THE RUN AND GO : JOSHLER

4 : MORNING

Josh wrapped a black bandana tightly around his head to hold back his wild green hair. Sweat dripped down the side of his face. His chest rose and fell heavily.

Josh had been counting. He had now been with the Clique for two months, three weeks, and four days. He had learned their ways, almost.

He had learned that the headquarters where the Clique stayed was an abandoned arena. The initiation and training area was the stage and pit. The rooms the members stayed in were the old dressing rooms. The cafeteria and commons areas were in the halls, the waiting area outside of the stage, pretty much everywhere was open for everyone. Except for Tyler's room. No one had ever been in there except for Tyler.

Josh had also learned to keep his mouth shut. The boss liked him, which meant some people hated him. But luckily, most of the Clique accepted him with open arms. Another ally he had was Brendon, but he wasn't even a true friend.

The only person Josh really had was Tyler.

"What did I say, Missile Kid?" Tyler's sharp voice jolted Josh out of his daydreaming.

Josh licked his dry lips and tightened his grip on the gun he was holding. It wasn't his gun; he hadn't been here long enough to own a weapon himself.

"Deep breath, tight grip, one eye closed," Josh muttered, raising his arm and aiming the gun at the target before him.

"That's right," Tyler smiled ever so slightly. He eyed Josh up and down. "Nice form. Aim is shit, though. Fix it."

Josh took a deep breath and moved his arm to the left.

"Ready, Josh," Tyler murmured, his voice barely a whisper. No one else was in the pit now; he had no reason to whisper. Josh was the only one that Tyler would ever call by his real name.

"R-Ready," Josh repeated, clicking a bullet into place.

"Aim-for God's sake, Josh, aim!" Tyler let out a soft, quiet laugh, something that was only saved for Josh.

Josh shook his head and smirked. The target stood before him, and Josh tried desperately to imagine that it was a person. A living, breathing person. An enemy.

He couldn't bring himself to do it. Who knows how many people Tyler, the entire Clique, had killed.

Josh's kill count was zero.

"Fire!" Tyler shouted, his voice echoing in the empty arena.

Josh squeezed his eyes shut and pulled the trigger. A shot rang out, and Josh was thrown a few steps back from the force of it.

"Still not used to firing a gun yet, are ya?" Tyler smirked, catching Josh in his arms when he stumbled backward.

"No, guess not," Josh replied. A heat rose up inside of him being this close to Tyler.

Josh heard Tyler sharply inhale behind him. He was suddenly shoved up into a standing position. When he turned round, he saw Tyler looking at the ground, a furious blush on his cheeks.

"Tyler?" Josh asked, ducking his head down so he could see Tyler on his eye level.

"J-Just..." Tyler took another breath. He still did not meet Josh's eyes. He looked up at the tall ceiling and bit his bottom lip. "Meet me in my room, okay?"

With that, Tyler pivoted on his heel and quickly rushed out of the pit, his fingers running through his messy brunette hair.