we're not on the map but we're on our way

1/3

It's not love and it's not lust. If anything, it's understanding.

They zip themselves up before finding a position where they can fit on the single bed. Ryan falls asleep breathing in the smell of beer, gas and cigarettes.

* * *

Spencer is going to Pennsylvania. He is the only one in the car with an actual destination. It's another thing about Spencer they never would have known if Brendon hadn't asked.

"Why Pennsylvania?" Brendon enquires, and Spencer doesn't reply.

"Where are you heading?" Ryan asks Brendon in return. If there is someone to be suspicious of, it's Brendon, who checks his phone once an hour, who wanders amongst tourists at Grand Canyon with a strawberry lollipop. Spencer isn't lost, but Brendon is.

Brendon looks young, and schools haven't started yet, but they will in a few weeks' time.

"I'm heading for the East Coast. Visiting a friend of mine," Brendon says, and they all know he is lying.

They cross the border to New Mexico, and Ryan and Jon get into a fight. Jon is driving, but still firmly disagreeing with Ryan, occasionally not looking at the road for a whole minute.

"We've already done a third of it! Come on, dude, it's legendary!" Ryan argues.

"I told you I don't want to do Route 66," Jon snaps.

"Why not?"

"Because I want to stay south," Jon replies bluntly.

"Where does it go?" Brendon asks from the backseat.

Ryan turns to look at him and explains, "Route 66 goes from Los Angeles to Chicago, through New Mexico, Missouri, you know."

"Hey, I've never been to Chicago!" Brendon smiles, apparently having forgotten his claims of trying to get to the East Coast.

"Me neither," Ryan says. "You, Spencer?"

"Illinois is somewhat close to Pennsylvania," Spencer says agreeingly.

"There you go then," Ryan says, sitting back down and looking at Jon. "Three against one, we're doing Route 66."

"This is my car, and it's a fucking dictatorship. We're not going to Chicago," Jon barks, and that's the end of discussion.

Ryan isn't offended, not really. He just sighs in defeat and examines his fingernails. He doesn't know what makes Jon happy and what pisses him off, and he quite often doesn't get it right, but he's not there to make friends. Jon knows that one of these days they will pull over at a rest stop, he will go take a piss and when he comes back, Ryan won't be there. And Jon will check the car to make sure, and Ryan's rucksack will be gone. Jon will get back into the car and drive off, and he might look into the review mirror and keep the rest stop in view, he might try to see the last glimpse of light brown hair... but most likely he won't. And Jon is fine with that, and Ryan is fine with that.

The car keeps driving along the open road in the blinding heat and the radio is blasting in the background.

* * *

Jon doesn't like New Mexico. He drives five hours straight and they are still in New Mexico. Ryan sleeps on the passenger seat and Brendon is snoring in the back. It's after sunset and it's black outside. Jon hates how hot it is during the day and how cold it is during the night.

Jon doesn't want to go back to Illinois. He left three months ago now, and he is still running. He first went up to Canada, sweet talked a cute girl working in the diner of some small town and spent a week between her thighs. One day, when she went to work, Jon stole the five hundred dollars she kept hidden in her underwear drawer and hit the road again. Three months is a long time. He wonders how things are back home, if the whole mess has blown over yet. He's not sure, so he keeps driving.