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Beyond the passing drama of a clumsily landed spacecraft, a mistakenly invaded bedroom, and a secret sleepover, Tyler is able to take a deep breath and relax his muscles. His favorite pastime to assist in unwinding is a calm walk in the woods. It always has been since childhood. Whether it’s giggling, chasing fireflies through the dark near the campfire or finding the tallest evergreen he can to scale and look out over the rolling earth. Exploration and the calming chatter of nature always releases his worries and anxieties back into the world, setting him free.
He figures in the chaos, his new friend can use some stress relief as well. That is, if his brain even produces cortisol or any other trigger to stress. By the way he acted the night before, coming face-to-face in the dark with nothing but the honey glow of a dim nightlight to open the space, Tyler thinks it does. He finds comfort in solidifying that his own fear responses are well-oiled and functional as well.
In the serenity of the walk, Tyler realizes they never really got a formal introduction. Only a breakdown of events which lead to the fiasco in the dark, and an explanation about the “aggravating sounds” of music pouring through his speakers. As it turns out, the alien just doesn’t appreciate heavy metal. It’s too bad, but he seemed to buzz along happily to the “ballads” mix. His antennae wiggling around, sparking like bulbs gave it away. So, Tyler decides he’s still satiated by the creature’s taste in music.
“Do you have a name?”
The green-tinged alien buzzes out some frequency, a few consonants seemingly finding their way into the mix. It sounds to Tyler strikingly similar to his own feeble attempts at throat singing. It’s an incredible skill. A skill he has never even come close to achieving in any capacity. If that’s his friend’s name, they’ll have to come up with a new game plan.
“ That’s your name?”
“Yes,”
“Oh…well, I’m Tyler,”
“Tyler,”
“Yeah! I don’t know if I can pronounce yours though…” The alien repeats the noise once more, expectant eyes and antennas trained on the human beside him. Tyler starts to sweat under the patient gaze, awaiting his stab at the term.
“Um…do you like Josh? It could be a code word for your name. So I can talk to you,”
“Josh,” The creature rolls the name around on his tongue, trying it on for size. He decides the brains of humans are too miniscule to comprehend the great intricacies of his breed, so he relents. Josh isn’t too atrocious anyway. “Yes. Josh,”
“Cool, Josh. Thanks,” His glowing antennae wag subconsciously at the blinding smile earned from their agreeance. “What’s home like?”
“Vast. Frigid. Hot here. Sweaty," Tyler chuckles, tugging on the pocket of his lightweight zip up to straighten it. The heat of the Ohio summer is sweaty to his adapted thermostat, and to Josh’s unadapted one. But he knows in the grand scheme of landscapes this earth has to offer, this 85 F summer heat wave is but a blip on the scale of scorching degrees that can be reached.
Regardless of this fact, the evidence of Josh's boiling discomfort is painted in sweat stains soaked down the back, neck, and pits of the gray T-shirt Tyler lent to him the night before. ‘ That's okay. Josh can keep it, ’ Tyler doesn’t need it anyway.
“That’s interesting to hear…about the landscape,” But Tyler wants to know about his friends, family. Hobbies and the like. “But what’s home like? The best parts. What makes it home to you?”
“Home is…blue. Incredibly blue," Tyler's face falls, sad at the poor alien’s admittance. He didn’t imagine such a lonely, sad existence. Until, by the shimmering of his ever-present smile, the kid realizes that Josh is probably still describing the landscape.
“Like…the sky? The ground?”
“Everything. Rocks. Water. Storms. Dust and blue,”
The boy mulls this over, trying to picture the desolate panorama. He wonders if he might ever get the chance to visit. The thought drifts off as quickly as it came, lost on a blue cloud of wind-gathered, cycloning dust.
“Sounds cool,”
“Very cold. Comfortable,” Another giggle tumbles out at this. The creature looks offended but turns his gaze back to the trail ahead with no comment, inspecting the flora and fauna. His antennae glow and squirm about, eyeing the plants with a childlike curiosity. Baby’s first jaunt into the greenhouse.
Tyler wonders what Josh’s reaction would be to a scape brimming with carnivorous plants. He already seems so enthralled by rock-munching lichen and the animalistic breath of fungi: New and enchanting. He’d probably be just as intrigued-if not more so-than he seems to be in the present moment.
“No green creatures,”
“You don’t have plants?”
“Yes,”
“How do you breathe?”
“I do not,”
“Oh,”
“You breathe plants,” Tyler's heart swells at the clueless, judgmental brow directed his way. The alien is clearly unimpressed by his deductions.
“Plants create oxygen. Us humans have to have it to survive,”
“Precisely why my breed is a paramount species. No arbitrary gasses to keep our systems intact. Weak race. Overtaken simply. Humans ,” Tyler should be alarmed by the nonchalant way this fact flows from Josh’s lips. It probably would be pretty simple for his people to overrun the earth…How does one prevent such a situation? Especially without nuking the human race to hell, in which case it wouldn’t matter anyway.
“Please don’t,”
Josh tilts his head, a little confused. An emerald blush creeps over minty cheeks while his antennas wiggle around, directing up and down the expanse of Tyler's face and body. The guy shoves his hands into his pockets and clears his throat, looking ahead to distract himself.
Josh's persistent stare is uncomfortable, if only for the fact Tyler is now so conscious of being perceived. The alien is not shy at all about his wandering eyes, however. Secretly, Tyler is flattered. He tucks away that emotion to unpack later.
“I will not. Monotonous. Misuse of precious time, resources. And I like you,”
The indifference in the creature’s admission sends the puny human misstepping, tripping over a twig, and nearly tumbling to the ground in a heap. The slip would have socked him onto sticks and stones if not for the lightning quick reflexes of his counterpart to steady him.
“Witless, blunderous humans ,”
But Tyler isn’t offended. Mostly because Josh doesn’t release the grip on his hand once he’s regulated his center of gravity once more.
Warmth rushes to his chest; Embarrassment from the stumble, and a juvenile surge of excitement at the cold hand encompassing his own. It’s sweating-maybe he should think it’s gross. But instead, it unleashes wild butterflies to choke Tyler out.
Silence stretches between the two, save for crunches of foliage underfoot, wind rustling leaves, and the caw of birds cutting freely across the wind. They glide ecstatic and blissful through the heated afternoon air.
Tyler tries not to think about Josh's impressive reflexes, or any of his other oddities. Clearly, his antennas have some sort of visual sense-something similar at least. What other senses does he have that the human has no business trying to comprehend?
How different is his vantage point on the universe around them? Is it easy for Josh to pick up on the effects he has on the boy? If so, it’s a little comforting to Tyler that his friend doesn’t seem bothered by it. The opposite, in fact-if the firm squeeze of his fingers linked with Ty’s means anything at all.
A green stalk, scattered with miniature, yellow bulbs takes Tyler's attention. An excited gasp escapes red lips-redder than anything Josh’s homeland has to offer.
Antennae stick straight up in distress, and Josh crouches, hissing, looking around the space for a perceived threat. It pushes Tyler to the brink of tears, coasting on a belly laugh so pure and real it doubles him over, tired pain aching his diaphragm.
“Josh-haha! Josh, it’s alright,”
“ Do not laugh! Do not manufacture such alarming sonance if there is no imminent threat! Frequencies of alert are for signalization of danger! Humans ,” The frustrated furrow to his brow only adds to Tyler's giggling amusement.
“I'm sorry! I'm just excited! It’s a good thing. That’s honeysuckle,”
“Honeysuckle,”
“Yeah! Look,” Tyler drags the alien over to the group of stalky vegetation. Culling a yellow bud, he bites off the pointed tip and sucks out the nectar within. “It's good. Try it!”
Josh seems to contemplate pros and cons for a few seconds. Tyler has noticed he’s a calculated creature, thinking out every step to take care in any situation. A blatant juxtaposition to his own speed demon philosophy.
Little time elapses before he’s hesitantly grabbing for a golden flower, plucking it from its perch, and nibbling on the end. His antennae reach for the sky while a pleasant look steals his features.
“Oh!”
“Do you like it?”
“Sweet,” Josh adores the way Tyler's eyes crinkle while he smiles. He’s fond of the craters in his cheeks and the unlined teeth within his mouth too; Reminiscent of the cosmos. ‘ Pretty ,’ Even if the sun drop was distasteful, he’d consume another just to witness the glint of appreciation.
“I love it. This was my favorite thing as a kid,” They each pick another blossom.
“Kid,”
“When I was young,” The human clarifies.
“Your favorite thing now,”
Tyler thinks on this for a minute. The inquiry really puts his mind to work. He's not sure Josh is aware of the complexity of his question. It’s not easily answered, or even easy to contemplate. There are many breathtaking, enjoyable things. So he sticks to one he loves, and one he hopes Josh might share a fondness for. Maybe it’ll aid in making him feel more at home in this foreign land.
“The stars,” The ecstatic look upon the alien’s face, and the way his antennas worm about, convey his solidarity on the answer provided. Hands clap excitedly and his face turns to the sky.
“Yes! Stars! Phenomenal. Beautiful. Captivating. Navigation,”
“We can look at them tonight if you’d like to. Stargaze. I’ll show you the constellations,”
“Constellations,”
“People draw pictures in the stars. Give ‘em names and stories. I can teach you if you want,”
“Yes. Stars. Constellations,”
“Okay. Cool,” Tyler’s satisfied smile catches the alien’s eye-and his antennas. He’s confused by the human’s language, but he enjoys it all the same.
“Hot. Not cold. Defective temperature gauges. Humans ,"
Tyler takes the insult with a smile, contracted from the contagious one upon Josh's playful lips. They toy with a yellow bud, and it reminds Tyler of his childhood. For some odd reason, he also finds it reminding him of the future. Funny how things happen. He wonders if time isn’t as linear as everyone seems to think it is. Maybe their vision is skewed through the black and white lens with which most view the world around them.