Work Text:
His eyes.
Josh remembers the warm chestnut pupils glowing like the ember after a campfire searing into his troubled face the night they first met. They were but boys, yet grown enough to recognize what the rising heartbeat inside their chests meant. Tyler, clad in a crimson raincoat and carrying with him a giant golden clock, had held out his bashful hand to Josh for him to grab on. Josh’s mind was a raging maelstrom before but the soft hand spread out in front of him did a funny thing to allay the whirlpool wrecking his life from the inside at last. The glowing eyes brought peace to his warlike mind. He suddenly felt home.
Tracing Tyler’s amber eyes on the photo, Josh reminisces.
His smile.
Josh remembers the way a smile would make Tyler’s face ten times more beautiful than how it already was. He himself had never been a generous laugher nor a humorous individual, but it all changed when he first laid his eyes upon the boy in the crimson raincoat. Anything. He would do anything just to see a faint flicker of a smile brightening up Tyler’s face. He loved the way the ends of the boy’s lips would curl up so that the pearly teeth inside would shyly show. He loved the way his cheeks would tinge pink in a hue that put any other rose to shame. He loved the way his eyelashes would create a shade when he opened his eyes slowly after closing them. He also loved how the entrancing smile would reflect on the surface of the golden clock that Tyler carried all the time.
Tracing Tyler’s golden smile on the photo, Josh reminisces.
His lips.
Josh remembers how their lips met for the first time on the night of his 16th birthday. Both were shuddering from not fear, but the fluttering anticipation and ecstasy brought on by the thrill initiated by the redefinition of their relationship. They were quiet, hiding under the shadows of a bronze bridge, enjoying the time that they had to themselves albeit nervous about the entire situation. Nonetheless, the coy exchange of warmth gave him the chance to finally understand the taste of Tyler. It was flawless, like the clear blue sky that would appear every once in a while through the thick veil of water that stretched 10 miles above them. It was luscious, like how hot cocoa filled with white marshmallows embraced his tongue and blessed his throat. It was reviving, like a drop of water from an oasis long-sought-for felt like to a lone traveler walking amongst a desert. No, their first kiss was ineffable.
Tracing Tyler’s parted lips on the photo, Josh reminisces.
His blood.
Josh remembers---no, he doesn’t remember. He doesn’t remember how the crimson raincoat was tainted with liquid of a far darker shade than its material. He doesn’t remember how the substance smeared onto his jacket and the metallic odor revolted him. He doesn’t remember his head spinning wildly from panic and disbelief when he found the body listlessly sprawled on the cold marble floor. He doesn’t remember how heavy it feels in his arms, how soulless he feels when he has it in his arms. He doesn't remember saying "Stay with me," repeatedly even though there is no one there to stay with him. He doesn’t remember attending the funeral and having to give a speech in front of tens of people who didn’t care, who never cared. He doesn’t remember the giant golden clock being left to him as a legacy in remembrance of its previous owner. But one thing he remembers; it rained that night. The stupid crimson raincoat had finally served its purpose. The glass hovering over his and everybody’s head had cracked.
Tracing the vile blood splotches on the photo, Josh reminisces. He reminisces and reminisces, because there’s nothing left for him in the present.
Tyler is dead.