THE ADVENTURES OF FRANK AND RYAN

7

WHAT AN IDIOT. Shani can't come, though. Could he have made it any more obvious?

Ryan kicks the sidewalk with the toe of his shoe, grumbling to himself as he walks down the unfamiliar streets of Chinatown, not quite remembering how to get back to campus. He was in such a hurry to reach Francis, he couldn't bother to take note of any landmarks as he stared at the GPS on his phone, navigating his way to the tea parlour.

Francis. God, he can't even think his name. Francis, Frank, Shani's boyfriend—maybe. No, his brain fights back. Definitely her boyfriend.

But really though?

Yes. Did you see the way they were touching?

He lets out a sigh, shaking his head with a little too much aggression. Boys and girls touch, right? That doesn't automatically mean they're together. But Francis. Francis. Only he can touch Francis.

No. He's not your property. Stop.

Ryan wants to scream. He doesn't understand where this attitude is coming from. He doesn't understand how this boy—this boy he barely knows—can have so much control over his emotions without trying, let alone realizing it. He doesn't understand why he can't stop thinking about Francis's extremely boyish hands, the dark brown roots peeking out of his bleach blonde hair, his arm around Shani....

"Oh my god, shut up," Ryan says, earning a look from a passerby holding hands with a toddler who blinks at him over the thumb in her mouth.

He wishes he could talk to someone about this—this obsession. There's no way Grey would take him seriously without getting really uncomfortable (just the notion of sharing feelings freaks him out), and he can't think of anyone else worth telling. Sure, people love him—it's a known fact that he's very sociable—but they love the surface of Ryan, waiter Ryan, the Ryan who beams at strangers and says hello to anyone who looks vaguely familiar. Only Grey knows the Ryan whose dream is to pursue a career in veterinary medicine but can't get a grade higher than a C in a science class, the Ryan who watches Animal Planet to cope with this fact, the Ryan that prefers a few close friends over several acquaintances, but somehow ended up with the latter. There are so many people he could easily talk to, really, but just because he can doesn't mean he wants to. He specializes in conversations built on superficiality, small talk that most people forget about in a matter of minutes after leaving, emotionless interaction. Pathetic.

What makes Francis different than any other passing acquaintance? Because he actually talks to him outside of school and work hours? So does Grey. He's never felt this conflicted about Grey, though.

Maybe it's because Francis actually put effort into talking to Ryan. Though Ryan always initiates conversations, Francis takes his time to respond, using more than three words, sentences that sound real, not generated by formalities or talking computers. Or, at least, compared to Grey, anyway. But is Grey worth comparing to anyone? He knows Ryan better than other people, sure, but was that a choice he made? Ryan did kind of push their friendship without realizing it....

Whatever. He focuses on finding his way back to campus, not having any sense of direction, only knowing that if he walks for some time, he'll eventually see something he recognizes. His attention span quickly disintegrates, and next thing he knows he's thinking about Francis again.

Francis, Francis, Francis, Francis, he thinks with each step he takes. Francis. Francis and Shani. Francis and Ryan. Fryan. He smiles to himself at the thought, momentarily forgetting he should be embarrassed right now.

Then again, it's too late to be embarrassed now. He invited Francis over to movie night—which Grey will undoubtedly fume over—and the more he thinks about his mistakes, the more they'll seep into his bones, slowly dissolve his body, make him unable to follow through on his determination to impress Francis. He's never had to work to impress anybody before. This is definitely going to be a time-consuming task.

Ryan decides he's done with over-thinking his emotions. At least, for the time being. He'll just have to ask his mom for advice later or something. God, to think all he has to turn to is his mom.

Walking right into a fire hydrant, he comes to the conclusion that he definitely needs to get out of his head. He's receiving way too many passing glances, and he should be focusing on his surroundings and getting back to his apartment, anyway. Tonight is his turn to make dinner (not that Grey ever follows through with their alternating cooking routine, anyway) and he wants as much time as possible to get it right.

"Hey," he suddenly says, pointing at the fire hydrant he recognizes as the one he always runs into, "I know you." Yet another head turns to look his way.

Honestly, you really need to work on keeping your thoughts in your head, he hears Grey's voice remind him as he makes to cross the street. It freaks me out sometimes.

Well, you freak me out sometimes, was his response, but all it caused was a brief breath of laughter from Grey.

Seems like you also need to work on defending yourself.

Ryan crosses his arms over his chest as he thinks about the exchange, hopping onto the sidewalk. He tries to ignore the little voice in him saying that Grey is always right, that he should listen to him. He should really talk to Grey about all of this.

You're cycling through the same thoughts again.

"Okay," he says out loud, "fine, I'll stop." Then, after receiving a glare from a passing old man, "Sorry. Sorry, I'm not talking to you."

He throws a hand up to his head, running it through his cropped hair, trying to hide his face from the staring elderly, from the world. What an idiot. 

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hoohoohooooo look at us go. it's ray here, dropping the latest, short-ass, not-worthy chapter of fryan