A/N: la la la eye crINKLES BLEss us aLL
I don't know which ones taller out of Josh and Tyler, so I'm gonna make josh taller because that makes more sense, okay?
If you were curious, Dennis is something that I've always wanted to be called because I think the whole Dennis The Menace thing is absolutely hilarious, and, seeing as if my name was Dennis, I would be an even bigger douche than I am now, our antagonist was born.
Dennis, everyone. Behold.
Another thing, people with straightened hair will never be able to kiss in the rain.
Oh, and please forgive me if this actually sucks camel dick {{even tho camel dick is forever bomb}} because my dad got really tired and kind of pushed me down the stairs on accident, and my ankle hurts really badly and I'm exhausted {{which is why I should probably start the whole sleep thing}} and so this might not be very great. I'll go through it later and stuff, but don't expect a masterpiece of Joshler smut and/of fluff.
{{{{By the way, the last sentence above was not a hint of any kind. Lmao, horny ass people}} Just kidding. I love you all.}}}}
***
As soon as we finished our (this number is unknown, seeing as we played so many rounds) game of Decapitation, and I was sure I had somehow grown abs from how much laughing I had done, it was six, and he was leading me down to the bathroom I didn't even know was there, sitting quietly at the end of the hall, and telling me to hop onto the counter. Honestly, I was thoroughly confused until he set a first aid kit beside me, the contents rattling, and the events of earlier came flooding back to me.
"You didn't even tell me what happened, by the way," he started, eyebrows raised towards the ample amount of band aids and rubbing alcohol previously locked away inside of the white box. I've seen a lot of first aid kits during my high school years, mostly in Seattle, obviously, and I find it funny that they were almost always being opened for me.
"Were you expecting that information?" I asked, calm. "Because you never tell me anything."
He rolled his eyes lightly, shrugging as he moved back up to face me, and I was a few inches taller than him now, and his eyes were still that gorgeous shade even though there was bags under them that I hadn't really noticed until now. "I don't tell you things because they're some things that you don't really have to know."
"Well, I mean, I don't need to know, but it would be nice, Josh." I argued. "You could at least tell me why you hate Dennis so much."
He had a cotton ball in one of his hands and held it out to me, while he shook up the bottle of alcohol. "Wet that for me, will you?"
Sighing, I took it and turned around a bit, and I felt like I was messing with the sharp air by simply breathing. So I moved as swiftly as possible, eyes locked on the mirror. He was looking at the reflection of the both of us, too, and I swallowed deeply, feeling very under fire. But I just turned the faucet on and held the soft fabric under the water for a second, before giving it back to him.
"Thanks."
"You're going to avoid my question?"
"Just like you're avoiding mine?"
In frustration, I huffed, letting him push the cotton ball to the side of my face. So we sat in silence, while he cleaned the blood from my skin, and I somewhat hoped he would clear me of everything that made me find him so incredible. It was beginning to get stressful.
Even though I could sense his annoyance, his touch was gentle and urgent, like we had somewhere to be in a few minutes time. It was very obvious that we didn't, though, and he kept looking at me, and I kept blushing because I was always looking directly back at him. His hands were amazingly steady and beautiful and strong, and so were his arms, and so was Josh in general, when I thought about it. But I was still supposed to be angry at him, and so I tried to let myself be angry.
"You're not going to speak to me now?" He laughed, raising his eyebrows in mock aggravation as he gathered all of the pink cotton balls in his hands. I didn't know what to do besides a simple shrug, and I was surprised I kept my composure for this long, because it usually fell whenever it came to him. "Tyler, don't make me whine."
I shrugged, hopping down from the counter, pain shooting through the heels of my feet. I hated that. But I hated his secrets a little bit more.
Then again, did I have a reason to be angry? Josh didn't belong to me, and he wasn't mine, and he wasn't supposed to tell me everything about him. I didn't even know where we stood currently, and so I shrugged again, opening the door and making my way down the hallway. There was a thousand flaws in my little plan, and one of them was because of the fact that I didn't know his house the way I wanted. So I just made my way down to where I knew his kitchen was, even though I didn't get very far before he was behind me.
His arms were suddenly around my frail body, and I was trying to keep quiet and indifferent as he pulled me to him, his chin on my shoulder. He was halting my movement completely, and I wanted to struggle, but it made no sense when I knew he was infinitely stronger than me.
"Tyler?" He said, poking at my cheek lightly. "Tyler. Tyler, answer me, please. Tyler. Tyler, excuse me." He chanted, swaying the both of us back and forth. "You know, I was hoping you'd be much nicer to me by now. We are kind of fond of eachother, aren't we?"
I smiled a bit at that, but pushed it back down. "I don't hate Dennis," he started suddenly. "But Dennis hates me. We used to go to school together in middle school and stuff. He knew Justin and all of that. Happy now?"
In his hold, I spun around to face him, tempted to lie to him. It wouldn't have made much of a difference, though, a lie or the truth, and so I shook my head. "Not even close. But, it'll do." I answered honestly, taking his hand in mine and swinging it into between the two of us. "But, if you don't throw food in front of me in the next five seconds, I'm walking home."
"Are you? It's a shame, the weather conditions aren't exactly favorable right now,"' he sighed. "Well, I happen to have a pantry and a fridge, and those usually hold quite a bit of junk."
"What if I wanted something nutritious?"
"You're a piece of work, Tyler."
~~~
So, that's how we ended up with the smell of toasted waffles floating through the air, and a bottle of syrup in the middle of us. They were the small breakfast ones, but they would do perfectly at this moment in time. And when some of the heat disappeared from the food, I started tearing them apart with my hands, and reached for the syrup the same time he did. Our eyes moved up to each other, in complete silence, before I giggled, rolling my eyes as I took it from him.
"That was so cheesy that I actually want to gag," he smiled, nodding his head to himself as I slid him the bottle. My food was drenched, but that was the best way to eat waffles, and so I didn't cry about it.
"Eat your food first," I instructed, waving towards his plate. He had his fork poised over it with an amused look on his face, and I just rolled my eyes for the hundredth time and tried to fight the smile off of my face.
And, right there, directly across from him, is where I learned what kind of person he was. Not enough to satisfy the hunger I felt for anything regarding him, but enough to cause a small blush to coat my cheeks and a gentle lump to grow in my throat. It wasn't the kind you got before crying, but it was caused by a nervous and shaky and slow feeling, like having a blanket being pulled from you after a hundred years. He was a quiet eater and had a loud mind, and was fond of truck stealing and good music and spontaneous swimming sessions in frigid water. And the sheer beauty of it all literally broke my heart.
"You know what else is cheesy?" He asked me suddenly, both of our empty dishes in his hands as he walked a little ways to the sink, before making his way back to in front of me.
"Pizza?"
"No. Yes, but no," he replied, eyes glancing towards somewhere behind me. "Can you guess?"
All I saw when I turned around was the little sunroom he told me his mom liked to read in, and a window. Somehow, it started pouring rain in between the time we got home and now, and I was trying to figure out what he could possibly mean, when it came to me. Oh god.
Moving his eyebrows up and down, he verbalized my thoughts. "Romantic rain activities," he smiled, and I shook my head, snorting. "Like dancing."
"Nope," I replied immediately, shaking my head. "Absolutely not. I can't dance. Nope."
Despite all the protesting I was flooding the air with, he grabbed my hand from where it lay on my lap, and started tugging me towards his front door. Letting my feet drag for as long as I possibly could, I attached my other hand to his to try and get him to fall, but he just chuckled and pulled me along further. "No, no, no no no no." I groaned, continuing my head shakes. "You can't make me. And I don't even have shoes on!"
"Socks are the way to go," he said, "even though I'm completely barefoot at the moment." I was absolutely panicking, and he sounded so casual and light about the entire thing, which is what our relationship sounded like in general. Or whatever we were. "Up you go."
A screech tore it's way through me, all the way from the pit of my stomach, when he hoisted me over his shoulder, my face dangerously close to his butt. Not that I was complaining about that part, because I most certain wasn't, even though the gorgeous view was not helping the situation at all. And I knew he wouldn't drop me, seeing as his biceps were heavenly and that if I did fall, it would be because he purposely let me go, or because I couldn't stop squirming. Which I couldn't seem to stop doing once the rain hit my back.
"Jesus!" I yelled, because it was beyond cold out here, and it only got worse when he set me on the ground and the world came back into focus. I could've gone back inside at that point, but the look on his face was so hopeful that I almost couldn't. Not even if I wanted to.
"You wait here," he laughed, pointing at the spot on the ground that my feet were planted to. My socks were, in fact, absolutely drenched, my hair was pressed flatly to my forehead, and my clothes were sticking to me like scotch tape. The sun was already doing down the smallest amount, and it was going to be night soon, and I didn't know what to think about that. I was still trying to get past the entire part of me that couldn't believe he enjoyed my company enough to have me here this long, and another part of me wanted to cry when music started playing.
So I turned to face the sound, and was met with the sight of half of his body in his car and half of it out, and I realized that he was getting his seats soaking wet to play a song to fit this moment.
And then I couldn't breathe because he should reserve things like this for people who deserved it, and then my heart was pounding with every movement I made, and with every attempt I made to stop smiling. Because I was beaming.
"We are going to dance to Everything I Own by The Front Bottoms, because they're one of my favorite bands ever, and because this song makes me happy." He laughed over the rain, clumsily taking my hands in his and setting them on his shoulders. "Do I look like a dance teacher to you?" He asked me quickly, during the first chords of the song. I shook my head, and he pressed a gentle kiss to my nose, before pulling me much closer to him, and nodding his head. "That's good, because I'm not one. But I'm gonna try my best here."
"Sometimes you get sad, when we're together. Because you're not sure if you'll miss me when I'm gone."
The music played, and he started sidestepping slowly, and I tried to keep up as best as I could. I felt so uncoordinated and child-like, and it made me want to die of embarrassment, along with laugh at the huge mess that I was. He moved a lot more graceful than me, but his arms stayed around my waist, keeping me from falling. And the rain kept pouring down every available inch of us, the tips of our noses and eyelashes, and it pooled under our feet as we moved and made indentions in the grass. Kind of like what happens when I dig my fingernails into my sensitive skin, but much more permanent and important, and much more beautiful.
"See, you're a good dancer."
"Just try to appreciate what you've got while you've got it. So if it ever goes away, you can say you enjoyed it while it lasted."
"Shut up," I mumbled, cheeks bright red, despite the cold, and he just moved closer to me, and I could feel his body through the wet fabric we were encased in, and it just made me even more mortified. In silence, I prayed, to whatever god happened to exist today, that my lower half would remain as calm as I wanted it to.
"But who's gonna push my wheelchair around when I get sick? God forbid I ever stop feeling sorry for myself, for being selfish. And this is not the way I plan on living for the rest of my life, but for right now, it gets me by."
"I'd push your wheelchair around," he shrugged, spinning the two of us in a small circle, making me laugh again while he smiled in the way that displayed the crinkles by his eyes as fully as possible. Somehow, they made him look younger than he was, and another sharp round of adoration hit me square in the chest.
"But I won't stop this, and you won't stop this. It'll probably go further than either of us wanted."
"Would you?" I muttered, looking up at him lazily. I knew there was a strong possibility that I looked completely high right now, but it didn't help that he made the entire world look hazy. Except for him. It's like I was constantly looking at him through a high powered device that made everything look better, or maybe he was just better.
"They say I deserve it. All that is coming, the good and the bad. I don't regret it. How could I? You were the best I ever had, I ever had, I ever had, I ever had, I ever had."
"Not much else to do," he smirked. "Mercury's much too eternal to die, and she knows it, which is probably why she wanted to be called a planet. And if James ever needed a wheelchair, Mercury would probably be there a second before he could actually lower himself into it."
"You can push me around town if you want," I shrugged. "Though I don't really anticipate the use of a wheelchair."
"I know," he laughed quietly. And, if it wasn't Josh, I would have been way too mortified by the simple thought of kissing someone in the front yard of a neighborhood, where hundreds of old people probably reside, but I was suddenly much too distracted to be bothered thinking of much else.
~~~
Later, I was in his shower, silent tears rolling down the hollow of my cheeks, with a small, unshakable smile on my face. I probably looked absolutely insane, but there was no one here to see me cry to myself, and so I let out one of those happy sobs, moving my fingers through my wet hair. I prayed desperately that he couldn't hear me, because that would just be even more humiliating, but, then again, would I care?
The feeling you get when you know someone cares about you was hitting my body over and over and over, and I had to prop myself up against the wall, my pale skin against the cold. But it didn't matter. I didn't feel good, but I felt okay, and that was a miracle by itself.
***
Clearing up things in short paragraphs, and leaving the last part for anyone that needs it:
PART ONE
One: The status regarding Josh and Tyler's overall relationship is one hundred percent intentional and vague. It's meant to be slightly awkward and quite shaky and unknown. They're still kids.
Two: Please understand that I am not going to keep the info about Dennis and Josh to myself forever. You'll know at some point :-))
Three: I am not a happy person, so if you signed up for an overly happy story, go find one. I have nothing to give you if all you want is fluff and sex. I am angry and rude and selfish and almost completely hopeless, and so please never count on me to write a 100% cookies and stickers story.
Four: You have to understand that some of the events in this story are either completely coated in an incredibly thin layer of melancholy, or it's clear as hell. Tyler is depressed. And for those of you that haven't ever dealt with it, {{depression}} know that one happy event does not fix all.
PART TWO
I was literally planning on offing myself three days before I started writing this book. I've never even told anyone that due to the fact that some of you talked to me back then {{ @ sara hi }} and that's not really something to discuss before it happens. Long story short, you guys mean more to me than I could ever even express. You guys saved my life. Literally.
PART THREE
If you feel like wearing "boys clothes" one day, and "female clothes" the other, do not think you owe anyone an explanation for it.
If you like dicks, and vaginas, you don't have to tell people why.
If you only like dick, you don't have to explain that, and same thing if you only like vagina.
If you don't have a gender and don't care to limit yourself to one, you don't have to list reasons.
You do not owe anyone a coming out story, and kick whoever wants to tell your differently. I refuse to label myself anything ever, because it dehumanizes people. I hate it. So if I like dick, fine. If you like dick, okay. If I like vagina, whatever. If you like vagina, alright.
You can do whatever you want. Dress how you want, act like you want, and love who you want.
Message me if you ever need anything :-))
Excuse any mistakes btw.