(FNF) Boyfriend x Pico - Friday Night Funkin

Part Twenty-Three: Date

Pico woke up to sunlight flooding through his bedroom window. He rubbed his eyes with the bases of his palms, trying to no avail to remove their sleepiness.

After sitting in bed for a moment, the ginger climbed out, his feet softly thumping against the carpeted floor. He instinctually reached for his phone, the device showing the time. 12:04.

He had promised to meet Keith for lunch at that barbecue place at around 1:00 to grab a bite before the show. Call time for the performers was 2pm, sharp.

   Pico's mom used to work in showbiz, and she would always tell him "If you're early you're on time, if you're on time you're late and if you're late you're fired." And thus, Pico dragged himself out of the house to be early to their little date.

   He threw on a white undershirt, a long sleeved white turtleneck and a teal sweater layered over top. He slid on a thick pair of jeans and some black combat boots. The weather has started to cool, so he took no chances. Pico had always preferred hotter temperatures, so he was willing to sweat a little if it meant there was no chance of freezing.

   Unless there was a Keith involved. He would gladly freeze his ass off for Keith.

   Carefully slicking his hair back, brushing his teeth and shaving his stubble, he was good to go.

   Pico scooped his usual belonging into his deep pockets, (I hate to pop in, but why are dudes' pockets so damn deep?! My friend once came to lunch with a whole ass Nintendo switch in there.) threw his laptop and music equipment into his backpack and headed out the door, ready to conquer the day.

   As he strode through the city on the short walk to the restaurant, Pico had a moment to think. Funnily enough, his thoughts were scaring him... less? It was an odd feeling for your brain not to be hostile. He had talked to the therapist about the school shooting and a bit about his work, so maybe that was it?

   It couldn't be, right? There was no way that actually worked. Psh, funny of his to even consider it as a remote possibility. He was just having a good day, that's all.

   Pico arrived to the restaurant, before Keith, as expected. He placed an order for a couple of waters and a Coke, lit a cigarette and waited for his partner to arrive.

~~~~~

   Keith stumbled out of bed fifteen minutes before they were scheduled to meet at the barbecue place.

   His vision still blurry, he reached for his new favorite black hoodie and some black, torn up jeans. He opted for some white platforms today; the red ones felt like too much against all the black.

   As he turned on his electric toothbrush, the sudden noise and vibrations of the thing sent his skull throbbing. Of all the days to have a headache.

Keith somehow found his way out the door, rubbing his temples in a fruitless attempt to stop the dizzying pain behind his forehead.

   He began the walk to the restaurant, the cool breeze cutting through his only layer of clothing; the embroidered hoodie. Keith was grateful for the cold; it was helping keep his mind at least semi-focused during the walk.

Finally arriving at the place, Keith spotted that familiar tuft of orange hair sitting at a booth. He wobbled over, plastering a forced smile onto his face and sitting across from Pico.

The ginger raised an eyebrow. "Are you oka-?"

"Yep! Never better!" Keith chimed, cutting him off. He brought his cup close to his face, taking a sip of the icy water. The cold drink filled his already hurting brain, causing Keith to groan and slam his head on the table.