Chapter Text
The open road stretched out before them, shining clear and bright. Hasan drove, while Luigi sat in the back seat. They’d chosen a car with easy access to the trunk, in case any authorities approached them. Of course, the fact the car was stolen meant that if the authorities did take interest, they were screwed. Thus, the “road trip” in question did not include many stops, and when they did they chose rest stops instead of gas stations, avoiding the eyes of the public.
Luigi’s escape must be front cover news, but it wasn’t as if either of them had a way to know that. Hasan had abandoned his laptop and phone, deciding it wasn’t worth the risk of being tracked. Instead, they tried to avoid speaking of that elephant in the room, instead turning to the prospects of the future should everything go to plan.
Online, theories were circulating quickly of Hasan’s disappearance. One fan in particular recalled seeing him in the Altoona airport. Despite posting this on a throwaway account, and not expecting much traction, many accounts picked this up and began connecting the dots between this and Luigi’s prison break. After it was commented on by a fan account, who went by the title of Antipiker, many vocalized support in the case that this theory was true, and sided with both Hasan and Luigi.
Hasan looked back to Luigi’s seat as they idled at a turn.
“You holding up alright?” Luigi had been pretty quiet so far in the ride, and Hasan did not push him much, but he was concerned.
“I’ve been better.” He shrugged as the car returned to motion and rounded the corner. Then, he smiled softly, though Hasan could not see as he focused on the road, and spoke again, “But, I’m glad I’m not doing this alone.” The unspoken part, that he meant loving someone else for the first time, and not escaping jail, hung in the air.
“I’m glad too.”
As he drove on, the landscape changed, and the weather warmed up. Hasan was relieved to be able to shed his jacket, and the fair weather lifted both their spirits. The car was an older model, and thus did not have much concerning technology, but even with that crutch, the two embraced road trip karaoke. Singing at the top of their lungs as they coasted along the backroads, for some time, freedom felt possible.
The internet was fraught with memes and jokes about the government’s failure to recapture the fugitive. After an almost week long manhunt wherein even the eventual arrest seemed suspicious, the jokes practically wrote themselves. But another sentiment was growing. As Hasan’s disappearance from the internet continued alongside Luigi’s absence, the jokes that had started their connection began to gain more and more merit. Hasan’s fanbase started a petition to protect him should it be found he was truly involved, which gained an immense amount of signatures.
Rain began to fall, fat droplets colliding with the windshield. Hasan quickly activated the wipers, and within the car, they were protected from the world around them. Luigi gazed out the window, pressing his hand against the glass softly.
They drove on, and soon the skies brightened up.
“So, you’re a youtuber?” Luigi asked, realizing he didn’t actually know much about the other man.
“And streamer,” Hasan said, chuckling. “Moderately well known. I’ve only got almost 3 million subscribers.”
“Bragging.”
“Hey, you’re the one with a national manhunt.”
“Touché.” He paused, leaning back in his seat. “At least you aren’t wanted behind bars.”
“You’re not just wanted in jail, baby,” Hasan teased. Luigi scoffed but he found himself smiling regardless. Reaching into the cup holder, he took a sip of his water.
Hasan didn’t have many “contacts,” but he did know a man in Florida with a fishing industry. Said man had seen his industry damaged by the recent storm, Milton, and was in need of money. Thus, Hasan put two and two together, and figured out a way out of the U.S. It didn’t take much talking and convincing to get them a boat ride just under 450 miles south, to Cuba. From there, Hasan hoped they would be able to get passage to one of the few countries that had no extradition policies, but for the moment, this seemed the best solution. He also managed to obtain from the man a burner phone, and access to his accounts. The man even agreed to get a friend to drive the car some hours away from any seaport to throw off the trail, if Hasan would contribute the payment.
As Hasan was negotiating their passage, the online support continued, and began to bleed over into the real world. The Starbucks Luigi had been seen at prior to the assassination was alarmed when countless orders were placed under his name, and even more chose to dispose of cups purchased elsewhere there with the name written regardless. Despite some discourse surrounding the fact this protest involved supporting the Starbucks corporation, it made the news. SCI Huntingdon was now under investigation concerning how it was possible that a single power outage would allow such a high profile individual to go free.
The boat ride was nerve wracking. Before, they had known the license plate of the car could flag them, but they still had solid ground surrounding them. Now, if by some means the boat was stopped, there was nowhere to go. But, they weren’t stopped, and miraculously no coast guard interfered with their arrival.
On a beach in Cuba, Hasan and Luigi stood alone. There weren’t many tourists and the shore they were dropped off at was relatively isolated.
“I didn’t think we’d make it this far,” Luigi admitted. He absentmindedly drew shapes in the sand with the tip of his shoe. Bending down, he picked up a small conch shell, and passed it to Hasan.
“Neither did I. But we did.” Hasan took the shell, rolling it over in his hands. Then he passed it back to Luigi. “You keep it, it matches your eyes.”
Over the next few weeks, they laid low and kept themselves out of the public's eyes. Having obtained some Cuban currency from the same man that had given them a ride, as he sometimes sold fish to Cuban residents, they were able to rent a small place. It was sparsely decorated, but the conch shell remained on the windowsill regardless of the rest of the space being bare. Hasan managed to get a job with an elderly Cuban woman, Andrea, who sold jewelry to tourists. Since she just wanted his help making jewelry, he wouldn’t have to be out in the public eye. She also had poor vision, which he felt guilty taking advantage of, but at least it was unlikely she’d give a competent description of him if authorities came poking around. Luigi aided him in making the jewelry, and in this manner, they had some income.
They also got to know each other, growing closer. Both of them appreciated higher level conversations, and were able to match the other’s intellect in discussions. Though many of their viewpoints differed, they had been through too much to fight over that. Having level headed discussions was a skill they both possessed. But it wasn’t all lectures. Hasan noticed quickly how fun Luigi was to be around. For lack of a better word, he was a goofy individual. Always ready to crack a joke or pull little pranks around the household. Hasan found himself lightening up as well. He didn’t think he was a particularly serious person, but even so, Luigi brought out more humor in him, and soon they were slinging inside jokes back and forth at each other in everyday conversation. Hasan, having got a test from Andrea, confirmed that he in fact was pregnant.
Meanwhile, on the mainland, the manhunt was at full capacity,and as Hasan had not made himself present either online or in person, the conspiracy had grown immensely. Media had released that he had visited Luigi in jail illegitimately. There was talk of breaking into his home to see if he was harboring Mangione, but ultimately it did not come to any fruition. Yet, tensions were high. Hasan’s fans were accused of supporting Luigi’s escape from justice, to which many replied that that in fact was the case. Everyone could tell that the world had been changed twice by Luigi, once by the shooting, and once by the escape, and the pretense of peace in the US was slipping. There was talk of revolution, and protests began to form.
Luigi was resting in the small sitting room, gazing out the window. Two small boys were playing outside, one chasing the other as he fled holding a little rubber ball. The one in the lead tried to make a risky escape from his friend when he accidentally crashed into Hasan, who was returning from dropping off jewelry to Andrea. The little boy froze, almost petrified, as his ball rolled away from him.
He mumbled apologies, scared to meet Hasan’s eyes, but Hasan just smiled down at him.
“No se preocupe,” he said, bending to retrieve the ball, and handing it over. The kid took it thankfully, and both boys scampered off quickly.
From inside, Luigi found himself fondly smiling. It was such a small gesture, but Hasan was sweet to everyone. He had no questions that their own child would be loved.
The door clicked open and shut as Hasan entered, and he looked at Luigi with a large smile. Leaning down to where the other sat, he pulled him into a hug, whispering,
“Hey, baby.”
“Hey yourself,” Luigi said, returning the embrace and leaning his head into Hasan’s chest. “Any news from the U.S?”
Hasan shook his head dismissively, “Nothing of note, but then again, my Spanish isn’t enough for political speech.”
“Well, we’ll know if the authorities appear,” He said, releasing Hasan and standing with a slight wince, which Hasan noticed. “I made dinner.”
“I need to ask Andrea if her granddaughter can teach me how to give proper massages, for you.” Hasan mused.
“Don’t be stupid, caro. You know she wants to go to college on the mainland, Andrea mentions it every time we speak of her. She’s too likely to recognize us.”
“I’d risk getting caught if it meant I could help you feel better.”
“And what of the baby, then?” Luigi asked, folding his arms, and Hasan stopped protesting.
“Fine, fine. But I’ll tell you one thing, that I will figure out a way.”
“Sure,” Luigi said, affectionately, as he placed their meal on the table, dividing the portions. “For now, come eat.”
Revolution seemed to truly be on the horizon as protests mounted. The government had managed to figure out that he had likely fled to a country in Latin America or the Caribbean, but having no concrete evidence, it became suspected that the U.S government just wanted an excuse to exercise power over said countries. Thus, the resistance continued. The clerk at SCI Huntingdon stood on trial for accepting bribery that ultimately contributed to Luigi’s escape.
As time passed in their small home, and no one came to capture either, they relaxed more. With the baby on the way, Luigi became the one to deliver jewelry to Andrea. Hasan had insisted on continuing his routine deliveries as long as possible, not wanting to put more stress on Luigi’s back, but eventually that wasn’t feasible. Andrea’s granddaughter, Gabriella, or as she went by, Gabby, stopped by occasionally to help out. She had been sent instead of her grandmother one day, and accidentally discovered the two, but after a tense conversation, had promised to speak nothing of it, and in fact praised their actions. She had, since then, hung around Hasan when he was free and asked him many questions about politics and the world. In exchange for his knowledge and having read over her college application, she taught him her coveted masseuse skills.
More fights broke out in the U.S. One person set up a funeral post for Hasan, and was then yelled at by other fans who believed he was alive and well. The clerk was convicted and would serve the maximum sentence, 15 years. Some continued to speak of resistance, and of taking back the U.S from the ruling class. Perhaps, if everyone acknowledged the necessity of such action, it would have happened sooner. But as it was, infighting and joking around prevented major action.
Andrea’s daughter, and Gabby’s mother, Paula, had experience as a midwife, and thus stood by the birth. Luigi sat by his bed, holding Hasan’s hand, whispering words of encouragement and never leaving his side. After many hours of labor, the baby was born. Hasan wept looking upon his child, and as delicately as possible handed the newborn to her father. Luigi cradled her in his arms gently, until Paula took her to wrap her in a blanket.
Sitting in their home, Hasan held their baby, with Luigi’s arm slung over his shoulder on their couch.
“I love you,” Luigi murmured, tracing a hand along the side of Hasan’s face. The light shining through the window framed them both in a gentle glow, reflecting off framed pictures of them both. A vase of flowers brought by Gabby sat next to the conch shell, and outside the glass, a windchime gently trembled and sang in the minuscule breeze there that day.
“I love you too,” Hasan responded softly. They had each other, their growing daughter, and an overwhelming sense of peace. And, even if they had abandoned the fight, perhaps that was the truest freedom.