Shadows From the Abyss

Hospitality and Hostility

Shawn lifted his eyes from the sketch pad resting against his knees and stared out the passenger window, watching the trees and highway rolling past as they flew down the highway. Tennessee was an abysmal state to drive through and incredibly boring after the twists and turns of the North Carolina mountains. They had another three hours to go before they reached Louisville, and if Art didn't remember how to use his voice for something other than arguing with the GPS, he may give up and just walk back home.

Pot hole reported ahead the GPS on the dashboard chirped for what felt like the fifteenth time in ten minutes.

"The entire road is a fucking pot hole!" Art snarled in response, changing lanes to avoid a huge gaping hole in the road.

Shawn groaned, trying to keep his own temper in check. The past two days had been hell. He hated anger and yelling and since getting the news his father had passed away, that was all Art had been expressing, aside from loud, unabashed sobbing. Sobbing he could deal with, but yelling and screaming either made him shut himself away in fear or riled up his own explosive anger and turned it into an all out war of fury. He hated it; all it did was remind him of his years living with his father and the screaming matches they would get into that would drag out for days on end. Yelling didn't fix things, it just made you feel better for two seconds until you either felt stupid or the anger swelled back up.

He couldn't say he didn't understand, however. Art didn't get to say goodbye to the one family member he felt love for; he felt cheated out of the most meaningful thing he could have gotten. And now he had to go face the very people who denied him that right and try to play family with them. It was bullshit to say the least.

"Oh thank God," Art sighed as the Kentucky welcome sign appeared on the horizon ahead. "Wanna know the best part about driving up here?" Shawn just grunted in response. "The speed limit is seventy and there's not a sheriff in sight."

The silence returned to the truck cab, Art keeping his attention on Interstate 75 winding ahead of them, Shawn keeping his attention on the rough sketch he was working on. He had been drawing again since returning from tour. His step mother giving him art prompts to keep him busy had not only helped keep him distracted while on the road, but had sparked something deep inside of him. He hadn't done much aside from graffiti on the sides of trains since junior year of high school but was finally remembering his love of using a halfway decent outlining pen and colored pencils. He was currently putting his frustrations down on paper, scribbling out a rough looking rabbit, working on several smaller versions to figure out how disheveled and destroyed he wanted it to be as it slumped its way across the dark world around it.

"I gotta stop for gas," Art muttered several minutes later as he took an exit. Shawn just grunted in response again. When the truck was parked at a pump, Art heaved another sigh as he cut the engine. "Babe."

"What?" Shawn replied flatly, picking up an orange pencil and continuing his shading.

"I'm sorr-Shawn will you please look at me?"

He slowly put the pencil down and tossed the pad onto the dashboard, turning and looking at his boyfriend, trying to conceal his annoyance. Just because he understood didn't mean he had to like how he reacted to things. This was the first time they had even really raised their voices at each other, let alone gotten on each other's nerves. It was weird looking at someone you loved dearly and feeling agitation instead of love.

Art drew another breath before speaking. "I know you hate yelling and anger. And I'm sorry for how I've been the past few days. It's just...I fucking hate this."