𝗥𝗢𝗠𝗘, reddie

046. trapani

EDDIE turned up the dial of the radio in the U-haul as he sat next to Mike, his foot bouncing to the beat of some popular Ariana Grande song that blasted from the tinny old speakers.

He was impatient, a horrible trait for the current moment, as they would be in-and-out of the U-Haul and hotels for the next two days. The only stops they made were bathroom breaks and gas breaks so far, overstocking on snacks around six thirty that morning when they first set on the road.

They were halfway through their first day, only 25% of the way to Jacksonville, and Eddie already just wanted to keel over and die — the constant wrenching carsickness only mildly weakened by Dramamine didn't help matters much.

Bill was supposed to tag along for their so called adventure, but he had one week left from school — a senior in high school, what a baby — and his parents wouldn't let him stay off for the last week of school.

Eddie and Bill's departure was a bit dramatic; even as Mike and Bill both promised to stop by every few months and call as often as possible, he still knew that he would miss his best friends.

It was solely for selfish reasons that he found himself hoping that they'd move to Florida one day, too. Bill had a caring family and adored the company of his little brother, and Mike's parents were kindhearted and funny.

He knew it would be cruel to ask them to come live nearby some day; that didn't stop him from silently hoping that they would.

"You excited?" Mike asked through the silence they'd found themselves in, focusing on the road, hands gripped properly on the steering wheel of the large vehicle. Eddie turns to him with a small smile.

"No, no, I hate Richie's guts," He teases, causing Mike to snort a bit at the joke. Eddie's smile goes more fond at his friend's amusement, always happier when people he loves are smiling.

There's something about the kind energy of someone laughing, smiling, because of you. Especially when it's someone that you strive to make happy.

When Mike's laughter fades into a smile and he turns the large vehicle, he spares a glance in Eddie's direction. "Hey," He says, "Can you hand me a bag of chips?"

Eddie glances over at him with a tight lipped smile, nodding his head and reaching into their plastic bag full of chips. He hands him one of his favorite — Sunchips in a blue bag — and Mike hums in excitement and tugs it open with his teeth.

There's a brief silence between them, and Eddie finds himself drifting away and focusing on the trees flowing past the windows.

They're on a highway, one that's wide and just busy enough to make it feel surreal; the only buildings around them are the little pit-stops with wide dog parks and playgrounds.

There's a lot of trees, too, but not tall ones. They're the same size as apple trees, all lively and full of green leaves, and the interior of the U-haul smells like disinfectant and menthol.

A sign shows that there's one of those locations upcoming on a highway where a plethora of stores line the streets, and he realizes it's nearly six pm and he still hasn't eaten an actual meal.

"Can we stop somewhere to eat?" He asks softly, rolling his head so that he's facing Mike. The sun is just beginning to go down, and Mike's skin is glowing in the light, the sun-visor down so that the brightness didn't impair his vision.

"There's some stores coming up — I mean, what about Taco Bell?" Mike offers, sparing just a small glance to Eddie, careful with such a large vehicle.

Eddie doesn't like driving so much, because he gets road rage and freaks out, and it's like watching a rabid kitten.

"Yeah," Eddie responds gently, voice soft because he feels a bit ill and tired from being in a car so long, "That sounds okay."