It was an early Thursday morning, the sun rose to its highest with the damp trees hanging miserably from last night's heavy rain. Harry and I both held a bag full of clothes, necessities and school certificates as we struggled carrying the case out of Clyde's front door.

Harry let out an exasperated sigh as we both stopped in our tracks to view Clyde's shitty Ford car that was barely holding itself together with its dents, taped up bumper and headlights.

"You expect me to drive this piece of shit?" Harry inquired with an uneasy stare.

Clyde, who was standing beside it, shrugged his shoulders in confusion. "Well, it works."

"Will it work from South Wales to Cheshire?" He murmured.

Again, Clyde shrugged. "We're about to find out."

I dragged the case past Harry and to the trunk of the car, but for some odd reason Clyde stepped in front of me obscurely, his eyes a little tense as he caused me to take a step back. "Put your stuff in the back seat."

Rolling my eyes and crossing my arms, my tiredness began to take over me. "Why can't I just put it in the trunk?"

He searched for an answer in his mind but struggled to find one. "Because."

"What are you hiding in there?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Nothing that concerns you."

We stared at each other with scowls, mine a little more justifiable as his was solely focusing on making me uncomfortable. After a few seconds he blinked, looked away and I smirked in success.

I struggled to open the back door as the rust had almost melted into the door handle. But I soon found my strength and yanked it open, soon tossing my bag into the back seat. Dust erupted from the material of the seat and it snaked its way down my throat as I coughed harshly and slammed the door shut.

Harry passed Clyde the keys to his motorcycle with a deep and pitiful glare on his pale face. "If you scratch this bike, I will murder you. And I'm not even kidding, I will come for you in your sleep, and fuck you up."

Clyde frowned, but returned a glare. "Same goes for you."

"Your car is such a piece of shit, you wouldn't even be able to tell if I scratched it you moron." Harry snarled.

"I'm a carrot?" Clyde laughed, oh God.

"Huh?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"You just called me a carrot."

"No, I didn't. Are you high again?" He inquired with his arms now crossed and lips in a straight line.

I dramatically sighed and grasped Harry's hand, dragging him towards the car and to break up the small dispute. "No one says moron in Wales."

"Why?"

"It means 'carrot' in Welsh."

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Harry huffed in exhaustion and angrily opened the car door, finally stepping inside as I did the same. Both of us were now sat with our seat belts firmly wrapped around our torsos and the visors down to protect our eyes from the blinding sun. I pulled a ham sandwich out of my small plastic container that I held firmly in my hand, and held it to Harry's mouth.

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