Stars that Shine So Bright

It really was his fault. For getting in the car, for not leaving Al alone. That didn't mean that Al could just keep going, though. This was technically kidnapping, right? Maybe he could tell someone at a gas station they would inevitably have to visit. Tell them this madman had taken off without warning, that Arthur was just a scared study-abroad student with no clue as how to get home. Then the police would come and take them both back.

But that was kind of mean, even from Arthur's perspective. Al was a decent guy, probably. He didn't really deserve to be arrested for kidnapping. Would they mark that on his record, he wondered, if the charges were dropped? If Arthur told them it was really a mistake, that it had been a joke. Would he get in trouble with the police? Oh God, he hoped not. That would be terrible. Hey mum, yeah, sorry, could you come rescue me? The American coppers don't really react well to humor.

"You're awfully quiet," Al said, pulling Arthur from his fantasy of what it might be like to live behind bars.

"Well, you're obviously not turning the car around," Arthur replied, pulling his already crossed arms closer to his chest and snuggling down in his seat. "So why bother."

Al glanced at him several times before reaching over to pat him on the head. Arthur swatted his hand away and gave him the biggest scowl he could muster. He had been told he looked scary when angry, that his dark eyebrows shadowed his eyes or something. Francis got on his nerves a lot.

But Al just laughed. "Hey now," he said. "You looked at me. Glad to know you aren't gonna be a pissy little shit the whole ride."

Arthur wanted to tilt his head back and groan - why did he have the luck of that one fish from Finding Nemo? His travel companion was slowly rising to the very alarming Francis-like level. "How long is this ride going to be, anyways?" he asked.

Al just sort of shrugged with a little smile on his face. The image of Arthur leaning over to throttle him passed through his mind for a split second. Nah. That wasn't worth it.

He settled for looking out the window instead. Unfortunately for him, the scenery was rather bland, unexciting. The land had flattened out, a terrible comparison to the hills near the Springs, rising up with dark green trees and the scratchy looking brown shrubs. The few trees they passed had almost all lost their leaves, their pretty golden leaves.

It was always such a shame the world became this huge, frozen, sleeping thing the same time every year. People waited patiently, bundled up in jumpers as they peered through glass windows, looking for any sign of the coming spring - when the world would wake up again. Sometimes it would trick people, though, and wake only for a little bit. Damn the world.

Fields stretched out longer than he could see, occasionally broken by a large metal tub or uneven fence. Wooden posts of all sorts of sizes were linked by barbed wire. Sometimes he saw a cow, but not often. The sun was setting behind the mountains, but those were behind them so he couldn't even admire the sunset.

Sunsets in Colorado were by far the best he'd seen anywhere. The sky was enormous - one could see the clouds taking different forms, billowing up or out, and the color behind them was usually a deep, intense blue. So when the sun sank, it sent colors streaming out across the blue and the clouds, painting it with reds and oranges and in between colors he had never even thought of. He often sent pictures to his parents or brought his laptop outside with him for them to see on the webcam. It wasn't the same, though.

And now he was stuck going in the opposite direction of those mountains, of that beauty he had spent forever on the internet trying to obtain. The sky could hardly even be seen, now. Just lots of grey clouds, dim light, and the metal frames of the car.

"Hey Artie, could you get my backpack from the backseat?" Al asked.

"Why?" Arthur asked, feeling very sullen. He didn't move.

"I want something from it," Al said and glanced at him. "Please."

Arthur rolled his eyes, but did what was asked of him. Al just wanted his iPod plugged in to his radio and set on shuffle. This didn't really make much sense, however, because Al started skipping every song that started playing.

"Looking for something in particular?" Arthur asked. He wasn't sure what he was trying to do at this point. It seemed like he wanted to be engaging, interested, when his tone clearly said otherwise.

"No-sort of," Al said, eyes flitting back and forth from the road to what his hand was doing.

Whatever. Arthur settled back to looking out the window, though the constant start and stops of songs made thinking a little more difficult. It would be absolutely dark, soon. Dark to the point where even the sun hiding behind the mountains couldn't give you the impression of light, where you couldn't even see the fuzzy details. And then what? Would they stop at a hotel, motel, whatever came along? Because from his perspective, there sure weren't going to be any coming up soon.

Electronic music filled the car - a keyboard? - and a girl's sugar coated voice sprang up. It wasn't in any language Arthur knew, but Al started singing along. It became obvious he was only mimicking the sounds rather than words, mumbling along to most of it, but becoming strong at the chorus. But that was mostly just "Pon pon pon's."

Al turned and grinned at him when there were breaks in the lyrics, swaying his shoulders along to the claps or keyboard music. Other times he would nod his head, like he was trying to create a softer form of headbanging.

Arthur just stared.

Eventually the song had to end and Arthur was left with many more questions than he had the guts to ask. Really, the most prominent word bouncing in his head was "what," but Al just smiled at him and started searching for a new song.

"I have a Japanese friend," Al said after a little while. Al hadn't looked his way, but Arthur would bet it was his staring that did it, that made him explain even just a little bit. "We needed something happy sounding."

Arthur turned back to the steadily dimming scenery flying past. He wondered if it would have looked more interesting in the summer. Somehow, he doubted that. Maybe a little more full, a little more color, but it would have all still been the same nothingness - nothing but fields. Fields of food, of produce. Fields you could not just take a walk in.

If not fields, it would be the natural grasses that blended in with the dirt, making everything look dusty and colorless, like a photograph that had the saturation drained out of it. Cattle would roam, maybe antelope. Arthur wasn't sure if antelope could walk about on personal property, actually. He had read that some deer would come into yards and eat from gardens, but he hadn't read about the antelope.

A nice enough melody began playing and Alfred snickered, causing Arthur to turn around without thinking. He couldn't tell what was so funny, though. Even when the singing started, he couldn't understand - and the voice was terrible.

Al began singing along, also mimicking the scratchy tone. He hadn't started at the beginning, when the singer sang about being drunk - and Arthur believed him, he sounded drunk - but rather singing out, "Well, maybe a little rough around the edges, or inside a little hollow - I get faced with some things, sometimes, that are so hard to swallow - HEY!" He sang all out, belting out the lyrics with absolutely no shame.

And then it all made sense.

"I was born a rebel-"

The goddamn song was about rebellion and that's exactly what Alfred was doing - being rebellious and driving and that foot on the pedal line and Arthur wanted to punch that grin off his face. So he did the next best thing. He unplugged the iPod.

"Hey!" Al whined.

"You don't sing very well," Arthur stated. That was kind of a lie. Al wasn't great, but he wasn't terrible. He kept close to the tone and was obviously trying to not only follow the sound of the music, but the singer's voice and tone as well.

Al twisted his mouth up in something that was almost a pout, but probably closer to annoyance. Apparently he could only take the sound of driving for only so long, for he smacked at his radio a few times and something fast and upbeat covered it up.

While Arthur was comfortable with letting everything slip into silence and thought, Alfred wasn't quite ready.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

"Why?"

"Because I'm taking a survey to determine how many people are hungry at seven o'clock," Al replied. He gave him a very pointed stare before he had to look back at the road.

"I suppose," Arthur said, drawing his words out as if he were suspicious. Really, the little people inside his head were at work, plotting out scenarios, ideas.

Al glanced at him. "You suppose you're hungry?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Yes, do you have a problem with that?" he replied.

"Nah, man, just wondering how you can't tell if you're running on empty or not. I always know," Al said and scratched at his blonde hair. "Your stomach starts whining - feed me! - it says. Or it gets all grumbly and low and it's just like - feed me NOW. - and you just have to shut it up before people start starin' at'cha funny. Kinda like what you're doing now."

Arthur shook his head, forcing his eyes to look ahead at the road. "I'd like to eat, thank you," he said. He had felt his wallet sitting in his back pocket a long while ago, to which he thanked God and Zeus and anybody else up there for. He couldn't say the same for his phone, however, and he was planning on checking for it whenever they stopped. He had the dreadful suspicion it was still sitting next to his computer, that he hadn't grabbed it out of habit. To be fair, he didn't think he would be gone all that long.

They drove past a sign that promised food and gas at the next exit but, to Arthur's dismay, no hotel. Alfred pulled the car from its straight path and slowed down - it was somewhat of an odd feeling after driving at a consistent speed for so long. The bright, electric lighting had Arthur rubbing at his eyes - he felt like he had just woken up.

"Alriiiiight," Al said as he pulled up into the parking lot. "Thank you, America, for having McDonalds pretty much everywhere. I really want a burger."

Arthur opened his door. "You like McDonalds?" he asked and got out of the car.

Al did the same. "It's not the best burger out there - personally I prefer places like Culver's or Texas Roadhouse - but it's decent for something cheap and fast. Why? You don't like it?" he asked.

Arthur shrugged and didn't answer. He wasn't about to admit he enjoyed those ice cream things, with the bits of Oreos mixed in or, depending on who made them, the fries.

After they had each ordered, retrieved their food from the counter, and found a place to sit, Arthur found that he was hungrier than he originally thought. He had forgotten to tell them to forget the mustard, so he sacrificed a french fry to scrape the stuff off. It was difficult to focus on eating, however, when the person he was eating with kept staring at him, mouth moving as he chewed.

"What is it?" Arthur asked. He didn't feel like he had ketchup on his face.

"Just trying to figure it out," Al said, after he swallowed. Arthur expected him to continue, but Al just took another bite from his burger.

"Figure what out?" Arthur didn't know why, but his entire reserve of patience always seemed to empty around this guy. Here he was, elbows propped up on the table, blonde brushed away from his face like it was natural to sit like that, peering at Arthur through smudged glasses. Arthur just wanted to eat.

"Why you're even here," Al said and set his food down. Finally. "I mean, I was content on just driving off by myself-" he shrugged "-but then you just got in my car. I don't really know you, I mean, I know you from class and from Frankie and all, but you seemed really concerned for some reason. And I dunno, I guess I'm just trying to figure it out."

From Frankie? What did that mean? Arthur was about to ask, but Al continued.

"Anyways, enough talk about that. I wanna get going," he said. "Fill up our stomachs, fill up the car, and keep on going."

Arthur's stomach twisted in a funny way. Half of him felt the grease from the burger messing with him, the idea of continuing to drive off towards an unknown destination. The other half felt as if he looked forward to the unknown, to the idea of driving off with almost a complete stranger.

He remembered something. "Do you happen to have your phone on you?" Arthur asked. Al would have his roommate's number.

Al sort of smiled, sort of winced. "No," he said. "That, uh, got left behind."

"What?!"

"Not like, on purpose or anything!" Al's words tumbled out, like he had been put in a corner he had been avoiding. "I just really wanted to get out, get going, go go go sort of thing and I, I sort of realized it when you first asked me to turn around."

Arthur leaned back in his chair and groaned, rubbing at his face with his hands. He stared at the ceiling. At least they both had their wallets. He wasn't sure what they'd have done without those.

"If you need to, uh, use a phone," Al said, "you could probably use the one at the gas station." He was looking out his window, into the dark. Arthur couldn't help but feel almost sorry for the guy - a feeling he immediately tried to wipe away. He wasn't the one who decided to drive off into the great unknown, unprepared. Al's reflection glanced at him, caught his eye and held on to it for a moment. Arthur looked away.

After they had deposited the remains of their meal in the trash, Al drove them to the gas station, where he promptly began filling the car up as Arthur went into the store. According to the clerk, however, the payphones were just outside.

Arthur slid in the necessary coins and dragged the number out from memory. It wasn't as difficult as he thought it might be - Francis had scribbled the number on a page in his math textbook, tore the page out, and handed it to him with a smile that meant far more than Arthur would have ever wanted. The more times it rang, the more Arthur's panic rose. What if he got the number wrong? What would he do if Francis didn't answer?

"Hello?"

Oh thank fucking God.

"Hello, Francis, this is Arthur-"

"Hold on one moment, dear."

He glanced back at the car, where Alfred was leaning back against the car. "I don't have time for just a moment, I need to talk to you now. And don't call me dear," he hissed into the phone.

Francis muttered something in French and Arthur put his forehead against the wall of the building. "What do you need? And why did you leave your phone here?"

"Never mind that, I followed Al - Alfred - back to his room. I thought he was acting a little funny, so I followed him and now I'm stuck going lord knows where. With him."

"You're going to have to slow down a little. You went somewhere with Al? Where?"

"I told you, I don't know. Now just listen to me. Maybe I can convince him to go back. I don't know. But point is, I wasn't murdered or anything, alright? Just, uh, just in case the thought crosses anyone's mind or...whatever."

Francis chuckled. "Okay, message received. Keep me updated, yes?"

Arthur sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Hopefully this won't carry on for too much longer," he said. "But thank you for, for listening I guess. I'll talk to you later."

"Have fun."

Arthur hung up on Francis's laughter. The inner workings of his roommate's mind were as mysterious as Alfred's talk of sports.

"You finished then?"

Arthur jumped - Al shifted his weight backwards, balancing on his heels for a moment, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets.

"The car is all good," Al continued, nodding to the side.

Arthur gave a curt nod and followed him over. Had he heard all that? He hoped not. It wasn't like he had really said anything behind his back, nothing he hadn't said before. Guilt still crept up on him, though. It settled in his stomach.

Al opened his door and paused. "You know," he started. He licked his lips. "You know, if you wanna go back, you don't have to go with me. Mattie has a car, he can come get you. I can call him up for you."

The guilt was overwhelming. The way Al wasn't making eye contact, how he shifted his weight from one foot to the next, Arthur had the sudden desire to hug the other man, to punch him in the arm, something that didn't make him so...so damn sad.

Arthur opened his door and slid into the passenger seat. "So where are we headed?" he asked, buckling up.

After some hesitation, Al followed suit. "I don't know, actually," he said. "I was thinking about heading south. What do you think?"

Arthur shrugged, ignoring the way all his blood felt like air, how he knew, deep down, he shouldn't do this. He should go back to school, attend class, turn in his homework. "This is my first time to America. You know it better than I."

Al grinned and drove out of the gas station.

The darkness was interesting. Occasionally they would come across a small town or a light or two from a faraway house, but mostly it was a blank, dark wall. Or maybe an ocean. It was like the road stretched out in front of them, behind them, and off to the sides was only ocean, forever calm and still. Like glass. Maybe that's what it was. Or maybe the ocean churned under the glass, so that everything was fine on the surface, but once you got a closer look, once you actually saw...

Al had turned the music down low, so that it mingled with the driving noises, of the engine and the tires. At one point Arthur had asked about a hotel, but Al had been vague and Arthur couldn't really remember the conversation. They had both crossed a point where the talking stopped and the music was at the front of their minds.

He couldn't remember how he had fallen asleep, only that he had nodded off a few times. But he had jolted back up, looked around with wide eyes every time. He had glanced at Al to see if he noticed, but either the other man really hadn't or he was just being polite, pretending the road was far more interesting than sudden movements made around him.

The first thing Arthur noticed upon waking was the dark; it couldn't have been that long ago that he had drifted off. The next was how the car wasn't moving. Arthur sat up, stretching as much as the car allowed him. A blanket was settled on his chest. The driver's seat was empty.

The first place he looked was the backseat, but he wasn't there either.

Arthur tried rubbing the heavy feeling from his eyes and yawned. His limbs ached from being in the same position for so long. He peered out into the darkness and that's when he found him.

Al was leaning back against the hood of the car, probably because it was warm, and staring up at the sky. Arthur leaned forward a little to see what it might have been; it had been cloudy that day, what could he possibly be looking at?

Stars.

Peeking between clouds, lighting up their edges, were thousands of stars. Planets too, probably, but Arthur wouldn't have been able to name any. There were more than Arthur had ever seen, other than the pictures he found on the internet, pictures taken from spacecrafts, for school projects.

Arthur didn't know what to make of Al. That he might have done this on purpose? To travel out so far, leaving behind the busy streets of cities, to see this? He pulled the blanket closer and turned to the side. Those thoughts could wait until later, for a time when his mind wasn't turning into puddles at the thought of a person he couldn't figure out.