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Warped tour in Arizona has a bizarre smell of burnt plastic surrounding it. All the tarps and the shoes and tires on pavement and the porta-porties’ hard plastic sitting in the sun all day is nauseating. And being around that smell all day, Ray starts to get sick. That night he throws up in between the busses with the hot, acrid air stinging his eyes and lungs.
He feels someone pull the hair out of his face, and rub his back. When he’s done a bottle of water is thrust towards his face. He takes it, and looks up into Frank’s worried face. The slightly darker circles around his eyes look purple in the fading light. They sit against the bus, leaning and catching their breath. Ray swigs and spits, nodding at Frank. His smile is wan.
“I miss home sometimes, you know?” Frank sighs.
“Yeah, I know,”
And they sit in silence, hidden between the busses. After a while, Frank leans over and presses a kiss against the side of Ray’s mouth, not quite close enough for it to be more than friendly. They sit and sit and sit. And finally, Ray leans over and kisses Frank, full and firm on the mouth, trying to connect to something to remind him of home.
In the coming dark, Frank’s lips match the purple around his eyes, and Ray can’t help but stare. Frank gets up, and goes into the bus, pausing as he opens the door. He turns back.
“But sometimes, it feels perfect where I am,” And they are almost completely enveloped by dusk, so now Ray’s not sure if the shine in his eyes is meant for him, or if it’s just a trick of the light. But he hopes.