"You must ask the young
if you want to know what love is.
Only they are deep enough in it to describe."
- A.P, "Sabine"
Dallon retreated back into his own car after their brief introductions, settling into his seat and pushing it backward. He turned on his side, looking about ready for a nap. Mikey took this as a sign to roll his window back up most of the way, sighing loudly and plopping his head in Pete's lap. Pete laughed with surprise and comfort, and then cautiously put ran a hand through his hair. "Looks like we might be here for a while," he murmured, immediately soothed by the silk on his palms.
He was starting to think that maybe the traffic wasn't so bad after all. He could possibly fit in a wink of sleep, spend some quality time with Mikey, stretch his legs or just not worry about driving for a single moment. He'd rather die than admit to Mikey and Ryan that they had been right about his exhaustion, but this way, he wouldn't need to. He felt Mikey shift in his lap and looked back down at him, unable to control the backflips in his stomach.
"Seems like it," Mikey mumbled back, closing his eyes in pure bliss. He let Pete play with his hair like a cat played with yarn. Pete couldn't imagine a better way to spend his time, even when the whole world was ahead of him. It didn't matter, it was all at his fingertips right now. "Didn't know you smoked," Mikey suddenly said, not shifting. There was a pang of disappointment in his voice, and Pete couldn't help but turn red with untapped guilt.
Pete anxiously looked for the words. "Ah, I guess I sometimes do?" And that was true. He was a sometimes sort of disaster. He had started picking up bad habits early in high school when he was desperate for a way to destroy all the shame and sadness that growing up had brought along with it. He found himself smoking outside of lousy punk shows as a way to fit in, and it had snowballed into a bigger demon than he had ever expected. Alcohol was his worst poison, however, and Pete started to feel sick at the thought of it. He felt the world closing in on him. Last time he had been drunk he had nearly severed the only chance at love he'd had in years. His eyes started to ache.
"Pete?" Mikey's voice broke through his suffocating curtain of thoughts. "Where'd you go? Hey, hey..." His gentle voice could house hummingbirds. He sat up, pulling himself off of Pete's lap with only a slight moment of hesitation. He watched Pete with knowing eyes. "Are you alright? I didn't mean to bring up anything—"
"No, no," Pete cut him off before he had the chance to blame himself. He didn't need Mikey feeling all bad about anything, not when he wouldn't even harm death itself. "It's just, I just... wanted to tell you that I—"
He was interrupted by a swarm of giggles sounding behind him. It was unmistakably youthful mirth from Ryan, who was practically rolling in the backseat now, his hands clutching his stomach like he'd been stabbed. The light in his eyes suggested otherwise. Mikey and Pete both stared at him intently, eyes narrowed paternally. Pete followed Ryan's eyes to the boyish face that resided in the backseat of Dallon's car. He was smiling wide, his eyes just as bright, and recovering from a similarly disarming fit of laughter. Pete wondered what was so funny.
"What's going on back there?" Mikey beat him to the punch, smiling crookedly at Ryan, who wiped a joyful tear from the corner of his eye and then turned red. Pete felt his mind begin to race. He could recognize that shy blush color from anywhere. He remembered splashing his face with cold water at a rest stop sink a few hours after meeting Mikey. He had spent an embarrassingly long amount of time looking at his own telling rouge. Ryan had opened the same vein. Pete couldn't help but smirk to himself, hiding it behind the shoulder of his seat.
"Oh, nothing," Ryan rolled his eyes so far back they dragged the earth with them. "Brendon was just saying something really funny. You wouldn't get it." He glanced back out the window at the dark-haired jokester and erupted into another fit of giggles, like a shaken up bottle of pop. Brendon was laughing again, too. Pete watched as Dallon shifted uncomfortably in the driver's seat, sighing to himself. He fiddled with a bright yellow zippo.
Mikey seemed offended at Ryan's comment. "Wouldn't get it? We're not old, Ryan. We're only four years... ugh!" He gave up halfway through, realizing that he wasn't being listened to. Ryan had turned his attention completely back to Brendon, who had launched into another comedic tangent. He was just as wide-eyed as Ryan, maybe even more so. His voice was shrill and excited. Ryan was eating it up. "If you two are gonna be so loud, why don't you go outside? It doesn't look like we're going anywhere soon." Mikey suggested, cutting Brendon off mid-sentence. Dallon cast a glance over and grinned in subtle agreement.
"Oh, dope!" Brandon exclaimed. "Dal?"
"Sounds good," Dallon said, his muffled approval sounding through the back window and into Pete's car. "Don't go far. Be careful, I guess."
Brendon punched the air enthusiastically, immediately hopping out of his car. He slammed the door so hard that the old car shook where it stood. Dallon's eyes widened in fear for a moment. When it steadied, he sighed in relief and let his head fall on the steering wheel with a visible clunk.
Brendon scurried to the window where Ryan waited patiently. Their noses nearly touched. Ryan turned to Pete with a pair of hopeful, honey eyes and cracked a smile. "Well, uh, please?" His voice pleaded genuinely. Pete looked at him sadly for a moment. He hadn't even thought about the loneliness that rattled in Ryan's body. They had torn him, even willingly, from his home and had brought him miles and miles away in less than twenty-four hours, and most of that time, Pete had spent it making eyes at Mikey. He felt a pang of guilt. If Pete remembered anything from his fifteenth year of existence, it's that it was Hell.
Even still, he had been home, with both parents, and at least enough friends who genuinely liked him or were sufficient enough actors. Ryan had managed to lose all of that in the course of a day. Pete finally let out a sigh and nodded. "Yeah, just keep the car in sight."
Ryan clearly hadn't expected any affirmation, and so he was caught off guard but still raring to go. He sputtered out a sloppy "thanks!" and fumbled with the door handle, practically slipping out. When his feet hit the pavement, he was nose-to-nose with Brendon. His new friend smiled at him fondly. Ryan's breath hitched and he leaned back against the car for a quick moment. "Where to?" He asked. nervously adjusting the scarf that hung loosely around his neck.
"Wherever," Brendon replied coolly. "I like this." He gave the scarf a gentle tug and then turned purposefully on his heel, bounding from the car. Ryan stumbled forward and took a sharp breath, pink and sweaty as he tottered after him.
"Ah, wait up!"
Mikey eyed the two of them in the side mirror. Their hands found each other in less than a minute. He hummed to himself. Pete laughed and looked at him knowingly, and then across the way at Dallon, who had lifted his head back up and now was staring out the front window, his chin resting on the steering wheek. He looked worn out, the skin under his eyes begging for mercy. A few red knicks on his jaw and chin hinted at a freshly shaven face. He had a sense of warm ruggedness to him, evenly spread about his long limbs and torso. All that angst had gotten stretched like taffy, into a man.
"Wanna take their lead and grab some fresh air?" Pete asked Mikey, who was still invested in the mirror like it was a juicy book. "I know it would do me some good."
Mikey nodded and without waiting, pushed open his door. Pete followed suit, nearly toppling over in ecstasy. He had somehow forgotten how good it felt to stand on a fully realized pair of legs. They had gone nearly numb from all the driving. They burned now, but like a comforting campfire and less like a minimart arson. "Fuck," he moaned, "that feels good."
"Calm down over there, handsome," Mikey laughed, sauntering his way over. "A good stretch doing you in more than I can?" He looked down at Pete with playful eyes, scooping up his hand and resting it gently on his chest. Pete let himself get lost in his heartbeat, every pulse whispering sweet words directly into his soul.
"Never," he breathed, keeping his hand in place. "You're like a million good stretches." He began to make his way for a kiss but once again, was beat to the delicious, delicious punch. Their lips locked and the ground beneath Pete shook. He felt invincible like their love was the eighth wonder of the world; he told himself that the slightest touch, the gentlest laugh or glance shared between them, was worth more than anything money could buy.
Pete knew they were being watched by neighboring cars but couldn't bring himself to care. He was floating above it all, stuck in a blissful purgatory, not quite dead, and so close to being the most alive he'd felt in years. He pulled away finally and pressed his lips softly to Miley's pale neck. Mikey chuckled with loving approval, and Pete let it echo in his ears like a teenage anthem.
He nearly told Mikey he loved him.
Nearly.
Mikey squeezed Pete's hand and then pulled him towards the front of the car, settling on the hood and silently asking Pete to the same. Pete leaned on the front bumper, while Mikey draped a lazy arm over his shoulder. They stated ahead at the back window of the maroon van in front of them. It was covered in stickers, some fresher than others. A chipping sticker bragged about an honor's student, while a clump of white stick figures boasted a large family with a cat and a dog and a grandmother with a cane.
Pete found himself getting lost. He suddenly thought about starting his own family, stick figure or otherwise. He had never really seen himself living long enough to. Whenever he tried to think into the future, things started to get blurry until they finally just faded away. The bleakness he had been experiencing his whole life had viciously taken ahold of his future, regardless of whether he wanted it or not.
He looked at Mikey and cocked his head slightly. He pictured him carrying a toddler on his shoulder, eyes cast upwards and full of light and hope, hair pulled by the greedy, lovely hands of a person who loved him. And for the first time, Pete saw himself, standing beside him, arms nervously in the air ready to catch either one if they fell. For the first time, a vivid future graced the back of his mind. He begged for it to stay.
It didn't.
"Mind if I join you?" A voice dragged him from his thoughts, and back to the present. Dallon stood an anxious distance from the two of him, his hands shoved into his deep pockets, high above Pete and Mikey's. "Getting a little lonely in there."
"Of course," Mikey said because his kindness knew no bounds. His acceptance swooped into Dallon's chest like a long-awaited letter, and he nodded at Mikey with dazzled and grateful eyes. He settled beside the two of them on the hood of Pete's car. He flipped his zippo into the air a few times, catching it with his eyes closed, with his mind astray. Each time it landed in his palm, a satisfying smack! sounded above the rumbling engines around them. It was oddly comforting; like fall leaves crunching beneath your feet or the twirl of soapy water down a bathtub drain.
"So, Dallon," Pete started, breaking the comfortable tiny cacophony. "What brings you to I-40?"
He stopped tossing his zippo and turned pink, looking at the ground and kicked at nothing in particular. "I'm getting married." Pete's eyes widened, and Mikey let out a glee-filled congratulations, clapping Dallon's on the back like a loving brother. "Ah, thanks. We're about two weeks out. The wedding is in Utah, but I figured Brendon and I get a little bit of adventure before we, uh, roll-out to the motherland, I guess." He rubbed his neck for a moment, in thought, and then smiled. "Her name's Breezy. I couldn't be happier."
"Sounds like a lucky lady," Mikey said.
"I'm the lucky one for sure," Dallon hummed, his voice suddenly very distant sounding. It was high in his throat and mouth, disappearing into that happy place in the clouds where love exists. When he came back down to Earth, he looked around for a moment as if he had forgotten where he was. He cleared his throat. "What about you two?"
"Three," Pete corrected him quickly, motioning over to the guard rail a few lanes away. There sat the two young teens, perched upon the steel fence like birds of a feather. Ryan's feet were planted steady on the pavement beneath them, while Brendon's swung back and forth, swatting at the wildflowers that were growing right behind their kneecaps, just past the rail. Brendon's mouth was moving a mile a minute, practically blurring before everyone's eyes. He spoke with confident hands and eyes. Ryan listened intently while he twisted the stems of weeds into a chain, epitomizing tranquility.
"Right," Dallon noted. "How could I forget? You've got a real trooper there. Brendon will stop talking when he's dead."
"I actually think Ryan enjoys the company," Pete said. "He's sweet like that."
"Is he yours?" Dallon asked, quirking a dark eyebrow towards the two of them.
"My what?"
"Your son," he replied matter-of-factly as if it was no big deal at all. Mikey whipped towards Pete like lightning and then buckled over with laughter, grabbing Pete to steady himself. Pete tried to laugh along but just turned red and froze, his jaw clenching as he conveniently forgot every word in the English language.
It was Mikey who finally took the reigns, recovering from his laughing fit, barely. "Oh god," he chuckled, "no way. We can't have kids. We are kids."
Pete stayed frozen but felt a warmth being to brew within him. Out of all the reasons Mikey could think of to not have kids, it's just because they weren't old enough. Not because they weren't in a sort of unstoppable kind of love, or that they didn't want them, or because they weren't the perfect parents—they were just too young. And God damn, were they in love.
"My apologies," Dallon offered, noticeably embarrassed. The three of them awkwardly stood there like a patch of ripe tomatoes.
"Don't sweat it," Pete finally said. "He's just uh, a family friend." He had to check himself before speaking. There was no normal way to explain that Ryan was someone they had essentially kidnapped. "We're all also on an adventure, but ours doesn't end with wedding bells." He looked at Mikey for a moment and was surprised to see that he was looking back, the ghost of a smile just barely on his lips.
"What does it end with?" Mikey asked sweetly.
"I guess we'll just have to see when we get there."
Another hour passed and the sun was just beginning to set on the traffic jam. Most people had turned off their cars by now and were starting to come to terms with their doom. A few kind strangers had called the police and shared that it "wasn't supposed to be too much longer". Regardless, it had been long enough, and Pete was starting to get weary. Dallon had retreated back to his driver's seat after running out of cigarettes about a half hour ago. He had twitched and murmured his way through some more conversations with Pete and Mikey, but had ultimately given up, the withdrawal becoming too much and rendering him almost soulless; quite a far cry from the bushy-tailed groom-to-be they had been talking to earlier.
Brendon and Ryan began to wind back through traffic as the sky bled orange. Somehow, Brendon had miraculously been talked out, his tongue tired and loose in his mouth. Behind his ear lived a small chain of wildflowers and a daisy peered out of the chest pocket of his button up. A smudge of pollen rested above Ryan's eyebrow and dusted into his eyelashes. Pete reckoned they had an adventure well spent.
"Long time, no see," Pete remarked as they got closer. "You ready to rest up?"
"Actually I'm a bit hungry," Ryan said, scrunching up his nose. "Brendon, too. Is it okay if we steal some snacks from the trunk?"
"We might die if we don't eat," Brendon added, finding the strength the interject. Pete rolled his eyes and Mikey laughed. "It's not funny!"
"Sure, sure, you're right," Pete replied. "Knock yourselves out. Trunk's open."
Ryan smiled toothily and then bounded away, dragging Brendon along with him. It didn't take long for their rummaging noises to become the fizzes of soda and the tearing of bags of chips and sleeves of cookies. Pete was barely paying any mind to them until the car shook with a sudden weight. He turned and looked up, noticing they had settled quickly on to the roof, backs to their chaperones. They had practically torn up every snack they had and were already making decent progress through them all. Pete opened his mouth to scold them when suddenly a thin, pale hand slapped over his mouth.
It was Mikey's. Pete eyed him curiously, and Mikey held a finger to his lips, shushing him gently. He didn't let go as both of their gazes rose to the young teens. Ryan had just finished inhaling a cookie, and they watched as his hand fell to his side, landing ever-so-slightly on top of Brendon's. Brendon looked up from his Capri Sun and nervously smiled, straw tightly clenched between his pearly whites.
For a moment, everything was still. Pete and Mikey stayed crouched and silent, Mikey's hand still protective and cautious over Pete's lips. Dallon had all but fallen asleep at his wheel, his zippo resting on the dashboard, untouched, untwirled, and tranquil. Every car around them was stuck in park, some quietly humming in their spaces, others cut completely. In the distance, someone played Seargent Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band from their stereo. They were four songs in.
Brendon quietly turned his hand over to intertwine his fingers with Ryan's. "Are you excited for your brother to get married?" Ryan asked. His scarf twitched in the breeze.
"Sure am," Brendon said. "I get to wear a suit. And dance."
"Oh yeah," Ryan hummed, closing his eyes as he let Brendon stroke a lock of hair off his forehead. "I hear there's lots of dancing at weddings."
"Lots of flowers, too. You'd like that part."
"I would."
Mikey finally lowered his hand from Pete's mouth and sighed loudly, but happily. Pete glanced at him, breath hitching as he watched the setting sun halo the top of his head. The golden light of the dying day found a few more sustaining breaths in Mikey's eyes and smile. He wiggled his ring finger in the air teasingly. "You better marry me, idiot."