Late Nights and Hotel Rooms

They're in Memphis on a Monday, and the sun is hanging low enough in the sky that the bottoms of the clouds look as if they've caught fire. Frank tries to stare at them in vain, squinting his eyes and tilting his head every which way to get the least offensive angle.

"You trying to blind yourself?" Ray asks, stepping outside of the convenience store a couple of feet away and lowering his sun glasses onto his nose. He twists the cap off of a bottle of beer and chugs back a sip or two. Frank turns his head just in time to greedily track the progress of a lone drop of water as it slips down the side of the bottle. In the sweltering heat of the Summer, the condensation that gathers on anything cold is immense enough that Frank feels his throat drying up at just the thought.

"Hm," Frank murmurs absently, aware that this is not really an answer. He goes back to staring at the sky with half-closed eyes, narrowly avoiding direct contact with the sun's rays. Even like this, as it's settling low on the horizon, the intensity is enough to damn near blind a man.

Ray walks up to him and passes the beer into Frank's hands. He opens a new one in the same motion and tosses it over to Mikey who has just stepped out onto the sizzling tarmac of the parking lot.

They drink in companionable silence for a while, and by the time their bottles are empty, there isn't much sunlight left. Ray and Mikey pile into the bus shortly thereafter, both wearing identical expressions of drowsiness and content. Frank watches them leave with a small smile and decides to hang around outside for a little while longer.

None of them know where Gerard is at the moment. He's a big boy, Frank is aware, but he's also a recovering alcoholic who used to go on benders that would last for days. Everyone is scared of something; it just so happens Frank's fear is losing his best friend to cheap booze and a couple lines of cocaine. Again.

For what it's worth, his worrying turns out to be pretty silly and short-lived. Gerard comes ambling up to the bus fifteen minutes later with a smug smile on his face and eyes that are almost too lucid.

"What're you so happy about?" Frank snorts, unable to keep his relief from brightening the small smile at his lips.

"Art supplies," Gerard replies triumphantly, holding up the paper bag like he won it in a boxing match.

Frank's eyebrows go up a little bit, and he shakes his head in that way that says 'only Gerard'. "Loser," he coughs out fondly.

"I got them for cheap!" Gerard says defensively, flicking Frank's temple and leaning besides him on the side of the bus. He flinches a little at the heat of the metal that had been out in the sun all day long, and Frank takes that moment to steal the small bag from Gerard's hands.

He reaches in and pulls out the first five items he touches.

"Those are really good markers," Gerard says proudly, "the best on the market."

Frank makes a noncommittal noise of interest and leans in to closer inspect the labels. The markers have the kind of exotic, pretty-sounding names that promise a high price. They're called Saffron Yellow, Permanent Rose, Royal Indigo, Chrome Orange, and Ultra Violet. He opens all of them at once and draws a small streak of color with each one on his forearm. Gerard watches warily, but otherwise keeps silent.

When Frank is done, he puts the markers back and lifts his arm up above his head. His skin is a mess of criss-crossing color against the backdrop of an equally multi-colored sky. He looks over at Gerard and without a word is abruptly sure that they both understand. Gerard had bought the colors of the sunset.