewhere else. He would hate it if he walked all the way to voi’s place for no reason.

…

Perhaps he should have checked in with void first before impulsively making the journey.

Oh well, Impulse thought as he raised his fist to knock against the mobile home’s door. It's too late now.

The door rattled as something on the other side fiddled with it, cueing Impulse to step back just in time. The door swung open, but, to Impulse’s surprise, it didn’t swing open to reveal Untie Xisuma. Impulse didn’t even have time to react before a force of white fur knocked him onto his ass.

“Tilly!” Impulse exclaimed as the excited dog covered his face and neck with doggy kisses. He grinned, not finding it in himself to be upset that Tilly had knocked him over. Instead, he scratched his fingers through her scruff, something he knew Tilly enjoyed.

“Impulse?” a voice distinctively not Untie Xisuma’s questioned in what vaguely resembled a squawk. “Is that you?”

“Grian?” Impulse tried to nudge Tilly off of him, but she didn’t have her vest on, so she wasn’t going to obey orders from him too easily. It was a little frustrating, but it made enough sense. He wasn’t her Person.

“Tilly, heel,” Pearl– if one twin was someplace, the other often wasn’t too far behind– commanded her service animal, and Tilly didn’t hesitate to obey that time. She pushed her powerful paws off of Impulse to help spin herself around and dart back into the trailer home to sit at Pearl’s heel. “Good girl!”

Impulse managed to rise to his feet just in time to hear the praise. He brushed some of the fur off of him before stepping inside, closing the door behind him. “Did Tilly open the door by herself?”

Grian, the one closest to the entrance, twisted at his torso to glance back at his twin before responding to Impulse’s question with a shrug. “She must have, ‘cause I didn’t let you in. Didn’t even know you were coming.”

“I didn’t know you two would be here either.” And that was true, not that he didn’t mind. He liked his younger cousins well enough, though they were often busy enough with their own lives that they didn’t see each other too often. Usually for holidays or other family events their mutual grandparents hosted.

Impulse removed his shoes at the entryway beside Grian and Pearl’s, not wanting to track dirt into the house. A faint sense of nostalgia pricked at his senses, but he was used to that sensation whenever he entered the place he once called home, so he didn’t acknowledge it aloud.

Instead, Impulse directed his attention to Pearl and Tilly as Pearl scratched her service animal behind the ear. “That dog is way too smart for her own good, you know. That could get her into some trouble one day.”

“Nah, she would never do anything too bad, and she’s too cute to get mad at!” Pearl denied lightheartedly, which promptly turned into pleased cooings at her dog, “Tilly is just such a good pup, aren’t you, girl? Arentcha, girl! Oh, yes you are, yes you are! Who’s a good Tilly Milly? You are! You are!”

Tilly barked in response, tail wagging joyfully behind her. Impulse had to admit, she was a very good girl, and he was rather fond of her as well. Tilly sometimes made him wish he had a dog too, but that desire always died when he considered what tending for a dog actually entailed. Maybe he should get a cat instead. Or a fish.

…

Nah, he didn’t need to tend to an animal. And besides, he already had a Skizz. He was basically like taking care of a big dog who happened to have opposable thumbs.

As much as Impulse liked his cousins, he was much closer to his untie, so he wandered away from that conversation to look in the other rooms for Xisuma. He found nothing but voids collection of nick nacks, spare parts, and half-empty tea mugs.

Impulse furrowed his brow, confused as to where voi could be. The mobile home wasn’t that big! He hummed to himself for just a moment before turning to go ask the twins.

“If you’re looking for Untie Xisuma, voi’s not here,” Grian answered his unasked question, coming seemingly out of nowhere.

“Oh jeez–!” Impulse jumped and spun toward Grian, placing a hand over his beating heart in a flash of fight or flight, startled by his cousin’s unexpected presence. “Grian! I didn’t hear you come in–”

“I tend to have that effect on people.” Grian snickered with a pleased and mildly-concerning smirk on his lips. “You wanna play video games with Pearl and I while we wait for Untie Xisuma to come back?”

“Sure.” Impulse nodded tentatively, following Grian back toward the living room where Pearl was setting up the gaming console. “Where is voi though?”

“One of voids neighbors came by a bit before you arrived with some sort of emergency,” Pearl explained now that she was within earshot. “I’m sure voi will be back once voi finishes fixing whatever they fucked up.”

Ah, that made sense. Xisuma always had a knack for picking up projects of all sorts. If voi didn’t know how to fix it, voi would mess around with it until voi was an expert. Impulse attributed his career path as a mechanic to his untie, though Xisuma preferred to specialize in motorcycles and electric bikes while Impulse was partial to larger automobiles.

Grian held out the controller with a competitive gleam in his eyes, one mirrored in Pearl’s as well. Those two weren’t identical, but there was no doubt that they were siblings. They shared so many of the same expressions! “I hope you’re prepared to get absolutely smoked in Mario Kart, Impulse.”

“Oh, you wish!” Impulse took the controller and settled down in front of the television.

“Have fun fighting for second place,” Pearl interjected their playful banter, gaze trained on the screen as she clicked through the initial settings. “That gold is mine.”

Grian snorted a cross between a dismissive scoff and an amused laugh, making a show of cracking his knuckles. “We’ll see about that.”

Chapter Text

The word and name “Impulse” meant a sudden strong and unreflective urge or desire to act, but out of the two of them, Skizz was actually more likely to act on his whims. 

Regardless of the names they were given at birth, Skizz was an easy man to convince of things, often going along with the crowd in order to not feel left out or left behind. He was an extremely social person with a lot of vigor and a typically upbeat attitude, something Impulse had initially admired considering his tendency of introversion and falling into a pessimistic mindset.

That admiration was tinted significantly now, leaving behind a growing resentment towards his best friend turned boyfriend. Impulse wasn’t sure how much longer he could take it! He had tried time and time again to help him, but Skizz didn’t want help, not seeing the problem with his money burning.

Impulse was brought out of his thoughts with lips pressed against the nape of his neck and arms wrapping around him from behind. Without thinking about it, he let out a soft moan as he tilted his head, giving Skizz more of a canvas to cover. Skizz seemed to take that as encouragement, nipping at his skin and then soothing the mark with his tongue and more kisses.

He lost himself to the sensations, allowing himself to float away a bit. It was nice, not to think. He did too much of that sometimes, but he had to pick up the slack around here because Skizz acted so utterly thoughtless– Impulse was tugged back toward Earth as his thoughts were too heavy to stay floaty. It didn’t help that Skizz removed his hold on Impulse, leaving him deprived of the addicting touch. Impulse whined in protest. It was something unintelligible, but the message got across anyway.

“Don’t worry, Dippledop,” Skizz laughed, the sound infectious, always managing to bring a smile to Impulse’s face, “I’m just adjusting.”

Skizz moved around the couch, going from the back to the front. He plopped down next to Impulse and grabbed the collar of his black T-shirt, barely giving Impulse time to think before he pressed their lips together. Skizz advanced feverishly, his hands wandering over Impulse’s skin as he breached Impulse’s mouth with his tongue.

Impulse allowed Skizz to do as he pleased, letting him take control. Skizz brushed his fingertips against the places he knew were sensitive, resulting with hitched gasps as Impulse arched his back. The kisses grew deeper, Impulse practically climbing onto Skizz’s lap as his large hands cupped his ass. Impulse would be lying to say he didn’t enjoy what they were doing, but when Skizz started to hike up his shirt and slip a hand below his waistband, Impulse pulled back, breaking their connection.

“Babe?” Skizz furrowed his brow, confused at Impulse’s sudden withdrawal. “What’s wrong?”

What wasn’t wrong? Impulse could list so many things off the top of his head, it wasn’t even funny. The problems kept piling up more and more, and Impulse couldn’t ignore them anymore no matter how hard he tried. He would have before, potentially, but the ruminating anxiety and building resentment really killed his sex drive.

Impulse searched for what to start with as he slunk off of Skizz’s lap, shifting his gaze anywhere but Skizz’s vibrant blue eyes. “When were you going to tell me you were fired from your job?”

“No, I wasn’t fired,” Skizz corrected, as if that made it better, “I quit.”

Deep breath, SV, Impulse coached himself, attempting to not blow up. He wouldn’t consider himself a very angry man, but he was self-aware enough to know he could only keep a cap on his frustration for so long before he exploded. “And why did you do that? We need money to live, Skizz.”

“I’ve been working odd jobs, side gigs,” Skizz waved his concerns off as if they were no big deal. “Plus, I have all my investments, and not having that old restrictive schedule gives me much more freedom to make my investments grow! It makes enough, and it gives me a lotta wiggle room to go out and live life! Don’t you miss that? When we were young and didn’t have to worry?”

“Odd jobs aren’t going to put food on the table!” Impulse snapped, causing Skizz to coil back in surprise. The hurt expression on his boyfriend’s face twisted sharply inside Impulse, reducing his next words to barely above a whisper. “I can’t continue to support you and these investments of yours. They’re not stable, and there is no way we can maintain them.”

“That’s not true–!” Skizz started to protest.

Impulse cut in, continuing his point, “Angel, I’ve looked at our joint savings account. It’s nearly empty.”

Skizz jumped back in to explain himself, “We weren’t using it, so I thought–”

“So you used our money,” Impulse choked on the words, struggling to not strangle Skizz right then and there, “without consulting me? Skizz, it’s a savings account, meaning the money should have gone to, I don’t know, a house? Emergency medical bills? Our future wedding?”

“I was doing something useful with it!” Skizz claimed defensively, jutting his finger downwards to punctuate his point. “The money was just sitting there, and I had an opportunity to grow it more, so I took it!”

Impulse narrowed his eyes. “And was it profitable?”

“Don’t you have any faith in me?” Skizz groaned, exasperated as he threw his arms up in the air. “I’ll tell you right now, all your accusin’ is really pissin’ me off. Like, I thought we were homies, I thought we were tight, butcha just keep treating me like I’m some naughty kid you needa lecture. It’s the worst. Honestly, Dippledop, it’s like you don’t trust me anymore.”

“That’s the problem, Skizz, I don’t!” Impulse cried, perhaps despite his better judgment. “I don’t trust you, and, y’know, I wish that wasn’t the case ‘cause I love you to death, but you keep giving me reasons to hate you– reasons not to! You keep hiding stuff from me, important stuff that I gotta know.”

Skizz stammered, completely blundering his way through a response before ultimately settling on “I tell you things!”

“Then tell me–” Impulse fought to keep his tone even and dry, void of his true emotions, but he was failing astronomically, “tell me why our landlord came to me earlier and said that we were past due on our rent.”

“Oh, did he?” Skizz’s voice strained, giving Impulse his answer even before he had the chance to ask it. It felt as if Skizz yanked out the block that made the Jenga tower of his heart crumble down.

Impulse sucked in a breath as he looked up at the ceiling, blinking back tears as he tried to contain himself. He loved Skizz– of course he did; he has since they were kids– but looking at him now? Looking at his boyfriend now, all Impulse felt was irritation and… and maybe even a sense of betrayal. To say it hurt like a knife through the heart was putting it lightly.

“I thought I told you to deliver it last week,” Impulse pressed more, the even and dry tone becoming more forceful. “I literally gave you my half of the rent! All you had to do was add your half and then deliver the envelope. What happened?”

“I just needed to borrow some cash to pay off some debts, so I used the rent money,” Skizz tried to dismiss with a pitchy laugh like it was no big deal. Nothing was ever a big deal when it came to Skizz’s gambling addiction, was it? “I’ll earn it back in no time, though, don’t you worry! I’ll talk to Todd and give him what I have, and ask for an extension on the rest.”

“Some debts?” Impulse repeated, blinking at his boyfriend in what he wished was shock, but he truly wasn’t that surprised. This was just like him, wasn’t it? “Some debts? Are you fucking kidding me, dude? Skizz, they– they could kick us out of the apartment if we don’t pay our rent on time! What were you thinking?“

“I know, I know, it’s not great, but I got it all under control. It’s no biggie.” Skizz talked to him and patted the air as if he were trying to calm a wild animal and not his boyfriend, a fully competent adult. “Don’t worry though, man! Todd likes me, we’re bros, we’ll be fine.”

“Even if that’s true, that’s not the point!” Impulse lost any resemblance of cool he had, volume elevating with each syllable. “You can’t just use the money set aside for necessities– especially my money– to fund your gambling addiction! Especially not without telling me, or without paying our bills! Those are nonnegotiable!”

“It’s not an addiction!” Skizz denied, like that was the important part of what Impulse just said. “I can quit anytime I want.”

Impulse snorted, almost in disbelief. Almost. “Spoken like a true addict.”

Skizz crossed his arms with a huff, pissed at Impulse for speaking the truth. “Oh, like you’ve never skimmed a little off the top to pay for something you enjoy doing.”

“You’ve what?” Impulse squeaked, blinking rapidly at his boyfriend in shock. 

Skizz’s mouth moved in a response, but Impulse didn’t register a word he said. His ears started ringing, reverberating in his head as nausea settled over him. Impulse had tried to be a good boyfriend, tried not to be too paranoid or controlling, despite Skizz’s occasional claim… the claims he made during their past arguments. The very arguments that have not gotten better, only growing worse.

All he’s ever tried to do is help his boyfriend– the man he loved, the one he had once thought was his forever– but Skizz doesn’t want his help. All he wants is to chase the dopamine high, squander everything they had to their name, and leave Impulse to pick up the pieces! He was sick of it!

Impulse picked his jaw up off the floor, grinding his teeth together. I can’t do this anymore.

“We’re done,” Impulse interrupted whatever Skizz’s excuse was this time. “I’m breaking up with you.”

The color drained from Skizz’s face. “Wh-what? Babe, you don’t mean that–”

“I do.” Impulse narrowed his eyes, as if challenging Skizz to argue. “I’m done with this; I’m done with us. I’m tired of dealing with your bullshit, of your careless nature, of you acting like I’m the bad guy for daring to be concerned! You don’t want to be treated like a kid? Good, because I’m done holding your hand. Have fun keeping a roof over your head, or don’t, I don’t care.”

“Impulse, please–” Skizz pleaded, reaching out to take Impulse’s hands in his, but Impulse pulled away, not letting him get close.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” Impulse demanded as he rose to his feet. All of the grudges he had been carrying around finally bubbled over, converting into rage. Any control he had managed to hold onto was gone now. “Don’t touch me, don’t talk to me, don’t try to contact me again.”

A strangled wail escaped Skizz’s throat, tears streaming down his face and soaking his tank top. “I don’t want to lose you, Dippledop, I–”

Impulse continued without any mercy, “Don’t come up to me if you see me in public, delete my contact information, even block my number if you need to, but if you contact me again, I won’t like it and I will block you in return. And I will place a restraining order on you if I need to, got it?”

Skizz was a big guy, bigger than Impulse, even, but, at this moment, he just looked small. He attempted to suppress his cries to no avail as sobs shuttered through his body. His nails dug into his biceps as he hugged himself close. Skizz hung his head, not saying a word even as his lips quivered involuntarily.

Impulse buried the urge to comfort Skizz, ignoring the tears that blurred his own vision. What’s done was done, he couldn’t take it back– he wouldn’t take it back. They were too far gone; they weren’t the same kids they once were. Their once inseparable relationship was, well…

He feared they may never be complete again.

He had this coming, Impulse tried to comfort himself as he stalked to their shared bedroom to pack his things. I gave him so many chances, and he didn’t take them. I don’t deserve to be stuck in this. Breaking up is for the best.

Impulse wasn’t sure how much he believed those words, but he had made his bed, and now he had to lay in it.

Chapter Text

When Impulse had broken up with Skizz, he hadn’t just broken up with his boyfriend, no– he had broken up with his best friend. He had other friends, sure, but… they weren’t Skizz.

And, well… he may or may not be ignoring their texts and calls as well.

Impulse didn’t have it in himself to message them back. How could he? They were Skizz’s friends too, and so whenever he thought of them, he thought of Skizz, which only brought on more pain and grief. Besides, he didn’t want to make Etho and Tango feel like they had to choose or take sides… that wasn’t fair to them! And Impulse knew that he wasn’t ready to answer all the questions he knew that they’ll have. Honestly, it was a win-win for everyone involved!

Okay, that was a bit too optimistic for their situation, but– well…

Impulse didn’t know if he’d ever be ready, especially with how strongly he wanted to forget Skizz. It was so hard to do when so much of his life had his ex-boyfriend’s presence. It was like Impulse was in a constant depressive spiral– spinning at tornado wind speeds– and he feared the twister that threatened to consume him would never let him leave, even in death.

Anger and grief rampaged within him, his mind struggling to cope with the stress he’d been undertaking for the past… forever. Now that Impulse was removed from the main stressor in his life, his body became aware of the effects tenfold. It was hell on earth, and Impulse’s job performance was already faltering because of it. 

It was all a little more manageable when he was numb because nothing was easier to hide than something.

Impulse sighed heavily, throwing back his head to let the showerhead pelt his face with water. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the water still managed to irritate his eyes. Or maybe that was just the shampoo he hadn’t fully washed out of his hair yet. Who knows, but either way, a mild stinging sensation was nothing compared to the ache of heartbreak.

I bet I look like a fuckin’ stock image right now, Impulse thought to himself, followed by a wary grunt of half-amusement.

At least he had his own shower now. That was something, he guessed… No more of that childish blue cotton candy body wash Skizz loved so much. No, Impulse now showered with eucalyptus and spearmint body wash like a real man.

…

If only the body wash was the actual issue here. Impulse reckoned that would be a lot easier to fix than… Everything Else.

Impulse had packed everything he cared enough to hold onto into his truck the day he broke up with Skizz. He didn’t want to stay there any longer than he had to, so he turned on the engine and just started driving. Impulse didn’t have a destination in mind, nor could he see the road very well, so he simply let his muscle memory guide him through the traffic, pedestrians, waves of grief, and shuddering sobs. 

In hindsight, he should not have been driving in that emotional state. That was how people got injured, or even killed.

Would that be so bad?

Of course it would be bad! What was he even thinking?

Impulse wasn’t depressed. He was fine! His life was just fine. Some guy wasn’t enough to bring him low enough to consider suicide, no matter how briefly.

Except, well… Skizz was not just some guy.

Impulse’s heart twisted in his gut, being boiled alive in his stomach’s natural acid. What am I even doing anymore?

Things could have ended up a whole lot worse than they did. Impulse had driven on autopilot to his untie’s driveway unannounced sometime after sunset. Untie Xisuma had let him in without question, doing voi’s best to provide comfort to his obvious distress, but also giving Impulse enough space to “feel his feels” as Tango would probably put it if Impulse actually responded to any of their unread text messages…

Untie Xisuma let Impulse stay in his old bedroom for a few weeks while Impulse searched for a new apartment. Voi had even gone to some of the walk-throughs with him, making a little untie-nephew event out of it. Impulse appreciated the company, especially because he wasn’t used to doing stuff alone. He’s always had someone with him, whether that be his parents, his friends, or his untie.

Voi had always been good to Impulse, even if voi was known to fumble at times, and Impulse would always be grateful to void. In fact, Impulse loved Untie Xisuma about as much as a niefling could love an untie! Untie Xisuma had always been his favorite untie, after all– not that that was very hard with Uncle Exavier being his only other untie. His mother had been an only child, and Uncle Ex was barely around for Impulse to know him. 

It was Untie Xisuma who took Impulse in after his parents passed from carbon monoxide poisoning in their sleep. Uncle Ex didn’t even acknowledge his existence unless someone else pressured him to, much more focused on other things than his nephew. Impulse hoped that Uncle Ex had treated his own children better than he treated him growing up.

Impulse missed his parents dearly, clinging onto the few memories he had left of them with all his strength, refusing to let go or even budge an inch.

People tried to help him feel better with so-called “comforts” like “At least your parents died without much pain!”, but all that did was make him want to cry harder. No amount of “looking at the bright side of things” would change the fact that he was a child who had to grapple with the loss of his parents. 

What he really hated was when people would, amongst doing all that, claim that he was actually very lucky. If he hadn’t been at Skizz’s house for a sleepover that night, he would have probably died alongside Maddox and Caprice Saffron-Verity. If he wanted to give them grace, they were technically right, but that didn’t make Impulse feel any better. If anything, it made him feel worse. 

Ha! What a news story that would be! If Impulse had died with his parents, he was sure the news headline would be even more depressing than it already was. Their demise would be even more of a cautionary tale used to get people to check their carbon monoxide detectors. It already was, but it would be even more so if he hadn’t been staying with the LeManns and passed as well. Three deaths was more than two, at the end of the day. That was how numbers worked, after all.

“Augh!” Impulse screamed, smacking the plastic containers off of the designated shower ledge as tears merged with the stream of water sprinkling down upon him. He switched the water off and pulled open the shower curtain so roughly that the bar embraced the floor with a loud series of high-pitched clangs.

Why did everything always come back to Skizz? Why, why, why, why!

Ugh, he needed to get out of his own head…

Impulse dried himself off before wrapping the towel around his waist and heading to his closet to find some sort of decent going-out outfit. If he was going to get out of his head, he should probably get out of his apartment. To get out of his apartment, he had to go someplace, and this late at night, well… there was only one place Impulse could think of that may be worth going to, and that was one of the nearby nightclubs.

Now, nightclubs weren’t always his cup of tea. In fact, they often weren’t. Impulse tended to find them too loud and filled with too many people, but, sometimes, like during times like this, loud and surrounded by strangers dancing their hearts out was exactly what he needed. He needed to get out of his head. He needed to get out of his usual comfort zone. He needed to let loose.

EDM blasted from the nightclub speakers, though it barely masked the ocean of chatter from those inside. Impulse could feel the reverb of the music in his chest, and he loved it. It was utterly groundbreaking, especially once he got a few shots in him. On a regular day, the multicolored lights flashing all around would have overwhelmed him, but they only added to the atmosphere today. It was perfect; it was exactly what he was looking for.

Impulse found himself boogying it up with strangers, each of their faces a blurr. The club only got more packed as the night went on, causing Impulse to grind and rub against people he didn’t know as they all jumped around the dance floor. Impulse couldn’t fathom anything else that could be more exhilarating than what he was experiencing right at that moment! 

Like, how cool was this? Impulse was having a super awesome time, finding the nightclub experience to be so very freeing! What had he ever disliked about them before? Whatever it was, it was probably stupid.

Maybe he just hated having to keep an eye on Skizz so he wouldn’t do something he shouldn’t, like gamble their pocket change on a round of beer pong.

Impulse wrinkled his nose in distaste. There he was again! Skizz this, Skizz that– did Impulse even know how to exist without Skizz– without thinking about Skizz? About his ex he hadn’t seen since the day they broke up? Was he really that pathetic?

Yes.

He shook his head like a dog shaking off water in an attempt to dispel any more thoughts of him. Impulse was at this nightclub for himself, to be one with the crowd, to fade from self-consciousness and worry– Impulse didn’t come to this nightclub to do the same thing he could do sobbing in his bed.

Damn, he really needed another drink.

“Grab me a shot of tequila, would you?” Impulse ordered with the mixologist, who nodded to confirm they heard it. 

Before the mixologist could add the shot to his tab and fill the glass, an unfamiliar voice added onto his order. “I’ll take one too. Add it to his tab.”

The mixologist raised an eyebrow before deciding that they did not care. They did as they were told, retrieving a second shot glass, filling them both, and then moving onto the next customers. 

“Do you make it a habit to drink on someone else’s dime?” Impulse asked his new drinking buddy, nudging one of the shots toward the person he was talking to before swigging back his own. “You’re lucky I’m nice and feelin’ generous, and actually giving it to you. Drink up.”

“Hot, nice, and generous,” the other picked up the shot glass, a sly smile on her lips, “I suppose I really am the lucky one here.”

Impulse watched her intently as she shot the tequila back, mesmerized by the way her lips moved against the glass and her eyelashes fluttered close to protect her eyes from the flashing lights above their heads. Impulse’s face felt all hot and flushed, but he wasn’t sure if that was because he found her strawberry blonde hair, delicate jawline, and pale skin just looking to be marked up attractive, or if it was because of the alcohol. Probably both, if he were to be honest with himself.

She curled her foot around his ankle and rested a hand on his thigh, committing the act so casually Impulse’s tipsy mind almost forgot that she was a complete stranger. He promptly uncovered the desire to change that fact as soon as possible. Maybe she was the distraction from Skizz and everything else that he needed. “My name’s Impulse. What’s yours, beautiful?”

“My, aren’t you a flatterer,” she replied, subtly leaning in closer to him, which exposed more of her cleavage. Impulse could smell the alcohol on her breath and see the sparkly eyeshadow she used to decorate her eyes in its full glory. “My name’s Star, but you can call me whatever you want, for the right price.”

Impulse wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or his dick doing all the thinking, but next thing he knew, he had Star pushed up against some wall as he lavished her body with his mouth and hands. She was so reactive to everything he did, which only encouraged him to do more, to go further than some hot, heavy, and handsy make out session.

Their relationship was founded purely on lust and carnal desire, and nothing more, but Impulse couldn’t find it in himself to care. They didn’t need to be anything to each other besides a one night stand or a good fuck. Engaging in something so intimate in such a short-term way was a risk, sure, and it was most definitely probably stupid, but his dilated pupils and the bulge in his pants wouldn’t take no for an answer. Besides, it was about time Impulse was the one making foolish gambles, wasn’t it?

“Im– Impulse!” Star gasped his name, sharp and breathy as he bit down hard at the junction between her neck and shoulder. He trailed his tongue against the rivets his teeth made in her skin, soothing the pleasurable pain Star’s moan proved. The sound was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard, and he needed more– he needed her. Impulse needed Star so deeply he feared he may burst.

Star would be the distraction that would help him forget Skizz– help him forget, period. She would make everything go away, if only for a little bit. She had to; he wanted her to–

Impulse used her thighs to gain leverage, guiding her to wrap her legs around his waist as he whispered lowly in her ear. “You said I could do whatever I wanted tonight since I paid you, yeah?”

Star’s gorgeous blue eyes widened at the underlying offer as she clung to his arms for stability before nodding enthusiastically. “Please, Impulse, use me . You own my body for tonight; use it as you wish. It’s yours; I’m yours– just, please, I– augoh~”

Impulse nipped at her ear, one arm cradling her ass so his other hand could push her into him. He could feel her tits press against his chest, though he was disappointed that they were still clothed. Impulse wanted to change that, wanted the barriers warding off direct skin to skin content to be tossed aside. The particularly horny part of Impulse’s brain wanted to see Star’s tits bare and bruised as she bounced for him. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as more and more unholy thoughts spun through his mind. Oh, how he’d missed this–

“Let’s go somewhere more private,” Impulse reluctantly set Star down so she could stand on her own, though he kept a hold on her wrist, refusing to let their contact break out of fear the moment would die, “so I can appreciate you properly.”

Star twirled her wrist to disrupt Impulse’s hold only to interlock their fingers, signaling that she wanted this just as much as he did. She rocked up onto her tiptoes to press a kiss against one of his dimples, peering up at him through her eyelashes. “Lead the way~”