ꜱᴏʟᴀɴɢᴇʟᴏ ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ

I'll Die a Happy Man

I'll Die a Happy Man- Thomas Rhett

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"I can't believe you've never been camping," Will says, laughing. He's currently at the wheel, driving the winding roads out of the city that Nico's lived his whole life in. Nico's not familiar with these roads or where they lead. All he knows is that they lead out, out of town, out of a life he's always known.

"Camping isn't something city people do," Nico huffs. He crosses his arms over his chest to mask his discomfort. He's never been camping, so he doesn't know what to expect. He's never slept in a tent (hasn't ever been in a tent); he's never slept outside. He's never been someplace that didn't have running water or AC or electricity. It's not that he's spoiled. His parents just aren't the kind to take their kids camping.

"Well, I'm a city guy," Will says. Nico raises his eyebrows, shaking his head. Even in that sentence, Nico can hear Will's Southern twang. It's slow and sweet and smooth, and Nico's fallen for it every time. Will's lived in the city for about four years, but he's not a city guy.

"You're not a city guy, Will," Nico says, laughing. Will pouts, but Nico can tell he's not upset by it. Will's the only guy Nico knows who can't navigate the city traffic, who didn't know how to read the subway system map, who doesn't yell out the car window when he's stuck in traffic. Of course, some of those things are just the kind of people Nico hangs out with, but some of it is very much the city. "You still can't fall asleep at night unless you're listening to that cricket music."

Will laughs at that, reaching over to flick Nico's shoulder. "I like my cricket music," Will says. "It's way better than all of that honking and cursing and partying."

Nico smiles. He's not much of a partier himself. In fact, he's hardly out after eleven at night. But the sounds of the city are like lullabies to him. He's not sure he'd be able to sleep without them. So he understands why Will has to listen to the sounds of home, the sounds of crickets and cicadas and silence.

They fall silent as Nico takes in the campgrounds. He's not sure what he's expecting, but it's not what he's looking at. What he's looking at is trees and dirt and small mailbox things that aren't mailboxes. He's looking at people pitching tents right next to each other, to them starting fires in pits, battery-powered lanterns.

"We can set up over here," Will says. He drags all of their stuff out of the car. He told Nico to pack light, just some clothes for the morning, some pajamas for the night, the basic toiletries. Will put himself in charge of packing the food, the sleeping bags, the tents.

Nico's even more unsure as Will starts pitching the tent. He tells Nico what to do, demonstrating it. Nico feels a bit embarrassed that he doesn't know how to pitch a tent, but when would he ever need to know? Still, he's seventeen, and he figures that this is one of those father-son things that he's supposed to already know how to do. Will certainly does.

"Perfect!" Will announces once the tent has been pitched. Will did most of the work. Nico helps Will drag all of their stuff into the tent. They set up their sleeping bags, the blankets, the lamps. Will sets the coolers by their bags of clothes.

"So, we sleep right here?" Nico asks. Will nods. Nico lays down on his sleeping bag, testing it out. It's a little lumpy, smells a little like dirt. He doesn't want to think about how many bug's homes he's probably laying on right now. "I guess I can see the appeal." Will laughs at this.

It was Will's idea to go camping. He said it was this tradition he and his dad had every summer before school started. Except, his dad was too busy to go camping with Will this year, so Nico had volunteered. He'd volunteered because he hated to see that smile drawn so tight over Will's face, afraid it would fall off if he didn't do something about it. Will had lit up at the idea, hugging Nico immediately.