Chapter Text
tyler sits in the fifth isle next to his brother. he lets his hands lay clasped in his lap and focuses the best he can. he will learn.
the preacher is loud. well spoken, gesturing his hands out to everyone in the chapel. tyler’s eyes follow, repeating the words, and catches a quick glance of bright pink.
zack whispers something to his mother. tyler tightens his hands.
“‘-and do not lean on your own understanding.”
the man stands over the pulpit, pressing his glasses back to the bridge of his nose and turning a page. tyler lets every line sink deep. he’s going to learn.
“in all your ways acknowledge him,”
bushy pink stands to shuffle further up an isle. tyler’s contact breaks and watches gauged ears mumble apologies and slide to the end of the pew. the woman in front of him was tall. he smiles like it’s nothing.
the curls are distracting. they bounce off the brown wood and burn into tyler’s retinas. the side of his face is barely visible, watching intently. dark eyes soak up every inch of His word.
tyler looks back to the front sharply like he got caught. by himself, almost. he rolls over the last scripture until it’s moulded into his mind, to wash out a sin. church is meant for God yet colour still drags into the corner of his eye.
“and he will make straight your paths.’”
tyler leaves for the bathroom. zack and his father exchange looks.
-
“your mother and i were just talking about you!”
mary stands in her floral dress and fake teeth. it’s weird to think she’s been attending here longer than his parents combined, but he does think he’s seen her face sometimes in places it shouldn’t.
kelly looks startled as tyler brings a donut to his mouth. mary pats his shoulder.
“i heard you’re going through a tough time,” her smile is as fake as her gums when she bends down, although tyler could be considered taller than her. “god has a plan for you, remember to trust in him.”
tyler bites and swallows sourly. he thinks the only thing good about this place are the sweets afterwards. it sends the dough down his throat rougly.
the woman’s fingers are harsh. it’s impossible not to feel trapped in here.
“ma, can i have a dollar for coffee?”
kelly slides out a bill from the bag at her hip. mary lifts upwards and shakes her head, awful tuts following as tyler bunches it up in his palm. his mother is shaking.
“you shouldn’t let that boy have caffeine— at his age!” it’s muffled as tyler falls into the crowd of unfamiliar-familiar people. he can tell, always knew those florals are a poor cover up for the filth that rots her teeth.
he thinks it’s unfair so many of them are like that. carbon copies, he has no clue how they’re allowed in the house of the lord. under his roof. tyler doesn’t know why his mother is friends with so many of them, either. they attend services just to flaunt their faith and think it means something. he collects the sprinkles on his bottom lip with his tongue.
“coffee, please,” tyler stands at a garden table covered in black cloth. there’s really only one jar of it, he figures they’ll put milk in a youth’s cup anyway, and he doesn’t know what else to say. he doesn’t really drink coffee.
the guy takes his money. “sure you don’t want a hot chocolate?”
“i’m sixteen.”
tyler waits at the end of the table where he was told to collect. the donut looks like a half moon. tyler just grazes the ends to make it perfect.
he doesn’t mean to drop it when a pink haired boy fiddles with the sugar packets.
“fuck,” tyler gets a side glance from another older woman. she leans against a pole. the boy turns his head in tyler’s immediate direction.
he bends down to avoid his eyes and pick up the infected dessert. his stomach feels warm. “sorry jesus.”
above him there’s giggles. “wow, don’t eat that.”
his voice is low but undeniably sweet. vanilla extract. tyler is observant and it’s both a blessing and a curse. admiring candy locks feels wrong when you’ve just met.
tyler stands to his feet. the frosting is ruined. “but we’re only allowed one per person.”
“you want mine?”
he blinks. “what?”
the pink has already fled, sparks between certain elders and little kids. tyler is left with the whirr of a coffee machine and a menacing old lady.
he’s weird.
“tyler and… josh?”
the man who originally took his order slides two recyclable mugs onto the fleece of a designated pick up area. no one whips a head at their name. no one stands next to him. josh.
tyler takes both their cups. hot liquid burns through the cardboard and tingles his fingertips. against the back of a brick wall tyler waits, and it only registers a minute later that maybe he should put them down.
he doesn’t debate with himself how weird it is he’s only noticing josh now. josh. pink hair is not something you miss. new, maybe. or tyler’s punishment.
he presses a lid to his lips. it’s bitter. not his coffee.
a puff of cotton candy slides from the right. the cake donut he holds matches his hair, missing the colourful sprinkles.
tyler almost spits out the drink. his fingers burn.
“you look like you need to shit,” josh says, smiling.
“i have your drink.”
“i can see that.”
the woman glares at them angrily once more before storming off as grumpy as her two legs can take her. tyler almost starts shaking.
“take it,” it’s blunt. josh raises an eyebrow before laughing and tyler exhales a, “sorry.”
they exchange whats left in their hands. tyler makes sure it’s okay before biting into the donut and the boy grins and nods simply. pink frosting butters the corner of his lip. tyler compliments josh’s hair.
he’s nice. tyler doesn’t think it’s awkward until he’s pulled away by his parents and tormented by his brother. his mother usually stays longer. tyler wanted to stay longer.
the car is silent. “were you holding him hostage?” zack nudges, and tyler elbows him in the shoulder, sick of his banter.
“no. he gave me his donut.”
there’s a scoff of disbelief, then the back of his chair is being hit by a foot. “there’s no way anyone would talk to you willingly.”
“that’s enough you two,” his mother eyes them from the rearview mirror. tyler bites his tongue and tries to drown out the snickers as his sister pops up behind him and asks him questions he does not hear.
trying not to dwell on the disturbance during the service. trying not to consider the need to repent for talking to someone who diverted his attention from the lord.
“i’m glad your making friends, tyler,” kelly says. rosary swings in front of the steering wheel.
tyler thinks about the hole in josh’s lip.
-
the following sunday tyler tries not to focus on finding a head of dyed hair, only the scripture that’s being read to him and it’s meaning. to let it wash over his head and let him breathe easy.
it’s harder when he keeps seeing rays of bubblegum pink whenever he closes his eyes. prayer doesn’t come easy, not when his dreams are infiltrated with cake donuts.
anything but healthy. he drives the words spoken in front of him into his head and hopes every time it crashes it comes together a little more clearer. unintentionally letting his eyelids fall, the verses are oceans of black.
it earns a careful glance from his mother. the only thing he sees when he opens his eyes are explosions of sprinkles. vast and rainbow.
tyler think he’s being corrupted. he holds onto the cross at his chest tightly as they leave the building, bells signifying the end of service, tables lined up with cookies and punch.
a firm hand rubs his waist as kelly drags him and his siblings for something to eat. reprimanding them for sneaking more than two, and stopping for small talk to people tyler has only seen at gatherings.
he stands by her the whole twenty minutes. the statement on his necklace indents his thumb. red and pounding.
autopilot, they do laps around the entire concrete hexagon. pillars like waypoints, his sister tugs at his hand and tyler wills himself to come back to earth.
“that him?”
it’s whispered below the loud chatter of everyone around them. a toothy grin, she waves her finger in the direction of grass. yellow buds, firm weeds. tyler leans just a little.
there sits a boy on two steps to the side of the chapel. lip piercing, gauged ears, pink hair. it’s quiet, just him, and his sister drags tyler away from his mothers grasp.
“go, mads,” he mumbles.
she slams a cookie into her mouth. tyler peaks behind the wall.
it’s serene. away from all the judgement and impending doom. he doesn’t mean to stare, but josh lets a beetle crawl on his knuckles, and tyler is as disgusted as he is intrigued. sunlight falls in rays off the curve of his nose.
within seconds he’s caught. his feet fall behind the wall with wide eyes and yet, he lets himself smile. a small inch exposing himself lets him see josh signalling a small hand to come over. this feels cliché.
he extends two fists. tyler lets the dirt squish under the soles of his shoes. suddenly he’s too close and there’s a bug tickling his nose.
josh’s eyes crinkle, withholding laughter. tyler tenses, holding his breath.
“put it away.”
legs flick at his cupids bow. “you wanna name it?”
“‘m serious.”
he shuts his eyes forcefully. only until the tickling subsides does he let himself breathe again and blink. josh is still playing with it, the filthy thing, but it’s nowhere near him, so he sinks to a still patch of grass.
“bobby.” josh says.
tyler flicks the blades that lean to his thighs. “bobby?”
“yeah,” and he lifts a careful finger to brush its tiny body, “or maybe, uh, tyler.”
“tyler?”
“what? do you not like that one either?”
“no,” he fumbles, twisting grass around his finger till it snaps and remains trapped. tyler avoids the artificial colouring that stains his iris. “that’s just- that’s my name. you can’t use that.”
the beetle twitches and climbs around into josh’s palm. tyler shivers.
“tyler junior, then,” the boy looks at him, and tyler lifts his head to a raised eyebrow and a hand being nudged in his face. the bug climbs. there’s metal through his nose now. silver.
“that’s stupid.”
“it’s cute!”
“i’ll squish him.”
tyler smiles. josh squints his eyes. in defeat, the beetles crawls down his arm and onto the concrete next to him before disappearing into a valley of flowers.
josh crosses his arms over his knees. “okay, tyler, i’m josh.”
josh . tyler knows that already, but he’s been creepy enough today.
instead he chews on the inside of his cheek, letting the green around his finger unravel and slide down his leg. “suits you.”
josh twists himself so his shoes fall flat into the soil next to tyler. “you think so?”
there’s a nod, then an abundance of giggles.
tyler’s not one to believe in fate. tyler struggles to believe in anything. but this small, burning feeling seems more real than anything he’s been taught.