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I don’t know why I can’t stop crying,
And I’m thinking about getting old,
And I don’t know a lot about you still.
For the fifth year in a row, Tyler tries to convince everyone not to make a big deal out of his birthday. But giving in would feel wrong — the whole crew still plops a cardboard party hat on his head, brings out a cake with candles, and belts out a chaotic birthday song. And Tyler always blows out the candles with that bright, boyish grin, pausing dramatically like he’s really thinking about what to wish for this time.
He turns thirty-six today. And, out of habit, he spends his birthday with a microphone in front of him and a guitar slung over his shoulder. The day isn’t all that different from any other on tour, except it forces him to notice the faint lines by his eyes when he checks the mirror one last time before heading onstage.
Josh ordered a cake tonight, and Tyler has no clue there’s something sweet waiting for him. Josh steps into their hotel room, drops his bag, and immediately steps back into the hallway.
“Be right back,” he tosses over his shoulder.
He grabs the delivery, opens the kraft box, and pushes two number-shaped candles — ones he bought earlier — into the frosting. Across the top, in soft cream, it says: “for every candle, a new question.”
His hand shakes a little as he lights the candles outside the door. When he slips back inside, he hears water running in the bathroom — Tyler’s still washing up.
Josh sets the cake on the table and sits down. The flames melt the numbers slowly. Three and six. They hold all his attention; everything else goes quiet. The window’s cracked open, the curtain sways, the lamp by the bed paints the room in warm gold.
Tyler steps out with damp cheeks, messy bangs, and smudges of black paint still clinging to his neck.
“Happy birthday,” Josh says.
“Oh, come on,” Tyler groans, laughing as he stops in the middle of the room. “Where’d you even get that?”
His smile is ridiculously sweet — so honest it’s clear he didn’t expect another surprise.
“Make a wish,” Josh whispers. “Before they burn out.”
But Tyler takes his time. He plants both hands on the table, leans over the cake, tilts his head to read the frosting. The candles light his face in yellow. A small shadow falls under his eyes. Then he leans in and blows out both flames in one soft breath.
He swipes a finger through the frosting and tastes it. Nods. Then climbs onto Josh’s lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“I like it,” he says, wrapping his arms around Josh’s neck.
“You haven’t tried the filling,” Josh murmurs, brushing a hand over his back.
Tyler gives him two quick kisses.
“I will,” he says, glancing at Josh’s lips. Then stands. “Gimme a sec — I’m putting the kettle on.”
Josh drops his hand to his thigh, right where Tyler had been shifting his weight. He turns toward the sound of mugs clinking.
“‘For every candle — a new question.’ What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Uh… well, the second line was supposed to be, ‘For every answer — my heart gets a little softer.’ But they said it wouldn’t fit on the cake.” Josh rubs the back of his neck.
Tyler pauses mid-stir.
“Wow. Okay. Yeah, I love that.”
Josh knows he does — Tyler usually likes whatever he comes up with — but hearing it now hits different. He agonized over that line. It’s personal. Really personal. The thought sits heavy in his chest as Tyler returns with his tea. The buzzing of the kettle still seems to echo in his head.
“I was thinking,” Josh says slowly, watching Tyler press his spoon into the cake, “time’s moving so fast. And we’ve spent so many years together. It’s crazy. And I still feel like there’s so much I don’t know about you.”
Tyler looks up at him, eyes narrowed, thoughtful. Takes a bite, then waits.
Josh doesn’t want to drag down his birthday, but last night he couldn’t shake the feeling. This tight little fear in his chest that made him want to hold Tyler too close.
“I’ve been thinking about that too,” Tyler says quietly, scraping a bit of cream. “But honestly… what helps is knowing I’m still learning you. Every day. It just doesn’t end.”
Josh lets out a breath.
“Like, sometimes I hear you say something in an interview and I’m like, ‘I didn’t know that.’ And it’s actually… important.”
He stops when he sees Tyler bite the inside of his cheek.
“You know me better than anyone,” Tyler says.
“Yeah, but—” Josh starts, only for Tyler to stick a spoonful of cake in his mouth.
“And I’m glad I gave all of that to you,” Tyler adds.
Josh props his chin on his hand, chocolate-and-raspberry sweetness lingering on his tongue. He watches Tyler — how one hand goes for another bite while the other grips his own arm, almost as if he’s hugging himself.
Josh remembers that interview. Sitting right beside him. Tyler had said:
“I remember one specific show, the last one of that tour. I walked offstage and just fell apart. It wasn’t euphoria. It was fear. All those people shouting my words back at me — it hit me that everything I’d ever written belonged to strangers now. I felt this crushing responsibility. And loneliness. I wasn’t crying because I was happy. I was scared I’d never be able to stop it, that I was stuck forever. That was the moment I understood the cost.”
Josh had been there. He’d seen Tyler hunched over backstage, flinching when Josh touched his shoulder, brushing away tears and muttering something like, “Just adrenaline. I’m fine.” He’d been right there. Sharing the moment physically — but not really seeing it. Mistaking a collapse for triumph. Missing the turning point. Not asking, Are you actually okay? The thought still twists something sharp in his chest. How many other signs did he miss? Even now, years later, regret grows like a weight inside him.
After a long stretch of quiet, Josh finally says:
“Do you remember that show in Columbus? The one that hit you so hard? I… heard you talk about it in an interview recently. And I realized I got it completely wrong. I thought you were crying because the show went well. And I’m sorry I didn’t ask how you really felt.”
Tyler stops chewing. His tongue flicks over his lips.
“That was a long time ago,” he says softly. “And yeah, it threw me off. I kept everything in my head instead of saying it out loud.” He hesitates, choosing his words carefully. “That’s on me. I’m working on it. You’re not supposed to read my mind.”
Josh feels his exhaustion shift into a quiet inner tremor. He takes a sip of tea, thinking about how badly he wants to pull Tyler into a hug just for sharing this conversation with him. He needed it — not to take the weight off his shoulders, but to reassure himself and finally settle down. It happened, and he did everything he could.
“Thanks for telling me that.”
And Josh knows he would’ve done more, had he known back then.
“I felt better because I knew you’d be there after the show. That was enough,” Tyler adds belatedly.
They fall silent for a moment: Tyler chewing his cake, Josh resting his chin on his hand and sipping tea because he can’t handle too much sugar. Sirens drift in from outside. A draft brushes their legs. Josh turns Tyler’s words over in his mind — they soothe him, make the anxiety and sadness settle. He knows he can’t rewrite the past, but talking about it always brings relief.
Josh takes a deep breath, feeling the need to shift the mood. Tonight, it’s on him to bring the lightness back, no matter what. It’s Tyler’s birthday, after all.
“You know what I like most?” he cuts through the quiet, glancing at Tyler’s face. Tyler raises his brows, attentive, and takes a sip from his cup.
“I like that it all started as friendship,” Josh says simply, hoping Tyler will grasp the full meaning.
“Mmm.” Tyler swallows and admits with a shy smile, “That’s my favorite part.” His eyes brighten, and Josh is caught off guard.
“Really?”
“Definitely.” Tyler joyfully abandons his tea and cake. “That’s the kind of story I’m made for.”
“That’s great, because it’s a solid foundation,” Josh replies, and Tyler nods, snapping his fingers with a pointed index.
“Exactly. I love that.” He props his elbows on the table and leans closer. “Okay, be honest: when did you realize it was more than friendship? Come on, you never told me what was going on in your head.”
Tyler grins mischievously in anticipation, and Josh can’t help but laugh at this familiar way of putting him on the spot. He’s so used to it — and somehow it still sends that warm thrill through him every time.
“Oh man… that’s hard. There wasn’t some clear moment.” Josh pauses, searching for words to explain something that feels impossible to pin down. “I think I just slowly… started noticing I was looking at you for too long.”
Tyler listens without blinking, waiting for Josh to finish before saying quietly, “I was scared I’d annoy you with how clingy I was.”
Josh exhales instead of laughing and lowers his head. Tyler really is clingy, but it was never such a problem that it deserved to be the first thing he mentions — and with this kind of seriousness.
“Well…” Josh drawls with a meaningful smile, knowing Tyler’s self-irony can handle honesty. “Since you’re asking how it really was — yeah, it threw me off at first. You always wanted to be really close.”
He doesn’t say how it sometimes scared him so much he thought everything could collapse from one wrong step.
“True. Guilty as charged,” Tyler agrees with exaggerated regret. “But I was just happy we clicked and worked together. I guess hugs were my way of showing it. And not because I was pushing anything. There was no subtext back then.”
Josh snorts. “Makes me wonder when the subtext did show up.”
Tyler presses his palm to his cheek, thinking. He’s quiet for a few moments, then throws Josh a look full of mutual this is so hard to explain.
“I thought it’d be easier to put into words,” he says with a guilty giggle.
“Told you. It’s confusing.”
Josh can see on his face that he won’t give up — he’s determined to articulate it.
“I think… I wasn’t blinded by anything. No sudden crush fogging up my brain. I had time to actually get to know you. And fall for the person I learned you were.” Tyler squints at the table as if something on it will help him describe his feelings.
“I was scared it might ruin everything,” Josh says quietly.
“I get that. But I also know passion burns out fast, and if there’s nothing else underneath it, things fall apart. I’m glad it turned out the other way,” Tyler finally answers, lifting his gaze, certain now.
“You’re right,” Josh nods, because that’s exactly what he’d been about to say. “But honestly? It always felt like you were flirting with me from the start,” he adds with playful honesty, a dopey smile forming as the confession slips out.
Josh is sure that’s how it looked from the outside — and Tyler knows it, too. So he starts laughing sheepishly, fully exposed, not even trying to keep a straight face. Not that he ever really could.
“No! You’re definitely wrong,” he insists, failing to hide his grin — his eyes betray him instantly.
“Sure, I’m wrong,” Josh teases. “Always learning something new about you.”
“Okay, maybe later I did flirt a little,” Tyler concedes halfway. “What were you thinking back then?”
“I felt… uneasy. I didn’t know how to react. Or what was going on.”
“God, that sounds awful,” Tyler groans, burying his face in his hand. “I know I was unbearable.”
“Was?” Josh shoots back, instantly catching his attention. “It wasn’t awful. I just didn’t want to misread you and mess it up.”
Tyler’s gaze darts over his face, from his eyes to his chin and back up again. “You read me right.”
“C’mere.”
Josh shifts on the chair so Tyler can settle comfortably on his lap.
“You know my ass barely fits on your lap anymore?” Tyler loops his arms around Josh’s neck and crosses his legs.
“Looks fine to me.”
“And I just ate half a cake at night…”
Josh shakes his head, laughing. “The whole thing was yours.” He studies Tyler up close, chin tilted slightly. He can feel the rise and fall of Tyler’s chest, the slight swing of his leg in the air, the way his elbows rest against his own shoulders. There’s black paint on Tyler’s neck, and Josh pulls a wet wipe from the packet on the table. Tyler watches.
“If you wanna know something, just ask,” Tyler says, stating the obvious — but Josh only huffs a soft laugh. He warms the wipe in his palm before touching Tyler’s skin.
“That’s not how it works.”
“No? Then how?” Tyler’s tone turns playful.
“I wanna know everything,” Josh matches him. “Like what you were thinking on that rainy day in 2009. Or how you spent your weekends in high school. Or if anything happened last week that you forgot to tell me. Time stole moments I didn’t even know I was losing.”
“That’s insane!” Tyler throws his head back, laughing. Josh wipes his neck, feeling the tremble of his throat.
“I know it’s impossible.” Josh bites his lip in frustration.
“Exactly. You don’t need to know that much.”
Josh gently wipes under his jaw, behind his ear. Tyler shivers from the tickle but doesn’t look away from Josh’s focused face.
“You don’t have to try so hard,” he murmurs. “I’m going to shower anyway…” He hesitates, then adds, “You coming?”
Josh snorts, setting the darkened wipe aside. “Oh no. That’s a workplace injury waiting to happen.”
Tyler pouts dramatically and runs his fingers up into Josh’s curls.
“You’re so bo-o-o-ring.”
“I’m just making sure we finish this tour without sprains and bruises,” Josh says, stroking his back. His legs are starting to go numb, but he ignores it — he doesn’t want to let Tyler go when he’s perched on his lap like this, joking, smiling, frowning in that adorable way. He can put up with a lot for moments like these.
And he has a better idea.
Tyler presses his lips to Josh’s, drawing in a quiet, shaky breath through his nose.
“Go shower, and then I’ll give you a massage,” Josh murmurs, glancing at Tyler’s slightly parted mouth.
Tyler hums dreamily, biting his lip. “I’m so down for that… Massage… anything else?” he teases, tilting his head.
Josh gives a small, defeated smile — he can’t resist him. And maybe his anxiety has changed shades over the years, maybe it nearly pushed him to tears a couple nights ago, but right now it doesn’t stand a chance. Not tonight.
“Maybe something else.”
And maybe in the morning, Josh will wake up with his persistent thoughts, quietly zipping his suitcase after they’ve finished the cake together — but he’ll know they can talk through anything he needs to, just the two of them alone.
“Thanks for the cake. And for that line…” Tyler’s voice turns serious as he slides off Josh’s lap. “It was really sweet.”
Josh shifts on the chair, stretching his legs. Tyler pulls off his T-shirt.
“Hey… I’ve actually got something else for you. But I wanna give it to you when we’re home.” Josh says suddenly. And to his own frustration, he feels himself getting nervous. He won’t elaborate — not yet. He’s spent half a year thinking about this, and now that returning to Columbus is close, the anticipation keeps slipping out of him.
Tyler turns his head in surprise as he bends to take off his pants. “Something else? If you keep this up, I’ll have to find the coolest gift ever just to beat you.”
“Oh, it’s a competition now?” Josh asks, relaxing a little — their playful tone always lightens the air between them.
“Yep, and I’m absolutely going to win it.”
“What, you’re gonna buy a yacht?”
Tyler bursts out laughing and shakes out his pants.
“Or a plane,” he adds instantly, finding an even more ridiculous option.
“I already have a motorcycle!” Josh shoots back.
“No, if I really want to win, I’ll have to get you a ring.”
For a beat, Josh has no idea what to say. He just presses his lips together, trying to hide the grin stretching across his face. Then — far too casually — he blurts out, hoping to smooth over the pause:
“Oh, like… officially?”
Tyler slowly nods and, with theatrical seriousness, drops to one knee, reaching both hands out toward him.
“Like this.”
Tyler, half-naked in just his boxers, pretending to propose, makes Josh smirk in spite of himself. He covers his forehead with his palm, whispers, “Jesus,” and shakes his head. The laughter fades quickly, replaced by something impossibly warm.
“Love you,” Josh says, his voice lower now, almost quiet. “Go shower.”
“So that’s a yes?!” Tyler doesn’t let up, eyes gleaming with mischief.
Josh knows Tyler won’t beat him to it. That reckless spark in his expression, the cheeks flushed pink from laughing — it all sends a fizzy rush through him, the same one he felt when Tyler hugged him for the first time and didn’t let go right away. Josh still doesn’t know if Tyler felt it then too. He doesn’t know what he feels now. Maybe that’s okay.
While the water runs in the bathroom, Josh thinks about how strangely, almost comically, the universe played with everything he’d been turning over in his head lately. Tyler joking about a ring, dropping to one knee with way too much enthusiasm — totally unaware that Josh has been replaying that moment in his head over and over, imagining himself doing the same. Imagining Tyler’s face, how he’d react, what he’d say. It’s thrilling and terrifying and comforting all at once.
With a quiet exhale, Josh pulls off his T-shirt and glances at what’s left of the writing on the cake. For every candle, a new question. He closes the box, tucks it into the fridge, gathers up the trash from the table.
He may not know the answers to a thousand questions — but the one that matters most, somehow, he already does. And it’ll be a yes, waiting for him back home.