summer child // joshler

7

tyler's point of view

i wake up with a pounding headache in a room that's not mine. it takes me a minute to realize i'm in josh's room instead. however, josh isn't even here. on his bedside table, there's a note, a glass of water, and two aspirin. thank god.

i take the medicine and pick up the note.

went on my morning run, brb. help yourself to some breakfast and please, for the love of god, take a shower. you reek.
- josh

i try to refresh my memory of what happened last night, but i only remember bits and pieces. i remember staying in the kitchen with josh and throwing up in the yard. i remember laying in his bed and feeling a bit hurt when he told me to shut up and go to sleep. i knew even in the moment that he wasn't being mean, that he was just joking around, but i felt like i could've stayed up and talked to him all night. i wanted to.

i groan and roll out of his bed. i grab my backpack of clothes and shuffle into the bathroom, thankfully not running into his mom on the way.

i start the water and wait for it to warm, leaning against the wall in the meantime. i look at myself in the mirror facing me. my eyes have dark bags and i look paler than normal. i've never been extremely confident in my appearance, but it's not ever been something to actively bother me either. it's just that lately, i feel like this body isn't mine at all, like it's a space i'm renting, like i'm outgrowing my shell.

i pull myself away to check the temperature again and feel that it's warm enough before getting into the shower. i let out a sigh of relief as the water runs down my skin, waking me up a bit more.

i take the time to wash myself, making sure to go over my body twice to be certain i won't smell like old alcohol and vomit. gross. the idea of smelling like josh after using his shampoo, conditioner, and body wash is something i try not to dwell on either.

when im done, i throw my clean clothes on and shove my dirty ones in the bag, zipping it quickly to hopefully help hide the smell. i toss my bag back into josh's room and then make my way to the kitchen to make myself a bowl of cereal.

i sit at the table and eat my reeses puffs, waiting for josh's return.

he walks in when i'm almost done with my breakfast, his tshirt thrown over one of his shoulders. he's sweaty and some of his hair is sticking to his forehead. i can't help but look at him, taking him in for just a moment.

as an athlete, i can respect that he's obviously put a lot of work in over the time we weren't talking. he looks like he's in really good shape and i find myself wishing i'd decided to keep up with coach's recommended summer workout plan. i think i threw the paper away three minutes after he gave it to me.

though i'd love to say that's the only reason i'm looking, i cant deny the way my mouth goes a bit dry. a small ball of anxiety forms in my stomach and josh clears his throat.

my eyes snap back up to his face and i suddenly feel like i might throw up again. "uh, good morning."

he walks past me to the fridge and grabs a bottle of water, unscrewing the lid and taking a drink before answering. "good morning. how are you feeling?"

"fine, fine. thanks," i take the last bite of my cereal and then stand up to put the bowl in the sink and rinse it out. "so, since when do you go on morning jogs?"

"oh. um, around ninth grade. i wanted to join track, but i prefer running by myself and on my own schedule," he shrugs, "and sports can be kind of... cliquey."

"i can't argue with that."

i can't. there's safety in numbers though. i hated most of the boys when i first met them. i still don't like them that much, but it gives me somewhere i can pretend to belong.

"i never thought you'd fit in so well in that environment, no offense."

"i didnt either," i look down at the floor.

that's because i don't. i don't fit in there. i don't fit in anywhere. i feel like a fucking fraud every time i walk into school, like i'm just a ghost in some thin, brown-haired vessel.

i don't know who i am and i don't know why i care so much about my dad leaving. i fucking hated him. so why does it bother me so much?

why did i get jealous of josh having a friend to facetime? why did i stare at him for a good five seconds when he came in? why did it feel different than the hundreds of times i've seen my teammates shirtless in the locker room at school?

why is my entire life falling apart?

(an: five seconds may not seem like a long time but stop and look up and count to five mississippi. now imagine someone staring at you for that long with their eyes wide and a blush on their cheeks. hm.)