Chapter Text
Hanbon relayed the worst possible news at the worst possible time ever. In fact, Coy was certain she set a record.
"But we've had this planned out for months! Is there any way you can bail?"
"I'm sorry, guys, I really am. But my grandma said she'd actually disown me if I didn't go to the wedding." Hanbon looked like she was going to cry.
Will patted her shoulder comfortingly. "It's alright, Bon. Your cousin can only get married once. Indiana is forever."
"Easy for you to say, you weren't coming in the first place," Coy fired back. All the same, he gave Hanbon a hug to make it clear he wasn't really mad at her.
No, he was more horrified at the thought of being in a car with Anthony for ten hours. The wretched audio of his own voice rang through his head: 'Imagine a movie where it like starts with a nerdy guy who starts with these like brown-framed glasses on. And by the end he learns to be confident in himself and also underneath his sweater he was like, built.'
If Coy could go back in time and wipe that segment from the internet, he'd do it in a heartbeat. The pit in his stomach deepened; he remembered Will's joke from the party. The way Hanbon noticed his averse reaction despite being nearly blackout drunk. The look on Anthony's face.
"Whath goin' on?"
In the doorway to the goffice stood Anthony, Costco bags in hand and car key between his teeth muffling his sentence. His sweater was snug around his shoulders, accentuating how full his arms had become. Coy willed himself not to stare.
"Hanbon can't go on the Indiana trip because she's going to Lucy's wedding and Coy's parents are going to like, some religious Mormon vacation—"
"—They aren't Mormon!"
"For months after our planned visit," Will continued, waving a dismissive arm. "So we can't cancel. It's now or never."
"Or we wait until they come back?" Coy suggested.
He willed Anthony to agree, to see the logic in his statement and just wait until all four of them could go visit his hometown, observe the lacking empty roads of the Midwest, and sing Kumbaya at dinner.
But Anthony just shrugged. "Okay. I'm cool if it's just me and Coy."
He tossed the keys in the air and caught them. A casual movement as any. As though Coy's heart wasn't about to beat out of his ribcage.
How about no, Anthony? How about I tell you I'm not cool if it's just 'you and Coy'?
Hanbon clapped, looking a lot less guilty now. "Yay! I promise I'll help you guys pack and go over the itinerary and everything. It'll be like I'm there with you."
Coy smiled wearily. "So excited for that, Bon."
The ribbed black suitcase made Coy nauseous. It was the same one he used during his first big move to North Carolina, and it reminded him of how he hugged his mom through her tears and shook his dad's hand but could only muster relief as his taxi sped off. He couldn't even feel remorseful for thinking: I'm free.
He peered down at the clothes scattered on his floor. There was his Creeper sweater from Anthony, a couple identical red t-shirts, his "ray of sunshine" shirt, a few cargo shorts, and a hoodie. It was chilly outside, the mid-November breeze that cooled you to the bone, so he'd probably wear the sweater on the road. He was mulling these extremely important clothing choices over when someone tapped on the door.
"Knock knock," said Hanbon. She was holding a drink topped off with whipped cream, and she handed it to Coy.
"Thank you, this looks really good."
"Are you done packing?" Hanbon's tone was too-even, which meant she was here for more than a casual check-in.
"Almost, I'm just picking out my clothes. Do you think three shirts will be enough for two days? I'm pretty sure I still have some of my old stuff in my room for the rest of the week. Unless mom threw them out." He laughed, trying to dissolve the lump in his throat.
Hanbon sat cross-legged on his floor, fiddling with a thread on the yellow shirt. "I'd go with four or five, just to be safe. And pack underwear, dummy."
"Shit, you're right. Can't be pulling a Fredzilla."
They both laughed, but Hanbon's heart clearly wasn't in it.
"Tough crowd," Coy offered, trying to shift the mood. When she didn't respond, he relented. "Alright, spit it out. What's wrong?"
"I just feel bad about what happened at the party."
And the stomach-pit was back. "You remember?"
"Surprisingly, yes."
"It's okay, I know Will didn't mean it like that," Coy said.
"He didn't, but it obviously affected you. You've been moping around and even Anthony's noticed."
Coy snorted, yanking a few more shirts out of his closet. "Good to know we have the same faith in Anthony's observation skills. And besides, it's on me. I shouldn't be feeling bad if my best friend jokes about something I chose to put on the internet."
Hanbon put some of his clothes into the suitcase. "I guess so, but what I was really wondering is why it bothered you so much. You're basically icing Anthony out for something he didn't even say. We're all used to you two fighting, but you make up in like, a second. You're like a married cou—"
"Don't say it!"
Oops. Maybe he shouldn't have been so obvious. Hanbon caught onto things at the speed of light, and Coy could practically see the wheels turning in her head.
"Oh, so you—"
"Yes."
"And you didn't know? When you talked about it on the podcast?"
"No."
She gasped. "Wait, did Will saying you were basically describing Anthony make you realize?"
"No! I'm not that dense."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Okay, fine. I kind of knew for a couple months, but I felt like Will actually spoke it into existence. And now it's all I can think about when I look at Anthony. Plus, he looked icked out about the joke, so I'm trying not to think about it. And also, we're going to my insanely homophobic hometown so I might relapse into believing I'll be incinerated on the spot if I even think about how attractive he is. So."
The last part was a joke, but Hanbon practically wilted. "Coy. Are you sure you want to go, then? I mean, you basically didn't wanna go anyway. The whole point was that we'd be there for you."
"God, how big of a pussy would I be if I cancel now? Anthony's schedule is totally cleared. Besides, I'm a pro at handling annoying white people, don't you worry."
Hanbon looked a tiny bit more reassured. "Okay, just call me if you need anything."
"I'll be calling you every two minutes so I don't have to talk to Anthony."
"Well don't do that," she huffed, tension leaving her eyebrows. "Hey, maybe something good will happen. We were all really drunk the other day, so there's no way you can be sure Ant actually looked grossed out. There's no way he would be."
"He's so bro-ey it hurts."
"Hey!" Hanbon laughed. "You seriously never know."
Coy couldn't think of a response to that, so he only tried the drink she'd made him. It was a pumpkin flavored latte, and they sat in each others company as he finished it. In the end, Hanbon offered him a side-hug and reminded him to pack toothpaste before skipping off to Anthony's room.
Coy loved Hanbon, really, but the conversation hadn't done anything to alleviate his fears. If he were less shameless, he'd have taken her up on the offer to cancel. But he felt like he had something to prove now, to let his friends know that simple comments wouldn't get to him and he could go on living as though nothing had happened. More importantly, they needed to know he could stand up to his family.
He yanked out his phone and scrolled back to the accursed TikTok. How hadn't he registered the words coming out of his mouth?
Brown framed glasses: Anthony. Although his current black ones suited him way better. Nerd who could go on about niche interests for hours: Anthony. Gained more confidence in himself over time: Anthony. Secretly ripped: you guessed it.
Well, it wasn't quite a secret anymore.
Anthony walked past Coy's bedroom in a ribbed tank top, giving him a front-row view of exactly that. Coy threw his phone onto his bed and slammed the door shut.
Will hefted Anthony's suitcase into the trunk bright and early the next morning. Anthony was in the driver's seat making sure their car wouldn't spontaneously combust, and Coy stood next to Will with his arms awkwardly dangling.
"You guys are gonna be okay, right?" Will asked. "You're both acting like low-frequency entities."
Coy groaned. "We'll be fine."
"You're not going to keep ignoring him?"
"I'll do my best."
"Coy."
"Will."
Will sighed. "Look, I know you don't really want to be around your family right now. I wish I could be there, really. But Anthony's all you've got 'cause things didn't work out the way we wanted them to. Just set whatever this is aside for the trip. You need him."
Naturally, Will had no recollection of the night of the party. So in his eyes, this was same old Coy and Anthony, having a little spat over nothing.
"Okay. Thanks, Will. Have fun in Cali with Carol."
"Oh, I will. Way more than you guys."
"Yeah, rural Indiana isn't exactly up and coming."
"And fuck your uptight family dinner. I hope your cousins beat each other up at the table or something," Will said.
A laugh startled out of Coy, his first genuine one in a while. "I'll try to instigate it."
He shot Will a wink before heading toward the shotgun door of the car. This was it, the moment he'd been dreading ever since Hanbon released her soul-crushing news. He wondered if he could wave at Will for a few solid minutes to procrastinate.
Will didn't even give him time to brood and contemplate like the main character of a movie. Instead, he quickly slammed the trunk shut and practically dashed back into the house.
Gee, thanks for the support.
Coy had no choice but to open the door, and he settled into his seat. Anthony was fiddling with the AUX. He looked up with a tentative smile.
"Hey. Are you ready?"
It was a silly statement, like one that would be exchanged among people who just met and not a couple of best friends. Coy nearly responded with his usual snark, but then his attention shifted to the way the light set Anthony's eyes ablaze, like he was burning up from the inside.
Jesus Christ. I can't do this.
"Yeah," he said instead.
"I have the GPS pulled up, it's gonna take ten hours and forty two minutes. We can either just do two five hour shifts of driving or stop at a hotel halfway if it gets too much. What do you think?"
Anthony was keeping his tone light, but his gaze was fixed on Coy in a way that made him want to shiver. Coy shifted his eyes, pretending to focus on a dog on the street in front of them.
"I remember there's a long stretch in the middle that's hella boring, so we might need to take a nap so we don't fall asleep during that part. We can probably muscle through it, though."
"Like men!" Anthony yelled like a Viking battle-cry. A poor and obvious attempt to make Coy laugh. Perhaps it would've worked if Coy weren't actively trying to suck all the whimsy out of himself.
"Right. Well, we need gas, the tank was empty."
"I filled it up this morning while you were asleep."
Coy finally looked up, surprised. "Oh. Then we need snacks. Maybe Sour Patch and—"
Anthony reached into the back seat, resurfacing proudly with three items. "Got that, and I got Snickers and these weird bacon flavored chips I thought we could try together. Oh, and I found a diner about halfway there where we can get pasta 'cause I know you mentioned you miss marinara and we haven't been able to go to Otto's in a while."
Warmth bloomed in Coy's chest and a fluttery sensation erupted in his stomach. "That sounds good. Thanks, Anth."
Anthony lacked any trace of his typical smugness, and he just smiled. His eyes were soft, too soft, and Coy needed him to stop looking before his brain formed wild thoughts and scenarios.
To make matters worse, Coy felt an involuntarily smile spread across his own face. "Come on, get driving."
"Yes, sir."
Coy's face heated up immediately. Shit.
The car pulled into reverse, and Anthony placed a hand on Coy's seat to look over his shoulder. His concentrated expression only made the butterflies flap more frantically, and Coy cursed himself for acting like a teenager with a first crush. None of this was new: this was Anthony, the same Anthony who hated cooking but cooked for Coy during his depressive episodes, the same one who remembered all his drive-thru orders and went out of his way to buy him a guitar despite there being no occasion to do so. This was all normal behavior. Anthony just found it easy to show care for all his friends. That was all.
Unfortunately, Anthony was also trying really hard to snap Coy out of his funk, so he only held the silence for about two minutes.
"Coooyy," he wheedled.
"I'm supposed to be the gay one, what?" Coy groaned.
"I brought my guitar, too."
This was admittedly funny. "What, so you can spontaneously burst into song?" he laughed.
Anthony started blasting a Quadeca song.
"You know," he mused. "That actually sounds like a great idea."
Coy tried to hold back from humming along. Then, he realized: if the point of this trip was to pretend everything was normal, then he should hum along. He should act exactly like he always does. That'll give him some solid proof that there's nothing special between him and Anthony and he can move on without worrying about one of his best friends being his ideal type. Perfect plan. Coy has got this in the bag.
The car rolled onto the freeway, and he snuck another glance at Anthony. He really was annoyingly attractive.
Here goes nothing.
Hour 1
Anthony still had ownership of the AUX, and was belting along to some lame-ass song from Steven Universe.
Coy desperately wanted to make another gay joke, but suddenly everything felt too on-the-line. As if, a joke had the power to turn into reality or at the very least, make Anthony realize that his humor was just a manifestation of his secret hopes.
Instead, he reached into the back seat and grabbed Anthony's backpack. He typically stored things like IDs, medicine, books, and on good days, a camera in there. Coy started digging through the flaps, and Anthony shot out an arm.
"Wait, feed me one of the Sour Patch from the back."
Coy rolled his eyes. "I'm not your bitch, do it yourself."
Anthony shifted in his seat, leg jumping to hit the brakes as a car stopped abruptly in front of them. He raised an eyebrow, gesturing to his hands on the ten-and-two of the steering wheel.
"My hands are full."
Begrudgingly, Coy set down Anthony's backpack. He reached into the backseat and retrieved the packet of Sour Patch Kids. Both his and Anthony's favorite flavor was blue raspberry, so Coy intentionally grabbed orange. He dangled it in front of Anthony's mouth.
"Still want one?"
Anthony was somewhat of a food degenerate, and leaned forward to snap his teeth like a crocodile. He caught the orange Sour Patch Kid in his mouth, and Coy dug back into the bag to pick out blue raspberry.
It was halfway to his mouth when Anthony, in an unfair move, let go of the wheel and snatched it out of Coy's hand.
This had to be another move to get him to engage. Well, Coy wasn't going to.
"Real immature," he said.
Anthony grinned. "I know you are, but what am I?"
This did get the better of Coy, but before he respond with a cutting remark, a car cut in front of them without turning on its indicator. Anthony swerved, and Coy let out a string of expletives.
"What a little ball of rage you are," Anthony remarked.
Coy responded with a one-shouldered shrug. "Thanks, I get it from my dad."
Anthony shot him a look from the corner of his eye, the kind that Coy hated. None of his friends seemed to be able to let jokes about his family slide without question. And speak of the goddamn devil, Coy's phone rang.
It was his dad. Fantastic.
Anthony stole a glance at his phone and immediately turned off the radio. Coy picked up on speaker, and his dad's voice rang tinny through the busted Samsung.
"Are you almost here?"
Coy's blood pressure immediately spiked. It was a simple question, but he knew his dad knew he couldn't possibly almost be there.
"Just eleven hours to go!" Coy said with forced cheer.
"Your mother wants me to tell you to bring a nice office shirt. Your aunts expect you to be dressed well for dinner."
Anything you wanna tell me, dad? Coy thought.
"I didn't pack any."
"Well, figure something out. This is a rare visit of yours."
Coy restrained the urge to say something stupid, like 'No shit, Sherlock'.
Anthony spoke up. "He can borrow one of mine, sir."
"Who is that?" Coy's dad asked.
Anthony coughed awkwardly. "It's me, Anthony. I'm coming with Coy to visit, remember?"
"What about those other friends of yours?"
Jesus, he couldn't have even bothered to learn their names? Coy gritted his teeth. "I texted mom about it, Hannah and Will can't come."
There was an extended silence on the other end. Coy took the phone off speaker; he knew such pauses could only mean something insanely stupid would be said afterward.
"Won't it look a bit odd? I mean, your cousins are bringing their girlfriends and—"
Coy fought the insane force pleading with him to smash his phone to bits. "—He's my friend. And in case you forgot, I'm gay."
His dad paused again. This time, the silence went on far too long, so Coy removed the phone from his ear to check the screen. He'd hung up.
Anthony drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "What did he s—"
"New day, same bullshit."
"Okay. Do you wanna pick the next song?"
Really, Coy wanted to. But instead, he slumped further into his seat, grabbing a neck pillow in hopes of falling asleep.
"No. Just, leave me alone, Anthony."
And so the two of them drove on, one's frown fixed straight ahead and the other's tears restrained behind his shut eyelids. Let's go to fucking Indiana.