A LIL CONTINUATION FOR @loudbark--deepbite ; BEER + CIGS
the final shreds of SUNLIGHT kiss the back of his neck, early july presses its lips against the horizon, sky bleeding syrup like ichor of the gods. ryan had spent so much time chasing sunlight, stretching the day thin like an old tee-shirt. now, soft and fraying at the seams, the day gave away completely and night pressed in.
the air between them is sticky and saccharine like lemonade on his teeth, asphalt hot under his fingers as he hauls himself over the lip of the gutters. it's hardly GRACEFUL, grit scraping his palms as he lifts his body up and onto the slant. sneakers snag, the 18-pack slung awkwardly against his hip. down below, the neighborhood is DEAD QUIET, cast in that hazy, orange-blue glow of flickering streetlights and summer humidity.
he cracks his own can open with a sharp, echoing psshht, taking a long, appreciative swig of cheap beer before he even looks over at gary. STILL GARY. just as he remembered him—or at least as much as he could remember someone he had only ever really looked at from the corner of his eye. direct sunlight usually washed people out, but the dusk suited gary, filling in the blanks ryan's memory had cheated him out of. he looked MORE REAL, less dead-eyed than he looked in class, someone who he didn't have to think twice about when his arm grazed his in the hallways. ryan was still a vision of chaos. didn't look much different from grade school, stupid graphic tee-shirts and cuffed jeans, wire red-framed glasses and hands that were always moving. tapping out a rhythm stuck in his head or rolling a can of beer between his hands just to hear it crinkle. always searching for music SOMEWHERE.
was he staring? when the cardboard pack of cigarettes is shoved into his line of sight, ryan looks at it, then up at gary, the orange cherry of gary's lit smoke cutting through the air between them. he didn't smoke because min-gi didn't smoke. or drink. or leave his house after 9 PM. but tonight is already an anomaly.
he plucks a cigarette from the box like plunging his hand into FIRE. ❛❛ been trying to quit, ❜❜ it's a bullshit excuse to soothe his ego, but he sells it with a lopsided grin. steadies the cigarette between his lips and leans back on his elbows.
❛❛ wishful thinking my ass, ❜❜ ryan scoffs but there's not hate behind it, his tone dropping into that EASY, slow-rolling drawl. ❛❛ i'm here to save you from infinite boredom. your tissue box can thank me later. ❜❜
he breaks the distance, slides over to gary's side nice and CLOSE and cups his around around the cigarette. ❛❛ spare me a light? ❜❜
