Lights

A week earlier, Brendon had skulked up to the McDonald's counter and hesitantly requested an application form. Ryan had laughed as Brendon had snatched it rudely from the employee and tried to offer a smile to make up for it, then ran back to Ryan's side while panting as if it had been some huge mission.

“Got it,” he had said victoriously, waving the piece of paper in Ryan's face. “You won't be the only one with a job soon.”

At home, Ryan had pulled a ball point pen from one of the piles of something, seeming to have known exactly where it was despite the fact that it had been buried amongst completely unrelated items. They had then sat down on the couch beside each other, Brendon leaning the application on the coffee table, and gone through each of the requirements. Brendon poked the tongue out of the side of his mouth as he worked his scrawled hand-writing, something he obviously hadn't practised for a while. His hand moved awkwardly, and his letters were block-ish.

Then Ryan had returned Brendon's application on the way to Lights one morning, when Brendon decided he really wanted to sleep in.

The pair of them waited patiently, trying not to think of the fact that, at this point, McDonald's was their only plan. The newspaper turned into confetti for a second time, Brendon crossing his arms stubbornly as he realised he wasn't about to find anything much better.

After the week of waiting without mentioning a word of it, the phone rang. It was an incredibly strange, annoying noise that echoed through the room and almost made the pair of them jump out of their skin. For the two weeks that Brendon had been living in Ryan's apartment, he had never heard the phone ring, and the sound was almost foreign. Ryan glanced around in confusion, following the horrible noise with his brow furrowed as he thought. He tip-toed through the house as if this would help, before finally finding the phone under a t-shirt that had been lurking up against the wall.

He picked it up and spoke a hesitant, “Hello?”

Brendon watched him curiously as Ryan's eyebrows untied and started to climb his forehead ever so slightly. Ryan pushed himself down so he was sitting, leaning both his elbows against his knees with the phone hanging loosely by his ear.

“Okay,” he said, with a definitive nod despite the fact that Brendon was the only one who could see him. “Okay, thank you – thank you very much.”

A few seconds later, Ryan replaced the phone very carefully and hugged his arms around his knees. He then turned his head to see Brendon, who was leaning over the arm of the couch on all fours.

“Well, Brendon,” Ryan said, a smile enveloping his features. “Looks like you got yourself an interview.”

“Yes!” Brendon cheered, instantly pushing himself up so that he was standing with his arms in the air. He did a dance that mostly involved a provocative hip swing then leapt over the back of the couch with a heroic yell. “I got an interview! I'm being interviewed to work at McDonald's!”

“You got an interview!” Ryan shouted back, also jumping to his feet and joining Brendon in dancing around in circles. The pair swung around on each other's wrists for a moment, before Ryan said, “Celebratory ice cream!”

“We have ice cream?” Brendon asked, astonished.

“Well, not here,” Ryan said quickly. “But if you're not opposed to walking a little, then ice cream will be in order.”

Brendon's eyes lit up with excitement. “Fuck yeah!” He dashed out of the room and returned while in the process of trying to pull a zipped up hoodie over his head. His arms flailed oddly like a puppet's in the air for a second before he finally managed to get it, and he pulled it down over his stomach.

“This is fucking awesome!”

“You're like a child or something,” Ryan said with a grin.

“No kid jokes,” Brendon threatened, already on his way out the door.

The pair of them raced each other down the apartment stares, shoving each other against the walls and railing in an attempt to push past each other into the lead. Ryan almost tumbled down the stairs but quickly regained his balance with a flailing kick of his gangly, thin legs.

“I'm gonna have chocolate ice cream,” Brendon said once they had broke through the doors into the street. He twirled in a circle happily. “With sprinkles, yeah!”

“Shake it up,” Ryan countered, taking in a deep breath to regain his composure. His feet were stumbling around beneath him as a result of his enthusiasm. “Get something exciting!”

“What, you're talking to me about exciting?” Brendon snorted. “No way!”

“Look, when it comes to ice cream, I am one daring man,” Ryan said, matter-of-factly, patting his chest. “You may be good at getting yourself drunk and fucking up your brain and talking to people or whatever, but I know how to live through sugary treats.”

“Your mother would be proud.”

“Oh hell she is.” Ryan smirked happily, his lips upturned like a cat's.

Brendon had a certain bounce to his step as they walked, almost to the extent that he was skipping. Ryan placed his hand on his shoulder in order to try calm him, but this just made Brendon bounce more in order to get himself off the ground.

“You're ruining my high!” Brendon complained.

“You'll get it back through ice cream, I'm just trying to prepare myself!”

“Pfft, you're trying to ruin it on purpose, you Grinch!”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Who's buying you ice cream?”

“... You are,” Brendon responded with a grumpy expression on his face. “I can't wait to have my own money, I won't have to put up with you pulling that card all the time.”

“And whose house are you living in?” Ryan added.

“Ry! Shut up!”

“Just making sure you know who's boss.”

Brendon crossed his arms and stuck his nose in the air, and spent the rest of the walk very obviously ignoring Ryan with phrases like, “Oh, sorry, what was that? The wind?”

The ignoring only lasted for a short while though, for as soon as they had entered the ice cream parlour, Brendon was scouting through the flavours with his finger dragging across the glass and his nose as close as he could have it without actually touching it.

“Look at that, Ry!” Brendon cried, stabbing at the glass enthusiastically. “It's got lolly bits in it – but oh! Orange chocolate chip! And mint chocolate chip! Fuck, that one looks like the most amazing chocolate-y mess I have actually ever seen...”

“All right, all right,” Ryan said with a grin on his face. “What do you want, Bren?”

Brendon turned to gape at him with his mouth open. “What do I want?” he repeated. “Are you kidding me? How am I supposed to choose?”

The woman behind the counter was looking at Brendon with an extremely amused look on her face. She quickly smothered away her laughter, then regained her composure to face Ryan with a slight upward tilt to her lips.

“Hey,” Ryan greeted, sounding rather sheepish. “I guess he hasn't been in one of these places for a while – yes, Brendon, that flavour has existed for a while.”

Brendon poked his tongue out and resumed gazing along the rows of ice cream flavours. “Aha!” he shouted in a final, triumphant manner. “This is want I want, Ryan.”

Ryan peered in. “If you're sure.”

“Positive. I haven't had it in a long time.”

Ryan turned to the employee then said, “One mint chocolate chip and one cookies and cream, please.”

He passed the payment across the counter in a mess of change with a slightly apologetic look, then took the two cones and passed the cookies and cream one to Brendon.

They exited the store with content smiles on their faces.

“This is the best reward for an interview ever,” Brendon sighed, licking the base of his ice cream. “I have no idea what you'll do if I actually get the job.”

“Nothing,” Ryan replied, with a shrug. “I just really felt like ice cream and needed an excuse to get some. But we'll actually be able to afford food and stuff, so there will be eventual benefits to your job.”

“Pfft, eventual,” Brendon snorted. “I much prefer this. And just because I'm nice, I'll consider this a reward for actually getting the job as well.”

“You'd better.”

*

“Nervous?” Ryan asked, though he knew he probably shouldn't have. He and Brendon were sitting on the couch with some sitcom blaring from the television, obnoxious laughter following.

Brendon's knee was bopping up and down as his eyes focused directly on the screen, though his lip barely twitched during the jokes. His fingers were picking at the threads in his jeans, and Ryan noticed that his shoulders were a little tense.

“No,” Brendon squeaked in reply. “I'm perfectly fine.”

“You should be,” Ryan said. “You know you'll do fine, yeah? I mean, you even have a resume now. And face it, you're very infectious, they'll love you.”

Brendon frowned. “I have practically no experience at all, why would they hire me?”

“Because you're free every single minute of the week and have worked in a doughnut shop before,” Ryan replied. “And you know what? That does actually mean something. It's McDonald's, remember?”

Brendon nodded quickly.

Ryan leaned over to peer at the clock on the kitchen counter. “You know, you'd better go soon.”

“Aren't you gonna come with me?”

“Sure, I'll come.” Ryan stood up and stretched his arms out, hearing his shoulders click. “But we're gonna leave now. Be punctual and stuff.”

“Punctual,” Brendon repeated with a nod, though Ryan wasn't sure if he had actually took in anything Ryan had just said.

Brendon wasn't half as excitable and jumpy as usually was as they walked toward the nearby McDonald's. In fact, he was uncharacteristically quiet, and Ryan actually had to force words out of him with direct, open-ended questions, or else they sunk into a conversation of only yes and no.

“Remember, Bren,” Ryan said, “just take deep breaths. A little nervousness is okay, but don't freak out. They're not gonna eat you. And beside, what's the worst thing that can happen, right?”

“I could throw up on them,” Brendon responded.

“And never see them again after that? Not too bad. Or have to see them when you get the job – also not too bad. You'd be getting paid for the humiliation after all.”

Brendon glanced at him sceptically. “You know, just because you say it, and just because it makes sense... Well, that doesn't make it easy to put into practise.”

“I know, Bren.” Ryan grinned. “I almost fainted during my interview. But seriously, you're a people person, why is this such a big thing?”

“I haven't had a job in years.”

“Exactly how long have you been homeless?”

Brendon narrowed his eyes in a glower. “Please, do not make this conversation about that, I'm freaking out enough as it is, I don't need you asking probing questions along with it.”

Ryan just nodded and they shrunk back into silence.

They soon approached the entrance of the fast food outlet, and Ryan opened the door so Brendon could enter on his shaky legs. Brendon approached the counter awkwardly and was escorted away by someone trying to look official in the yellow and black uniform (complete with hat) and failing. Ryan wasn't quite sure what to do, so he ordered a kid's fries and sat down at one of the tables to slowly munch on them contentedly.

Brendon, from Ryan's observations, was an extrovert. Ryan had never seen him happier than when they had reached the bar, and he'd never seen him looking forward to something so much. Sure, they hadn't known each other that long, but Ryan knew that the peaceful life he lived didn't quite satisfy Brendon's need for people and things and loudness. Ryan wasn't quite sure why Brendon insisted staying with him at all, but while he didn't seem necessarily satisfied with not getting the bar scene as much as he'd like, that wasn't to say he didn't seem happy with Ryan. He would smile for hours when they talked, and watch television and sleep on the painful couch and never complain. Maybe, because Brendon was such a people person, he could live with getting constant attention from Ryan. They were together all the time.

Ryan had never had much experience with friends, but he was pretty sure this was what qualified as 'best friends'. Even if they had only known each other for a fortnight. Surely you could get attached to someone that fast?

It must have been possible, because Brendon had already become the reason Ryan came home each day.

*

Brendon bounced out of the hallway he had gone down a lot happier that he had looked when he left. The familiar smile was on his face as he nodded and shook hands with the employee, then quickly found Ryan. He darted over to his table and sat down.

“So, how'd it go?” Ryan asked, trying to hide the huge grin on his face at the change in composure within such a short time.

“It went good!” Brendon replied, nodding his head enthusiastically. “It was kind of horrible when I first went in there, but you know. They were nice and they even laughed at something I said!”

“Go you!” Ryan raised his hand and Brendon dove into the high five without a second thought.

“Fuck yeah!” Brendon said, then quickly quietened his voice as he realised there was an awful lot of toddlers wandering around that didn't need to hear this language. In a lower tone, he added, “We are so getting an acceptance phone call in the next few days.”

“Glad to see you're back to your normal, confident self.”

“Me too! I was worried there for a while.”

*

The next day, Brendon was up when Ryan entered the room. He was sitting upright on the couch with the blanket over his knee and a half-eaten sandwich sitting on a plate he held absent-mindedly in his hands. The television was on, but the volume was quiet, and Brendon wasn't even focusing on the flickering pictures on screen at all. Instead, he was gazing on the phone that was now settled on the table, perfectly parallel to the edges. The rest of the stuff that had been on the table was in a pile on the floor.

“How long have you been up?” Ryan asked, causing Brendon to jump in surprise and almost throw his sandwich onto the couch.

Brendon quickly saved the bread and pushed it back onto his plate, glancing at Ryan with a tired grin.

“I dunno, just a little while. I couldn't really sleep. Why won't this damn thing ring?”

“I don't think they ring back this fast,” Ryan replied, slipping into the kitchen. “They like to keep their potential employees on their toes, I hear. They drive you completely insane by not getting back to you, and just when you're about to go throw yourself into a closet and never come out, they finally ring you and tell you you've got the job. In a totally offhand sort of way, as if they didn't know you just spent the past seventy two hours slaving away by the phone, but they totally did.”

Brendon stared at Ryan with a blank expression. “I'm going to go throw myself in a closet?”

Ryan's face fell. “That was what you picked up from that rant?”

“Yes. What was that? Some sort of gay joke?”

“Well, no, I was thinking more about Narnia actually...”

Brendon's face broke into a grin. “Your mind is one weird place.”

“I will neither confirm nor deny that,” Ryan said with a shrug, as he started to make a bowl of fruit loops. “Now, is there room on that couch for someone else to stare imploringly at the phone.”

Brendon glanced at the large gaps on either side of him. “Yeah, I think there is, but I'm not really sure.”

“Haha. There better be, or else I may accidentally spill my milk on you.”

“That's an incredibly cruel threat, Ryan, but it doesn't work considering this is your blanket, and these are your clothes...” Brendon grinned as he pulled the shirt away from his skin, the material bunched up in his fist.

“I should have known that would've come back to bite me in the ass,” Ryan grumbled as he poured in the milk. He walked across the room and sat down next to Brendon cautiously, making sure to keep his bowl full of milk away from Brendon.

“That worked surprisingly well,” Brendon grinned.

*

“Ring, fuck you, ring!”

Brendon slammed his head against the coffee table's surface a few times as he kneeled on the carpet, his face level with the phone.

“Brendon, I am not paying for another table,” Ryan warned. “You break that, we have to eat off the floor. And now that you're on the couch, that's where most of my stuff is.”

Brendon groaned loudly and agonisingly, and leaned his forehead on the table's surface again. “Why won't it ring?”

“I told you – they're cruel people who want to see you suffer and go to Narnia,” Ryan replied.

“God, do I really want to work for these people?” Brendon wondered aloud. “I mean, what if they do this with my raise? Watch me resort to the closet before going, 'hey, here's an extra dollar fifty!'”

“That's just stupid, Brendon,” Ryan snorted. “You'll stop caring by then, jobs do that to you. You won't resort to the closet until you're applying for your next one.”

“Ring!” Brendon started begging again. “Ring, for the love of God, please ring!”

The phone suddenly started blaring, its high-pitched screaming forcing both Ryan and Brendon to jump, startled. Brendon lurched away from the coffee table and fell backwards with his legs crossed in the air, and Ryan grabbed the blanket to his face for protection.

“I need to turn that goddamn phone down,” Ryan sighed. “It scares the shit out of me.”

Brendon scrambled back upright and crawled over to the phone, sitting over it with a hesitant look. He picked it up slowly, then hurriedly brought it to his ear. “Hello?”

Brendon looked thoughtful for the next few minutes, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he listened intently to the person on the other line. Ryan splayed himself out over the couch on his stomach, his face near Brendon's, watching his reactions.

Suddenly, Brendon's face broke into a smile, though he was trying to purse his lips together to smother it. He started nodding a long with his words, a series of, “mmhmm”s and, “okay”s.

He hung up and exchanged a look with Ryan.

“Ice cream's on me!” he shouted suddenly, springing into the air and starting to dance around. “Holy shit, I have a job for the first time in... God!”

Ryan sprang up as well and they danced around again, the night feeling very synonymous to the one where they had discovered he got the interview.

“This is so awesome!” Ryan gasped, his eyes alight. “You have money! We can live!”

“We can live!” Brendon repeated, heroically, sticking his chest out and placing his hands on his hips.

“Jeez, this is great!” Ryan was hopping around on the spot now, shaking his hands. “I mean, we can live. So you can stay for ages – a long time! We'll be room mates for like, forever!”

“Room mates forever!” Brendon repeated again.

“This is so exciting, I've never had a room mate before.” Ryan paused. “What do we do now?”

Brendon also stopped, then shrugged. “Well... I guess we just go back to doing whatever we were doing before. That's room mate stuff, right?”

“Yeah... I guess it is. Awesome!”