The hard part for Andy was that name. It just started as a silly game for Sp — Josh, he was sure of it. Now it had turned serious. It stressed Andy out because it seemed so childish, like many of the other things that Josh did. He wasn’t sure they had enough leeway to get away with playing spies.

One worry among many.

The mattresses were hard, yet too soft and his back had been aching since the first night. He had bought a ton of clothes that suited summer in a very warm place and were completely out of place in any other context. Was he supposed to wear short pants all year round? All in all, Josh was a nice guy, but it was difficult to be around him for a long time.

As he dwelt on all that, Josh woke up in his seat. He had decided to take a nap, now that Andy was driving. It was rather late now, and they had settled for stopping somewhere cheap, grab an internet connection and plan the trip a little better. Tomorrow they would cross the channel tunnel.

“I was thinking,” said Josh after a while, “do you think they’ll let us leave?”

Andy gave him a clueless look. “I mean,” said Josh again, “after that whole Brexit shit. Are we allowed to cross over with just ID or passport? Do we need a visa or something?”

Andy shrugged. “No idea,” he said. “Another thing we can find out on internet tonight.”

Josh nodded. “Duly noted.”

They were approaching London by the east coast. They figured there was no need to get through all the metropolitan area: they could find some place with internet access right here. Probably.

They kept their eyes peeled, stopping sometimes for questions, to no avail. In the smartphone era, no one needed Internet cafes anymore. The libraries were closed for the night. Their last hope was youth hostels.

“What a waste of money when we’ve got proper mattresses right here,” said Josh. Andy secretly rejoiced.

He had given up the driver’s seat when the traffic got rough and was warming himself up in his own favorite way, feeding on vodka like if it was mother’s milk. Josh was a bit weirded out by it. Where did all that booze come from?

They finally found one such hostel as a part of a bigger building. It looked like a factory or a corporate building from the eighties: walls covered in white tiles, blue windows with a one-way finish. Checking in allowed access to the parking area. They had to go through the building in a concrete tunnel to reach it.

Thy went back in from the fire-proof door at one end of the parking area and were led right to the lobby. Without delay, they went for the designated computer zone. It was a simple row of desktop computers, maybe four or five, lined up against a wall in a less-lit area of the lobby. They looked like a recent purchase, yet fundamentally cheap. They would be good enough for some travel planning.

Josh settled on a comfortable chair, shaking the mouse in an attempt to wake the cheap machine up. Andy sat heavily beside him. He had a sway in his step and was getting less focused by the moment. At least the bottle was in the van.

After logging in with a pasted note’s help, Josh searched for the terms and necessary papers to cross the border. Thankfully, they had all they needed, even though Josh’s papers had been tinkered with a bit, years ago.

Half an hour in, Josh started compiling information on the touristic places they could visit on the way. How exciting! The french city of Lille and its Belgian neighbors, home of fries, chocolates and beer. Paris. The french countryside. The Mediterranean Sea — warmer than what they got in England! The Pyrenees.

“Hey, Andy,” said Josh, “did you know there was a guy who crossed over the Pyrenees on an elephant’s back?”

Andy didn’t answer. He wasn’t there anymore. Bored by the planning, he had given up and staggered to the hostel’s bar where he was planning on keeping up his blood alcohol.

---

A few hours later, he was sitting on his bed, trying to sober up a little. He didn’t have much success on that side. He had spent the evening glued to the bar. It felt nice to just let go and not try to be nice to… Josh all the time.

‘That kid is so immature,’ he thought. ‘I know I’m old, but it really feels like he’s a teenager. He’s thirty-something, for fuck’s sake.’

The unlit room was spinning around him, neighbors shifting in their beds, the ceiling way too close. Maybe he should have gone with the bottom bunk.

Below him, Josh, curled up in the fetal position, was equally trying to sleep. He tried to think positively about the good things he had learned from the internet, or how good it was to be in a real bed from time to time, but there was a gripping feeling in his gut. What was going on with Andy? Since when did he drink so much?

‘I have a feeling,’ he thought, ‘that Andy’s the kind of guy who tries to out-drink his problems rather than face them. Shit, he’s old enough to know better. How am I supposed to travel with someone who can barely take the wheel when he has to?’

Orange street lights shone from behind the curtain, giving just enough light to let the restless stay awake. For all the good real beds did, they wouldn’t get much sleep that night.

---

End of part one. Shit hit the fan faster than I thought it would! I guess it’s not so easy to live together, huh. I have a lot of cool stuff planned for them that would be more on the comical side, but it’s gonna take more than a night to stop giving in their bad habits, get over their differences and agree to move on… Get a grip, you two!

See you next week, don’t forget to comment and share, you good people with facebooks, twitters and all the shiny social things!

Much love =3=