Grow Up

The bass pumped through the floor and the colors danced across the walls. There were people everywhere, people dancing and kissing and stumbling and singing and reaching out in a drugged haze, trying to catch the multi-colored light that was falling all over the place. Ray could practically smell Jersey and youth and sex in the air, and it disgusted him.

He looked morosely down at his cup of formerly cold beer and tipped it over, letting it spill onto the hardwood floor. He didn't know whose house it was and he didn't really care... and besides, it was his birthday. He could do what he wanted, whether it be spilling beer or drinking it.

A hand clapped down on his shoulder.

"Hey!" Gerard stumbled up, his eyes unfocused, his hair mussed, reeking of alcohol. "Having a good Ray, birthday?" he said, hiccuping.

Ray was tempted to slap him but he held back. "Yes, I'm having an excellent Ray."

Gerard nodded knowingly. "Good, good."

They stood there for a moment, Gerard swaying and Ray staring at the beer puddle at his feet.

"Well! This party isn't going to dance itself!" Gerard said, thoroughly confusing Ray. He turned and started to try to make his way into the dance floor, stumbling and giggling all along the way. His pants were hanging halfway down his ass; Gerard had recently lost a lot of weight but it seemed that he wasn't sober enough to notice yet. Ray decided that after the worst of his hangover was fading the next day he'd try to talk him into getting a belt or something.

He watched his alcoholic best friend slump away with a faint frown on his face, but soon resumed wallowing in his own self pity.

I don't wanna be 21, he thought bitterly. I don't wanna grow up. I--

His thoughts were cut off as a grinding couple made their way past him, sweat and spit leaking from every orifice. Ray watched them for a minute. The girl was small and blonde and the guy was tall and brown-haired, and they were both decked out in matching purple spandex.

You don't belong here, Ray told himself. You're 21 and you still can't stomach beer or get laid. Look at you! You've got a fro and glasses and you’re wearing fucking mom jeans, aren’t you?

He looked down at his legs and groaned. Ray's hand flew out to flatten his hair, but to no avail. It wouldn't stay down if he paid it, and deep down, he knew that.

“You can’t control the free growing jungle.” A voice said in Ray’s ear.

“Hey, Frankie.” Ray said in response, not even turning his head to look at who was speaking. He would know that squeak anywhere.

“How’s it going, birthday boy?” Frank asked, sipping his beer and bouncing on the balls of his feet along with the song playing.

“Mmph.”

“This isn’t your scene, huh? Same with Bob.” Frank gestured vaguely behind him and Ray noticed Bob Bryar sitting on a couch on the other side of the room, asleep. Bob was really intense but Ray liked that about him. And plus, when Bob was around, people didn’t fuck with you.

Ray laughed. “Looks like he’s having a good time.”

“Go talk to him. I’m going to see if Gerard’s drunk enough to blow me.” Frank laughed a little, eyeing Gerard’s exposed ass.

“Gerard’s drunk enough to blow himself.” Ray said, giving Frank a one armed hug and walking over to Bob, leaving him to his conquest.

Ray plopped down onto the couch next to Bob and sighed heavily.

“This sucks, man.” Bob suddenly said, opening his eyes, causing Ray to jump into the air.

“What the fuck? Weren’t you asleep?”

“No,” Bob admitted, stretching and looking around warily. “I wanted Frank to stop talking about Gerard’s ass. It freaked me out a little, so I pretended to sleep.”

Ray laughed. “Genius.”

Bob nodded and settled back. “These people disgust me.”

“What, the pagans?” Ray gestured to the dance floor, at the sweaty grinding people.

“Yeah. The pagans,” Bob snorted and looked at his watch. “Wanna get the fuck out of here?”

“Please.”

---

Leaving the party was no big deal; it’s not like anyone was sober enough to even register they were there in the first place. But once they were out of the party and in Bob’s car (Ray had come with Gerard), they had no idea what to do next.

“Just drive, dude.”

Bob shrugged and put the car into gear. The busy streets of downtown slipped by the windows and slowly turned into the small suburb where Ray lived with Gerard and his brother Mikey, and just half a mile from Frank’s house, where both Frank and Bob lived.

“So, how’s 21 years of life working out for you?” Bob asked as he turned left, cruising slowly, eyes on the road.

Ray leaned his head against the window and sighed heavily. “Honestly? I hate it, Bob.”

“Know what I did on my 21st?”

“What?”

“I got so shitfaced I forgot what my own name was,” Bob said proudly, coming to a stop in the parking lot of a local park. He shut the car off and turned to Ray. “And then I may or may not have gotten laid. I can’t remember.”

“That sounds… interesting, man.” Ray said, trying not to laugh as he pictured Bob losing control.

“It was.” Another proud smile.

“Except I don’t like alcohol and I don’t have a chance in hell of getting laid anytime soon.”

“Bullshit. Take off the mom jeans and get contacts and the ladies will be all over you,” Bob paused. “Or the boys. Whichever way you swing.”

Ray blushed violently in response, unable to speak coherently.

“Anyway, man, there’s got to be more to it than that. You’ve been a sad sap all night, even before the party.” Bob accused in his blunt way, looking at his fingernails.

Ray blushed again, still unable to speak. It was so strange to hear this kind of stuff coming out of Bob’s mouth, and especially since he knew that if he gave him a valid answer they would be having a less-than-manly heart to heart, like how he and Gerard used to have in the early hours of the morning before he discovered that he liked talking to glass bottles more than Ray.

“Come on. What’s wrong with you?” he pushed gently, nudging Ray on the arm.

“I… I don’t wanna grow up.” And there it was. Out in the open. The five words that had been circling and hurting Ray’s head for the past week, once the realization of responsibility had taken a crash landing in his prefrontal lobe. When he became 21 he became completely of age, completely out of his teens, and completely an adult.

Bob stared at him for a second before smiling slowly. “Well, shit, man. No one wants to grow up. And the people who do want to grow up regret it once they do. Who wants responsibilities and jobs and taxes and have to take responsibility for every fucking stupid thing they do?”

“Yeah. I guess it’s like… a long time ago it was ‘he’s just a kid,’ and then it was ‘he’s a teenager, you know how they are,’ and now it’s… ‘what the fuck did you do that for? You’re a grown man, you should know better,’… now it’s like I have no excuse to be a loser.” Ray confessed in a rush, feeling his chest lighten.

“I wish you would stop saying that.” Bob said with a sad smile.

“Saying what?”

“Saying that you’re a loser. You aren’t a loser, Ray, really. Just… don’t be so hard on yourself, okay?” Bob said in a voice so low it was almost a murmur.

Ray laughed derisively. “I appreciate the effort, Bob, but I know what I am. I’ve been more intimate with my computer than I have with a person.”

“That I didn’t need to know,” Bob said, causing them both to break into giggles for a minute. “And your sexual escapades, or lack of, do not determine how good or cool of a person you are.”

“That’s news to me.” Ray countered, looking at Bob as though he were some new and fascinating species of life.

“You’lll understand when you’re older.” Bob said, and after a pause, Ray slapped him on the arm and they dissolved into the girly giggles again.

“Ray. Listen to me,” Bob suddenly demanded in the silence that followed. “You’re still young. 21 may seem like a big number, but shit, if you wanna be optimistic, your life’s barely a quarter of a way over. You’re allowed to screw up at 21. You’re supposed to, for fuck’s sake.”

“I guess.” Ray muttered, not really wanting to admit to Bob that he made a valid point and could sort of feel an epiphany blooming inside him.

“So just… I dunno, enjoy it?”

“Enjoy what? Being 21?”

“Being young, dude. Your whole life’s ahead of you. Shit’s scary, sure, but… I dunno. You’re going to do something awesome with your life. By the time you’re thirty you’ll probably have conquered the world or saved the lives of half the population or something.” Bob was leaning back in the car seat, staring up at the ceiling, smiling a half smile.

“How the fuck do you know that?” Ray asked wonderingly.

“I just know these things.” Bob said mysteriously, still staring upward.

“I’m not capable of doing anything remotely like that.” said Ray cautiously, still wondering if there was a joke in this somewhere.

“Alright, Ray. Sure. Whatever you say.” drawled Bob in a whiny voice, which made them both laugh again.

“It’s true!” Ray insisted.

“Sure, Raymond. You just wait and see.” Bob said, smiling fully now, because he knew the last person to ever see the full potential of Ray Toro would be Ray Toro himself.