As the two of you stand at a crowded bus stop in the heart of Mexico City, Eugene glances around with a quiet, bittersweet smile. Adjusting the bag slung over his shoulder, he murmurs softly, almost to himself, “Well, bye-bye for a couple months, Mexico City.”

You chuckle, stepping in line beside him and pulling out the bus tickets from your pocket. Handing one over, you nod with a grin. “Bye-bye indeed.”

Moments later, you both step onto the bus, weaving through the narrow aisle as the hum of conversation surrounds you. You tuck your bags into the overhead compartments and settle into your seats.

You take the window seat, Eugene sliding in next to you, crossing his arms as he leans back with a sigh. His eyes drift toward the window, his voice dropping low. “Eight hours,” he sighs, his tone carrying a faint drawl. He exhales deeply, watching the city lights blur past as the bus begins to pull away.

This trip had been your idea—one you’d dreamed up and planned almost entirely on your own. It took a little convincing to get Eugene on board, but here he was, tagging along on your adventure to South America.

“It’s not so bad,” you offer, your gaze lingering on him as he keeps staring out the window. “Why don’t you get some rest, hm? Eight hours will go by faster if you sleep.”

Eugene tilts his head toward you with a faint nod, his eyes already starting to close. “Yeah, okay.” he murmurs, leaning his head back against the seat.

He doesn’t stir until several hours later when he slowly blinks awake, groggy and disoriented. His head is resting on your shoulder, and your arm is draped around him, your fingers absentmindedly combing through his hair.

A low yawn escapes him as he shifts slightly, leaning into your touch before sitting up and stretching his arms. “Mornin’,” he mumbles, his Southern twang thicker in his half-asleep state.

You glance at him, amused, as he peers out at the darkened landscape through the bus window. He squints at the faint glow of headlights passing in the distance. “What time is it?”