Lights

At seven am, Ryan reluctantly grabbed one of Brendon's shoulders and started shaking him awake. It took a few moments of jostling before Brendon's eyebrows skewed in annoyance and he blinked, squinting into the gentle rays of sunlight that had penetrated the gaps in the curtains and found their way into the apartment. Noticing Ryan, Brendon looked confused for a moment before seeming to remember where he was and why. He pushed himself up onto one of his elbows.

“What's up?” he asked, curiously.

“Sorry for waking you up,” Ryan started. “I didn't want to, but I need to go to work in an hour or two and I didn't want to freak you out by not being here when you woke up or something.”

“Fair enough,” Brendon agreed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“If you want, you can keep sleeping and stay here until I come home, or you can come to work with me. I don't think they'll mind. I just might have to buy you something at some point.”

“Really?” Brendon weighed up the two options in his mind, then pushed himself up into a full sitting position. He let out a yawn and stretched his arms up into the air while arching his back. “As fun as sleep is, I think I've got enough of it. Would you mind if I came with you?”

“Why would I offer if I minded?” Ryan asked, confused. “Of course I don't. It might be more fun with someone to talk to there, anyway.”

Brendon nodded and climbed off the couch. “I probably don't smell too great right now.”

“Go have a shower,” Ryan advised. I'll make you some toast, yeah? And well, you can have some of my clothes if you want. I'll wash those when we get back, 'kay?”

Brendon looked at him with his brow creased, then nodded again.

Ryan left the room to dig through his drawers for some clothes that might fit Brendon – a few of his shorter pair of jeans, because Brendon wasn't quite as tall as he was. Once he returned to the living room, he passed them to Brendon and pointed out the bathroom.

“Peanut butter?” he added.

Brendon looked at him cluelessly.

“For your toast. Do you want peanut butter?”

“Oh – oh, right, sure, thanks.”

Half an hour later, Brendon was clad in a clean pair of jeans that he only had to roll up a little, and a t-shirt.

“Refreshed,” he said with a grin. Then added, “With toast! Best customer service ever. Ten out of ten.”

“Good to hear,” Ryan grinned. “My job should have set me up for that pretty well. I haven't been fired yet, at least.”

Ryan glanced at a small clock set on the kitchen counter. “We should probably go soon. I don't have a car, and taxis are a bit expensive, so walking is our best bet. Do you mind?”

Brendon hurriedly shook his head. “Don't mind at all.”

“Right, then let's go.”

The pair of them set off down the same streets that they had first met, less than twenty four hours prior. They were just as busy and uncaring as they had been back then. They skittered quickly across streets and past apartments.

“Where do you work?” Brendon asked suddenly as they just reached the opposite pavement.

“I work in this little restaurant,” Ryan replied. “It's kinda cute, I like it. It's like, homey, you know?”

“What's it called?”

“Lights.”

“Lights?” Brendon tilted his head in curiosity. “That sounds pretty interesting.”

Ryan nodded. “It is. I think you'll like it – but maybe that's just me assuming. Most people who see it like it, though. I think I made a good pick when I decided to work there.”

“You just decided to work there?”

“Well, it wasn't exactly my first choice,” Ryan covered, quickly.

Brendon smirked at him. “And what was your first choice?”

“Google. But apparently you have to be super intelligent to get a good spot there. I don't exactly have the necessary qualifications. But that's all right, because next on the list was the quaint little restaurant down the street, just waiting for me to sign an application.”

“True work love,” Brendon said, unsurely. “How strange.”

“You'll like it,” Ryan clarified. “That's what I meant.”

They walked in silence for a few more minutes, before Ryan suddenly turned and introduced Lights with another of his elegant arm flourishes.

“I present to you... Lights!” he announced.

From the outside, it wasn't hugely exciting. A dark coloured building with the word 'Lights' over the door in a golden calligraphy-style.

“It doesn't exactly stand out,” Brendon said, with an almost apologetic hint to his voice.

“It's quaint,” Ryan said. “As in, it's cute and hip and appeals to the curious.”

“Sure stuff,” Brendon said sceptically as he followed Ryan through the door way.

Inside was certainly less bland than the outside. The building wasn't huge, but Brendon still had no idea quite where to look first. All along the dark walls, fairy lights trailed in so many different directions. The small dots of yellow swooped and flew around each other, before coming off the wall and dancing over the roof. The lights were a little lower than normal, adding an almost fantastical atmosphere. On the bottom of the walls, pictures of Tinkerbell smiled and scowled out at the visitors.

Ryan was looking at Brendon with a completely smug look on his face.

“Fine, you win,” he sighed. “This place looks amazing.”

“Quaint,” Ryan said with a grin. “And it's peaceful. Now, you can just sit down at one of these tables, okay? There's a nice small one over there. And when I'm on my break, I'll buy us some food. I get a discount.” He seemed oddly proud of the fact he got a lowered price.

Brendon nodded at him, though he was unable to tear his eyes away from the roof and the walls.

“Come on, Bren. Sit over here.” Ryan grabbed Brendon's forearm and pulled the dazed boy over to the small table over in the corner. “It's probably not gonna be the most exciting thing for you. We'll bring a book next time.”

“Got it,” Brendon replied. “I think I'll be okay for now, though.” He tilted his head up to follow the string of lights again, though he kept getting lost.

“I think you will,” Ryan agreed with a chuckle.

*

A few hours later, Ryan returned to Brendon's table with two sandwiches.

“Lots of vegetable-y goodness in those,” Ryan said. “And they're still good, even though they're wrapped in saran wrap.”

Brendon tore into the wrapping and shoved half of it in his mouth. “Starving,” he mumbled through the particularly large mouthful. “Sorry.”

“Me too,” Ryan sighed, also starting to eat. “I reckon we should have something sweet afterward. Let's treat ourselves to a chocolate mousse, eh? We can have half each.”

Brendon's mouth hung open for a second at the thought of it, before he started nodding with enthusiasm. “Fuck yeah!” he added, for good measure.

They finished their sandwiches without talking much, too consumed with the idea of filling their empty stomachs. Once done, Ryan licked his lips and fingers contentedly, and leaned back in his chair.

“I could definitely go for that chocolate mousse,” he mused. “I'll be right back.”

He came back with two small bowls of the delicious dessert.

“One of these things is usually too much anyway. Half may be slightly too little, but hey, we'll survive.”

“Too much?” Brendon said, blankly. “Is that even possible?”

Ryan snorted as he savoured his first mouthful. “Definitely possible. Trust me on that one.”

“So, Ryan.” Brendon tilted his head to inspect the man opposite him closely. His eyes ran down his face in an attempt to come up with some sort of intelligent sounding question. “What's up with your hair?”

“What do you mean, 'what's up with it'?”

“It's all...” Brendon waved his hands around his head as if this would somehow describe exactly what Ryan's hair was like. Ryan merely looked at him. “Up,” Brendon finished, lamely.

“It's not up,” Ryan snorted. “It's a faux-hawk, alright. Like a mo-hawk, but more awesome, because it's on me.”

Brendon couldn't resist leaning across the table to ruffle Ryan's brown hair with a grin. “Sorry, messed it up a little,” he apologised.

“I still have to work another few hours, you know.”

“Oh no, you're not pretty for your customers any more,” Brendon sighed. “I'm sorry I ruined your life.”

Ryan made a face at him and poked his tongue out. “You should be. My hair is extremely important, you should have guessed that.”

“I couldn't even guess what it was,” Brendon retorted.

Ryan narrowed his eyes into a glare. “I can't believe I bought chocolate mousse for you.”

Brendon merely shrugged at him, then wore a cat-like grin as he spooned a mouthful into his mouth smugly. “Mmm,” he sighed. “So good. I believe they call this getting your mousse and eating it too.”

“Don't talk with your mouth full,” Ryan advised, wagging his spoon at him.

“Sure thing, Mom.”

“You catch on fast kid.”

Brendon gaped at him. “Wait, kid? I'm one year younger than you, not ten!”

“You learn a lot between twenty one and twenty two. I would know,” Ryan stated. “I am twenty two after all. And you're not. So you wouldn't know anyway.”

“This is so not fair,” Brendon sighed.

“Eat your mousse.” Ryan finished up the last of his hurriedly. “My break's over, so I have to go. But I'm getting paid after this, so we'll go buy stuff.”

“Stuff?” Brendon asked, suspiciously.

“Yeah. Felt like being vague. It's less exciting than you'd think.” Ryan stood up and nodded at him, then darted toward the kitchens. Brendon watched the tall, thin man as he went.

Great. Now he wanted to know where they were going afterward.

*

“Look at my pretty pay check,” Ryan said, happily, as he waved his envelope around in Brendon's face. “We get to eat tonight! But I can't account for the remaining nights this week.”

“I can live off noodles if the need arises,” Brendon offered. “Or we can turn into Aladdin-esque thieves. I'm sure there will be some comical policeman to chase us. Now all we need is a monkey...”

“We both know that you're the monkey, Bren.”

Brendon glared at him. “Just for that, I'm not helping you with my tail.”

Ryan shrugged at him. “I don't need your tail, I have money.” He returned to waving the envelope around like a child.

“Keep that away from these people, New York is mean,” Brendon said, snatching Ryan's hand down. “Trust me, meanest streets there are.”

“What, you've had experience here? Did you get stuff stolen from you?”

Brendon didn't reply, but instead offered a shrug that meant almost nothing to Ryan.

“Being robbed would suck when you're homeless.”

“Nothing to steal when you're homeless,” Brendon pointed out. “Nothing to lose, as they say.”

“So what, you just randomly felt like saying that New York streets are mean? You are one odd kid, you know that?”

“Not a kid,” Brendon said, his teeth clenched.

“Right, sorry.”

The pair walked out of Lights, and Ryan noticed Brendon glance once over his shoulder, back at the ceiling.

Ryan lead Brendon down the street for a few minutes, before Brendon piped up, “Where is it we're going again?”

“I thought I said I was being vague?”

“You said you were being pointlessly vague,” Brendon said. “So I thought you'd tell me.”

Ryan shrugged. “True. We're going to the supermarket, to buy said food that we're going to eat tonight. I hope you're a bargain hunter, Brendon, because we're going to need it.”

“Well... uh, kind of,” Brendon replied, nervously. “Not sure what classifies as a good bargain hunter.”

“We'll test your skills when we get there.”

“Looking forward to it.”

Ryan banked his check, then they walked into the vast mall and started in search of the department store within.

“This is the cheapest place around,” Ryan said as they passed various clothes stores. “So, sorry about the walk, we're gonna be carrying a lot of shit back to my place.”

“Oh, so that's how you work your muscles in this place,” Brendon said. “No exercising, just grocery shopping.”

“That's exactly how it's done in the big city,” Ryan confirmed with a nod. “Look, in here.”

They turned into the giant store and began to weave throughout the aisles in search of something they needed.

“What are we looking for?” Brendon asked.

“You may just have to abandon your healthy diet,” Ryan warned. “Lots of packaged shit. Can't afford to be losing stuff in the first few days. So a little fruit, some bread, but most of it comes in a nice packet. Looking forward to it?”

“Can't wait.”

Ryan picked up two packets of biscuits and chucked them in their basket. “So, Bren,” he said. “You're good with getting a job then?”

“Yeah, of course,” Brendon responded. “Anything to help.”

“Do you know what you want to do?”

Brendon started inspecting the crackers closely as he shrugged. “No, I don't really.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow at him, then nodded. “Well, what did you want to be when you were a kid?”

Brendon's face broke into a grin at the thought of it. “I wanted to be either a rock star or an astronaut,” he said. “Nothing else, those were the only options I'd consider.”

“Are those still the only options you'd consider?”

“I'm a little more open now. Just a little.”

“How'd you do in school?”

Brendon scratched the back of his head nervously. “Well, I kind of left. I'm a high school drop out, really. Doesn't exactly work as well as I thought it would.”

“Sorry, Bren.” Ryan patted him sympathetically on the shoulder as he shook his head. “We might have to go into low-class jobs for you. No office managers or astronauts for you.”

“Makes me feel like a teenager again.”

“You're only barely not a teenager.”

Brendon snorted. “Like you can talk.”

“The twenty second year is an incredibly important year, you learn a lot of things,” Ryan snapped. “Now, accept my maturity, dammit.”

Grinning, Brendon said, “Yeah, because mature adults command people to accept their maturity.”

“They sure do. And they follow it up with 'dammit'.”

Ryan glanced down the glowing aisle as the fluorescent lights buzzed above them, then began to walk toward the next one. Brendon hurried along behind him.

“You could work here,” Ryan suggested.

“And have you coming here all the time and trying to get discounts off me?” Brendon snorted. “Yeah right! I don't need that kind of pressure!”

“You're ruining my plans here. Well, I'm sure there's loads of places around here you can find a job... We'll work on it.”