Chapter Text
Josh spends the entirety of the next day confined to his bed. He hides under a white Egyptian Cotton fort, peaking out every so often to survey the enemy’s forces. The evil bundle of black fabric is sprawled across the surface of his nightstand and an overpowering presence radiates around it, making it hard for him to focus on trying to restart his brain.
It needs to be wiped away - all of it - but he can’t find the right combo of excuses to contradict what he thinks happened last night, because the evidence is currently flaunting itself in front of him.
Every so often, this need for validation starts to boil over, and he rises from his relaxed fetal position to rest his back against his headboard. He reaches out, pressing the edges of his fingers to the fabric – amazed by the softness each time – before yanking his hand back in a violent jerk and retreating to the depths of his sheets.
He keeps expecting his hand to touch the cold, empty surface of the table, but it never happens.
Every single time, the cloth’s welcoming texture reminds him that even if he is as crazy as the doctors say, someone actually kissed him. Not just any old someone either, but Mike – the boy that his little sister lost her life trying to win over.
What makes everything a million times worse is that Josh enjoyed it, and he thinks that Mike enjoyed it too - because it sounded like Mike enjoyed it, and why would it sound like Mike enjoyed it if he didn’t actually enjoy it?
Fuck, what if Mike didn’t enjoy it? What if that’s why he left without his hoodie, and what if Josh is looking for something that isn’t there. Oddly enough that would be a comforting thought, but it wouldn’t stop the ghost tingle in his arms.
It wouldn’t stop him from wanting Mike to want him back.
He imagines what Hannah would’ve said, or worse, what she wouldn’t have said. She’d probably smile and hug him – wish him luck with something that’s never going to happen while her hopes are ripped from her frozen hands. She would give up the love that she plastered all over her diary for years in pink ink to make him happy, and she would hide the pain that Josh’s shaky heart can’t ignore.
Now, it actually fells like she’s inside that trembling heart of his, her eyes covered by the veil of death and stained with the tears of lost love – both for her brother and for the man of her dreams. He imagines it’s her fists beating against the walls of his heart each time he thinks back to that kiss, and not the fever that begs for it to happen again and again and again.
He stole love from her, just like he stole her life.
‘Why do you take everything from them, Joshua?’ Dr. Hill echoes through his mind, elbows propped up on his desk as he leans forward into a grin. “How does it feel to be thief?”
Josh fidgets a little but he doesn’t respond. Today, he would rather use his mouth for sweeter things, so he holds his tongue. The urge to defend himself from what he knows is true is sealed with a pressured bite on his lip.
It’s not until he can taste the salty tang of iron that he realizes he broke skin. Too gone to do anything about it, he watches the content of his body paint the snowy landscape of his pillow a dark crimson. Each drip creates a new pattern that collapses in on itself as it spreads through the tightly woven threads.
‘Joshua,’ Dr. Hill reassures from somewhere behind him. ‘Don’t go after things you know you can’t have. Remember, it’s not good for you.’
Josh doesn’t listen.
Instead, he nuzzles his nose into the fluff of his blood covered pillow and analyzes every moment Mike and he spent together in the past year. He thinks about every accidental touches and all the meaningless flirting, and how Mike never misses movie night. He could’ve missed it – he could’ve left when Josh said he was off the hook – but he didn’t.
If he just felt guilty, he wouldn’t have looked so cute when he smiled in that goofy way and he wouldn’t have laughed like a force of nature at Josh’s stupid jokes.
These thoughts make him want to go find the half full bottle of pills in his medicine cabinet – the ones that he stopped taking because they made his mind fuzzy and his emotions docile – and take a double dose.
Let them get rid of all his pain. Let them get rid of all his doubts.
It would be so easy to give in to that, but he knows that this pain is something he needs to face if he wants to live past it.
If Hannah and Beth were ever going to forgive him, he needs to let himself feel it.
It’s that thought that lulls him into a deep sleep full of loving nightmares.
Josh doesn’t wake up until noon the next day, his head boiling from an excess of sleep. He blinks up at the light in the center of his ceiling. It’s still on and there is a jagged line of crust drawn across his face from his lips and chin to his earlobe.
The events of the previous day slowly start to come back as he sits up and wipes his face. Flakes of dried blood scatter against his thumb before decorating his shirt and bed sheets. It finally hits him that he’s busted his lip open and let gravity do a number on his face. His jaw hurts, his teeth spent most of the past 24 hours clenched together, and his eyes sting like he’s been rubbing at them in his sleep.
Yesterday was a bad day, and bad days always beat the hell out of Josh.
He forces himself up as he licks at his lips, trying to assess the damage with his tongue. There is a slit at the bottom edge, but it’s closed with a scab. Relieved that it could be worse, he stretches out his sore bones and heads to his bathroom.
In the mirror, Josh can see the real horror that his distress created. He avoids eye contact, only peering at the plum bags under his eyes before shedding his clothes and leaving them discarded on the tiles.
The floor is freezing below his feet, but once he’s in the shower, warm water soothes his tense muscles. He rubs at his face until the water and his head are both clear. His stomach lets out a slow rumbling once his body is at ease, and he remembers that the last thing he ate was a few pieces of popcorn during the movie.
The judgment that follows his bad days is probably the worst part of them. It suddenly seems so senseless to let himself waste away like the world was ending over one kiss.
Mike left that behind him the moment he walked out of the theater, so Josh should get over it too. If the other boy really wanted anything to happen between them, he would’ve stayed. He would’ve kissed Josh again.
But, he didn’t. End of story.
The brunette shakes away the thought and exits the comfort of the shower. He dries off quickly, the air conditioner freezing his skin, and ventures back into his room.
He slips into the first clean pair of sweats he can find, but most of his shirts are dirty.
Josh hasn’t done laundry at all in the past week, so all his favorite tops are cluttered in huge piles across the floor of his closest. His father hired a housekeeper for the weekdays, who should be arriving shortly, but Josh doesn’t normally give her access to his room and chooses to do his own chores.
Today, however, he’s tired and it seems the best idea is to give into his father’s ways for once.
So, he gathers up the piles of clothes and tosses them into the hamper along with his wet towels. It feels better to see his room a little cleaner but he’s still bare-chested and shivering. The sleeve of his best jackets hangs out from the basket, small splatters of blood on the tips of the sleeves where he must’ve rubbed his mouth in his sleep. There is no wearing it like that.
Disappointed and desperate, he gets an idea. It’s awful and he internally hits himself the instant it creeps into his mind, but Mike’s hoodie did look really warm. Josh wanders over to the bundle of threads and holds it up so he can get a better look at it.
The black hoodie is old - that much is certain - and there are tiny holes in the bottom of the sleeves. The draw string is even missing, but the worn-in look is actually kind of charming. It reminds Josh of Mike. This is the kind of jacket that the real Mike wears when he thinks no one is looking.
Josh slips into it, letting the cotton cling to the wet surface of his chest. His body warms up almost instantly and the aroma of lingering cologne swirls around his nose as he pulls up the hood.
Finally heating up, he chooses to sit at his desk instead of confining himself to his bed again.
Today was a good day – a calm after the storm.
Once comfortable, Josh switches on his monitor and is greeted by a wall of unread instant messages. Chris’s handle blows up the white window with concern – starting slow and then building up.
Christopher Walkin’ [yesterday]: Dude, how was last night? You make nice with Mike?
Christopher Walkin’ [yesterday]: I swear, if you replace me with Mr. President, I will never forgive you.
Christopher Walkin’ [yesterday]: Hey, is everything okay? You’re not responding and neither is Mike.
Christopher Walkin’ [yesterday]: Did you kill him?
Christopher Walkin’ [yesterday]: OMG you killed him, didn’t you?!
Christopher Walkin’ [yesterday]: nvm, not calling the police. He texted me… :P
Christopher Walkin’ [yesterday]: He’s asking about you. Did something happen?
Christopher Walkin’ [yesterday]: Dude, you okay?
Christopher Walkin’ [1 hour ago]: I’m getting worried. Respond?
Josh leans forward on his forearms – resting his chin on his clasped hands. He reads over the messages again, but keeps flicking his eyes to a certain set of words.
“He’s asking about me?” Josh whispers aloud to himself. “So weird…”
He notices that Chris is still online, the green dot by his name a small beacon, and types up a quick reply.
Joshing Around: I’m okay, bro! Jesh! Can’t a grown man waste his Sunday in peace?
Chris replies almost immediately.
Christopher Walkin’: Thought I was about to have to call a search party, bro!
Christopher Walkin’: Please say you haven’t checked your phone.
Josh raises an eyebrow and pulls a sly grin. What could possibly be on his phone?
Joshing Around: I did, and I’m holding everything against you.
Christopher Walkin’: I feel like that is sarcasm, and I don’t appreciate it, but I am choosing to ignore it.
Christopher Walkin’: When you do, please don’t judge. I was worried.
Josh rolls his computer chair across the room to the hamper and pulls his phone out of his popcorn stained jeans – his curiosity on fire. The battery is dead, no big surprise, so he plugs it into the charger by his desk and waits. After a few minute, the screen bursts with light and there are 10 missed calls, 4 voicemails, and 13 missed texts – not to mention the endless line of social media updates.
Joshing Around: God, Chris. Are you my mom now?
Most of the missed calls are from Chris, but one is from his father and two are from his mother. They’re not around much since the twins disappeared, but sometimes they surprise Josh with concern.
He ignores it today, and flips over to the texts.
Again, the majority are from worry-wart Chris, but three catch Josh’s eye.
Mike [Saturday; 10:34 pm]: Sorry about leaving like that. I forgot my jacket. If you get a chance, give me a holler so I can come pick it up.
Mike [Yesterday; 1:00 pm]: I suck at apologize, but I think I fucked up major. I need to talk to you.
Mike [Today; 11:24 am]: U okay, pal?
Josh runs his thumb against the collar of Mike’s jacket, fear rolling in his belly. The fuck up must be the kiss, and Mike just needs his hoodie back. What’s hard to understand is that there’s nothing special about the jacket. It’s not designer and the fabric is worn.
Maybe it holds some kind of sentimental value?
Reply: Im fine. Everything’s cool here! I’m just chillin at home. I’m a real party animal. Come get it whenever, idc.
He places his phone down on the table to charge, and puts his attention back on his computer. Chris has already replied.
Christopher Walkin’: Yeah, I’m your mom, if your mom is knocking boots with Ashley! Yeahhhhh!
Christopher Walkin’: Please don’t tell her or Ashley I said that.
Josh nibbles at the scab on his lip, focusing on the words. A small chuckle grumbles at the back of his throat, but right now there are more important matters to discuss than Josh’s mom.
Joshing Around: Can’t make any promises, big guy! If you’ll answer a few questions for me though, I might consider letting you live! >:)
Christopher Walkin’: ...
Christopher Walkin’: Weird, but okay. Shoot.
Joshing Around: How do you know if you like someone? Like, How do you know that you like Ashley more than any other girl?
If anyone is an expert on unrequited feelings, it’s Chris. Maybe he can help determine if what Josh feels is actually like or just some weird hormone-fueled lapse in judgment.
Christopher Walkin’: Idk
Christopher Walkin’: I just do. I think it’s something you decided for yourself.
Christopher Walkin’: y? has someone finally piqued the interest of mr. Washington? ;) ;) ;)
Chuckling, Josh puts his forehead on the desk and rolls it from side to side against the glass. Why would he even think he’d get a real answer without that kind of reaction? He lets out a long breath and begins typing again.
Joshing Around: Maybe? I’d know if you gave better answers!
Christopher Walkin’: Man, okay. Sorry.
Christopher Walkin’: Maybe if you explain how you’re feeling I can make a better educated analysis.
Leave it to Chris to make this sound like a school project.
What he doesn’t know is that it isn’t that easy to explain what Josh is feeling. Even if he put it into words, it might not come out right. He tries anyways, hands hesitating over the keyboard after every sentence.
Joshing Around: I mean, I think this person's cute. Like, they have a hella cute laugh, but we’re not best friends like you and Ash. I don’t actually know what they like or what they’re into. It’s kinda weird.
He sends the reply, but immediately starts to type more, insecurity about his own feelings overpowering him.
Joshing Around: I just feel like if I fuck it up, I'm going to regret it.
Josh presses his finger to the holes in the jacket's sleeves. They feel like burn marks, maybe from a campfire or fireworks. He wonders for a moment if Mike wore this hoodie on Forth of July when all four boys spent the evening having a firecracker war.
Maybe one of these holes in some strange way represented him. What if Mike wore Josh on his sleeve every time he slipped into this jacket.
The thought makes him feel all fuzzy inside.
Christopher Walkin’: Okay… Well, do you want do things with them? Like romantic things?
Joshing Around: What? ._.
Christopher Walkin’: Holding Hands? Kissing?
Joshing Around: Yeah. I mean, I already did, bro, but it’d be cool to do it again. ;)
The next set of replies come in at a rapid speed, the “typing…” down at the bottom of the window never going away.
Christopher Walkin’: WAIT
Christopher Walkin’: WHAT?
Christopher Walkin’: WHEN?
Christopher Walkin’: HOW????
Josh lets out a loud laugh that he didn't know he had in him at the moment. His best friend always worries so much, and he wants to reach through the computer and pat his head and tell him he's a good boy for caring so much.
He's about to reply with something just as patronizing but a knock breaks across his door frame and he jumps. It must be the housekeeper making sure he's still alive. She probably got a call from his dad about him not answering.
Joshing Around: brb
Christopher Walkin': NO!
Christopher Walkin': YOU ASSHOLE! COME BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!
Rising to his feet, Josh gets a sick enjoyment out of ignoring Chris as he drags his feet to the door. “I'm not dead! Give me a minute!”
The person on the other side takes his words as a challenge and begins banging on it like they're going to explode if it doesn't open immediately.
“Fuck.” Josh curses as he opens the door, expression the epitome of unamused. “I said I wasn't...”
In front of him, grinning from ear to ear with that stupid, cute ass smile, is Mike – one side of his mouth a little higher than the other so the pearl white of his teeth peaks out like some sort of treasure.
Josh is lost for words, but that doesn't seem to be a problem because Mike decides to fill the air instead.
“Shit. What happened to you?” Mike's concern is heavy as he reaches out and touches Josh's chin.
At first, Josh moves closer to Mike like he's a fucking magnet, but when he realizes what he's doing, he pulls back in a rush. If he lets his feelings get carried away so quickly and after all that has happened, what kind of human being is he?
Josh Washington is not turning to mush because Mike Munroe touches him. Not happening.
“Oh, hi Mike. Good to see you too. Nice of you to come by.” Sarcasm drips from Josh's mouth like honey from a beehive.
Instead of backing away, like Josh expects him to, Mike advances again with an uncertainty that appears to only be directed at his mouth. His finger lingers right under the cut, and he inspects the spot. “Fuck... Your lip's busted pretty bad.”
“Thank you, Captain Obvious.” Josh rolls his eyes and tries to keep his heart calm and his mind on track. “Will you tell me what you're doing here?”
“I...” Mike finally looks away from Josh's lips as the question registers, instead averting his eyes to the damp fabric clinging to Josh's chest. He touches the hood of the jacket with a lingering gentleness before flicking it playfully. “I actually came for this. I texted you about it.”
“Oh, right... Sorry...” A small pinch of disappointment stings Josh as he touches the front of the hoodie. The last ounce of hope he'd sunk his teeth into now retreats back into the soles of his feet.
His brain screams “RUN!!” but that's ridiculous and Josh isn't a servant to his intrusive thoughts today, so instead, he begins to pull down the zipper. A hand stops his before he even gets to the mid-point.
“You don't have to.” Mike looks distressed, fingers gripping tighter than necessary. It doesn't irritate the skin, but it stabs at Josh's lungs like tiny shards of broken glass.
Is this what holding hands feels like?
“Why? Isn't that why you're here?” Josh releases the zipper, but Mike's hand doesn't release him in response. Instead it lingers against his bruised knuckles like a healing touch.
“I actually wanted to talk about yesterday.”
An unwelcome laugh squeezes its way out of Josh's lungs. He doesn't mean it. Nothing about the expression on Mike's face is funny. He looks terrified and he can't seem to stay still. “It's because of the movie, isn't it? Look, I won't tell anyone you almost peed yourself.”
“Goddamn it, you dick.” There is anger now, and it bubbles up with each syllable. It disguises itself as frustration, but there are spots of hurt around the edges. “You know that's not what I'm talking about.”
Josh is honestly confused, but Mike's reaction makes him wants to apologize, so he does. “I'm sorry, but what exactly are you talking about?”
Mike makes a grumbling sound as he bumps their thumbs together in an awkward, rough caresses. “What do you think?”
“The kiss.” Josh breathes out as he chews on the inside of his mouth. Something about saying it out loud makes him nervous. He expects Mike to look confused and for him to tell him that no such thing ever happened between them, but Mike nods firmly in confirmation – his gaze hard on Josh's face.
“I won't tell anyone, bro.” Josh forces a smile, and takes his hand away from Mike's finally. He doesn't think he likes holding hands. There are no redeeming qualities when it's unrequited. “It never happened.”
Mike doesn't say anything at first, his mouth twitching into a frown like Josh has said something ridiculously offensive. “You want to forget it?”
“No.” The word lingers against the cut on Josh's lips. It's like Josh is possessed because he doesn't remember deciding to be so honest. He was prepared to lie. He was prepared to throw this all away if that's what Mike wanted. “I don't want that.”
Surprised, Mike inquires, “What do you want?”
“I just want you to kiss me again, asshole.” Josh presses his hand against Mike's chest, his own anger building with each truth. “It's ridiculous, right? You kissed me. I didn't kiss you. This is your fault. I don't know what you're trying to do, but it's not going to work.”
Mike covers his mouth and lets out a low laugh that sends Josh back. Is he really laughing at him, right now?
“What's so fucking funny?”
Instead of explaining with his words, Mike simply grabs the sides of Josh's face and literally pulls him into another kiss - saving him from embarrassing himself with these misunderstandings any longer.
The asshole can't even control his laughter enough to make this a proper kiss like the last one, but Josh is pretty sure that this one's even better. It's messy and uncontrollable but it lasts long enough that he gets to wrap his arms around Mike, and he has to admit, hugging Mike is better than he expected.
It's also sealed like a promise. Mike isn't ashamed of their first kiss, and that knowledge gives Josh surpluses of the type of butterflies that first kisses are supposed to be made of.
Mike knocks their noses together a little too hard as Josh pulls at the back of his shirt, so he drops his hands to Josh's hips – the pads of his thumbs rubbing against the bones that rest just under the damp skin.
They break apart, and Josh lets his forehead fall to Mike's shoulder. His breath is still lost somewhere in the back of Mike's throat, so his words come out stressed and unsteady. “Why did you leave?”
“The truth?”
Josh nods once so Mike can feel his confirmation.
“I was scared.”
“No shit.”
“Shut up,” Mike scolds, knocking the side of his head against Josh's. “I'm being serious.”
There is a long pause between the two before Mike speaks again, this time so quietly that Josh wonders if it's a phantom of his own thoughts. “I kept thinking about Hannah. Would she hate me for kissing her brother?”
“So, why'd you do it again?” Josh's head rises so he can take in the true glory of Mike's face. Somehow it's even better up close – only Mike Munroe can do that, Josh is certain.
“Last time I didn't chase after something important, she never came out of the forest.”
The beating in Josh's heart starts again, wild and loud, like the Hannah who occupies his memories is trying to break through his body to make sure he can't leave such sweet words unanswered. Hearing Mike call his little sister important, when everyone else talks about her like she's just lost luggage, sends shivers up and down his spine.
There is no running away this time.
For the first time in Josh's life, he's the one who initiates the kiss. He can't stop himself, and he doesn't want to anymore. Maybe he was wrong for indulging himself in the sweetness that Mike's words bring, but he no longer wants to hide away from himself.
“Josh, take care of him for me.” Hannah's voice is a light tickle on the back of Josh's neck. “And let him take care of you too, okay?”
Josh breaks the kiss and pulls back a little to redefine himself in the room. The voice in Josh's head that sounds like Hannah normally only speaks of blame and vengeance – her words dripping with a sick malice that he never heard from her when she was alive. That's how he's always known she wasn't real. Hannah would never say those things, but this time the gentleness behind her statement makes it hard to tell if it's his mind that created the sound.
“Everything okay?” Mike looks so confused, head tilted a little as he evaluates Josh's hesitation, but he's still there. He's still holding Josh, and he's still waiting for Josh to come back to him.
He's real.
This moment is real.
Josh finally has someone real to hold, so he listens to Hannah's words and falls back into the comfort that this moment allows him.
This love is more than Josh deserves, but maybe that's okay.
Maybe it's okay to finally ask for more than he deserves.