The black curtains that hang over Ryan's window do a poor job of blocking out the sun, but not the world, nothing else exists besides him and the scoffed blue Walkman in his hands.
Days seem to blur together. Weeks pass and it feels like the same time slipping through his fingers like the Walkman as he sets it down on the floor next to his bed. The same shaky breaths and wobbly legs as he reaches for a fresh pack.
He almost smiles with the first drag. The drawn-out exhale makes smoke swirl around the room. Light grey streams weaving their way through the air. Twirling, forever twirling and disappearing.
—
The ride to work is a particularly long one. He makes one stop before the record store.
—
The amount of traffic at eleven a.m will forever frustrate Ryan. What are people doing, shouldn't they be at work or school.
Not walking their dog at a painfully slow pace, Susan, you fucking bitch.
The woman, presumably Susan, smiles and waves at Ryan, who feigns a smile and wave before dramatically hitting his head against the steering wheel, maybe if he didn't look up a car would hit him and this exhausting tirade of a pathetic life would finally come to an end.
Sadly, there is no car. He pulls into the front of the record store. The red cursive lettering on the sign that has long since begun to chip away reads, "Ronnie's Records". The drive to the back of the strip mall where all the staff park is a short one. He kills the engine and waits for a few seconds before pulling out his key completely. His car was only a year or two old. Although he admires the grunge lifestyle and envies the people that can pull it off, he enjoys clean and new things, things that have the potential to become familiar, things you can break in and make your own. So bank account be damned, he bought the latest black mustang. He doesn't regret it at all.
Walking up to the door he drops his keys and stomps his foot. He can feel his face get hot while he fumbles them a couple times before holding them in a frustrated fist.
He reaches the steel door at the back of the building, which has been painted black in an attempt to hide all the dents it's accumulated over the years. On the other side of the door is Spencer, who undoubtably just saw Ryan's toddler like tantrum over dropping his keys. The familiar smirk on Spencer's face makes Ryan's cheek glow a light pink.
"Fuck you Smith," He hisses.
"Your late man, like major late, were you too busy jerking off to even call in," Spencer half sneers half laughs.
"Woah, chill Spence, I just woke up late,"
Spencer purses his lips into a thin line.
"Bullshit,"
"I'm sorry what," Ryan didn't expect Spencer to not believe him, because he was a damn good liar.
"Your lying, but it's okay Ry, I won't pry,"
Ryan raises an inquisitive eyebrow at Spencer, who wordlessly turns around leaving the door way open and Ryan blinking blankly at the space his friend had previously filled.
"What does he think I'm lying about?" Ryan said under his breath.
—
Working the cash was Ryan's favourite thing to do in the record store besides listen to music of course, because he could silently judge the customer's purchases and make some comment like, "Oh, I love this record!" or "Good choice," or when there was a nervous looking high school girl he could wink and watch them blush when he called them "Sugar".
Today he was counting the ones when the bell on the door chimed.
"Is there anything I can help you with?" Came Spencer's mellow voice from the middle row of records. Ryan looks up for a brief moment and sees the back of a boy wearing a lavender hoodie. He was facing towards the opposite wall so Ryan, having lost count, sighed and began counting again.
"Got anything by 'The Smiths'" the boy asked.
Ryan smiles almost instantly.
"If we have anything it would be in the 'S' section," Spencer drawled.
"Oh, right, thanks." The boy says sheepishly. His voice a slightly higher pitch than Spencer's.
He can't be older than sixteen, Ryan thought. His stomach grumbles.
"I couldn't find a 'Smiths vinyl," the boy sighs defeatedly after a silence had grown in the room.
"Ryan, could you go check in the back for anything by 'The Smiths', for my friend here, uh..."
"Brendon,"
"Yea Brendon, can't find anything," Spencer smiles.
Ryan only glances at Brendon and Spencer before replying easily.
"Sure," he put down the ones which he had finished counting a while ago and in a few strides he was in the back room.
He knew exactly where to find the records, they had gotten a new box that morning. As he opened the box he cut his finger and watched the thin stream of blood run down his hand and then his wrist.
Shame.
He wondered what the kid liked. Should he bring him "The Queen is dead" or "Louder than bombs". If it were him, he would rather choose between two albums than be handed one, so he decided to bring both of them.
He stumbled out of the back room and nodded at Spencer.
"Alright so we have, 'The Queen Is Dead' or 'Louder Than Bombs'," Ryan finally got a good look at Brendon. He was conventionally attractive but slightly exotic looking.
Brendon blushed.
"Um, I think I might have to get both of them,"he laughed quickly looking away.
Ryan could feel the air grow heavy with awkward tension. Their was something nostalgic about it. He felt the need to yawn.
"Okay," Ryan looked at Spencer, who just smiled and put his hands up in the air.
Ryan walked behind the cash register and put both the records in a light blue bag that had the name of the record store printed on it.
"That'll be $6:50" Ryan looked at Brendon more critically than before and decided that he was actually very attractive in a more than conventional sense.
The exchange between the two was normal.
"Thank you, I'll be back soon!" Brendon smiled, revealing perfect pearly white teeth.
"Yeah, no problem," Spencer said.
The bell chimed as Brendon walked out. He pulled up his hood, Ryan assumes that the November breeze is probably a cold one and that the thin lavender hood would hardly help but he watches Brendon walk away until he can no longer see him.
Ryan doesn't notice Spencer coming up beside him.
"Well that was weird," Ryan jumps slightly at Spencer's words. Making the chubbier man smile.
"Yeah, he was a bit awkward but the kid probably doesn't know any better," Ryan replies.
"No I meant you," Spencer watches Ryan's face twist up.
"What?"
"You were smiling the entire time Ry, like really smiling not that fake shit you usually pull with the customers,"
Ryan flushes.
"Don't be ridiculous Spin,"
