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The snow had just begun to fall when the car pulled up to the Josephs’ driveway, the soft flakes catching in the headlights and dissolving into the windshield with a quiet hiss. Inside the car, Josh exhaled slowly, the window fogging slightly with his breath. His hand rested on Jim’s head, warm, steady, familiar, as their golden retriever shifted with a soft whine, sensing they were close to something good.
Debby reached across and gently squeezed his knee.
“You ready?” she asked, her voice soft, full of knowing.
Josh nodded. “Yeah. Just… it’s been a while.”
“It’s home,” she said simply. “Even if it’s not ours.”
He smiled at that. She was right. It wasn’t his home, but it felt like it anyway.
As soon as Debby opened the passenger door, Jim bolted out into the snow, tail wagging like a metronome on overdrive. Before Josh had even closed the car door behind him, the front door of the house flew open and two tiny shapes came charging out in pajamas and boots: Rosie and Junie.
“UNCLE JOSH!”
“AUNT DEBBY!”
“JIIIIIM!”
Josh barely had time to crouch before Rosie launched herself into his arms, knocking him backward into the snow with a breathless laugh. Junie followed, piling on top, tiny arms around his neck. Debby stood nearby, laughing as Jim zoomed in chaotic circles around them all, barking joyfully like it was his holiday too.
From the doorway, Tyler stood with Tommy in one arm, a baby blanket draped over his shoulder. He had that sleepy, happy-dad look, messy hair, hoodie sleeves pushed up, socks not matching. He watched the scene unfold with a slow, quiet smile that only Josh would have caught.
“You guys bring the whole North Pole or just the dog?” Tyler called out as they untangled from the snowbank.
Josh stood up, brushing snow off his jeans with one hand and steadying Rosie with the other. “Just the essentials.”
Tyler laughed and stepped aside to let them in. “Well, come on then. We’ve got cocoa, mac and cheese bites, and a child who’s been asking every thirty seconds if Uncle Josh is here yet.”
Inside, the house smelled like cinnamon and pine and Jenna’s homemade lasagna. Christmas lights wrapped around the staircase like a garland of stars, and soft instrumental carols played from a speaker in the living room. Jim immediately flopped down by the fireplace, tail thudding against the floor, perfectly at home.
Jenna greeted them in the kitchen, wiping her hands on a festive red apron and pulling Debby in for a hug.
“Thank God you’re here,” she said with mock drama. “Now I can stop pretending I like cooking alone.”
Debby grinned. “Let’s make chaos.”
They disappeared into the kitchen with shared laughter and a bottle of wine, leaving Josh alone in the living room with the kids. Or rather, not alone.
Junie handed him a stack of markers and pointed firmly at a coloring book. “You’re gonna draw Santa. But make him cool. Like with sunglasses.”
“Obviously,” Josh said seriously, sitting cross-legged on the floor. “I wouldn’t dream of drawing a non-cool Santa.”
Rosie brought over a plastic toy drum and stuck a tiny pink crown on his head.
“Now you’re Drum King,” she declared. “You have to play a solo before we start.”
Josh gave them a dramatic roll on the toy drum, complete with stick twirls and exaggerated cymbal crashes, earning giggles and claps from the girls. He could feel warmth blooming in his chest, this kind of warmth, the kind that didn’t come from a stage or a spotlight, but from little voices and small hands and the feeling of being wanted, just as he was.
On the couch, Tyler shifted Tommy to his other arm and leaned back, watching. His heart ached in the best way.
Josh always did this, slipped into their world like he belonged there. No awkwardness, no distance. He wasn’t just the drummer. He wasn’t just his bandmate. He was Uncle Josh. The man who helped them build pillow forts on tour buses, who carried extra stickers in his backpack because Rosie liked putting them on his face. Who always bent down to their level, actually listened.
Tyler felt Tommy start to nod off against his chest and gently kissed the top of his son’s head.
“You good?” Josh asked after a moment, glancing up at him from the floor.
Tyler nodded. “Yeah,” he said, voice quiet. “Just watching.”
Josh held his gaze for a beat. There was something unspoken in it. A thank you. A me too.
Then Rosie tugged on his sleeve and demanded he finish Cool Santa’s beard.
The dining room felt like the heart of the house, lit by golden string lights draped above the windows, the long wooden table crowded with mismatched chairs, paper snowflakes taped crookedly on the walls. Jenna’s touches were everywhere: cloth napkins folded into little stars, homemade name cards painted by Rosie and Junie, and a centerpiece that looked like it might’ve started as a Pinterest idea but turned out uniquely “Joseph”, half candles, half glitter glue.
Josh found his place between Rosie and Tyler, with Debby across from him, already helping Junie balance her fork. Jim was curled up under the table, subtly nudging people’s legs in case anyone felt generous with table scraps.
“Alright,” Jenna announced, standing at the head of the table and holding up her glass of sparkling cider. “Before this food gets cold and Jim convinces someone to drop a meatball, I just want to say…”
She paused, looking around the table with soft eyes.
“I’m really, really glad we’re all here tonight. The year’s been kind of insane in a lot of ways, but having everyone home, even just for a little while, makes it feel right again. So… to chosen family, to weird little bands and wild little kids, and to the people who make everything feel like Christmas, no matter what day it is.”
Josh swallowed hard. Tyler clinked his glass gently against his.
“Cheers,” Debby smiled, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand.
The kids dug in immediately, Rosie stabbing a meatball with intense focus while Junie tried to put macaroni on her fork one noodle at a time. Josh helped scoop some salad onto their plates while still managing to sneak a crescent roll onto his own. Jenna had cooked too much, as always, and the table overflowed with comfort food.
“So, Josh,” Jenna said casually between bites, “Rosie’s been talking about your last drum solo for about two weeks now. Pretty sure she’s ready to join the band.”
Rosie perked up, mouth full. “I play drums and sing. I’m multi-talented.”
Josh grinned. “She’s hired. Tyler, she’s better than me. My career has come to an end.”
Tyler, cutting up Junie’s meatball, gave a mock-nod of solemnity. “Yeah. We’ve been looking for a replacement for a while. Honestly, she brings more attitude.”
“And shiny stickers,” Rosie added proudly.
The whole table laughed, and for a moment, the room was just noise and light and warmth, silverware clinking, kids telling overlapping stories, Debby asking Jenna for the lasagna recipe even though she already had it written down.
Josh leaned back a little, plate still half-full, just watching.
This, this felt different. Not like backstage dinners or after-parties. This was simple. Ordinary in the most extraordinary way. He didn’t have to be “on” here. No pressure to entertain or perform. Just… exist. Be wanted. Be part of something.
His gaze drifted to Tyler, who was buttering a roll one-handed while balancing a sleepy Tommy in the crook of his arm. Tyler looked up and caught his eye. He didn’t smile, not quite, but his eyes softened, and that was enough.
Josh gave him a small nod. Tyler blinked slow, in that familiar way that said, I know.
Later, after dessert, Rosie and Junie covered in cookie frosting, and Tyler making a questionable peppermint coffee, they all ended up sprawled across the living room again. The kids were winding down, softening into bedtime mode, and the house slowly shifted into a gentler hush.
Josh felt it pulling at him too, that mixture of fullness and fatigue. A good tired. The kind that settled into your bones and reminded you of love.
~
The studio was quiet, lit only by the soft blue glow of the christmas decorations and a small lamp in the corner. The rest of the house had settled, no more tiny footsteps running down hallways, no distant giggling from the kitchen. Just the faint creak of the floorboards and the low hum of a house at peace.
Josh sat cross-legged on the rug, a pair of headphones looped around his neck, fingers tapping out soft, instinctive rhythms on the pad in front of him. The sounds weren’t recorded. He wasn’t building anything. Just… keeping time. Like muscle memory needed somewhere to go.
His body swayed slightly, not to any song, but to a feeling, one he didn’t have words for yet.
The door creaked open, and Tyler stepped in quietly, a silhouette in the dim light.
Josh didn’t look up.
“Thought I’d find you in here,” Tyler said softly, leaning against the doorframe.
Josh nodded once, barely.
Tyler walked in, slow and easy, and lowered himself onto the couch, elbows on his knees. He looked at Josh for a while before speaking again.
“You okay?”
Josh didn’t answer right away. His hands kept moving, a quiet rhythm ticking beneath his silence.
“Yeah,” he said eventually, without conviction. “Just winding down.”
Tyler didn’t push, not yet. He just nodded, letting the silence fill the space between them like water soaking into a sponge.
A few minutes passed like that. The rhythm faded. Josh set the pad aside, not looking up.
A gentle knock sounded on the doorframe.
Debby peeked in, her voice low and sweet. “Hey. I’m heading to bed.”
Josh stood, crossing to her in a few steps.
She reached for his face with the same tenderness she always had, brushing her thumb lightly along his cheek. “You staying up much longer?”
“Just a little,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss her. “I’ll be there soon.”
“Okay. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
She smiled at Tyler on her way out. “Night, Ty.”
“Night, Debbs,” he replied, watching Josh’s face as the door closed.
Josh walked back to the couch slowly, like the weight of something had increased during that small moment. He sat beside Tyler but didn’t lean back. Didn’t relax. Just sat there, elbows on his knees, fingers nervously tugging at the seam of his sweatshirt sleeve.
Tyler watched him in the quiet. He waited, until it felt right to ask again.
“Hey… what’s really going on?”
Josh’s throat moved with a silent swallow. His jaw clenched.
“It’s nothing,” he tried. “I’m just tired, man.”
Tyler tilted his head, voice gentle. “I know you. That’s not ‘just tired.’”
Josh blinked hard. And then… something cracked. Not big or loud. Just enough to let the truth leak out.
He rubbed his hands over his face and let out a breath that trembled.
“I miss it,” he said softly. “Not all the time. Just… when everything gets too quiet. I miss playing every day. I miss the shows. The rhythm. Us.”
Tyler didn’t interrupt. He shifted slightly to face him better, listening with his whole body.
Josh continued, his voice low and broken in places.
“I love Debby. You know that. Like… more than anything. She’s everything I ever wanted in a partner. But sometimes… I hate myself for how much I miss you when I’m home. Not in a way that takes from her, just… in this other, weird space in me.”
He laughed once, quietly, like it didn’t belong.
“When I’m on tour, I miss Debby like… my chest hurts. But when I’m home? I miss you in this tiny, constant way. Like I miss the way you hum when you’re thinking. Or the way you hand me tea without asking if I need one. The dumb little jokes. The quiet stuff. The nothing moments.”
His voice started to wobble again.
“And then I feel so fucking guilty. Because I’m thirty-six. I have a life I love. A wife I love. But sometimes I sit in the kitchen and think about you knocking on my bunk at 2 a.m. just to talk about a snare sound, and I- I miss that so much it actually aches. And I feel like a damn teen for it.”
Josh looked away, eyes shining with unshed tears. His hands fidgeted in his lap, restless and uncertain.
“I’m scared there’s something wrong with me. That maybe I’m too attached. That I need to grow up or get over it. But I don’t know how to stop missing you.”
Tyler’s heart tightened. He reached out and placed a hand on Josh’s wrist, steady and warm.
“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Tyler said, his voice quiet but sure. “We’ve built something rare. Something that doesn’t fit into boxes. It’s not supposed to.”
Josh didn’t respond, not in words. He just let out a shaky breath and leaned, slowly, until his head came to rest against Tyler’s shoulder. Tyler stayed still, letting him settle.
“You’re allowed to miss it,” Tyler murmured after a while. “I do too. I miss you when you’re not right there. I miss us, even when we’re texting every day. Because it’s different when we’re in the same space. That’s not childish, Josh. That’s just real.”
Josh’s breathing had gone shallow. His eyes stayed fixed on the floor.
Tyler leaned back, gaze softening. “I’ve never been afraid of how much I care about you. Never tried to make it make sense. You’ve been my person since… what, 2011? We’ve had almost fifteen Christmases together. That’s half my adult life with you in it.”
He smiled faintly, almost in disbelief. “You’ve seen me be a total idiot. You’ve seen me cry over nothing. You’ve seen me screw up songs and lose my mind over baby monitors and forget birthdays and pick really terrible haircuts—and somehow, you still sit next to me in quiet rooms like this and just… stay.”
Josh gave a weak chuckle at the haircut part, but didn’t lift his head.
Tyler turned toward him slightly, voice softer now. “You love Debby. And I love Jenna. And we’ve built real lives. But you and me—we’re the bones of something too. Something that doesn’t have a name people use often. Something that’s stayed solid even as everything else has changed.”
There was a long pause, like the room itself was holding its breath.
Then Tyler added, almost whispering, “It’s okay to miss that. Because we’re lucky we ever had it.”
Josh didn’t speak again. He just breathed, soft and slow, until his breathing evened out entirely. His weight grew heavier against Tyler.
He’d fallen asleep.
Tyler stayed still for a while, one arm curled loosely around his best friend’s shoulder, the silence between them finally settling into something peaceful.
Tyler exhaled through his nose, quiet and fond, then gently shifted out from beneath him. He pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over Josh with a care that felt like second nature.
He was halfway to the door when he heard it, muffled and small.
“Stay.”
Tyler paused, turning. “What?”
Josh, still half-asleep, reached out and grabbed his wrist, pulling him gently back.
Tyler didn’t ask again. He just moved slowly, slipping between Josh and the back of the couch, settling in beside him.
Josh curled instinctively, an arm wrapping around Tyler’s middle, face pressed near his collarbone.
Tyler let out a soft sigh and rested his cheek against Josh’s hair.
It wasn’t strange. It wasn’t complicated. It was just them.
They lay like that for a while, no words, no weight, just warmth and breath and memory, until sleep took them both.
~
Josh was vaguely aware of being warm, body curled under a blanket, pressed against another person, the couch cushioning every inch of him. For a moment, in that place between dreaming and waking, he thought maybe he was still on the bus, still somewhere on tour, tangled up in exhaustion after a long show. But then...
THUMP THUMP THUMP.
“HE’S HERE!!! HE CAME!! SANTAAAAA!!!!”
And...
“JIIIIIM NO—down!! GET OFF THE COUCH!”
A loud bark. A tail smacking into furniture. Tiny feet thundering across hardwood.
Josh blinked awake just as a golden blur leapt onto the couch, licking his cheek with frantic, festive enthusiasm.
“Okay, okay!” Josh coughed a laugh, trying to push Jim’s face away gently. “Merry Christmas, buddy.”
Rosie came flying around the couch a second later, her eyes wide with holiday magic.
“Daddy wake up!! We have to open presents!! We waited forever!! Like a hundred minutes!”
Tyler stirred beside him, groggy and slow. His hair were a mess, hoodie half-off his shoulder. He blinked up, eyes unfocused. “Wha’s happening?”
“Santa happened,” Josh murmured, rubbing at his eyes as Rosie pulled on his arm like her life depended on it.
Junie toddled in wearing reindeer pajamas, holding one slipper in her hand and dragging a stuffed monkey by its ear. She clambered onto Tyler without hesitation and plopped down on his chest.
Tyler let out an oof and groaned, “I need ten more minutes of consciousness.”
“You’re gonna miss the good presents,” Rosie warned, hands on her hips.
Jim barked once as if in agreement, tail wagging wildly.
Josh chuckled as he sat up, blanket sliding into his lap. Tyler stretched beside him, lifting Junie and plopping her gently onto the floor before sitting up with a yawn.
“Alright,” Tyler said, rubbing his face. “Let the madness begin.”
~
The living room looked like a cozy explosion of wrapping paper, glittery bows, and half-drunk cups of hot cocoa. Jenna had made cinnamon rolls and handed them out like rations while Debby poured coffee into mismatched mugs, still in pajama pants and one of Josh’s old shirts.
Josh sat on the rug with Rosie and Junie, helping them rip into boxes with squeals of delight.
“This one’s for you!” Rosie announced proudly, handing him a carefully wrapped, lumpy package with a tag that read TO: UNCLE JOSH in rainbow marker.
He looked at it like it was made of gold. “Wow, this one looks very official.”
Inside, nestled between pink tissue paper and a lot of glitter, was a handmade necklace, bright plastic beads strung on yarn, clearly made with enormous effort and zero regard for symmetry.
Josh stared at it like it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“We made it yesterday,” Junie said with pride, climbing into his lap. “We picked your favorite colors.”
“Pink, Blue and Yellow” Rosie added. “Because you’re the drummer and those are the best colors.”
Josh slipped the necklace over his head, and it sat a little awkwardly around his neck, lopsided and too short, but he didn’t care.
“I’m never taking this off,” he said, his voice thick with affection.
Tyler, sitting on the couch beside Jenna with Tommy in his lap, watched quietly. There was something in his gaze, soft, still, steady. He wasn’t smiling in the big, obvious way. But his eyes were full.
Josh glanced up and caught it.
Tyler didn’t look away.
Josh gave a small, sheepish grin, his fingers still resting on the beads.
Tyler tipped his chin slightly, in that wordless language of theirs that meant yeah… you belong here.
~
The snow from Christmas morning had melted into soft slush, leaving the front yard dotted with patches of grass and footprints made by boots, paws, and tiny shoes. The house had quieted again, decorations still up, the scent of pine and leftover cookies lingering in the corners.
Josh zipped up the last of the overnight bags while Jim whined softly by the front door, already antsy for the drive.
“Jay, we ready?” Debby called gently from the car, already buckling herself in.
“Yeah,” Josh replied, slinging his duffel over one shoulder. “Be there in a sec.”
He turned back toward the house one last time. Tyler was still on the front step, arms crossed loosely, hoodie sleeves tugged over his hands. His hair was wild from wrangling the kids that morning, and there was a smear of crayon on his wrist he hadn’t noticed yet.
Josh stepped up beside him and didn’t say anything right away. Tyler didn’t either. The silence between them was easier now, like they had said everything they needed to say the night before.
But still-
Josh glanced over. “Thanks for… all of it.”
Tyler nodded slowly. “Always.”
Josh shifted, letting the weight of his bag pull one shoulder lower. “I’m not sure I knew how much I needed this. Just being here. Feeling…” He trailed off, searching.
“Like you have somewhere that lets you breathe again?” Tyler offered, his voice low.
Josh gave a tired, grateful smile. “Yeah. That.”
They stood like that for a second too long, both knowing they’d see each other again soon, on buses, in green rooms, behind drums and microphones. But this part, the quiet after the chaos, always hit a little harder.
Tyler stepped forward and wrapped Josh in a tight, grounding hug. No back pats. No bro-style exit. Just arms, strong and still.
Josh sank into it, closing his eyes for a heartbeat longer than he meant to.
When they pulled apart, Tyler gave him a look. One of those don’t drift too far looks.
Josh nodded. “I’ll text when we’re back.”
“Tell Debbs I said bye again. And kiss Jim for me.”
“I will,” Josh said, already smiling. “But only one of them will appreciate it.”
Tyler grinned. “I’m not picky.”
Josh started down the steps, boots crunching against the driveway, Jim trotting beside him.
Just as he reached the car, Tyler called after him, quietly, but not so quietly that he couldn’t hear.
“Hey, Jay?”
Josh turned.
Tyler met his eyes across the distance. “Next time you miss me… don’t hate yourself for it. Just miss me. It’s okay.”
Josh stared for a moment, every muscle in his chest tightening with something too big for words. Then he nodded.
“Okay.”
He got into the car, shut the door gently, and pulled away.
Tyler stayed on the porch until the car disappeared down the street.
And inside the house, somewhere between toy trains and half-eaten cookies, the beat of a small, invisible drum kept going.