Chapter Text
“You’re wrong, you’re wrong, you’re dead wrong, and that’s the last thing I’m saying about this bullshit,” Cyrus said, placing his hands over his ears, determined to not fall for TJ’s bullshit, “the fact that you even try to pretend that Blink-182 isn’t the supreme road trip band is bad enough, I can’t bear to hear your shitty arguments.”
“In all of our years of friendship, I’ve never heard you be more in the wrong. It’s clearly Nirvana.”
“Name three Nirvana songs that can be classified as road-trip anthems. I will be here. Waiting. Forever.”
“Okay,” TJ said, heated, and clearly up for the challenge, his eyes focussed on the road, “‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’ is a given.”
Cyrus begrudgingly agreed, only because ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’ is a classic and a road-trip staple.
“Second, ‘Come As You Are, of course” TJ continued his list.
“Sorry, are we just doing Nirvana’s greatest hits here? I asked you for road-trip material, not for a ‘Nevermind’ track list.”
“You’re literally impossible. What makes Blink-182 so great?”
Cyrus launched into an explanation of exactly which factors made Blink-182 the ‘Greatest Road Trip Band Ever’, and what set road trip material apart from regular music, because you won’t ever find Cyrus casually listening to Blink-182.
All songs that were considered Road Trip Material had to be a) catchy, b) upbeat, c) be easy to sing along to, and d) be highly nostalgic.
“And that’s why ‘Feeling This’ is, and will always be, the ultimate road trip anthem.”
“That’s bullshit. You know what, ask Buffy, she’s going to agree with me,” TJ said, committed to the argument, “open the group chat right now and ask her which one is superior. Loser buys the other one a burger at the next diner we see.”
“You’re on,” Cyrus agreed, and for a while the only thing that could be heard in the car was the tapping of Cyrus’ fingers on his phone screen, and the sound of Cyrus’ muffled giggles.
“What’s so funny?” TJ asked, glancing over at Cyrus, who was smiling at his phone.
“Andi changed your nickname back to the previous one. She says that you are forbidden to change your own nickname from now on.”
“Tell her to stop being fucking mean.” TJ pouted.
“Why? I think ‘Basketball Bitch’ suits you perfectly, I really don’t know why anyone would take offense to it.” Cyrus laughed.
TJ turned the radio on, since they still hadn’t settled on whose playlist they would put on. TJ’s beat up Volkswagen was suddenly filled with the deep voice of the news reporter telling them that the temperature would get significantly warmer than it had been the previous few days.
“God, just now we’re going on a cross country road trip. What’s Buffy saying?” TJ asked, noticing that Cyrus was angrily typing a response.
“She says we’re both clearly imbeciles and the superior band is obviously Queen.”
TJ whistled softly through his teeth.
“She’s got a point there, Underdog.”
Cyrus’ phone pinged again, alerting him that a new message had arrived. Cyrus picked up his phone, looked at it for a bit and put it away again with a blank stare.
“Jonah says it’s Nicki Minaj.”
-
“Google Maps says that we have another five hours to drive today.”
“What’s the time?”
“It’s a little past 1PM.”
“Right on schedule.” TJ said, pushing his sunglasses further up his nose. “Should we stop for lunch?”
“Let’s just get McDonalds and eat in the parking lot. I have no desire to leave the car.” Cyrus said. TJ nodded, singing along to the song that was playing on the radio. After their discussion had dragged on for a good twenty minutes, they made a compromise and just put on the Spotify Road Trip Playlist.
“Now I’m free! Free falling!” TJ crooned along to Tom Petty, while taking an exit marked with the familiar gold McDonalds arches.
“Can I get a Quarter Pounder with cheese and a Large Coke, please?” TJ said, “What do you want?”
“A Large French Fries with ketchup and a Vanilla Milk Shake, please. Can you also add a bottled water?”
“That’ll be it?” a bored voice sounded through the speaker.
“Yes please.”
“Please come up to the window.”
“Thank you,” TJ said, driving up to the window, paying for and accepting their meal.
The parking lot, where TJ parked his car was completely empty, save for five cars, who he suspected belonged to the employees.
“I’ll pay for dinner, then,” Cyrus said, fishing his packet of French fries from the bag.
“Sure,” TJ said, “catch me ordering a full on lobster menu with a bottle of wine.”
“I’d like to see you try. You look about fourteen with that baby face of yours.”
“You have the height of a fourteen-year-old.”
“We both know I have grown a shit ton this past year!” Cyrus protested, throwing a fry at TJ’s face.
“You’re nowhere close to me, though.” TJ said, catching the fry in his mouth with ease.
“Shut up, I can’t help it you’re a fucking giraffe.”
TJ grinned and turned off the radio.
“So, are you excited?”
“Man, I can’t believe that our parents allowed us to make a road trip without supervision.”
“I mean, if mom could take time off, she would be here in the car with us. Visiting colleges is important,” Cyrus said, happily munching on his French fries, “even if we only visit NYU for a little bit and blow the rest of our time in New York.”
“We’re also blowing our time in Chicago,” TJ said, “and maybe Cleveland.”
“I really don’t get why you want to visit Cleveland that bad.”
“I just want to be able to say that I’ve been to Cleveland. We can just stop there for a coffee, or one of your sugary Starbucks monstrosities.” TJ answered, stretching out his arms above his head, “Would you mind driving for a bit?”
“If I get to pick the music.”
“Alright,” TJ gave in, “but no Lana Del Rey.”
“Fuck right off.”
-
“Fate fell short this time, your smile fades in the summer, place your hand in mine, I’ll leave when I wanna,” Cyrus screamed, head-bobbing as much as he could without losing control of the wheel, or sight of the road. “Come on, TJ!”
“Where do we go from here,” TJ sang, less enthusiastic than Cyrus, who was positively going ballistic. He was also a lot more comprehensible than Cyrus, who was trying to sing both parts of the song at once, “turn all the lights down now.”
“Fucking hell, Blink-182 gets me going.” Cyrus said when the song ended.
“I can see that,” TJ said, “calm down, will you. Can I pick a song now?”
“Sure,” Cyrus said, slightly out of breath, “but make it a good one.”
“Does Avicii work for you?”
“Yeah, I love Avicii,” Cyrus said, pushing his sweaty hair back, “can you hand me my bottled water, please?”
They were hardly driving anymore. The car had been stuck in traffic for the better part of an hour, and TJ was bored.
“Do you want to play 20 questions? I spy? Truth or dare?”
“What are you, twelve? Also how do you plan on pulling off truth or dare on the road?”
“I’m bored, Cyrus.” TJ complained, putting his feet up on the dashboard. “Listening to music can only keep you busy for so long. It’s so hot in the car, and we’ve been driving for seven hours and you haven’t let me play one Nirvana song the entire time.”
“You know TJ, I really look up to you.” Cyrus said out of the blue, turning the music down.
“You do?”
“Yeah, I’ve never met anyone who can complain like you.” Cyrus said, craning his neck to look out over the stagnant traffic, and was relieved to see that a few cars in the front of the line seemed to be driving again.
“I thought it was because you’re short.”
“Shut up. I’m not having that discussion again today.”
“So… Twenty questions?” TJ teased, poking Cyrus in the side.
“Fine, but no boring ones.”
-
“What’s your favourite movie made in the eighties?” TJ asked, eating his way through a bag of Skittles.
“That’s one hell of an question, Teej.”
“I love that nickname.”
“I know you do,” Cyrus said, putting out his hand in front of TJ’s face, who obediently poured some of his candy in it, “maybe ‘Dead Poets Society’? Or Ferris Bueller?”
“Those are really good.”
“Thanks. What is one thing you really want to do before you leave for college?” Cyrus asked, with a mouth full of Skittles.
The sun was burning on his forearms, and he made a mental reminder to reapply sunscreen when they stopped the car, because he wasn’t feeling looking like a lobster tomorrow. TJ seemed to really mull the question over, fiddling with the plastic bag in his hands.
“I think I want to come out to my family before I leave, I guess. Grandpa’s getting real old and I want him to know before he… You know. It wouldn’t feel right, leaving everything here behind without telling them.”
“Yeah,” Cyrus said, suddenly really quiet, thinking of his own Bubbe, and how he hadn’t told anyone but his small circle of friends. Shadyside wasn’t exactly the most welcoming environment for LGBT, and he was eager to head out to bigger cities where he could breathe a different air. “I know exactly how you feel.”
Cyrus took his hand of the gearstick to put it on TJ’s knee for a second. He knew that TJ had been really struggling with his identity and sexuality, especially being the captain of the basketball team, and coming from a Christian family.
“You can talk to me about those things, if you want.”
“I know.” TJ didn’t look at Cyrus, but instead looked out the front window and smiled to himself. “How many people have you kissed?”
“You know that one. Only Iris, back when I was thirteen or something. How many people have you kissed?”
“Two? I think.”
“Natalie and Ethan?”
“Yeah.” TJ said. He had kissed them both on the same night, during a game of spin the bottle when they were fifteen. His kiss with Natalie had been pleasant. She was a great kisser, and she smelled nice, but it wasn’t until his very brief kiss with Ethan, who used too much tongue and tasted like garlicky pizza, and, in hindsight, had been a lot worse than Natalie, that he realised that yes, this was what he wanted.
Cyrus had also been playing that night, but the bottle never landed on him. TJ had been a little sad that his first kiss with a boy hadn’t been with his best friend, or someone he knew a little better than the boy who was a benchwarmer for his basketball team.
“Which song makes you the happiest, and which one makes you the saddest?”
“Are you reading some kind of blog or are you really just pulling that question out of your ass?” Cyrus said, dumbfounded.
“I just really want to know!” TJ laughed, but discreetly put his phone in his pocket, what convinced Cyrus that he did just find that question online.
“Uh. That’s a really, really tough one. Happiest, maybe… I really don’t know!” Cyrus laughed, thinking really hard, “I get really happy just listening to cheesy pop songs, you know. ‘Shut up and dance’ is a good one.”
“That is a really happy song,” TJ said, immediately putting it in the queue, “and sad?”
“There’s this Phoebe Bridgers song Spotify recommended for me last week, that was just depressing. Very good, but really depressing, called like ‘Funeral’, I think?” Cyrus rambled, “I listened to it in bed, and I just… wasn’t okay after. Also, ‘Broadripple is burning’ is a song Buffy sent me a couple months back, that one makes me sad. Also-”
“It’s okay, Cyrus, I only asked for one,” TJ said in a soft voice, looking at his phone. “I just took a really nice picture of you driving.”
“Instagram worthy?”
“I’m posting it on my story.”
“Alright. Would you trade your sister for ten million dollars?” Cyrus said, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, waiting for the car in front of him to start driving, because the traffic light had been green for at least five seconds.
“Amber is a little shit, but no.”
-
TJ took a bottle of Sprite from the cooler in the back.
“We can stop the car and have dinner at the next diner we see, just be patient,” Cyrus said, focussing on the car in front of him that finally started moving again. “Are you hungry?”
“I could eat.”
“It’s only like… half an hour until we arrive, so we’ll grab dinner and then check into the motel Andi booked for us.”
“You let Andi book a motel for us?” TJ asked, fiddling with the drawstrings of his hoodie.
“Yeah, she stayed there once with Bowie, and offered to book it for us. I was pretty occupied by mapping out a cross-country road trip, so I really didn’t mind the help.”
TJ took a long swig from his bottle of Sprite and burped. “Alright Cy. Are we eating there or do you want to drive a bit more?”
He motioned to diner, that had a strong sixties theme going on, a bit further down the road. The parking lot was almost empty, save for ten, fifteen cars, but the lights were on and it looked cosy enough, so Cyrus nodded and pulled in.
TJ led Cyrus into the diner, pushing the door open with his shoulder. It was decorated in pastel tones of blue, pink and green, with a big counter taking up the entire right side of the place.
They sat down in a small booth, opposite of each other, on mint-green plastic couches. There was a tiny jukebox in the middle of the table, with an impressive collection of classic songs, ranging from the fifties to the nineties.
“Can I borrow a quarter?”
Cyrus dug up a quarter from his pocket, handed it to TJ, and moments later their little booth was filled by the familiar drums of Joan Jett & the Blackhearts.
“I love rock ‘n roll, huh. You’re getting predictable, Teej.”
“Shut it, you told me you loved this song a week ago.”
Cyrus smiled and studied the plastic menu card taped to the table. He went over their extensive list of pizza and burger options before deciding to just order the first thing on the menu.
“Have you decided on what you want to order yet?”
Cyrus looked up to see a pretty girl with long, brown hair pulled into a ponytail holding the smallest notebook he had ever seen. She was wearing white pants and a mint green shirt, effortlessly blending into the décor of the diner. Her “Hello, my name is” tag said CINDY, drawn in big, pink bubbly letters with a tiny heart dotting the ‘i’.
“I would like a, uhm, Chef’s Choice Burger Menu with fries, extra ketchup and a Cherry Coke, please.”
She wrote down his order, not sparing him a single glance, but instead keeping all of her attention focussed on TJ.
“Can I get you anything, handsome?”
Oh. That was how it was going to be.
“Uh, yeah, I’ll have a Margherita pizza and a Fanta, please.” TJ said, looking confused.
“Okay! If you need anything else,” she said to TJ, while batting her eyelashes, “just give a yell.”
She walked away from the table, with swaying hips and a swaying ponytail, still occasionally sneaking glances at TJ from behind the bar where she was pouring their drinks.
“Dude, she totally has the hots for you,” Cyrus said, annoyed at the peppy waitress and her stupid flirting.
“She’s just being nice, Cy.”
“You are actually blind.” Cyrus huffed.
Cindy returned sooner than Cyrus would’ve liked, putting their drinks down in front of them.
“So, are you here for long?” Cindy said, sitting down next to TJ on the bench.
“No, we’re just passing through on our way to New York. We’re staying in a motel about half an hour from here.” TJ said, taking a sip of his Fanta, trying not to spill any of his drink from the overflowing glass.
“That’s too bad,” she said, putting a perfectly manicured hand on TJ’s upper thigh.
“Don’t you have a job to do,” Cyrus interrupted her aggressive flirting, avoiding TJ’s disapproving stare.
“Sadly, yes,” she said, standing up from the bench, winking at TJ, “I’ll see you in a bit.”
TJ smiled at her and watched her leave, rolling his straw between his thumb and forefinger and waited until she was serving an elderly couple at the complete other side of the restaurant to kick Cyrus in the shin.
“What the fuck, dude? That was so fucking rude!”
“Well, it was true!” Cyrus defended himself, “that old woman was trying to get her attention for at least two minutes.”
“You always blow shit out of proportion, Cyrus.”
“God, now it’s my fault that some random waitress is flirting with you.” Cyrus crossed his arms, and looked out through the window at the parking lot, where a family with three tiny kids were walking to their car.
“A pizza for you, and a burger special for your little friend?”
Cindy had returned, this time holding plates of delicious smelling food. Cyrus was silently seething with rage at how she called him TJ’s little friend, but accepted the burger she gave him, and watched her flirt with TJ for another two minutes, before the elderly couple at the other side of the restaurant seized her attention once again.
“Little friend. Little friend. What a bitch.”
“That’s what you get for being so rude to her, Cy.” TJ said, biting off a huge chunk of his pizza, and continued with his mouth full, “she was being nice to you before.”
“She hasn’t even looked at me once, Teej.”
“Don’t start with that nickname, I can’t be angry when you call me that.”
Cyrus smiled, popping a fry in his mouth.
He didn’t understand why he was getting so riled up about a random girl in a random diner flirting with his best friend. He had no right getting territorial over TJ, but oh boy, did he want to.
At the end of their meal, when Cindy came to clean the table and left a napkin for TJ with her number on it, underlined with her name and three X’s, and to make matters worse, a big red lipstick kiss, Cyrus was fuming, but he knew he had no right.
TJ took the napkin and pocketed it, waiting while Cyrus went up to the counter to pay for their meals.
They walked out of the restaurant, and TJ walked to the nearest trash can and dumped the napkin.
“Why did you take it, if you were just going to ditch it anyway?” Cyrus asked, baffled.
“Didn’t want to hurt her feelings.” TJ smiled, “Besides, I can’t go out with someone who is rude to my best friend.”
He slung an easy arm around Cyrus’ shoulder, and together they walked back to TJ’s car, bickering about whose turn it was to drive.