#something fluffy with maybe a side of angst idk

physical

Miguel’s left hand was on the steering wheel, and the other was on my thigh. We were speeding down, down, down. Nobody could stop us now.

Miami was out there behind us, and there was no one in that sinkhole that we would miss. Everything I needed was beside me, and Miguel didn’t have to say anything for me to know that I was his second-half, the compass needle, the road that he wanted to drive. If we depended on each other too much, that was alright for now, because the wind was in my hair and the future was in Miguel’s eyes and I didn’t need to know where we were going. I was in the front seat, and I was home.

His hair was mussed up by the wind, and I wondered what kind of mess mine was in. Did it matter? Tomorrow we would be in a new place, and the world would continue spinning, forgetting our past mistakes. I could brush my hair, maybe chop it off, dye it a new color entirely. Miguel would just laugh and pull me close enough to kiss my forehead, then my lips. Everything was becoming perfect and brand new.

Miami stayed where it was, behind us. The city’s lights were on all night, like little golden lanterns in the darkness. There was once a time where I might have wanted my own lantern, too; a snug apartment and a steady job, my light bill waiting for me every end of the month. At this time of night, I wouldn’t be up. There would be no wind in my hair and no Miguel to kiss me goodnight or good morning. There would be no one who would stand next to me, offering me one hand while the other was on a steering wheel.

I did not glance back at Miami; not at its concrete giants, casinos, or swimming pools. The sun started to rise, slowly, and I took Miguel’s hand as we disappeared into the sun.