Not my best work, but it's something I've been wanting to post for some time. It's rough, short, and pretty much to the point, but it works for me. I originally intended for this to be a oneshot, though I have a few ideas on how to turn this into a short story. Nothing big, just 5 or 6 chapters. Thoughts?

Drive

Mike twisted the knob of his car radio, trying to keep the shaking of his hand to a minimum. He glanced at Chester, who was staring out of the passenger side window, the slight reflection of his face looking forlorn. Mike turned his eyes back to the road and remained silent as the scenery flashed by. Too green, he thought. Well, it's only for a few more days. Then it's back home, where I can erase this entire ordeal from my mind. He sighed as the traffic light in the distance first turned yellow, then red a few seconds later. Wonderful. The only light I come upon in miles and miles of driving, and it turns red. Just what I needed, another way to further prolong this hellish car ride. He slowed the car gradually, coming to a full stop as it approached the intersection.

"So," Mike broke the awkward silence, voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat and continued, turning to face Chester again. "You really did it, huh?" He gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles as the blonde looked at him for the first time since he had gotten into the car. "I mean, I'm not just imagining that we're driving to Vermont so you can get married? It's not all in my head, right?"

"I'm sorry, Mike." Chester sighed before he resumed staring out of the window. Not that there was much worth looking at, Chester just found it easier to look at anything but the torn expression on Mike's face.

"You're sorry? Out of everything you could have possibly said, you picked 'I'm sorry'? The least you could is fucking look at me, Chester!"

Chester complied, fixing Mike with a contemptuous glare. "What, Mike, what did you want me to tell her? That I couldn't be with her because you would object? That I wanted to call off the wedding because Mike wouldn't approve? How can you even think of blaming me for doing what I did? You're being so fucking selfish. You're acting like I did something wrong by trying to fix things between us, when you were the one who kept pushing my friendship away! And when I finally realized just how far gone things were, I stopped trying." He paused for a moment to calm down, close his eyes and take a deep breath. He hated yelling at Mike, but his friend never knew when to stop pushing.

"But whatever," Chester mumbled as Mike didn't reply. "It doesn't exactly make a difference now."

They drove on for the next hour in silence again, Chester back to his pasttime of staring out the window. Part of him desperately wanted to apologize for blowing up and yelling, but every time the thought came up, he immediately shoved it back down. He had not said anything untrue, he certainly was not about to say sorry for it. The blonde groaned inwardly as he looked at the glowing numbers on the dashboard. It was only 11am, which meant they still had five more hours in the car to suffer through. He glanced over at Mike with a questioning look as the car started to slow and turn onto a small side street.

"Why are you stopping? We still have a few more hours to go."

"Well, unless you want to walk the rest of the way there, I need to put gas in the car," Mike replied mildly as he pulled up in front of a gas station. "Also, I'm hungry, and there's bound to be something edible in there. Slipping off his seat belt, Mike stepped out of the car and leaned down to pull the lever to open the tank's cover. Chester flinched as the car door was slammed shut. He sighed as he got out of the car, too, and turned to face Mike.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," Chester said. "I'm going to see if the bathroom is worth using." Mike merely shrugged without looking up, causing Chester to grit his teeth as he turned around. Mike waited until he heard the gravel crunching beneath his friend's shoes grow quieter before he looked up, watching him walk inside. As soon as the doors slid closed, Mike laid his head on top of the chilled metal roof, idly watching cars speed by on the freeway while he waited for the gas to finish pumping. He closed his eyes as he let his thoughts wander, ending up, as always, on Chester. He must have nodded off at some point, because said object of his thoughts was suddenly at his side, shaking his shoulder and demanding to know what was wrong. Mike started and picked his head up, sniffing at the cold air stinging his face.

"Nothing's wrong, Ches." He placed the pump back in its holder and reattached the cap on the gas tank. "I'm just tired." He started to walk back to the driver side door but stopped when he felt Chester's hand on his chest, pushing him back first against the car.

"Then why are you crying, Mike?"

Mike sniffed again as he raised a hand to feel his cheek. Fuck, those really are tears... "I'm not crying," he mumbled, staring down at the ground.

"Do you have any idea how much you frustrate me, Mike?"

Mike's dark eyes flashed with anger and he shoved Chester away from him. "I frustrate you? Oh, that's a new one! I'm not the one who asked somebody to marry them as an escape. I'm not the one who stopped trying to fix things. And I'm definitely not the one who asked their best friend to drive them all the way to Vermont for this fucked up situation! No, Chester, I'm the one who gets tossed away after tonight. I'm the one who gets nothing out of this except grief. And guess what? I'm the one who has to drive home alone in the morning because there's no way I can stay and watch you throw your life away. Best man or not, I can't, and I just won't." Mike ran his fingers through his now damp hair. Fucking weather, he thought. "Do not talk to me about frustration, Chester, don't. Just get in the fucking car. We'll talk about things tonight at the hotel. Thanks to your mother, I have no excuse not to stay at least the night."

Chester slowly walked around the car and got inside in silence. Mike sighed as he shut his own door and started the car, prepared to drive the next few hours listening to his own thoughts. "Don't," he said suddenly, as Chester opened his mouth to speak. "Don't say you're sorry, Chester, just don't."

It was a quiet drive.