Work Text:
Josh has no clue what’s on his new roommate’s mind.
“I’m Tyler and I shaved my head when one of my friends told me my hairstyle was gay,” that’s how Tyler greets Josh as he tows his bag into the dorm. “Well. I don’t have friends anymore.”
They shake hands then, Josh bites his tongue not to give him a lecture about assholes and sexuality stereotypes. They don’t interact that much because a senior year of college is a killer so they’re studying to be prepared for all the shit the adult life is about to throw at them.
This is the first time Josh shares the room with such an eccentric guy. Tyler picks up on Josh every so often — ‘Josh, why do you pour milk before you put cereal into the bowl, why?’ Tyler’s why is masked why me so it’s safer for Josh to have breakfast when Tyler’s already up or when he disappears like the rarest cryptid.
But there are times when Tyler is still in the dorm.
“You have to put your t-shirt on,” Tyler insists, sitting on his bed and strumming his ukulele.
He’s just started learning to play it so Josh is obligated to listen to these ugly chords almost all night.
“Maybe you should stop staring at me then?”
“Just dress up, Josh.”
Josh is all wet after the shower and his single towel is dirty after the football game so he’s just waiting until his skin dries off on its own.
“Why?”
“Do you need a reason?”
Tyler’s tone foreshadows a catastrophe. Josh’s bedsheets are damp underneath his bare back.
“Yes,” Josh puts his hands behind his head.
Tyler rewards him with a death glare once again.
“I dunno. You, um, you don’t shave your armpits,” he blurts out, turning away before his glance slides down Josh’s stomach. “Just put your frigging t-shirt on. I’m insecure.”
Tyler wears thousands of layers of clothes even when the world melts due to the heat, even when Josh melts due to the heat. Finding his own apartment would be great, but he doesn’t want to make Tyler feel out of place even though he’s a picky neighbor. And also uncommonly annoying.
Josh is sure that Tyler doesn’t shave his armpits as well.
But he reaches for his t-shirt hanging on the back of the chair.
***
Their friendship gets weirder.
Josh calls it a friendship because a dude he’s forced to live with can’t be his enemy. Or maybe Josh is too innocent.
“I’ve got calluses on my palms,” Tyler says, holding his hand in front of Josh’s face. Josh winces at the sight of raw skin with peeled-off edges.
Tyler retracts his hand and hides it in his pocket when Josh is about to give him a high-five.
“And?”
“It’s because of you.”
“Calluses?”
“Yes.”
Tyler huffs and leaves the room without giving a proper explanation.
Josh guesses he shouldn’t have stolen Tyler’s hand cream.
***
When Tyler stands in the center of their dorm wearing nothing but his black briefs, Josh doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what to do even more when Tyler asks —
“Do you like it?”
A second and one microinfarct later Josh comprehends that Tyler points at the tattoo on his arm.
“I’m cool with it.”
It’s a big mystery why Tyler had to undress this way just to show him the line of Roman numerals with a surely sacral meaning. So he just tosses Tyler’s clothes back at him. It’s almost like revenge.
Tyler covers his tattoo obediently.
Josh doesn’t imagine anything in particular when he masturbates in a shower cabin later this evening. He just doesn’t want to get caught.
***
“I wanna lick your lip ring.”
It could’ve been the sexiest thing Josh has ever heard in his life if it hadn’t slipped out of Tyler’s mouth. They got a double-invitation to a Birthday party a friend of a friend of Josh’s brother’s friend throws, just to get wasted and play Mario Kart.
Josh pulls away with a giggle hearing Tyler giggle too. A group of partying guys and girls sneer; Josh is eager to take his piercing out not to provoke them.
“Come on, Josh,” Tyler grabs the controller. “Try to beat me.”
Josh has a team behind his back chanting his name but he loses anyway, his kart chokes on dust as Tyler races to the finish mark; Tyler once said he hates losing more than he likes winning. Tyler is happy and sober, Josh is not the first guy Tyler has left behind today — Tyler celebrates his victory after every round, even the owner of this house is now standing with a certain facial expression as if Tyler has eaten his Birthday cake.
“You’re a nerd,” Josh chortles.
Tyler throws the controller onto the glass table.
“That’s why we’re dating, bro.”
Josh thumps Tyler’s shoulder jokingly.
Tyler thumps him back, and again, and again, but he eventually ends up getting tackled to the couch. Josh is stronger in real life even though his gaming skills suck. Tyler laughs hysterically as Josh begins to tickle his ribs, pulling up his hoodie to get to his stomach; Tyler wriggles, Josh’s hand accidentally enters the area it wasn’t supposed to and Tyler’s laughter dies on his vocal cords.
Josh blushes, quickly removing his palm from a bulge in Tyler’s jeans.
Tyler bats Josh’s arms away and storms out of the room while the level of everyone’s drunkenness rises up. Dumbfounded and tipsy, Josh blames it on Tyler’s genuine love for winning.
***
They make it back to their dorm together.
Tyler’s eyes are bloodshot as he stumbles out of the bathroom.
Josh hasn’t grabbed him that hard.
“Did you cry?”
Tyler automatically tugs at his joggers, his fingers skim over the spot where Josh’s palm once was.
“No.”
“Does anything hurt?”
Tyler rubs his crotch again.
“No.”
“Dude, you can tell me if you’ve got a rash,” Josh says. “Does it itch?”
Josh isn’t involved in Tyler’s personal life, but there’s nothing supernatural in catching a venereal disease.
Tyler curls into himself on the bed.
“Good night, Josh.”
Josh’s beer-induced concern is a burden.
The next day, Tyler shaves his head again.
***
Josh leaves the window open while Tyler takes a stroll in the middle of the night.
Josh isn’t worried.
The illness hits Tyler suddenly. One day, he comes back lacking his usual venom; his nose is runny and his eyelids are red and puffy. Tyler’s sore throat causes a horrible rattling and Josh presses his pillow to his ears to mute it.
“Dude,” Josh groans. “Drink some water.”
Tyler ignores Josh’s advice, hacking his lungs up and choking on mucus.
Josh should’ve recognized the first manifestations of a cold a couple of days ago when Tyler had just started getting woozy. All Josh has now is a semi-conscious Tyler with his black hood on and with his phlegm on the pillowcase — Josh sees it when he goes to check him. Tyler’s forehead is hot and so is his neck; Josh’s spasmodic brain tries to remember the symptoms of pneumonia as he urges Tyler to sit up.
“Dude,” Josh shakes him slightly. “Take a pill.”
Tyler quivers.
“No.”
“Cough syrup?”
If Tyler doesn’t have any meds, this thing is the only option Josh can provide. Even though it’s too childish.
“No,” Tyler says again, now looking through Josh like a crystal-gazer.
Then he breaks into another coughing fit.
“But I can’t sleep,” Josh utters. “You’re too loud, dude. Do something already.”
He doesn’t mean to insult Tyler, but Tyler pushes him away with as much strength he can gather at the moment. Tyler sways, barely holding himself upright as he goes to the wardrobe and empties his shelf.
“You’re right.”
Josh regrets everything at once.
“What?”
“We’re breaking up,” Tyler snatches his bag and begins to stuff his t-shirts and pants into it.
Josh follows him step to step.
“What?”
“You’re dumb, Josh.”
Josh catches him when his socks glide against the linoleum. Tyler drops his bag and fights feebly as Josh tears apart in between the decisions of calling an ambulance and just pinning Tyler’s arms behind his back until it passes. Tyler’s fever leads him nowhere, his eyes are glazed over as if he’s already overdosed on drugs, and Josh is terrified by these similarities. Tyler has always been a lunatic, unintentionally — it’s just a norm of his existence, probably. And maybe Josh is indeed dumb.
Tyler stops ‘packing’ his things, sitting on the pile of his clothes like a lost toy.
“Tyler,” Josh touches Tyler’s forehead again, he begins to sweat. “You need to lie down, man.”
He’s going to stay up all night in case Tyler needs professional’s help. Tyler’s hysteria melts into apathy; he nods weakly as Josh guards him back to the bed. Josh makes him swallow a spoonful of sourish syrup, trying to figure out where he’s going to find a thermometer.
In the morning, Tyler doesn’t remember what happened.
***
Tyler gives Josh his card’s password so he can go to the nearest drugstore and buy pills to kill Tyler’s cold. Josh hopes it won’t kill Tyler as well.
Three days pass quickly; Tyler skips classes, but Josh’s sleep schedule is not that messed up anymore.
But Josh doesn’t expect to get a call from his mother; it’s a short talk and a long string of thoughts afterward — his family wants to meet him on Christmas because ‘Josh, did you forget about us?’ And Josh should join them at the table, which means he won’t be able to control Tyler’s intake of meds. Which turns him to a douche.
Tyler is still not fine when Josh tells him about his plans in his hometown.
“That’s just great!” Tyler beams. “My aunt lives there. She sort of… needs my help. On Christmas, yeah. We… we could drive there together.”
Josh thinks hard.
“I… you know, I spent my last money on meds so I can’t afford the bus ride how,” Tyler clears his throat. It’s almost a plea.
Josh thinks harder.
Spending six more hours with a sick Tyler as his luggage doesn’t seem like a Christmas present.
“Okay,” Josh’s smile is so sweet his teeth hurt. Inside, he’s riled up. “But here’s one rule — we’re listening to my music, not yours.”
He wants to sound tough nevertheless.
Tyler nods so enthusiastically his head might just fall off.
***
They’re not listening to any music because Josh forgets his USB flash drive in their dorm. The radio doesn’t want to work too and the sight of passing trees is so monotonous Tyler gets groggy. He occasionally throws glances at his backpack in the backseat and Josh feels guilty for not buying one more Christmas card for Tyler.
Tyler is probably bored.
“Silly hat.”
“Silly haircut,” Josh fends off.
“Can’t get rid of thoughts, but I can get rid of my hair.”
Maybe Josh’s knit hat is ugly but at least he won’t freeze his ears off. Tyler’s purple windcheater is too thin even with a hoodie underneath, Tyler shivers constantly, massaging his palms. But he can still unleash a witty comment about Josh’s ripped jeans or his old jacket. It’s good he hasn’t seen Josh’s Christmas jumper yet.
Josh turns the heater on.
He’d even prefer to listen to Tyler’s ukulele to battle the silence.
Tyler’s breathing gets raspy.
***
Three hours later, the doom spits at their face. Josh wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d spotted Santa’s sleigh with a flock of deer, but here’s a single one crossing the road.
And it’s probably going to commit suicide.
The brakes screech but the asphalt’s so slippery Josh loses control over the car, drifting to the left on autopilot as the deer gallops away and dissipates in the trees. And Josh’s car dissipates in a ditch, choking on snow and getting stuck after a few failed attempts of getting it back on track.
“Did you see it?!” Tyler exclaims belatedly. “Oh shit.”
Tyler is as alive as that stupid deer and Josh has probably seen his life passing in front of his eyes like a VHS tape.
“Shit.”
He presses the gas pedal and pulls the steering wheel, but the tires are getting bogged down in a mush of soil and snow; the car groans loudly, pleading Josh to stop abusing it.
“What a bummer,” Tyler concludes, unbuckling himself.
Josh throws the door open and gets hit by the cold air — he wants to make it back to the road, slipping and getting annoying snow soaking his boots and his jeans. It’s just him, a sick Tyler, and a broken-down car. Josh refuses to get it, to understand they might spend hours upon hours here; Josh checks his phone with no signal on the screen. Of course. This spittle of doom is actually an acid. Josh is about to fall to his knees and yell a comical ‘no’ at the sky but Tyler interrupts his self-punishment.
Tyler’s windcheater is mostly unzipped.
“Josh,” he says hoarsely. “Let’s get back into a car.”
He clamps his palms over his mouth to keep his lungs inside.
Josh doesn’t want to lose hope.
“Does your phone have a signal?”
“It’s dead,” Tyler pats his pocket. “I don’t have a charger.”
Sitting in a car is a better perspective for Josh than lying by the wayside until the road services find him.
***
The time crawls like a snail.
They finish all the needed preparations for other drivers to notice them in the dark. Josh’s chest and shoulder still hurt after the powerful jerk of a car.
“Left headlamp is shattered,” Josh frowns. “I mean, are you okay?”
Tyler nods limply. Seeing him smile at the forest is creepy.
Tyler coughs some more.
“Do you have meds?” Josh asks.
Tyler shakes his head.
Josh needs to know that his roommate isn’t going to die during these holidays.
“Does your aunt have meds?”
“I don’t have an aunt.”
Josh gives Tyler a second chance.
“You what?”
Tyler slaps his forehead.
“I’m a bit cold.”
It takes one light touch for Josh to prove himself right — Tyler’s slurred speech and this unhealthy glimmer in his eyes is a result of his fever.
“Great,” Josh grumbles, unable to get angrier. “Just great.”
Their Christmas ride mutates to a journey to Tyler’s nonexistent relatives.
“Are you sure you don’t have an aunt?”
“Yes,” Tyler yawns, leaning on the ice-covered window.
“Parents? Siblings? Grandparents?”
“Yes, yes, and yes,” Tyler nods three times. “I’m calling them sometimes. We’re not on good terms.”
Josh mentally enlists all the unhappy events: they’ve crashed the car, they’re about to get hypothermia and Tyler is a shitty little liar. Building up a dialogue with him is an impossible mission, but Josh tries, and tries, and tries —
“So where were you going to go then?”
“I heard there are some nice hotels.”
“Do you have money for a hotel?”
“No.”
Tyler pulls his hood on and closes his eyes.
Josh tugs at the battered laces.
“Don’t sleep.”
“I just wanted to spend Christmas with you,” Tyler confesses. It’s probably the first coherent thing he’s said over the course of the trip.
Josh feels bitter; if they’re not getting out of the forest in an hour, Tyler’s dream is gonna come true.
***
Josh has a blanket in the backseat so he urges Tyler to climb there together, wrapping themselves into a plaid fabric.
“You can punch me if you want,” Tyler sniffles.
They can talk about it later.
Josh’s stomach growls as he imagines hungry mammals roaming the woods.
“I have some food in my backpack,” Tyler mumbles.
Josh perks up.
“Why didn’t you say it earlier?”
Tyler coughs wetly into his fist then wipes it on Josh’s scarf.
“Sorry.”
Josh doesn’t pay much attention to Tyler’s germs smeared down his clothes as he rummages in his bag and fishes out a few packs of chips, waffles, and marshmallows.
“You own a thermos?” Josh goggles at it, unscrewing the cap. “The tea’s still warm,” he takes a small sip. “Dude, I love you.”
“I love you too,” Tyler mewls through a mouthful of food.
The snow falls harder.
Josh doesn’t miss a bit.
“We broke up, don’t you remember?”
“Really?” Tyler stops glancing at the snowflakes behind the window. “Why?”
“Because I’m dumb.”
“Did I say it out loud? I’m so sorry, Josh.”
“You were sick.”
“I’m still sick.”
“I’m still dumb.”
Josh chuckles. They’re not even dating.
Tyler is probably contagious but he’s so warm Josh selfishly uses him like a heater, hugging him under the blanket as they finish their not-so-romantic dinner. Crumbs and crumpled tinfoil are playing the roles of decorations and Josh is dreaming of a hot bath. It’s not that bad, he tells himself — they’re intact and functioning normally, they have to just sit here and wait for the morning to make everything a little better. Or brighter at least.
Tyler blows his nose into a tissue.
They’re hostages with no Plan B.
***
He didn’t mean to fall asleep but the waves of warmth coming from Tyler are so soothing he can’t fight off the drowsiness. Josh wakes up with a start, puffing out a cloud of air. Tyler’s head is rested on Josh’s shoulder and Josh’s blood runs cold because Tyler’s breathing is so ominously inaudible.
“Tyler?”
Tyler’s hot skin burns Josh’s palm.
“Talk to me,” Josh orders, cupping Tyler’s chin and lifting his head up. “Don’t pass out.”
He smirks weakly.
“Gonna miss me if I choke on the fluids in my lungs?”
“You’re the worst fellow traveler,” Josh fake-resents. “Merry Christmas.”
“M-merry Christmas,” Tyler stutters out.
They share the last pack of marshmallows and drink the leftover tea; Tyler intends to slip back into sleep but Josh keeps poking and tickling him. Maybe he’s even about to peck Tyler’s cheek to keep him awake. It’s just Josh’s thoughts, and Tyler whispers apologies but he hasn’t reincarnated as the deer that got them into this situation. Josh hugs him, Tyler’s short hair scratches the skin on Josh’s chin, a little irritated after shaving. The blanket and the heating system betray them, Josh’s toes are numb. Josh’s car is a fridge and they’re frozen vegetables in a pack.
Blizzard covers the surroundings and the car sinks deeper in snow, a ton of useless metal killed by fragile snowflakes.
“We’re not on a date,” Josh jokes when Tyler squeezes his hand.
Tyler doesn’t open his eyes.
“I know. I’m just cold.”
Josh takes his knit hat off and pulls it on Tyler’s head.
“Feel warmer?”
“I feel stupid,” Tyler huffs.
Icicles are forming in Josh’s hair and on Tyler’s eyelashes, a cheap version of Jack Nicholson from The Shining. A bad cosplay.
So when Josh hears the purring of the engine and sees blurred headlights he calls it a hallucination.
But well, the knocking on the side window seems pretty real.
Josh rushes to get outside, caught by the whirlwind; here’s the pickup truck on the road, adorned with Christmas lights and holographic stickers with bears. Here’s a guy in a party hat and with a camera on his neck.
His short speech is salvation itself —
“I have a rope.”
***
Josh is going to find that guy on Facebook or other social media and arrange a photoshoot — he’s never been this grateful in his life. That friendly photographer dragged them to the nearest auto repair service and Josh wasn’t upset about having to pay almost a double price for getting his car repaired quickly.
But they got hot chocolate and donuts on the house in a coffee shop nearby.
Josh sits at the table, occasionally poking Tyler’s side; his fever finally backs off and his breathing gets steadier.
Josh calls his sister and promptly distances his phone away from his ear not to go deaf.
“Josh!”
“Hey Abby,” Josh smiles sourly. “Yes, I know everyone’s here, yes, I’m fine. My car broke down. I’ll be there soon, and oh — I’m not alone this time.”
Abby doesn’t listen to the rest of his babbling just saying she’s gonna prepare a room for the new guest. Josh is sure Tyler wouldn’t mind spending the morning in a proper bed. Josh’s mother is a nurse, she’s going to sentinel Tyler’s treatment while he’s staying in their house.
“Come on,” Josh pats Tyler’s knee. “We’re going home.”
In the car, Josh lets Tyler sleep in the backseat with his backpack under his head and with a plaid blanket tucked all over him. The floor is strewn with powdered sugar, it resurrects Josh’s Christmas spirit.
The trees get replaced with neat outskirts’ gingerbread-style houses.
It’s gonna be an odd family dinner.
Josh smiles.