twenty nine

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"i'm so tired," tyler murmured, and his voice was the light notes of a piano and the dark beat of the drums.

"me too," josh whispered. he hadn't really smiled in so long and that tugged at tyler's heart, heavy and angry and scared. he could barely remember when their smiles had pulled the clouds down from where they sat on top of the rain like gods.

the first daisies had begun to grow at the edge of the clearing, little specks of hope at the edge of winter.

tyler lay back and looked at the sky. there weren't any clouds to watch, only the tips of the trees at the edge of his vision. a bird was simply a blur in the sky, and tyler's mind was still and slow.

he was thinking about everything and nothing. the sound of the cars on the highway was distant and present at the same time, like ghosts hidden in the shadows.

"josh," tyler started. then he stopped. josh was quiet and tyler thought he could hear his heart beat. there was nothing to say. the two were pressed into each other and there was nothing they didn't understand. the world was anything but theirs, but they were each other's, for just that moment. 

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