THE ADVENTURES OF FRANK AND RYAN

9

RYAN IS IN the kitchen having a silent existential crisis when Grey walks in, stealing a tortilla chip from the bowl he just filled.

"No," Ryan says, swatting Grey's hand away. "Wait until people actually start showing up. We can't have a repeat of what happened last time."

Grey rolls his eyes but obeys, instead making for the fridge. "Whatever. We could just buy more chips, you know. It's not that hard."

"Right. If it's so easy, you can go out in the pelting rain to get them from the corner store."

"Stop being so dramatic," Grey says, taking a bite out of the pear he withdrew from the fridge.

"Stop eating all the food!" Ryan crumples up the empty chip bag in his hand, slamming it into the trash can with more aggression that he knew he had in him.

"Whoa there, buddy," Grey says, holding his hands up defensively. "Who peed in your cheerios this morning?"

Ryan sighs, his hands flopping to his sides as he shuffles towards the pantry. "Sorry, I'm just really on edge."

Grey quirks a brow, hopping onto the kitchen counter, eyes squinted at Ryan. He lets his feet bang against the cabinets beneath him as he chews on his bottom lip in thought. Ryan hesitantly opens a bag of Cheetos, feeling awkward under Grey's prying gaze, slowly setting it down on the counter besides the bowl of tortilla chips. He always does this—this staring thing. Sometimes Ryan feels like he's being watched by a hawk in his own apartment. It's unnerving.

"You know what?" Grey says, breaking the silence. "You should make some of your guac. Francis would probably like that."

Ryan chokes on air, wheezing with mild hysteria at the thought. "Oh my god. Grey. No. I can't do that. Guac has been permanently removed from my menu. Also, just because he's Mexican doesn't mean he automatically likes guac. Don't be racist."

Grey rolls his eyes, speaking around a mouthful of pear. "I'm just trying to help." He takes a few more bites of the fruit until he's down to the core, holding it up for Ryan. "Here, something to take the edge off."

Snorting, Ryan says, "Grey, I swear to god. Stop trying to meme at me."

He hops off the counter, landing silently, like a cat. "It worked though, right? The edge is all gone. I can see it in your face."

Ryan shakes his head, reaching for a bowl in the cabinet above him. "Go get changed or something. You're being annoying."

"What's wrong with sweatpants?" Grey asks, frowning down at his clothes. "If anything, you should be the one getting changed, what with wanting to impress Francis and all."

Ryan scoffs, but it's very half-assed, a blatant cover up for all the screaming going on inside his head. "I, what, no. Please. No. You, however. Mai-ly, was it? Or Juni? Yeah? Don't go pinning your girl problems on me."

"First," Grey says, "Mai-ly and Juni are two different people—you should know this by now, it's been months. Second, I'd rather date you if it meant not having to date them. Third, how can I possibly pin my girl problems on you when Francis is a boy? Your entire logic doesn't make sense."

"You'd date me?"

"Ryan, I swear to God, if that's all you got out of what I said, I'm going to pour those Cheetos down your pants."

"Oh, really? I dare you. You won't." Ryan laughs to himself as Grey approaches, snatching the bag out of his hand, intent written all over his face. He stalks after Ryan, who giggles like a child on a playground, hopping over the couch and getting his foot caught on the back, causing him to fall over and land halfway onto the carpet. Just as Grey moves to tackle Ryan, there's a knock on the door, and he pauses his pursuit, instead throwing the bag at Ryan. Cheetos land all over Ryan's white shirt, orange powder sticking to him like dirt as the chips roll across the couch.