Sitting in the back of the van on the folded seats, while the trees outside the window blurred. There were still hours left of the road trip.

Chūya had his orange mop up and his leather jacket beneath him, leaving him in the cheap tank top he loved so much. Freckles dotted across his arms and shoulders as he sat there sweating. Even with all the windows down, it did nothing to ease the summer heat.

"When's the next stop?" He groaned loud enough for Verlaine to hear. He needed a distraction or a cold drink, preferably both.

"Asking repeatedly won't get us there faster." Chūya's older brother, who was driving, shot back quickly. He'd told the teens in the back to keep it down so he didn't get distracted.

Chūya groaned, his head thudding against the back of the seat. He dragged his bag from its corner before rummaging through it for something to do.

"I know I put it in here," Chūya always carried a beaten notebook around. At first, journaling was something the school counsellor forced him to do instead of sending him to detention. But he actually enjoyed writing random shit down, not just his 'feelings'.