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The conditions had appeared to be the setup for a perfect day. The sun shined through an occasional opening in the clouds above, the air was crisp, and everyone was consumed by weekend leadership activities or were spending time with their friends. However, Meeks had not been able to find comfort in any of these things; instead, he found comfort in a place he knew all too well: the rooftop of the bell tower.
He had not had much luck in the past, dragging all of his friends up the four flights of stairs eagerly as they all whined and complained behind him, Meeks ensuring them that “they had to see this” or that “they would surely want to come back a second time”, yet every time they reached the top and Meeks plugged the radio in, all he could hear was static. The unsuccessful encounter he remembered best was when he had convinced Charlie (it had taken a lot of begging, but not as much as he thought it would have, especially when Meeks posed the option of skipping out of chemistry). He remembered whining to Charlie as they sat there in the cold, Meeks huddled up to the radio and desperate for it to suddenly right itself and play any sort of music its little wiring system could muster. He definitely remembered Charlie being understanding about the radio whilst lighting a cigarette, taking off his jacket and wrapping it around a shivering Meeks. The other boy’s hands were occupied with the radio, fiddling with it in the cold air. He remembered how supportive Charlie had been, and how he attempted to keep the boy entertained with jokes, conversation, and just general warmth at times.
However, Charlie did not contribute anything. Meeks remembered being silently frustrated with the boy, just sitting there and “shooting the shit”, like Charlie used to exclaim. He was also aware that Charlie loved using this phrase to recount all of his times with Meeks, so Meeks concluded it was fine and decided to not look into it too much. No matter how much he adored Charlie, he knew it was impossible to get him to understand what exactly he wanted and that it had to be done just so.
He could at least say there was one exception to this rule: Gerard Pitts. The boy had been relentless in his search for a rooftop companion, and Pitts had no trouble falling into that spot once Charlie had refused to climb the flights of stairs once more (even though Charlie had tried to use it as a flirting tactic with Meeks once, never again).
That was that; they had their dynamic duo. Meeks and Pitts had lofty plans of Welton-domination with their new and improved radio, yet their changes had recently been looking bleak. Meeks was tired of failing, tired of having to surrender defeat in front of the last of his friends to have witnessed Steven “I am giving up and going directly to bed” Meeks. Today was no different. It was the same routine: climbing up stairs, catching their breath halfway through, and having to squint when reaching the top as they were finally exposed to the outdoor light. The clouds were still covering up the sun, yet the sky seemed to grow darker with every moment they stood, surveying what they could see from the roof.
“Today’s the day!” Pitts finally exclaimed, breaking the silence as Meeks squinted out to nowhere in particular, just observing. He finally snapped out of his gaze, scoffing as he looked up at Pitts.
“Today is not the day. It’s a day just like any other. Boring, ugly outside, and stupid. The radio is a bust, I really only came out here because you insisted we give it one last shot.”
“I only said that because I’m optimistic. Anyhow, the calculations we worked on last weekend were flawless. If we position it right, we should be able to at least get a weak signal.”
“Yeah, a weak signal to the Christian gospel channel.”
“Don’t be petty. You’d cry if anything came on besides the static.”
Pitts was right. Meeks had been working endless on the project, and it was all finally coming together. Meeks let Pitts do most of the heavy lifting, rewriting and adjusting the signals as needed. Just as Meeks was about to strike some sort of casual conversation to fill the next ten minutes of adjustments, thunder rolled through campus, echoing through the buildings below them.
“Rain,” Pitts stated without any further explanation, not looking up from the radio as he tinkered with it.
“I can hear the thunder, thanks,” Meeks replied bitterly, arms crossed as he leaned against a pillar. He anxiously observed Pitts’s steady hands, watching him play out their blueprint and calculations, partially glad he let Pitts take care of the parts that required extreme accuracy, as he lacked in that area.
“Ouch. Didn’t know you were a meteorologist now?” The remark came honest enough, and Meeks felt himself grin from the wittiness that Pitts supplied on the other end.
The next few minutes were concentrated focus: a crouching Pitts working on the final touches and Meeks looming over the boy and watching him like a surveyor. Meeks would only provide comments to the extent of good, alright, and “don’t touch that!”. The last one had only been at the very end of their preparation period. Almost as if on cue, the rain dropped on them. Softly at first in small droplets, only barely brushing off Meeks’s coat. This only made both of them work faster.
Pitts finally stepped away, satisfied with his work as he looked at Meeks, trying his best to ignore the threat of the rain.
“Well?” Pitts broke the silence once again. Meeks needed about thirty-eight consecutive hours of sleep after this project, which Pitts gathered based on how little Meeks spoke to him.
“Well,” Meeks echoed, “How about we try it out?”
It was all so exciting every time, no matter what the outcome of the project was, so Meeks chose to think positively when he pulled the headphones over his ears. He let Pitts slowly turn the knobs, and instantly frowned when all he could hear on the other end was static. He looked over at Pitts who had seemed almost as disappointed as he did, shaking his head in defeat.
Rain pouring harder on them (Pitts was covering the radio to the best of his ability), and Meeks was ready to call it a day. Just as his hands grasped the headphones, he heard a frequency ring in his ears, and suddenly a low hum. He gasped, looking at Pitts, who had began to disregard the fact that the rain was pouring now. The joy filled both of their faces as the radio began to play a fuzzy version of The Beatles’s “I Wanna Hold Your Hand”.
They both stand up, taking turns of listening to the music playing through the headphones. Meeks is laughing as the rain mats down his hair and smudges his glasses, but he does not care. Just to be in the company of someone he appreciates is enough. When the song comes to an end, Meeks keeps the headphones on, but only moves towards Pitts to embrace him in a hug.
Pitts, startled by the sudden movement, feels his face go red as he relaxes in the comfortable arms of the shorter boy. Meeks pulled away to look up at Pitts, quickly getting on his tip-toes in an attempt to achieve Pitts’s height, and pulled him in for a kiss. It was quick and light, both of them drenched from the storm, not able to think about what had just happened. It was a moment of bliss, of true understand and friendship. Meeks was happy that Pitts was Pitts, as all the other boy did was smile down at Meeks and nod occasionally after that.
After they had snapped out of this apparent haze, Meeks quickly realized everything was getting ruined. They had diminished the soaking wet radio back to static, and they decided to quickly rush inside and back down the stairs. It was a sudden stop to the afternoon, but Meeks was not complaining, as he was freezing cold and soaking wet. Pitts would have most likely said the same.
Meeks got a cold from being outside too long, and both Charlie and Pitts were willing to wait hand and foot on him when he was sick. The radio was ruined. Water seeped into it and it never worked again, yet Meeks had not seemed to mind. The radio had served its purpose: to entertain and just to bring him some sort of joy in his life. He was glad that it had done its job.