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Tyler can’t sleep. He doesn’t know what time it is, besides that it’s dark. He wonders if he should ask Mark, who has one hand on the wheel in front of him. It feels like they’ve been here forever. Endless, stretching roads of the midwest inbetween cities and shows. The engine hums under Tyler’s feet. An empty red bull can rolls across the floor of the van.
He looks to his side, Josh is leaning on the window, eyes closed, breathing deeply. Tyler is glad that Josh is able to get some rest. Touring has been exhausting for both of them. It’s been weird, since Nick and Chris left the band. It’s been weird in general, for Tyler, the whole music and touring thing. He had never really been outside Ohio before. Sometimes he felt like giving up. It was so much effort, he wasn’t sure if anyone else really cared about this as much as he did. At least Josh did. Tyler shifts his leg closer to Josh’s, he stirs in his sleep but doesn’t wake up.
The yellow street lights flicker across his face, carving out the sharpness of his jawline, the ridge of his nose, eyelashes casting quick moving shadows on his cheeks. His hair curls around his ear, and Tyler hopes Josh can’t subconsciously feel his gaze burning into him.
Tyler isn’t sure why he feels the way he does right now. It’s like a hole in the centre of his being. He feels guilty. He feels lonely. He fidgets with the hem of his shirt.
Josh looks peaceful, a far cry from his presence on stage. He’s always so energetic, his movements are electrifying, even when theres barely anyone watching. Tyler is glad he met Josh. He’s a good friend, a good person. He makes sure Tyler never makes a fool of himself, he’s patient and kind and understanding.
Tyler hopes that Josh won’t leave. He feels childish, in his attachment to the close friendship he has with Josh, but it’s something he’s needed for a long time. Sometimes, it felt like he was Tyler’s other half.
Tyler leans down, placing his head in Josh’s lap and lifting his legs onto the seat. His joints had been aching for a while. He can feel Josh’s chest rise and fall, can hear the steady drumming of his heartbeat. He strains his eyes to look up at Josh’s face, still resting against the window. Tyler could lie in Josh’s lap forever.
Moments pass before the van rolls to a stop, the sharp lights of a gas station piercing Tyler’s vision. Mark opens the front door of the van, and closes it as he steps out, presumably to use the bathroom and get something to eat. Tyler wonders if he should get up. Rest stops were few and far inbetween when they were in the rural parts of the midwest, and a snack run and a bathroom stop between shows were a luxury. Tyler rubs his eyes, and Josh stirs from his sleep. He looks down at Tyler’s head resting in his lap.
“Hey,” his voice is raspy and quiet, melting into the cold air. Tyler loves seeing Josh like this, just woken up, natural, relaxed, not yet a person.
“Hi,” Tyler whispers back, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Josh blinks away the sleep from his eyes, shifting so he’s sitting upright. He rubs the part of his face which was pressed against the glass.
“It’s alright,” he rests his hand on Tyler’s shoulder. His touch is warm and comforting, his touch feels like the parts of home that Tyler misses while touring.
Josh runs his other hand through his hair, brushing back his brown curls, looking out the window.
“Do you want to go into the gas station to get something to eat? I think Mark’s in there right now.”
Tyler doesn’t want to get up, he doesn’t want to leave his place next to Josh right now. He thinks about the fluorescent lights inside the store, the smell of petrol. Josh’s embrace is a much better place to be. He meets Josh’s soft gaze and shakes his head. Josh nods in response, doesn’t question him, only moves to make himself more comfortable. He aligns his arm to rest on Tyler’s back, his hand nestled in his hair. Tyler sighs. It’s these moments, quiet, dark, in the back of the van, that he loves. It feels liminal. Dreamlike. They can say anything to each other and none of it will hold any importance by daytime. It’s a mutual understanding, that whatever happens in the back of the van stays there. Hushed conversations, chaste and friendly kisses, muffled sobs and comforting words. Josh’s eyes are closed again, ready to drift back into sleep.
“Josh?”
“Yeah?”
Josh stares down at him, his fingers stroke Tyler’s hair, sending waves of warmth through his body. His dark eyes flutter and his face is softly lit. He looks like an oil painting. Tyler has an inexplicable urge to pull him close, so tight they become inseparable, so close that they melt into one being. He doesn’t ever want to let go of this man. He’s needed someone like him for so, so long. He prays with his whole being that Josh will stick around. He doesn’t know what he would do without him.
“Please don’t leave me.” Tyler whispers.
The request feels silly. It feels too emotionally charged. If Josh were anyone else, he would look at Tyler in confusion. Instead, he softens his gaze, eyes crinkling as he smiles. He squeezes Tyler, bringing him even closer.
“I won’t.”
It’s a promise, it feels like it’s being written into the fabric of reality, settling in Tyler’s mind. Josh is his best friend, his other half, his person. He won’t leave. Josh makes Tyler feel secure and safe. Tyler doesn’t think he’s ever loved anybody more than he loves Josh. He breathes in and out, humming softly as Josh continues to soothe him, stroking his hair. They’ll forget about this in the morning, for their own sakes. They’ll exchange friendly glances onstage, silly banter in front of their friends after the show, but these quiet and dark moments in the back of the van are just for them.