That’s why we ended up in a room where there were hookers outside, cracked windows, and a bed that probably hadn’t been washed since the Bush administration. The carpet smelled like mildew and cigarettes, and the bathroom light flickered like it was trying to warn us. But none of that bothered me as much as the process it took to get the room itself.

Nick and I pulled up, parked the car, and walked inside to the front desk without problems. Sadly, that’s when it hit me. We were two guys about to ask for a single room in a motel. I tried to keep a strong poker face, but as we stepped up to the woman sitting behind a scratched-up glass wall, I was about to piss myself. Thank God Nick stepped in front of me and did most of the talking.

The woman gave us an obvious side-eye, asking, “Just the two of you?” before sliding us a key to room 19. Could she tell? Did she see it? Did she know we were gay? Did she know who we were, who my dad was, or what we were doing? I was spiraling, but before I melted down, all I heard was Nick say my name. It brought me back.

An hour later, I was still fighting heat in my chest. What the hell was I doing? What were we doing? And how did it take this long for doubts to pop up? I was a Meat Head.

“So what are you making?” Nick asked.

I must’ve been standing in the kitchenette for a while. We’d bought the food together, so Nick knew what was on the menu. Maybe he was trying to calm me down.

“Hotdogs. We’re having...” I said.

I was holding the pack of sausages, still in their plastic wrapping. I hadn’t opened them yet. I couldn’t relax enough to do a simple task.

“Tom,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“Talk to me.”

There was no doubt about it. He could tell.

“I’m sorry, I’m spacing out, man,” I tried to say, but he interrupted.

“Talk to me. About anything. Please.”

So we didn’t eat hotdogs. The snacks we got from a vending machine weren’t bad, though. A bag of trail mix, a couple of warm sodas, and some stale Pop-Tarts. We ate sitting on the edge of the bed, legs touching, the TV on mute. The sheets smelled like bleach and something older than bleach. But it was a bed. We ended the night cuddled together, but before either of us went to sleep, I tried again.

“So when we get to Seattle, what’s the plan?” I asked.

“You’re asking me?”

“You’re the smart one,” I joked.

“Tom, we’re both pretty stupid,” he said.

I was holding Nick, practically clutching him for dear life. My mind was more at ease, but my body was still shaking off the last of its anxiety.

“But you’re smarter than me. You know what to do better than I do,” I said.

“That’s a lot of pressure. We’re both supposed to be in charge,” he said.

“We can’t steer at the same time,” I reasoned weakly.

“You were a football player. Shouldn’t you be a leader?”

I should’ve been a leader. I should’ve been more of a man. But so far, Nick was the only one being brave.

“Okay, I don’t know where to start. I need you to tell me where we start,” I said.

“We get jobs,” Nick said.

“Okay.”

“Find a place to live.”

“Yeah.”

“And then...” he paused.

“And then what?”

“I don’t know,” he laughed, and I did too when I said, “I don’t either.”

“This was pretty stupid, wasn’t it?” I asked.

I had doubts. I had thoughts in the back of my mind that kept rushing to the surface. It wasn't too late to go back. Four days wasn’t a long time. My dad would have believed that I got lost on my way to Mom's place. There was time to undo our dumb decision if I wanted to, but I didn’t want to. The fear I fought wasn't about my family. I didn't know if we could survive, but we were betting everything that we'd be happier taking the risk.

“I’ll be honest. I never thought you’d agree to any of this. It was just an idea. I wasn’t serious about it at first, but then you...” he stumbled.

“Then I wanted it.”

“And I wanted it too,” he agreed.

“Then we can make it work. Do we have, like, a goal or something?”

We were quiet for a while. Nick could’ve fallen asleep, and I wouldn’t have noticed. The feeling of his head on my chest was right. It was peace.

“I’m not ambitious, Nick. I’m happy as long as we’re happy. As long as you’re happy,” I said.

“It’s not ambitious, but I always wanted to own a comic shop,” Nick added.

It was dorky, but if that’s what he wanted, all I could say was, “Then let’s open a comic shop.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. We can do anything, no matter how dumb or nerdy,” I joked, kissing the top of his head.

His hair was so warm, almost like an animal.

“When I was little, my dad had hundreds of comic books. He was an artist himself. But after the accident, my grandma sold most of his stuff so we could move,” Nick told me with a yawn.

It was late. The night was beginning to get to me. I guess I had finally calmed down enough to feel tired.

“Where does your grandma think you are? Did you tell her you were leaving?” I asked as I shut my eyes.

“She didn’t care,” he said, but his voice was so cold and monotone, I didn't dig deeper.