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Whatever Zach had in mind when he’d suggested they find the next town to spend the night in probably wasn’t this. Chris can’t quite stop his eyebrows from rising in surprise when the tires of his Bel Air suddenly crunch over the time-worn gravel of a deserted main street. The buildings surrounding them are weathered, destroyed by the unforgiving winds and sands with no one to maintain them. Doors stand open, welcoming the desert and its critters into once pristine shops and homes. Chris roams his eyes over the old signs hanging haphazardly from building walls and supports, noting the faded paint and cracked paneling with appreciation. There’s an abandoned car a little further down the road, its tires long since deflated, metal plating rusted. Beside him, Chris feels more than sees Zach sit up straighter in his seat. A ghost town. It’s exactly the kind of place that Chris had hoped to discover somewhere along the trip. He eases the car to a stop on the side of the road.
“Wanna look around?” he asks, turning to Zach. Zach is peering around them feigning aloof interest, but Chris sees the excitement in his eyes when the other man smiles at him.
“Yeah,” Zach says, blatantly fishing for his phone “but I get to use my phone for pictures.” Chris rolls his eyes but smiles back, happy that Zach seems to genuinely excited for once. It’s been a while since Chris has seen his friend show true interest in anything. Certainly there’d been moments on this trip alone that Chris had been afraid Zach would put his foot down and call it quits. He wants the best for both of them; wants this trip to smooth over whatever tension he’s been feeling between them. There’s no saying when or if they’d ever work together in a film again. Not that that’s necessarily a bad thing – their friendship extends beyond movie sets and press tours – but Chris can’t help thinking everything’s going to be different now.
He switches off the engine and climbs out of the car as Zach does the same on the other side. It only takes him a moment to locate his camera stashed on the backseat. He fiddles with the bag for a second longer than necessary, listening to the crunch of Zach’s footsteps and the phone’s camera shutter going off. For the first time since setting out, Chris feels truly at peace, as if the strain of everything and nothing holds no weight over this empty town. He pivots, raising the camera to his eye and snaps a picture of the sunset painted clouds behind the remains of the town tavern. The photographer in him lets out a breath of appreciation at the beauty of the lighting as he takes a few more shots of the street, the rusted car, the weed-covered porch of the post office. For good measure, he takes a few steps to the middle of the street and takes a picture of his Bel Air. He hears a quiet laugh beside him and immediately feels heat in his cheeks.
Zach is standing next to him, smirking. “Cliché,” he says, but there’s only teasing in his voice.
“What, your hipster photos are not?”
“They’re the pinnacle of originality,” Zach informs him and Chris laughs. Before he has the chance to come up with a retort, though, Zach suddenly raises his phone and takes a picture of him. Chris splutters, ducking even though the damage has already been done.
“Hey!”
It’s Zach’s turn to laugh. Chris won’t admit it but even as his face flames in indignation the sound goes straight to his heart. “What’s a road trip without blackmail photos?”
“As if you don’t have enough of them,” Chris mutters. He can’t stop the smile bowing his lips though so he settles for punching Zach softly, quickly skirting away before Zach can punch him back. Turning, he sets off towards the tavern, hoping to get a few pictures of the interior before the daylight completely fades. Zach’s footsteps are loud behind him and Chris smiles ruefully at the sense of contentment bubbling in his chest. It almost feels like the old times – back before Zach found and lost the one ; back before a continent separated them and they were young and riding the excitement of a dozen cities in half a dozen days, toeing the boundaries of their own brand of friendship. And…if he’s being honest, back before he’d fallen in love with his best friend.
The floorboards protest his weight when he steps into the empty tavern. He pauses in the doorway for his eyes to adjust to the suddenly dim lighting, simultaneously allowing Zach to catch up. Zach’s familiar warmth is behind him before long and Chris gives him a brief glance, noting the curiosity in his dark eyes. Every surface of the tavern is covered in a fine layer of dust and dirt. Most of the furniture appears to be in the same places they were left in, chairs and barstools still pulled up against tables and counters, awaiting patrons. Bottles and glasses still line the shelves, many broken but others seemingly untouched by time. Some part of Chris wonders just how long this town has sat like this; how long since the last curious visitors happened by. He takes a few more steps into the place and uses the last streams of light to frame some more shots.
Zach is standing near one of the windows when Chris has taken enough pictures. The fading light shines weakly through the windows behind him, casting his profile in a semi-eerie glow. Without thinking, Chris raises his camera again and captures the image. Zach doesn’t react and Chris’s stomach drops a little seemingly on instinct. He pads over to the window – not too close – and peers at his friend. “Zach?”
“Why do people do this?” Zach asks softly, almost too quiet to hear. Chris frowns a little at his words, feeling the barely hidden hurt in Zach’s voice. He doesn’t have to guess to know Zach is thinking of Miles. “Abandon things and places and …” Dark eyes lift wearily to his.
“People?” Chris finishes quietly even though he’s pretty sure Zach’s talking to himself. He waits on a baited breath, pinned by the solemn stare, unsure if he’d overstepped. It seems an eternity before Zach turns to look unseeingly out the window, breath leaving him in a sigh that stirs some of the dust collected on the windowsill.
“Yeah.”
Chris doesn’t really know what to say to that. He’s dealt with post-breakup-Zach before, but he’s never had to deal with post-dumped-by-the-one-Zach. What do you say to someone who’s so utterly heartbroken? He reaches out to offer a hug, or maybe just a comforting hand on Zach’s shoulder, but hesitates. There’s a part of him that feels like he’s walking on egg shells, unsure if Zach would welcome his touch. Chris swallows thickly. After all this time, he should know what to do.
“I’m sorry,” Chris says eventually, hand falling to his side. He can’t really see Zach’s face anymore, but thinks he can feel the weight of Zach’s gaze on him. A heartbeat passes. Two. Zach sighs again and the floorboards creak under them when he shifts closer to Chris.
Zach’s voice is full of regret and resignation, wounded and hurting but somehow still containing some of his usual tenor. “I’m sorry too.” Chris lets the layers of emotions flow over him, waits a breath for more, then turns to lead the way out when neither of them have anything more to say.
They find their way back to the car without any trouble, silence stretching between them – heavy but not awkward. The night is surprisingly bright with the light from the stars overhead. Chris pauses next to the hood of the car and tilts his head back to gaze up at the sky. His breath catches at the sight. For a second he wonders what it’d be like to actually be out there on a real starship, wonders if maybe leaving this world behind wouldn’t be such a bad thing. A gentle hand between his shoulder blades wrenches him back to reality as fast as he had left it. Chris turns from the stars to find Zach with his head tipped back to the sky as well.
“You alright?” he asks and it’s a few seconds before Zach looks at him. The hand on his back drifts to his shoulder, squeezing once before dropping away. Even in the darkness Chris can see the faint, mirthless smile on Zach’s lips.
“I will be.”
It’s a start.
The town is deserted again within the minute, barely a reflection in the Bel Air’s rearview mirrors. Chris places his phone on the dash, setting the GPS to guide them to the nearest inhabited town for the night. He half expects Zach to make a comment, but the other man is silent. Resigned, Chris settles back into his seat and presses a little harder on the pedal. The engine growls in approval and the road stretches infinitely long ahead of the headlights.