"Have you ever driven a car?"
"Cars wouldn't be a thing for you guys if you could teleport like us."
"So, no."
"I have," He cocks his head. His smirk is a tad disheartened. "Erwin had a car."
"..."
"The one that died because of Zeke."
"Oh, yes. Right."
"But that was a while ago. He lived in the twentieth century."
"He lived in this house?"
"Right."
"You know cars were kind of shit back then, right?"
"Also right."
"So would it hurt to go for a drive again?"
"You and I?"
"Yeah."
"Right now?"
"Right now."
He stares at an oddly vacant corner of the living room. "You finally took it down."
"Took what down?"
"My birthday present."
"If you have any complaints, you can file it to my parents."
"Yeah, let's never meet each other's families."
"For real? I actually agree," I open the front door, letting sunset pour in.
We reach the car. He tries to get in the passenger's seat. I stop him and say, "You drive."
He raises his eyebrows. "I can't."
"I'll teach you," I say.
He takes a lot of convincing to get behind the wheel. It is the first time he's ever lacked such braveness. I can't stop giggling about it.
"This is funny?" he softly punches my arm. I am his passenger.
He is slightly startled when the wheels start rolling on their own. He steps on the wrong pedal, and the car charges onward. "Fuck," he corrects himself, finding the brake. We're lightly pushed forward by the halt.
"You almost hit the garage door."
"I know."
"Put it in reverse. The modes are marked right here," I reach out and do it for him. He nods.
"If you turn right, the butt of the car will veer right."
"Got it."
"Look at you. Someone's getting confident."
"Hell no," he watches the back camera as we pull out onto the streets.
There is no other moving car in the world, only the one that belonged to the owner of this house. Any object that stayed still as I fell asleep carries over, so every other car here is parked.
"Meaning we have the highway to ourselves?" I ask.
"Exactly," he fiddles with the gear stick, putting it in drive with unsureness.
I point down at his feet. He's wearing a pair of my shoes. Footwear matters for driving comfortably. "The gas pedal is a little sensitive," I say. The car charges forward aggressively before slowing to a normal speed. I start to put on my seatbelt, "There you go."
I don't know the directions to the freeway and my phone is in my room. "Levi, don't you have a phone?"
"Yes."
"Can I borrow it?"
It falls on my lap out of nowhere. I pick it up. "We have the same model," I remark.
"I made a duplicate of yours and erased everything," he explains.
I open the GPS and type in the name of the grocery store. Once we get to the highway, I will end route and we will keep driving.
I say, "Just go straight unless I say something."
"Okay."
I pull up his photo gallery. There is but one picture. The thumbnail is visually appealing. I tap on it.
It is a candid shot of him. He is mostly facing away, looking at some clouds. The location is familiar.
Is that the temple of time?
"Did I take this?" I show him the screen.
He glances at it. "Didn't you?"
"I don't remember doing that," I mumble. He takes a long look at me, still managing to drive straight.
"That's 'cause you forget everything," his focus is back on the road, his shoulders bobbing in silent laughter.
I stare at his profile. He looks exactly like he does in the picture.
I open the camera, raise the phone, and take a second picture. The shutter sounds.
He reacts to it. "Why do you need pictures of me?" he asked. "We have the rest of our lives together, you know."
I lean sideways against the back of my seat, using the phone to cover my grin. I say, "It's a way to freeze time." I look at the screen, and then at him. A spitting image.
"Slow down and take that right."
"Okay."
"Don't be shy. Turn the wheel more."
"..."
"Like that. Now let go and accelerate. The wheel can straighten on its own."
He lets go too suddenly. We rock side to side as he adjusts to the street.
Life is a game and we are in an empty server. I let him ignore the lines and markings on the road. We travel them right through the middle.
I put my feet up, head sinking below the windows. I'm wearing my main pair of shoes. The ones that hurt my heels the least.
All that I see now is the sky and the inside of the car. And him.
His turns get steadier. He is a faster learner than me. He doesn't know how long my eyes have been on him. Neither do I. If they locked with his, would I smile or look away?
As we merge onto the freeway, I tell him to step on the gas.
Go faster.
Faster.
The dashboard reads seventy. Eighty. Ninety. I am all nerves and flowing with adrenaline that tastes like chocolate to my veins, laughing hysterically without meaning to. I choose not to be scared. I don't feel like being scared.
He's smiling with this crazy look in his eyes, like this was peak entertainment. We're cruising down to nowhere and ignoring every exit. I put all my trust in him not to hit anything. If he does, then oh well, we crash and burn. He knows he will have to listen to my mouth for the rest of his life if I die and get kicked out of the dream.
His shirt is black. I look at it, and think to myself, no other color is this becoming on him.
I am present and living in the moment for the first time. It finally took me twenty-one years to be born. This is what being alive really feels like. Maybe I've been always destined to end up in this place.
There is no need for music. The strawberry sky is enough noise to our eyes. The way the air fills my lungs makes it feel like we are surrounded by liquid. We're drowning in pink lemonade.
All we have is each other's company. I had many things I didn't want to let go of, but if I had one thing I could keep when the world withers away, all the stars die, and nothing matters anymore, it is him.
I will give up anything but him.