limitless.

chapter seventeen

"Jack!" Van Gogh yells.

JFK rolls over in bed, rubbing his eyes. "Hm?"

"Come here and look at this!" 

John sits up, pulling his red and white sweater over his head before standing and crossing over to the bay window. 

"What are we looking at?"

Vincent points. "Look, we can see the sun!" 

JFK smiles. "It's rather pretty, isn't it?"

The smaller boy turns around to face his boyfriend, an eager grin plastered across his face. "It's such a nice day. We have to do something."

"We do something every day."

"Is that a problem?"

JFK grins now. "No."

Van Gogh reaches up to kiss the taller boy on the cheek. "Let's go on a road trip."

"Darling, we are on a road trip."

"Well, I've already got a destination picked out for us. But I think it's a couple hours away."

Kennedy raises an eyebrow. "I thought we weren't using our phones to pick locations."

"Well, it isn't specific..." Van Gogh shrugs. "It's just... logical?" 

JFK takes a minute to think this over. "Did you use your phone to find it?"

Vincent shakes his head. "No. I don't know how that would be useful, considering I don't even know which state we're in."

"I think we're in Utah."

Van Gogh scrunches up his nose. "We are not!"

JFK laughs. "No, we're not. We drove in the opposite direction."

"I thought we weren't looking at GPS," Vincent replies, but he's wearing a playful smile.

"No, I just know basic geography."

"Touché."

***

"So, what is the secret destination, exactly?" JFK asks, spreading some cream cheese onto his bagel.

"It's a secret."

"But I have to drive us there."

"I can drive," Van Gogh offers casually, looking down into his glass of orange juice.

JFK quirks an eyebrow. "Vincent, you don't know how to drive."

Gogh shrugs. "You could teach me."

"My car is a stick shift. Most people learn to drive automatic first."

Vincent swallows his orange juice and wipes his lip with his napkin. "I'm not most people."

Kennedy laughs nervously. "Minivan," he stops, waiting for Vincent's objection to the name. It doesn't come. "Of course you're not most people. But do you really think I could teach you how to drive? I mean, you remember the accident I got into from driving over a rock earlier this year, right?"

Vincent sips his orange juice. "Okay, but you're careful now. You hate getting scratches on your car."

"Darling," JFK waits for Van Gogh to pick his head up. He opens his mouth to add onto the sentence, but thinks better of it. He changes his thought at the last second. "Someday, okay? I'll drive today. I can't teach you to drive in a day and you can't get a license in a day, either, but I'll teach you. I promise."