Bruised Clouds
The rhythm of a rainstorm tells a person everything they've ever wanted to know about a heartbeat.
Steadily, the saline coats New York's bustling streets. Will adjusts his blinds and looks out to the plain cement and brick of his neighborhood and sighs to himself.
Grace is off with Leo, and she might as well be sleeping on the dark side of the moon. And only God (no, possibly Satan) knew where Karen was on a cold and rainy Sunday like this.
Will broods for a moment. He doesn't have much going on in the way of plans for the day; a trip to the farmer's market was, clearly, off. He'll probably just order in and try to enjoy the Brittany Spears concert on Showtime...which won't be nearly as much fun to mock alone as it would've been with Grace by his side.
He has to be the only person he knows in the world without plans today. Even Jack is gone, seeing Elliot.
As if by magical conjuring, Jack burst through the door, walked directly into the kitchen, and began rummaging through his kitchen drawer.
Will watches his friend with detached fascination...until he manages to ruin the order of two drawers, not bothering to set them right as he proceeds to the third.
"Jack, what are you doing?"
"Potato thingies! I need potato things!"
Will waves his hand before Jack's eyes. "Are you feeling okay?"
"Skewers! Elliot likes baked potatoes!"
Now he's worried. "Jack!"
Suddenly, his friend snaps out of it. "Did I make any sense back there?"
"You were saying something about Elliot and baked potatoes."
"Okay." And at that, Jack strolls to the bathroom and locks himself in.
"Jack...Jack! I was hoping to take a bath!"
"All of my patients say dirty is the new clean this season."
"Jack, if you don't open the door I'm going to..." He pauses to conjure a good threat. "Call the fire department and have THEM knock down this door!"
Jack gasps. "I didn't know you were so into America's heroes. Back in my modeling days, people always said that I should've been in those Hunks of the Firehouse calendars..."
"Just level with me." Jack unlocks the door and slumped out, a sad expression of defeat reigning there on his face. "What's wrong?"
Jack shrugged, "I promised Elliot I'd make him a real homo-made dinner when I saw him."
"So? Oh, is that why you took those cooking classes?"
"Yes! And I forgot to go shopping, so now I don't know what I'm going to give him, and the cookbook says I need a microwave, but I don't have one."
"I didn't think you did. Why not?"
"Well, I heard microwaves give off these cancer-causing waves, and cancer would wreck my hair."
"Okay. I'll take you shopping and help you make the dinner...If you'll come back here at ten and watch the Brittany concert with me."
Jack frowned. "Brittany Spears? She's so five marriages ago."
"We'll eat popcorn and make fun of her outfits!"
Slowly, Jack's pout dissolved. "Okay!"
"Good. You can borrow one of my jackets."
As they stepped out the door, Jack paused, suddenly. "Will?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you. You didn't have to waste your Sunday on me."
Affection touched Will's heart. "I'm not wasting anything, Jack."
And through a window in the hallway as he entered the elevator, Will could have sworn that he saw a streak of sunlight filtering through the bruise-colored clouds.