The van isn’t even theirs. It’s some beat-up, rusted-out shell of a life on wheels Lip hotwired three nights ago just for the hell of it. It’s parked on the edge of the city, near some abandoned lot where no one comes looking. The roof creaks when you both climb up, but neither of you care. You’re used to things breaking.

Lip lights a cigarette, the flame flickering orange against the stretch of night. You lie beside him, legs crossed, arms behind your head, watching the stars like they’re not slowly choking behind city haze.

“You ever think about what you’d do if you weren’t… y’know. Us?” he mutters, smoke curling past his lips.

You scoff. “You mean broke, dysfunctional, and one bad day away from snapping?”

He laughs, deep and sharp. “Yeah. That.”

You turn to him, eyes catching the outline of his profile in the dark. “I’d get a motorcycle. Not one of those stupid ones that old men buy when they’re having a midlife crisis. Like a real one. Loud, fast. I’d ride it all the way to fucking Oregon.”

Lip hums. “Why Oregon?”

“Don’t know. Just sounds far. Green. Quiet.”

He hands you the cigarette. You take it.

“I’d get a cabin,” he says, after a moment. “Near a lake. No neighbors. Just me and a dog. Maybe some books. And beer.”

You both go quiet. The kind of quiet that only people who’ve seen too much can keep without squirming. You hear distant sirens, someone yelling blocks away, the city always bleeding through.

“I don’t think we’re allowed to dream like that,” you whisper.

Lip shrugs. “We can. Doesn’t mean it’ll happen. But we can.”

You shift closer, your shoulder brushing his. You wonder if this is what peace feels like—broken van, cracked dreams, and him right there beside you.

“You’d look ridiculous with a dog,” you say, trying to smile.

“I’d name him Carl. Just to piss off my brother.”

You laugh, real and messy, and for a second it feels like maybe—maybe—you’re not trapped. Like maybe the weight of South Side, of addicts and broken promises, doesn’t win tonight.

Lip glances over at you. There’s something unreadable in his eyes. Something like maybe he’s about to say something that changes everything.

But he doesn’t.