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"josh?" tyler's voice filters through the commotion. the festival grounds are crowded, and unloading the van is becoming far overcomplicated.
josh turns around, looking for tyler's voice. he finds him standing by the passenger side door, holding his cane to his chest.
"what's up?" josh asks, wiping his brow with the bottom of his shirt.
tyler seems to visibly relax at the sound of josh's voice. he runs his hands through his hair.
"can you take me somewhere quiet?" he asks. he's so restless, fidgeting with the strap on his cane, twisting it around and around in his nimble fingers.
"of course, let me let mark and michael know."
tyler's standing in the same spot when josh returns. josh touches his upper arm.
"hey," he says gently. tyler loops his arm in josh's, pressing closer than the heat should allow.
the festival pathways aren't paved. they knew this, had done their research, but now, in the moment, it feels more cumbersome than they had read. josh does his best to warn for rocks and ditches. tyler is focused on the walk ahead, brow furrowed behind his sunglasses and knuckles white on his cane.
josh ducks them into a vacant stage tent, yanking the tarp over the entrance behind them. it's stuffy in the tent, despite its size, but it's quiet.
tyler pokes the ground with his cane one, two, three times, before sitting down heavily.
josh sits in front of him. it's quiet for a long moment.
"sorry," tyler starts. he takes off his sunglasses, and rubs his face. "new environments are just. overwhelming sometimes." he runs a hand through his hair. "doesn't help that i've never been to a festival before."
"don't apologize, dude," josh says. "it's understandable, honestly."
tyler sighs. "thanks, man." his eyes are closed, head tilted towards the ground. josh watches his hands fidget with his shoelaces, twisting them between his fingers and looping them around. josh is glad tyler said something earlier. he doesn't know how to voice it without sounding weird and clingy, but it warms him. tyler rocks back and forth ever so slightly, his fingers having stilled on his shoelace. josh watches the shadows change back and forth on his face, a living mosaic.
the stage they're playing isn't much larger than the van. josh walks tyler through the setup amid the chaos of crew and fans and crowded green room tents. tyler nods, committing everything to memory. josh's hand finds its way to his lower back, protective. tyler doesn't mention it. neither does josh.
their set was short, but even then, the tent didn't get set up until nearly morning. it's too hot to sleep, and josh can't get comfortable, can't calm himself down from the busyness of the day. tyler's presence beside him is heavy and comforting in a way he can't describe. crickets sing in the distance.
"i was born blind," tyler says into the cramped space. his voice is hoarse. josh rolls onto his back.
"people always want to know that. they always want to know--" he puts on a dramatic voice "--my dramatic backstory , or something."
they sit in silence for a moment.
"when did you start playing piano?" josh asks.
"i was six. the pastor of the church my family went to thought it would keep me entertained," tyler answers. "i mean, he was right." josh snorts.
"i remember him telling me about blind musicians, stevie wonder, obviously, but others too, old blues musicians nobody's ever heard of anymore. i was so fascinated by them."
"he sounds like a cool guy," josh says, genuine.
"yeah. eventually my parents got me piano lessons, so i didn't spend as much one on one time with him anymore, though."
"did you go to public school?" josh asks. "sorry if i'm asking too many questions. you can tell me to stop," he adds quickly.
"no," tyler says. "it's okay. i trust you." josh's face warms. he's glad it's dark.
"but yeah, public elementary school. i was in the special-ed program. they taught me braille and how to use my cane, stuff like that, in addition to the regular stuff," his voice is unflinchingly casual. "and then my parents homeschooled me. don't ask why, i still don't know."
josh laughs. "i won't ask, then." a pause. someone shouts a laugh from the other end of the campsite. it echoes over the festival fields.
"thank you for trusting me," josh says quietly. "i know we've only known each other a few months. i know i'm going to screw things up."
"have you ever known someone who's blind before?" tyler asks. his tone is without judgement.
"no," josh admits.
"then you're learning. it's okay. mark had to learn, and my pastor and my piano teacher and my parents had to learn. i'm used to it. we get used to it."
josh nods. "okay."
tyler rolls over. "goodnight, josh," he says, his voice muffled.
"goodnight, tyler," josh answers, and closes his eyes.
josh dreams of a garden.
the grass is lush, green and dappled with yellow. hedges rise along all sides, infinitely tall. josh, comes tyler's voice, echoey and strange. where are you? he asks. josh follows the voice. the maze turns and turns and josh could swear he'd been here before, but maybe not, maybe. josh? tyler's voice again. josh makes the opposite turn, and another, and another. i can't find you, the voice says. josh feels rain on his nose. the clouds have darkened, and soon, he's drenched, wet and cold. the hedges sag under the weight of the water. josh? the voice says, right behind him. a hand touches his shoulder. he wakes, breathless.
tyler is asleep beside him, rolled up in his sleeping bag despite the heat. josh lays on his back, and tries to slow his heart rate back to normal. tyler snores. josh breathes.
-
they scrape together enough for a hotel room somewhere in kentucky. tyler is exhausted, to the point where he's been latched to josh's arm since they got out of the van, too out of it to pay attention to his surroundings. josh sympathizes. the bags under his eyes are intense, eyes sleepy and hazier than usual.
the room is tiny, the sheets stiff and the walls wood panelled.
"do you want the grand tour?" josh asks once they've dropped their bags.
"uhhh," tyler mumbles. "honestly, i just want to sleep," he says. he rubs his eye with the back of the hand holding his cane. "and pee," he adds. josh leads him to the bathroom.
"there's the toilet," he says, "and the sink, and the towels." tyler nods slowly. "holler if you need me." he nods again.
josh is sitting on the bed when tyler emerges. the room is so small, he can reach and tap tyler's hand without moving much. tyler moves closer, takes his hand fully. josh tries to push down the queasy feeling in the back of his throat.
tyler falls asleep pressed against josh. josh lays on his back again, staring at the shadows on the ceiling. tyler sniffs beside him, tucks his face into josh's shoulder.
josh breathes deep, tries to slow his thoughts. the feeling of tyler's hand in his is fresh in his mind. his callouses, short nails, purposeful touch. josh sees those hands in his dreams. feels them on his face, his arms, his hands. feels tyler mapping out everything in some disembodied, celestial sense. his hands are on everything, feeling the walls and the furniture without ever leaving his side, not really. in josh's dreams, tyler is still blind. in josh's dreams, sometimes, josh is blind too. sometimes, the sun rises and josh feels it on his face, feels the sun's rays become tyler's hands, cupping his face, stroking it, warming it. his voice makes no sound, and yet it fills josh's mind. they float, and josh hears the world build itself around them. tyler takes his hand. they fall. he wakes up.
they leave for the next city painfully early. josh knows he got a reasonable amount of sleep, but he still feels just as sluggish as the night before. tyler seems chipper, chatting with mark from the front passenger seat.
josh lays spread across the back seat, drifting in and out of consciousness. the van's measly air conditioning is doing little for the day's heavy, sticky heat.
he wakes without realizing he's fallen asleep, to tyler shaking his foot through the door.
"hey sleepyhead. rest stop."
josh grunts, and drags himself upright.
they eat breakfast sandwiches sitting on the tailgate of the van. tyler seems to have talked himself out on the drive. josh watches him eat a bacon and egg sandwich contemplatively.
"where's the next show?" josh asks.
"louisville. tomorrow night," he answers. "and then we get to go home." he sounds relieved. josh is too.
"cool," josh says. he takes a bite of his sandwich. "i can't wait for air conditioning." tyler snorts.
"me neither."
louisville is just as hot, if not hotter. tyler wanders around the city with josh in tow, arms linked. it's about the same as all the other cities they've played, josh thinks. flat, big, and empty. tyler's hand is sweaty where it rests in the crook of josh's elbow. josh can't stop noticing it. he can't stop noticing tyler's shoulder bumping his, or tyler's voice in his ear. it eats at him, the feeling that this is feelings, and that it's not just nothing, and that josh helping out a friend has some ulterior motive. helping out his best friend, no less. if this ends, everything ends. without tyler, there's nothing.
"josh?"
josh shakes his head. "yeah?"
"what time is it? do you think we should head to the venue?"
josh pulls his phone out of his pocket, looks at the time. "yeah," he says. "we probably should, before mark comes after us."
tyler snorts. "as if that's much of a threat."
josh lets out a laugh. "fair point."
tyler's fingers curl on josh's forearm. josh breathes in, and out, and they walk back to the venue.
-
"hey josh?"
josh hums.
"what do you look like?" tyler asks.
josh rubs his beard absently. they're perched on the curb of the 7-11 by tyler's house, slurpees in hand. tour ended uneventfully, with the shows wrapping up as the heat peaked at unbearable levels. the nights are still warm, but the feeling that the asphalt parking lot is baking them has passed.
"i have a mohawk," josh starts. "and a beard. my hair is dark brown."
"mark says you're jacked," tyler says, smirking over his slurpee cup.
josh laughs. "i mean, i like to be in shape, i guess." tyler waves a hand dismissively.
"i have a sleeve tattoo on my right arm." josh looks at his arm. "it's a tree, and the earth and the sky. it looks like a painting."
tyler's quiet, fidgeting with his straw.
"how big is it?" he asks.
"all the way from my shoulder to my wrist."
"wow," tyler breathes. josh feels his face heating up.
"anything else you want to know?" josh asks.
tyler fidgets with his straw some more.
"no," he says. "that's all."
josh gets the sense he's not saying something, but he lets it go.
-
in josh's dreams, tyler ties a blindfold around his face. the blindfold is soft and silky and tickles his skin. tyler kisses josh on the cheek, holding his face in his hands. he holds josh there just for a moment, his breath ghosting on his face. josh wants to reach out, to touch, to initiate, but his hands are unfathomably heavy, immovable. tyler, he whispers, can you see me? tyler laughs, and grabs josh's hand, and runs. they run, and run, and run. the world is a hallway, an endless hallway where the walls change places with the ceiling, and tyler is leading josh, something about the blind leading the blind. josh is tired, the air is thick in his lungs, and the blindfold hurts, and tyler his holding him again, hands wrapped around josh's back, trapping his hands. tyler, he asks again. can you see me? tyler hushes him, low and gentle. he leans closer and closer, tucking his face into josh's neck. no, he says. i'll never see you. josh wakes up.
josh is the bed's only occupant. sometimes, late at night, when the house is asleep and dormant, josh presses his face to his pillow with his eyes wide open. he stays like this for as long as his lungs will allow, until the fabric against his mouth is too heavy to draw a breath. his eyes sting when he closes them again. the darkness is terrifying and familiar all at once. josh thinks of tyler. josh thinks of tyler sitting in a corner here, in this heavy darkness. josh thinks of joining him, of pressing close and curling up beside him. he thinks of melding their bodies into one, nocturnal form, strong and unfailingly sweet.
josh rolls over, and falls back into a restless sleep.
-
the 7-11 parking lot is empty. the roads are empty, too. josh lays in the grass on the median between the lot and the road. tyler sits beside him, pulling up grass. his eyes dart back and forth, tracking nothing, following something unseeable. josh stares.
"i can feel you staring," tyler says. josh closes his eyes.
"sorry."
"it's fine," tyler says. he doesn't sound angry, or annoyed. "just thought you should know."
josh watches the sky, now, watches what stars are visible through the suburban haze.
"is it dark?" josh asks.
tyler is quiet. josh wants to take back his words.
"sometimes," tyler says. his voice is quiet. "i can tell where light sources are, depending on the environment."
"really?" josh asks.
"yeah," tyler says. he looks around. he points in the direction of the 7-11 itself, the brightest thing in the intersection. "that's the store, right?"
josh nods. "yeah, yeah it is."
tyler shrugs. "yeah. it's all about contrast."
josh thinks about tyler sitting in the darkness. josh carries a torch, and sits beside tyler. the moon is bright. tyler sighs.
-
they work on music. the basement of tyler's house is a makeshift studio, small and dark. josh sets up his drumkit in the corner, and feels like a real drummer in a real band. tyler sets his keyboard up facing him. josh watches tyler as he sets up a track, one earbud in, listening to the screen reader on his laptop.
he watches tyler as he plays, as they play. he moves so much, nodding and rocking to the beat. it's mesmerizing. everything about tyler is mesmerizing, josh is realizing. the room is quiet for a moment. tyler's still rocking a bit, head tilted up, watching the sky.
"josh?" he asks.
"yeah?" josh answers. he puts his sticks down, rests them on the snare.
tyler doesn't answer. he stands up, instead, coming around the stand with his keyboard and laptop, and stands in front of josh's kit. he reaches, just a little. josh reaches back, touches his fingertips. tyler smiles.
"c'mere," he says. josh comes to him. he holds tyler's hand and he circles the drumkit, and comes to rest in front of him. tyler's still smiling. his hands come up, holding josh's biceps. "hey," he says.
"hey," josh says. tyler's so close. josh can smell his body wash, his detergent. he can see each sun spot tyler gained over the summer, every eyelash and acne scar and every twitch of his eyes. it's endless. josh can't stop looking. "tyler?" josh asks
"yes?" tyler asks, smirking.
"would it be okay if i kissed you?" josh's hands are sweating, and he knows he's blushing.
"i think that would be okay," tyler says, a wry smile on his face. he's blushing too, but josh will never tell. josh wipes the sweat off his hands on his shorts. he holds tyler's face, a tactile warning before pressing his lips to tyler's. he's so gentle. tyler leans into it, pressing closer and keeping pace. josh feels fingertips on his cheek, his chin. tyler's hands press so lightly, mapping and surveying josh's face. when they break apart, he keeps them there, fingertips splayed over josh's cheekbones.
"i liked that," tyler says. his voice is barely a mumble, quiet and close.
"me too," josh says. "i've wanted to do that for awhile now, actually," he adds quickly. the room suddenly feels tiny, with he and tyler in the center, their orbits finally crossed.
tyler giggles, this little bubbly thing that bursts from his chest. josh smiles. tylers fingers slip against his teeth, the folds in his cheeks as he grins.
"oh," tyler says. "your smile is lovely." he strokes his thumbs along josh's bottom lip. josh's face heats up again, and he ducks, leans into tyler's chest. tyler lets him, gathers josh into his arms. he pets josh's hair, presses his fingers to his scalp.
"oh, you didn't say your hair was curly," he whispers against josh's ear. "it's so soft."
josh is lovesick. his heart is heavy and soft. "didn't think to mention it," he gets out.
tyler lays his head against josh's, hands coming to rest on his head.
"that's okay," he says. "i forgive you."
josh dreams of a garden.
it's fall now, the leaves and the grass painted in oranges and yellows. the hedges, too, glow golden in the sunlight. it smells like fallen leaves, like dirt and air. tyler leads him through the hedges like he knows them by heart, barely thinking before he turns, and turns, and turns. here, he says. he pauses, and unfolds his cane. josh watches him. the click-click-click of the segments popping into place rings in josh's ears. he winces. tyler takes his hand, and leads him through a nondescript gap in the hedges. a field awaits them, stretching on and on as far as josh can see. tyler turns to him. are you okay? he asks. josh wants to say yes, but the sky is so big, and the field is so wide. the sun is so lonely in the sky. it's okay, tyler says. i got you.