THE ADVENTURES OF FRANK AND RYAN

10

          "WHERE'S LESTAT," FRANCIS says, his voice a drawl. "I miss Lestat. Bring back Lestat."

Ryan is resting his head on Francis's chest, he mumbles something back, and his voice reverberates through Francis's chest, settling somewhere in his heart. Everything looks so much softer, and his head is spinning. Francis doesn't know if it's because of the alcohol or because of Ryan.

Grey, Mai-Ly and Juni are in the kitchen, eating chips, making conversation. At least Mai-ly and Juni are. Grey is fuming silently, crushing chips in his fist, looking like he'd rather be crushing Francis's head.

Between Francis and Ryan, they've managed to finish the two cases of beer. Ryan re-adjusts himself, so he's sitting upright. He's fooling no one, though. He's completely fucking smashed. Wrecked. Wasted. His eyes are glassy as he stares at the TV screen, and every so often, he clutches at Francis anytime anything of importance happens.

Now, Ryan's hand rests on Francis's shoulder. Claudia is turning to stone. Francis is looking at Ryan's hand. It's a very friendly-looking hand. A hand you can trust. He wants to hold it.

Instead, he looks at Ryan.

"You know," Francis says, not even sure if Ryan can hear him or not. "You remind me of someone."

"Yeah?" Ryan says, and turns to look at him, his gaze blurred. He is so, so, drunk. "Who do I remind you of?"

"Louis," Francis says.

Ryan's brow creases into a confused frown. Francis wants to put a thumb to his forehead and smooth it out.

"Louis, as in, Brad Pitt's character?" Ryan asks.

Louis is setting things on fire now.

"Ye-a-ah. You've got that strong moral compass—" Francis puts a hand on Ryan's chest— "always doing the right thing—" he stares at Ryan's lap— "and kinda, kinda cute."

Someone in the movie is dying. They're not even paying attention to the movie anymore, and at this point, Francis doesn't care.

Ryan squints blearily at Francis, his mouth parted, his tongue peeking out of his lips, and he says, "What?"

"You know," Francis says, circling a finger on Ryan's shoulder, "you're nice-looking. Thought I made that clear."

"Huh," Ryan says. He smiles, very slowly. "Did you."

A chair scrapes the floor, too loud for them to ignore. Ryan and Francis both turn to look at Grey who is stomping over to the television, his mouth pressed into an angry line.

"That's it," Grey says, switching off the television. "Movie night's over."

The last thing Francis sees on the screen is Lestat's disheveled face.

Ryan pouts. "Grey, you killjoy."

Somewhere, in the distance, Mai-ly and Juni are laughing.

"Everybody go home," Grey says, glaring at Francis, and Frank is sober enough to know that when Grey says everybody, he really means Francis.

If there's one good trait Francis has learnt during his brief life, it's that don't loiter when you're drunk and not wanted. You can loiter and be either, but you can't loiter and be both.