On your knees // Bandom

1. When The Day Met The Night

Ryan figured that getting lost in this church was a good indication of how little time he actually spent there.

It was his racist aunts funeral, and he had left to go to the bathroom and now had no idea which of the identical oak rooms was his.

Trying a door at random, he paused, it was dark and he needed a second to let his eyes adjust. Clearly, it was almost empty and therefore not his own. But his eyes fixed on a boy about his own age kneeling on the worn carpet and praying.

Ryan had to be a terrible person for listening in, but he did anyway, the boy oblivious to the quiet swing of the door and his new company.

From what he could hear, for the room echoed weirdly, the guy was also unused to praying. Ryan heard an innuendo, then a 'fuck' and it was almost comical, but the tone wasn't funny, the tone was broken. He almost felt responsible now, that if he left he'd leave this kid to suffer alone. Maybe he was just curious beyond politeness.

Then the guy came out and Ryan stopped his deliberating. He just watched as the boy asked God to 'wish him luck' and stood up, like the unexperienced catholic he was. The guy turned round, and Ryan almost laughed at his 'Frankie says Xanax' shirt. But this was a church, and Ryan didn't know him, yet.

"Hey"
The boy jumped.
"How much did you hear?"
"Everything but your name?"
"That was so smooth but im still terrified, pleaseeee don't say anything."
"I won't do, I'm, uh, also into guys?"
"Hi, Also into guys" he grins "I'm Frank"

Sighing, Ryan turned away.
"No don't leave, I need a gay best friend."
"Seriously?"
"Yah, hows your fashion sense?"
Ryan gives him a once-over
"Better than yours"
"Rude"
"True"

They were both silent for a moment, feeling like the friendship had been forced on them, and that they may have clicked, but to what end? Then Ryan gave his phone to Frank, open at a new contact. Frank put in his number with a grin.

"Right, well, I'm meant to be at a funeral, hence-" Ryan gestures to his black suit.
"Oh, I just thought you were emo"
Ryan grins "Good luck if you're actually telling people, Frankie, you'll need it"
Frank nods.

~

Jamia Nestor could not deal her 'straight' but supremely drunk best friend.

Part of her would feel responsible if Lindsey ended up in a gutter somewhere, or between another set of stained sheets, her favourite black dress lying disregarded and ripped.
Part of her just wanted to ignore it. Because drunk Lindsey blurred the lines between platonic and lesbian and Jamia was not in the mood for second-hand alcohol.

Her phone buzzed, and she almost stopped herself looking at, but she kinda liked the flirting at this distance, the hearts that meant nothing, the pet names that made her involuntarily smile, the selfies that she was actually smiling for, not a fake version born of social pressures.

It was Frank, asking her to meet him in the park for something he said was important, but was probably nothing. What a disappointment.

She climbed out of her window anyway, she loved the night, the sapphic moon, the warmth summer left over, the chill that autumn brought with her. It was that time of the year, when seasons seemed intertwined, dancing around each other like an informal waltz to a song only they could hear.

Even the park looked romantic, the trees casting shadows onto the glistening grass.
Obviously, since Frank looked like a 10 year old, he acted like one too, and he was on the swings, his lip piercing that everyone disapproved of reflecting the stars.

"Hey"
Crossing her legs as she got on the swing, she smiled at him.

"This is why people think you're a witch"
"Huh?"
"Who sits cross-legged on a swing? How do you even do that?"
She laughed.
"Magic, Frankie"
"Jamia, I need to tell you something"