"Keith, honey?" A girl in a red dress and deep red brown hair opened the door to see her boyfriend standing there. "Did you walk home in the rain again? Oh dear, are you alright?"

Keith looked up at her, smiling and shaking his head. "N-Nah, it's fine. Don't worry about it... can I come in?"

"Actually, good timing. Dinner's been made. Do you want to eat with us?"

"Sure!"

Keith following her to the dining room where her mother and father sat, mumbling among themselves.

"Oh, dearie me! You're soaked!" The mother got up immediately, grabbing the closest tea towel and patting Keith's hair.

She was a strange woman, a very strong hourglass figure and big hair. She wore dark make up and tight clothes, showing off her almost perfect shape. She wasn't exactly the nicest, per say, but ever since she learned how wonderful Keith could sing, she had been an overprotective mother ever since.

Keith's girlfriend's father on the other hand was a lot different. He always had a stern look, often wearing his clothes quite loose. He didn't care how good Keith was for his daughter, nor did he care much for Keith, but also not much for her.

"Molly, hun, do you want to get Keith a plate?"

"Yes, mother."

Keith's girlfriend's name was Molly. They couldn't quite pinpoint the exact moment they met, but after her parents first learned of her and the boy getting together, they were furious. Keith had to sing of all things to prove he was the right one for her.

And surprisingly? It worked.

Keith didn't always just sing with random strangers. He clearly didn't know Pico, but he battled him just for the sake of it. The thought was always on the back of Molly's mind, making her feel sort of uncomfortable in a way. Nevertheless, she placed the plate on the table in front of Keith's seat and sat down next to him. They all began eating.

It was quiet. The only noises filling the room was faint background music, mouths moving and teeth chewing. It didn't seem like it should have mattered, but Keith wondered what Pico's apartment looked like. Why was he hiding from him? Was he holding a dead body in there or something? Maybe someone in his family was sick and he didn't want to spread the disease?

Then again, they barely knew each other.

Privacy was still a thing, right? Right, it was.

Pico threw the greased paper into the bin, missing by a long shot. It sat on top some old clothes, alongside energy drink cans and cigarette butts. He huffed, laying back on his sofa. He had to get up eventually, but that was too much effort in itself.

He sat there, staring at the ceiling, just thinking to himself. Every time he did that, ever since that day, he kept thinking on how he could improve, like Keith beating him couldn't have just been coincidence or that he was only the second best. He certainly wasn't, he had met others who could, but something about Keith's nature kept putting Pico on a weird train of thought. A train he had never gone on before, one he wasn't even sure was going to the right destination.

...what was his idea to get better again? He forgot entirely about what other factors Keith had that he didn't. All he remembered was that brat with neon blue hair who followed him home in the rain. The kid who was so much more confident. More popular. More... there were no other fitting words Pico could think of.

Pico sat up, clenching his teeth and his eyebrows furrowed. He cracked his knuckles, feeling irritated by the fact he couldn't remember.

Why couldn't he? What was stopping him?

He couldn't wrap his head around why he remembered Keith more. He interacted with more people than him, he was sure of it. Keith didn't even say much. He just grinned and... grinned. Pico sighed, finally getting up and thumping on his way to bed.