(FNF) Boyfriend x Pico - Friday Night Funkin

Part Three: Mix

Pico had gotten back home. It was 1:01, and he began to clean off his uzi. It had a couple of stains, as was normal for this kind of work. As he was rubbing it down, his phone buzzed again. He saw a message.

blu
"omw"

Pico looked down to see what he was wearing. His casual green sweatshirt was now covered in blood. Great.

He put his gun down, opting to first get changed. Pico put on the black hoodie that had his name sewn into the sleeve. Nene had given it to him for his birthday last year. He also threw on some gray sweatpants, and supposed it was good enough. The ginger went back to finish polishing his weapon, picking it up to hear a knock at the door. Without thinking, he opened it up to see Boyfriend.

"Hey, glad you stopped..." He noticed Boyfriend staring at the uzi, still sprinkled with drops of red. He quickly set it down and cleared his throat. "How are you feeling?"

Boyfriend snapped out of his brief fear and awkwardly stared at his feet. "I'm... better than yesterday."

Pico nodded and motioned for him to come in. Boyfriend walked in to see a decently sized living space. It had a tv, a couch and a small desk in the corner with a laptop and a mixing board. Next to the desk was a sliding door to a small balcony. The place was a little dirty, but it did it's job.

"Wow, your place is nice." Boyfriend watched Pico sit on the couch, resting his feet on the coffee table.

"Have a seat. I promise I don't bite."

Boyfriend walked over to Pico, taking a seat next to him. To the ginger's surprise, he leaned against Pico.

"So... you're still doing hits?" Boyfriend didn't make eye contact. Good thing, too, because Pico turned pink from embarrassment.

"Yeah. Though, work's pretty slow these days. I've been mixing beats for some friends to make a little extra." He motions towards the desk. "It's actually tons of fun." Pico paused. "I assume you're still singing?"

"Rapping, actually. But yeah." Boyfriend suddenly jolted up, suddenly remembering something. "Wait, what's the date?"

Pico glanced at his phone. "It's the third, why?"

"SHIT!" Boyfriend stood up. "I was so busy worrying about... Girlfriend..." he could barely squeeze out her name. "I have a competition tonight! I don't have anything to sing! God, I'm such a fucking idiot..." Boyfriend fell back onto the couch, head in his hands and started to cry. A mix of sadness and failure made him feel like the world was crumbling at his fingertips.

Pico got up without a word, sitting at his desk and started to sift through audio files. "Why don't we mix something for you now. When's the battle?"

Boyfriend checked the clock on the tv. "Four hours. There's no way we have enough time."

Pico had some drums laid out and pressed play. It was a steady beat, but it needed some weight. "How heavy do you like your bass?" He turned and gave Boyfriend a smile.

He walked over next to Pico, looking over his shoulder. "How heavy do you have?"

~~~~~

Pico and Boyfriend were running to the venue. They had barely finished the song when they had to leave. Pico had a backpack with his laptop, board, and gun. Just in case.

The duo ran through the back door just as the crew had finished setting up the speakers. One person looked at Boyfriend.

"You have your sound?"

"It's with him." He pointed at Pico, who pulled out his laptop. The dude looked skeptical as he gave Pico the cord to plug into the device, but there was no time to argue. The other end was already plugged into the speakers, and Boyfriend had to get on stage.

"Break a leg, Blu." Pico gave him a thumbs up as he walked on stage, mic in hand. Boyfriend glanced back at him with a smile as the lights hit him and the battle began.

~~~~~

By the end of the song, the crowd was roaring. Boyfriend's opponent looked at him, dumbfounded. Boyfriend himself was panting, out of breath from that song. It was incredible.

His opponent refused a round two, pronouncing Boyfriend the winner. Pico was beaming ear to ear, sitting on the floor backstage with his laptop as the stagehand that had given him the cord came up next to him.

"Damn, did you mix that?" Pico looked up at him.

"Yeah. Why, you like it?" He smirked.

The stagehand was baffled. "It's more of a question of who didn't like it. That shit was awesome. Do you do commissions?"

Pico raised an eyebrow. "I do, actually. Shoot me an email whenever." He pulled out his pocket knife and used the pen tool to write his email on a slip of paper for him.

"Thanks, man."

"No problem. Have a nice night." Pico handed him the cable and the stagehand got back to work, cleaning up backstage and getting ready for the next event.

Suddenly, Pico heard a familiar voice.

"PICOOOO!" Boyfriend tackled him into a hug, giddy with excitement. "HOLY SHIT, THAT WAS AMAZING!!!"

Pico returned the hug. "Yeah, yeah." He was blushing. "Get off of me, dumbass, I've gotta pack up."

Boyfriend got off of Pico, blushing and embarrassed. "Sorry..."

"Don't be sorry." Pico shut his laptop and put it away, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his bag. He dug around until he found his lighter.

"I should, uh... probably get going home." Boyfriend was about to leave when he heard Pico.

"You live too far and it's too late to take the bus. You're welcome to crash at my place." He lit the cigarette and took his first puff.

Boyfriend smiled at the offer. "Sure. Thanks, Pico."