THE ADVENTURES OF FRANK AND RYAN

1

Grey is talking about his band again. Ryan gladly listens, but his mind is a little distant, trying to guess what the next customer to walk in is going to look like. This is the most he's heard from Grey since the birth of their friendship, but it's getting a little repetitive, not that Ryan will ever tell him that. He's happy to hear Grey talk about something other than his dislike for other people, so he lets him continue without interruption.

"We're so close to being able to start productive practices, but we could still use a rhythm guitarist," Grey goes on, doodling mindlessly with a pen on a receipt a customer chose not to take with them, his dark hair flopping over his equally-dark eyebrows. "A new lead singer would be ideal, too. Like, don't get me wrong, I think Mai-ly's good, but she's never sung anywhere that wasn't the shower before now, so she's hesitant to sing loudly. Not to mention, it's kind of hard to sing and play the drums simultaneously."

Ryan nods in response, cupping his chin in his hands as he leans over the counter next to the cash register. He pulls his bottom lip with his fingers absentmindedly as he stares at the door. A study group that came in a couple hours earlier talks animatedly as they leave, and Ryan is so focused on the bright pink hair of one of the girls in the group that he barely notices the boy who enters, moving against the current of the sea of exiting people. Ryan immediately straightens up in preparation for customer-employee interaction, but the boy looks briefly in his direction before immediately veering left, in the direction of the bathroom. Oh, one of those customers, Ryan thinks to himself, before shrugging and returning to his slouched over position. Grey is still talking.

"Maybe you should put up a poster somewhere," Ryan suggests, more to contribute to the conversation than anything. He doesn't even realize his idea is actually sort of good until Grey smiles a little. Ryan beams back.

"That's not a bad idea," Grey says. Then, as an afterthought, "Thanks." This makes Ryan smile more. Seeing Grey happy is enough to make his day.

Ryan decides to tidy up the counter to pass time. Grey continues to doodle. It's mid-afternoon, so the sluggish atmosphere of the café isn't surprising. Grey likes these shifts because they're so slow, but Ryan would much rather work during the morning rush or open mic evenings. He thrives in social scenes, getting to know people, talking until his throat feels raw. The only reason he ever takes the slow shifts is to accompany Grey, who always insists that he's fine alone. Ryan knows better than that.

"What if we only get a response from some weirdo who thinks they know how to play the guitar but actually can't?" Grey asks after a couple of minutes of quiet, eyebrows furrowed. He crumples the pen-graffitied receipt into a ball and tosses it into the trash can beneath the counter.

"Sounds like you just described yourself," Ryan says with a grin.

Grey's face falls with annoyance. "Ha. That was a good one."

"Thanks," Ryan chirps, before genuinely contemplating Grey's question. "Worst comes to worst, you hold auditions, and if only one weirdo shows up, you let them audition, tell them they failed, then start all over." Ryan shrugs as if this were the easiest problem to solve in the world.

Grey rolls his eyes at Ryan's nonchalance, but says nothing. Then, so quietly that they almost don't hear:

"May I ask what you're holding auditions for?" Ryan takes a moment to register the fact that someone is talking to them, and when he does, his head immediately turns in the direction of the voice, on the other side of the counter. It's the bathroom boy.

"Oh, it's nothing," Grey immediately says dismissively. He's barely looking at the guy, and Ryan feels bad for him.

"By nothing, he means for his band," Ryan adds, receiving a pointed look from Grey he's learned to understand as Dude, what the fuck. Ryan blinks in response—his equivalent of someone rolling their eyes.