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Mark is the one who brings it up first.
They’re sprawled across mismatched couches in the green room, Mark’s half-eaten burrito in hand, Josh drumming lightly on his knees, Tyler mindlessly flipping through his phone, feet tucked under him.
“We should post more on the band TikTok,” Mark says, wiping sauce from his lip. “Engage the youth.”
Tyler snorts. “We are the youth.”
“Bro, you’re thirty-five,” Mark deadpans.
Tyler rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling, picking at the corner of a sticker on his water bottle while Josh hides a grin behind his hand.
They all end up scrolling on the FYP together, laughing at chaotic edits, dogs in sunglasses, and the occasional clip of Tyler falling off a piano. Mark keeps shoving his phone toward them, saying, “This one? This one?” while Josh shrugs, and Tyler mutters about lighting and algorithms.
That night, the show feels like electricity in their veins. The crowd is loud, the lights are bright, and Tyler loses himself in it the way he always does, letting the music drown everything else out. Josh drums like the world could end and he’d still keep time.
They have a second show tomorrow, so they’re staying in a hotel instead of the bus. After the post-show adrenaline fades, Josh showers in his room, steam fogging the mirror, hot water washing confetti and sweat from his hair.
He should be tired, but he’s restless, so he towels off, throws on sweatpants, but leaves his shirt off, hair still damp, grabbing the spare keycard for Tyler’s room.
“For safety,” they always say. It’s just easier that way.
He slips inside quietly. The room smells like Tyler’s shampoo and leftover stage energy. The bathroom door is cracked open, steam drifting out, the sound of water still running.
Josh tosses his phone onto the bed, climbing up, scrolling through Instagram stories, thumb moving on autopilot. His eyes flick to the bathroom when he hears the water shut off.
Tyler walks out, towel slung over his shoulders, wearing only a pair of loose black shorts, damp curls sticking to his forehead, droplets of water sliding down the lines of his chest.
Josh’s thumb pauses on the screen for a second, eyes flicking over Tyler, lingering on the small trail of water dripping down his stomach before quickly looking back at his phone, chewing the inside of his cheek to hide the small, involuntary smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
Tyler doesn’t notice, or pretends not to, as he grabs his phone from the nightstand, scrolling notifications.
A TikTok notification from Mark pops up:
“i found the trend!!”
Tyler taps it, volume up.
A video starts, the audio echoing into the soft quiet of the room:
“Two best friends in a room… they might kiss?”
And without looking up from his phone, Josh responds, in sync with the video:
“Yes we will.”
Tyler’s head whips toward him, eyes wide, lips parting, but the video continues:
“What?”
And Josh, still scrolling, echoes again:
“Yes we will.”
Tyler fumbles to lower the volume, turning off his screen, his pulse tripping over itself, heat crawling up his neck.
“How did you know that? Did Mark send it to you too?” Tyler asks, voice catching.
Josh glances up, a small smirk forming, his thumb pausing. “Man, this audio’s everywhere. Everyone knows it.”
“I didn’t,” Tyler says, quieter.
Josh lets out a small laugh, warm and fond. “I always forget you’re not online that much.”
Josh tilts his head, eyebrows lifting. “Wait, Mark sent it to you? Why?”
Tyler hesitates, fiddling with the towel draped over his shoulders, cheeks warming. “He said it might be a good trend for the band account. So stupid, right?”
Josh grins. “I mean… we could do it.”
Tyler blinks. “Seriously?”
Josh shrugs, leaning back against the headboard, hair still a little damp, sticking up in soft curls. “Dude, people don’t actually kiss when they do that trend. It’d be funny. Clikkies would love it.”
Tyler chews on his lip. “But, like, how would we do it? We need lighting, and to figure out who says wh—”
Josh interrupts with a laugh, shaking his head. “Tyler, it’s TikTok, not a music video. Just open the sound, let’s film it. You say the first part.”
Tyler rolls his eyes but his lips curl up into a small, reluctant smile. “Fine.”
They sit up on the bed, shoulders brushing, the room warm and quiet around them. Tyler opens the TikTok app, his thumb hovering over the record button, the sound queued.
Josh’s knee knocks into his, and Tyler looks at him, a sudden, unsteady spark in his chest at the way Josh’s eyes soften when they meet his.
The audio starts, and Tyler says, trying to keep his voice steady:
“Two best friends in a room… they might kiss?”
Josh, leaning slightly toward the camera, smirks, eyes flicking to Tyler’s:
“Yes we will.”
Tyler raises his brows, playing along, but his pulse is a thunder in his ears:
“What?”
Josh’s voice drops, softer but clear:
“Yes we will.”
And then Josh’s hand is on Tyler’s cheek, warm and gentle, his thumb brushing lightly against Tyler’s damp skin, and he leans in and kisses him.
⸻
Tyler’s mind goes quiet.
It’s like the moment between the lights going down and the music starting, the hush before the crowd screams, the deep breath before the piano keys press down.
Josh’s lips are soft, tasting faintly like mint toothpaste and the chapstick he always borrows from Tyler but never gives back. The hand on his cheek is steady, grounding, thumb tracing the edge of his jaw like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
For a second—just a second—Tyler’s mind stops. No planning, no spiraling, no overthinking. Just the warmth of Josh’s mouth against his, the faint smell of his shampoo, the slide of damp curls brushing Tyler’s forehead.
He leans in without thinking, kissing back, his hand clutching lightly at the fabric of Josh’s sweatpants, grounding himself in the reality of it.
⸻
Then the moment breaks. The phone slips from his hand, landing softly on the bed, the TikTok audio still looping faintly.
Tyler’s eyes flutter open, and he pulls back, breathless, lips tingling, his pulse drumming so loudly he’s surprised Josh can’t hear it.
Josh’s hand is still on his cheek, thumb brushing against his skin, eyes wide but soft, like he’s searching Tyler’s face for something.
The phone is still between them, the faint echo of the TikTok audio looping once more before falling silent, the screen going dark.
Tyler’s thumb rubs over Josh’s knuckles where he’s still holding Josh’s hand against his cheek, neither of them moving, as if any shift might shatter the fragile moment hanging between them.
Josh swallows, eyes flicking down to Tyler’s lips before darting away, landing somewhere over Tyler’s shoulder, like he can’t look directly at him and also breathe at the same time.
Tyler’s mind is starting to spin up again, the quiet clarity from the kiss dissolving into static, questions rattling in his chest, but he doesn’t want to let go of Josh’s hand, doesn’t want to move away.
“So…” Josh starts, his voice barely above a whisper, like he’s afraid to speak too loud.
Tyler’s heart jumps. “Yeah.”
Josh lets out a breath, a shaky laugh that doesn’t quite sound like laughter. “That, um. That wasn’t really… for TikTok.”
Tyler’s lips part, and for a second, he thinks about pretending it was. About laughing it off, making a dumb joke, letting it slide away into the haze of tour exhaustion and late-night energy.
But Josh’s thumb is brushing against his cheek, slow and careful, and Tyler knows—he doesn’t want to laugh it off.
He doesn’t want it to be a joke.
“No,” Tyler says, his voice steady even if his pulse is wild. “No, it wasn’t.”
Josh’s eyes finally meet his, and it’s like they’re seeing each other fully for the first time, all the space they’ve kept carefully measured shrinking down to the inches between them.
Josh’s hand drops from Tyler’s face slowly, sliding down to rest between them, but Tyler catches it, holding it, lacing their fingers together without thinking.
“I didn’t mean to…” Josh starts, then stops, shaking his head, damp curls shifting. “No, I did. I did mean to.”
Tyler’s breath catches, his grip on Josh’s hand tightening.
“Yeah?” Tyler whispers, eyes searching Josh’s face for any sign of uncertainty, any sign that this is about to break apart.
Josh lets out a soft laugh, this one real, small but bright. “Yeah.”
They’re quiet for a moment, the only sound the soft hum of the hotel’s air conditioning and the distant city outside the window.
“I, um…” Tyler starts, then stops, swallowing, trying to find the words that don’t sound like a disaster. “I don’t know what this means. But I… I didn’t hate it.”
Josh’s eyes soften, his thumb brushing across the back of Tyler’s hand. “I didn’t either.”
Tyler huffs out a breath, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, tension easing from his shoulders, leaving a quiet warmth in its place.
“You kissed me,” Tyler says, the corners of his lips twitching.
Josh’s cheeks flush, but he grins. “You kissed me back.”
Tyler smiles, leaning his forehead forward until it bumps gently against Josh’s, their eyes fluttering closed at the contact.
“We’re idiots,” Tyler murmurs.
Josh’s breath is warm against his skin. “Yeah. But at least we’re idiots together.”
They sit there, forehead to forehead, fingers laced, letting the moment settle around them like a blanket.
Neither of them says it yet, whatever this is, whatever they’re becoming, but it’s there, unspoken and real, and for now, that’s enough.
They stay forehead to forehead for a while, breathing in sync, the hotel room quiet around them, the glow from the bedside lamp painting soft shadows across Josh’s bare shoulders.
Tyler pulls back just enough to look at him, eyes flicking over Josh’s face like he’s trying to memorize every detail.
Then Tyler gives a small, crooked smile, his thumb brushing against Josh’s knuckles.
“Come here,” Tyler murmurs, tugging lightly at Josh’s hand.
Josh’s eyebrows lift, a soft flush creeping up his neck. “Ty…”
Tyler’s smile widens, but it’s gentle. “Not like that. Just… come here.”
He tugs again, and Josh lets out a small, helpless laugh before letting Tyler pull him down onto the bed fully, the two of them shifting to lie on their sides, facing each other. The blankets are cool against their skin, but the space between them feels warm, charged but soft.
Tyler’s hand finds Josh’s under the covers, fingers tangling, the contact grounding them both.
For a moment, Tyler’s mind threatens to spin again—questions, fears, the what-does-this-mean of it all—but Josh gives his hand a small, reassuring squeeze, and the noise in Tyler’s mind quiets, just for now.
They lie there in the soft dark, breathing, letting the moment hold them.
Tyler blinks slowly, eyes heavy from the show, from the adrenaline fading, from the comfort of Josh being here, close enough to feel the steady rise and fall of his chest.
“You good?” Josh whispers.
Tyler nods, pressing their foreheads together again, closing his eyes.
“Yeah. Stay.”
Josh doesn’t hesitate. “Okay.”
Their fingers stay laced under the covers, the warmth between their palms steady and real, and in the small, safe hush of the hotel room, Tyler drifts off with Josh’s breath soft against his skin, their hands still clasped.