Eventually, we had to climb down, face the other half of the world that wasn't that great, and go through the rest of the day. Dennis was in some of my classes in the morning, but he didn't pay attention to me earlier because he wasn't wet at that point in time. Now, though, I had never been more thankful for not seeing him. The look on his face when we ran from him was horrifying. But I've experienced greater fear. He didn't scare me as much as he should.
"You should come over," Josh said suddenly as we walked out of last period. At his words, my entire body almost went limp. I had always prepared brutally for this moment, scared it would come and really scared it wouldn't. I hated that feeling. Not knowing what you want until it's already been decided for you.
"M-maybe I should j-just n-not g-go to the g-game, y-you know?" I stammered out, my eyes on the ground. I felt like such an idiot. But the thought of being in someone's house made me want to cry. What if I broke something? What if you weren't supposed to wear shoes on the carpet and I kept my shoes on and I got kicked out? What if they had a dog? All dogs hate me.
My mouth was going dry, and my throat was closing up. Going to someone's house is like signing your own death warrant. It wasn't ever good for me. I've been to someone's house twice in my entire life. Once, there happened to be an entire group of people there, and they spilled nacho cheese all over me as soon as I got in the doorway. Everyone laughed at me and took pictures as I stood there in shock, the hot liquid running down my body. The second time was a bit after, and a dog scratched me really, really badly. Later, though, the person admitted to everyone in the school that they just felt bad for me, which I was sure of. Who wouldn't? And after that, I was universally ignored.
Well, not universally, but it might as well have been.
"Woah, woah. What's wrong?" He stopped walking, his eyes meeting my wide ones. I could tell that my face was red and that I was shaking a bit, but I couldn't really stop on command. Espcecially when he was looking at me so deeply. All the work on keeping my composure today was evaporating. With Dennis and the water bottle and new boytoy and now this damn invitation, it was getting a bit difficult to breathe.
"N-nothing," I coughed. "It's, uh, allergies. It's allergies."
"Do you always have such severe allergies?" He asked, a perfect eyebrow raised. Oh my god, he still smelled perfectly. It didn't calm me down at all, unsuprisingly.
"Yeah," I breathed, shaking my head to try and calm myself down. "I-I'll come over. But will anyone else be there?"
"Yay," he smiled, knocking his shoulder with mine. "And not at my house, no. At the game, yes. Just those people I told you about earlier. My closest associates."
I must've looked scared again, because he put his hand on my shoulder, rubbing it gently. His soft fingers over the material of my shirt made me gulp, and he smiled. "Don't worry. They'll love you."
No they won't.
I mean, why would they?
"So, you're down?" He asked happily, bouncing on the balls of his feet. We hadn't started walking again yet, and I just nodded, attempting to cease the trembling. I felt like an earthquake. But, I guess I was. Destructive and selfish and random.
"I'm down."
"Sweet!" He shouted, making people turn to look at us. "Okay, text your parents or whatever and tell them I'm kidnapping you until after the game."
"They trust me enough to know I'm not getting into trouble."
Translation: My mom and I aren't speaking, but she knows I'll come home soon enough.
"You sure? If I get the police called on me, I'm going to yell at you. Then I'll probably have a good cry," he grinned, shaking his head.
"I'm sure."
"Okay." He couldn't stop smiling. It made me anxious, but I loved it. "Are you okay with riding in a stranger's car?"
"You're not a stranger."
"Oh my god, Tyler. You know what I meant."
~~~
Josh's car smelled nice. It was like cheap cologne and destroyed leather and smoke and warmth and I really loved it. We've never hugged, but we sat close sometimes, and I could imagine this is how he smelled. Like beauty and mystery and adventure. That was Josh. A beauiful, mysterious, adventure that I've only just gotten the opportunity to explore.
"Have any musical preference?" He asked me, driving from the parking lot. He kept switching his eyes to my almost stiff figure in the passenger seat. I was afraid to touch anything. His car was old, but it was his. I already detested the thought of me staining it with my skin and my thoughts. It felt like I would be forever stuck on the walls of his car, and I didn't like it. He would regret that. That he ever let me ride in his car. His precious car that smelled like how I'm guessing he smelled, even though he didn't know that. You can't pick up your own scent. It's a simple fact.
"Any Nirvana?" I asked, hoping that didn't sound as if I was trying too hard to be edgy or whatever. Though, I truly adored Nirvana. He must have been able to tell, because he smiled, nodding.
"Of course," he said, pushing a button near his radio. The CD must have already been in there. I didn't know what CD it was, but Something In The Way drafted elegantly through the speakers, and I sighed deeply. I liked this song, despite its overly sad nature.
"So, I have brothers. Two, actually. And they're kind of intimidating at first, but I love them." He smiled, shrugging. "I'm sorry if they scare you or something."
"They won't."
~~~
Despite what I said in his car, when Josh and I opened his front door, my heart almost stopped. Two boys jumped directly on top of Josh while we were still in the doorway, and they all started wrestling with each other. Stepping back on impulse, I watched them roll all over the shoes on the floor, squashing them and making human imprints in the carpets. I could feel the happiness and brotherly love between them, and it swelled like a balloon filling with air throughout the entire room.
"Boys! For gods sake, calm down. You guys act like pigeons fighting over a piece of tras-" a woman scolded, stopping short when seeing me. She was short and had blonde hair, and I knew she was confused, but smiled anyway. And when Josh noticed her newfound silence, he pushed the boys off and hopped up. In fact, all of them did. Except Josh came to stand next to me, motioning for me to come inside. The air was still cozy and soft, but a layer of surprise was still laying over us like a thin sheet. So, I shut the door, hoping to knock some of the surpise to the floor.
"Josh, who's this?"
"This," he said, nudging me forward by the small of my back. After that, he said nothing else, and let me speak. I was thankful, and upset, because of it.
Taking a deep breath, I looked into the eyes of his mother, who had crinkles in her face but still managed to look beautiful and worn, and the faces of his brothers. Hard and chiseled and a little thick, but the resemblance was there in all of them. They were all related to each other. But Josh, oh my god, Josh. He's so beautiful. And he was letting me into his house and his fingers were brushing my back and he kept his hand there longer than I expected. But, he took it off eventually.
"I-I'm Tyler, Josh's friend," I said lamely, shrugging. Noticing my discomfort, Josh stepped in.
"He just moved here from Seattle a few days ago and I decided that it would be nice to take him to a football game at school. Everyone needs to experience some school spirit, you know." He said, pumping his fists in the air sarcastically.
His brothers couldn't stop looking at me. I knew they were just sizing me up, but it still scared me a bit.
"And," Josh said, turning to me, "these are my brothers, Jordan and Oskar. Oh, and not to forget my mom," he said, motioning to her. "Who is the most amazing, forgiving, generous woman, who won't mind if her son didn't notify her before having a guest. Right?"
She just rolled her eyes, but was still smiling. She was one of the people that could smile forever, and it would still be truthful. "Yeah, Joshua. Whatever."
"Yay! I love you," he said, darting forward and kissing her on the cheek, right on top of one of her wrinkles. Afterwards, he motioned for me to follow him. To where, I didn't know. "We'll be upstairs until it's time to go."
"When's the game?" One of his brothers asked. Oskar, I think.
"Six. Like always," Josh replied, rolling his eyes. "It's always six."
My heart felt as if it was going to try to rip through my entire body as he led me up the stairs. I was so nervous that I almost couldn't handle it. The fear was sticking to every inch of my skin as sweat and I was shaking as I commanded my feet to move up the stairs, and this, this was the greater fear. It's a lot bigger than Dennis. Because I'm afraid of myself and other people because we tend to screw things up way too often, and I couldn't bare the thought of messing up with the only friend I've had in years.
"You okay?" He said, eyebrows raised.
Almost too quickly, I nodded. I'm sure I looked like one of those bobble-heads, and I would be suprised if I did. But I was gulping as he opened a door on the hall, smiling reassuringly and pushing me in as gently as a push could be. I hadn't looked up yet, until he moved in front of me after shutting the door.
"This is my room. It's not much, but I like it." He said worriedly, and that's when I actually looked up and around.
And his room was actually very Josh. It smelled a bit like the glorious scent his car was bathed in, but, like everything else, I grew accustomed to it, and it faded with every breath I took. But I held on to it as tightly as I could, throwing it around me and memorizing it.
The room had an average bed, with posters on the walls, and a box of matches on the desk. Which, judging by yesterday's activities, he used to start fire. There wasn't much else for them.
His room was painted green. It wasn't the ugly green either. It was light and airy and pretty, and the black furniture contrasted well with it. He had a black bean bag, one of those little seats on the window that people tended to read on, and a small black bookshelf. There wasn't any books on it, though. Just Monster cans. I couldn't tell if they were empty or not.
And the posters. There was a million of them. Green Day, New Found Glory, The Killers, and Nirvana. They littered the walls. It looked like my room would look if I unpacked more of my things.
"I-I like it," I choked out finally, nodding. "It's nice."
"Well, thank you, Tyler," he said, moving over to his desk. "I tried to make it as non-gross as possible."
It didn't look like a teenage boys room. There were barely any clothes on the floor and no trash, and it confused me. Even my room looked like that. Or, it would, if I unpacked. It looked like that in Seattle.
"You did a decent job," I praised, nodding.
Spinning around, he feigned offense, mouth open as if he caught one of the biggest lies ever told.
"I always clean it up," he said, "on Thursdays. Today's Friday and so I did it yesterday."
"Why Thursday?" I asked, and he shrugged.
"I actually have no idea. But it'll be dirty again by tonight."
"I'm sure," I laughed, shaking my head at him. The feeling I had in his car, that I was staining sonething, was present. But not as present. He was laughing with me into the soft air of his room, and the faint glow of the light coming through the blinds and spilling onto the floor like paint was enough to calm me down. Because I had to stay calm. I couldn't afford to screw up anything now.
Crouching down, I lowered myself on to the floor, but was leaning against the side of his bed for support. He watched me in amusement, and I knew he was wondering why I didn't sit somewhere people were meant to sit. But he just smiled, shaking his head.
"I'm weird, I know. Sorry," I sounded unmistakably apolgetic, and he shook his head again, but in a dismissal type way. He was still smiling and I didn't know why, or how his face wasn't in ridiculous pain.
"You're not weird, Tyler." He said. "And even if you were," he opened a drawer, sifting through it while still speaking to me. "I would still talk to you."
I hope so, I wanted to say, but held it back.
Then, he pulled out two drumsticks, twirling them in his perfect fingers. It was mesmerizing, and he nodded towards the door, eyes expectant and shiny. "Follow me. There's something shiny to see."
It took us only a few minutes to move down to the basement that I didn't even know he had, and when we got in there, a million things hit me at once. It smelled like rotting wood and mildew and even more of Josh, which I believed because there was a drum set in the middle of the room.
It was beautiful, really. And I understood the drumsticks now, and why they looked so alive and perfect in his hands. As if that's where they were meant to be since the beginning of time. I wouldn't be surprised. But, his drums were very pretty. Shimmering red and slick silver, it was a gorgeous instrument.
"These are yours," I stated, wanting it to sound like a question but knowing it hadn't.
Walking further into the room, he nodded, twirling the wood once again. "Yep," he said, patting the bass drum. "They're all mine."
Following, I came to stand in front of them, staring. Josh had doodled on them a bit, and I adored his attempts at artwork. It reminded of the stick figure picture he gave me. I still had that somewhere.
"I can't tell you how many hours I've spent playing these. It releases a lot of...negative emotion."
Why would he feel any negative emotion? He was Josh. He didn't feel negative things. Well, he shouldn't have to.
"That's good. Music is always good," I replied, nodding. He set the sticks down and I sighed inaudibly. I wanted him to play for me, but I didn't want to be annoying and ask.
"I lose my sticks all the time, even though I have a million pairs, and so I try and bring them down here to keep them down here," he laughed, voice traveling the slightest bit. It bumped into the walls and grazed my ears like a song, and I hummed.
"I wouldn't ever be able to play the drums," I said. "It seems difficult."
He shook his head, looking up at me. "It's easy," he assured. "Maybe I'll teach you the basics someday." Without giving me time to reply, he moved forward, took my hand in his, and pulled me up the three steps that led to the first floor. "But first things first, let's go play video games. I want to kick your butt in Decapitate."
All I could think about was his hand on mine the entire way there.
***
A/N: Is Decapitate a real game? I wouldn't know.
I love you guys :)) thanks for reading this garbage. More to come soon. Excuse any mistakes.