Neon Rush {M/M} ❀

Ch.18.2 Sunburnt Sunrise

Zef feels like he needs a PhD in parkour to reach Gray's hiding place. He follows the neon paint up rickety fire escapes and across questionable planks of wood connecting rooftops. The billboard he climbs across advertises platinum health insurance, and he thinks he'll need it.

But when he makes it to Gray's spot, he understands the circuitous route.

He emerges onto a balcony for a foreclosed penthouse. Boarded up. Probably because nobody could afford it in the subcity and anyone who could wouldn't live in the subcity anyway. Gray has made it a home, safely hidden and tucked away. Colourful tarps form a tent over the corner. Milkcrates stuffed with odd belongings form a city skyline against one wall. Graffiti, much of it looking like the style of Gray's stick and poke tattoos, cover the boarded up patio doors. A couple of air purifiers sputter and hum as they suck up pollution.

Beyond the glass balustrade, the subcity looks like a deep sea aquarium. Deprived of sunlight, it makes its own in neons and phosphorescence, a prismatic show of coral reef colour to compensate for the lack of real biodiversity. Zef can just make out the oxidised copper sign for the sushi restaurant they first visited together.

Gray himself sits up on a cot under the tarp, shirtless, surrounded by empty bottles and smelling like the fifteen packs of cigarettes surrounding him. Smoke dances up from the overflowing ashtray at his feet.

He regards Zef warily. "How the fuck did y—Damo told you."

"Yeah," Zef admits. "You live here?"

"Fuck off."

Zef schools his expression to not show worry or pity. "I'm not judging. View is incredible." Besides, he can't judge Gray for the state of the place. There'd been times where he and Matthias's trailer hadn't looked better.

"Can I sit with you a sec?"

"No."

"I'm gonna." He considers one of the camp chairs, but settles on the concrete at the edge of the balcony. He looks out over the city so Gray feels less observed. The cot squeaks and clothes rustle as Gray puts on a shirt.

Zef considered a long time whether to try and talk to Gray again. About Rylan, their issues, the traumatic elephant in the room. Judging from the state of Gray, he's not ready for either.

So, better to talk about something unrelated. "You promised me a tattoo."

"Didn't promise you nothing," Gray says.

"Okay, maybe not a promise, but I know what I want now."

"And what's that?"

"A little sunrise." Zef holds up his wrist. "Here. Just a little line for the horizon and a half circle sun with rays."

"Plenty o' shops and scratchers around who could do that for ya."

"I want you to do it."

Gray scoffs. "Ain't no artist."

Zef points to the spray painted boards. "Liar."

"This party trick to distract me ain't working, so fuck off."

Zef just says, "Please."

For a minute Gray looks at him with uncomprehending annoyance. Caught between his commitment to moping and giving Zef what he came for. Then he shoves up from the cot and fishes through his milk crates. He pulls out a couple packets of pre-sterilised needles, a bottle of ink, and a box of cling film. He also has, to Zef's surprise, a first aid kit.

"You just have needles lying around," Zef says.

"Used to do my T injections the old-fashioned way," Gray mutters. "Before Damo got me my implant. Hypodermic needles are different, but it'll do the job. Better 'n anything dirty."