Archive of Our Own

The air was damp tonight.

Humidity hung heavy in the air, and it hugged lungs with each inhale. Most august nights were like this, hot and wet and suffocating.

August marked the end of summer and the beginning of harvest season. Corn sweat was no joke, and this year it had made the humidity increase tenfold. During the day, the sun always glared down bright and violent; it offered slight comfort, but when the sun finally set, and the chirping of frogs or the singing of the cicadas were the only things left to hear, Tyler felt trapped. He felt trapped in his small town, in his beat-up car, and in the apartment his family couldn't really afford.

Tyler rubbed clammy palms on his jeans and tried to push out a calming breath, but it came out stuttered and broken.

Tyler sat in his car, an old Honda Civic that should have died years ago. The engine sputtered and stalled every time he tried to turn it on, and the AC didn't work anymore. He had tried to save up for a new one, but life always seemed to get in the way.

With all of the windows rolled down, Tyler let the fresh air flood his senses. The soft twinge of gas and cigarette smoke filled the air. He looked outside. The Casey's parking lot he was in was stagnant; nobody else was in sight for miles. He had put five dollars' worth of gas into his car; it would be enough to get him to work on Monday.

Just past the gas station ran acres of crops; the fields were flush with life, each stalk of corn or bunch of wheat blew lightly in the wind.

Tyler cranked the broken AC to cool, but nothing happened. He knew it wouldn't work, but it was worth a shot. The car rumbled and sputtered around him, mocking the buzzing in his stomach. There was a tightness inside Tyler's psyche that resided in his stomach, something that wouldn't go away, no matter how hard he tried.

The pit inside him had only grown over these past few months. Each thought Tyler had, or any recurring memory, had grabbed his chest and squeezed tight. December haunted him like no memory, phantom, or ghost ever had before.

Tyler was suffocated by the memory and the thick humidity. He felt like life had spun a thick rope around his chest and pulled tight, tight enough that it hurt to breathe, to live, to step out of the door in the morning. The more he struggled, the tighter it got.

It was his fault; it had always been his fault. The way he longed for a satiation he could never have, a craving he could never fill, or an itch he could never scratch. His hunger was roaring at all times, and Tyler couldn't even let himself think of succumbing to it, or the grip squeezed tighter… harder.

So Tyler had no idea why he was here, in the gas station parking lot miles away from his home, in his shitty, broken-down car. He had no idea what possessed him to call Josh.

He had tried everything to forget: alcohol, drugs, women, even punching walls so hard that his knuckles bled, but nothing erased what happened, what they did together.

What they got away with.

A car pulled up beside Tyler, and four teenage boys poured out. It snapped Tyler back into himself. The sun had finally set, and the pink-orange hue no longer stained the tops of the crops; small twinkling lights finally spilled across the sky.

Tyler cracked each of his knuckles, then turned the engine off. He was going to do it; he would walk in and see him again.

Seeing Josh wasn't the hard part; in fact, it was very easy to look at Josh — too easy, that was the problem.

Josh had a way about him, a swagger Tyler could never replicate or even come to understand. Josh moved quickly and seamlessly in every space he was in; he took up space and demanded respect. It was so easy to succumb to Josh.

Tyler stalled in his seat, hands now gripping the steering wheel tight.

Just do it. Get up, get out.

Tyler taunted himself; the urge to turn on the car and drive into the fields was demanding, but Tyler knew better than to run. He wouldn't run again.

With a shaky exhale, Tyler unbuckled his seat belt and shoved himself out of the car door. He didn't bother locking the car.

His knees wobbled with every step; it was a conscious effort to keep upright in this moment. The glow of the store was a looming threat, and it took everything in him not to run.

The parking lines were faded and cracked with age. This gas station looked like it hadn't been tended to in ages. The glass windows were dirty and were covered in peeling advertisements— old menu items, posters, and sign-up sheets— the sidewalk was covered in spills and cracks, and garbage hung to the curb.

This was terrifying and nauseating, and Tyler knew he shouldn't be here—but he had to do it. He had to see Josh again; he had to talk to him.

A bell chimed as Tyler pushed open the door. The yellow-brown tile below him stood dirty and worn, but it supported him nonetheless.

He felt like he was going to fall over himself.

His hands were shaky and clammy, and his knees threatened to buckle. He shouldn't be here; he doesn't belong here, not after everything they did. Last winter was a nightmare, and Tyler would do anything to forget it, but this aching feeling tugged on him. It lashed at him and pushed him further and further into the gas station.

"Are you just gonna stand there? Or do y'need something?" A voice from behind the gas station counter called out.

Tyler snapped his head to the voice. It belonged to a girl who had long black hair with blonde roots poking out. She chewed on a piece of gum obnoxiously as she stared Tyler down. She was maybe 20 years old.

As the silence grew, so did the arch of her raised eyebrow.

"Sir?"

Tyler snapped back into his body and wiped his clammy hands against his jeans again.

The fluorescent lights buzzed above him, and his gut twisted even tighter. He couldn't see Josh anywhere.

Over the phone, Josh had said he would be here at this Casey's gas station miles out of their hometown. Tyler looked around the store, but besides the group of boys lingering by the pop machine, it was silent.

"Um," Tyler started. He moved to the register, hands already clammy again. "Bathroom?" He asked quickly. His words were too fast and stuttered; it probably made him look insane.

The girl at the register didn't seem phased by Tyler's strange behavior; she just motioned to the back corner of the store with one finger. It was enough for Tyler to walk as quickly as he could and shove himself into the men's bathroom.

The door groaned shut behind him, and Tyler immediately locked it. The single-use bathroom had seen far better days, but at least it provided some type of temporary sanctuary.

The tile was a stained gray color, and weird and mysterious smudges coated the floor in various places. Shreds of toilet paper and paper towels were strewn on the floor and seemed to blend in under the dim light.

Tyler pushed to the sink and braced shaky hands on either side of the porcelain. It stabilized him enough to look up at himself. His brown hair was disheveled and poking in every way, his face was flushed red, and his lip looked like it had been picked apart. He didn't realize he had been biting his lip again.

Tyler turned on the water and let the sound soothe him.

He focused on himself, his eyes, and the way they moved. He opened and closed them in the mirror, letting himself fall victim to the old coping skill he used when he needed it. Each time he opened his eyes, it was a fresh start, a new moment that he could live through. The past already happened, and there was nothing he could do about it now.

The sound of the water humming below him soothed his soul. This is okay, he would be alright.

Tyler opened his eyes one last time and decided to start again.

The past is the past, and Tyler can't go back and change what they did or what they got away with.

He blinked again and shoved the water off, not letting himself fall into the memory.

The light outside the bathroom was blinding compared to the dark ambiance inside, but Tyler pushed his way out and walked along the back wall of the gas station. He pretended to browse the various chips, candies, and drinks along the wall, but he was really keeping an eye out for Josh.

He was looking for blue hair, freckles, all-consuming eyes, and a smile that could kill you. He paced aisles and hovered in corners, but Josh was nowhere to be found.

"Do you need help with anything?" The girl at the register called out as Tyler hovered near the front bakery section.

"Sorry. I was just looking for someone," Tyler craned his neck, getting a view of the empty candy aisle next to him. "Don't think they're here, though." Tyler gave the cashier a sad smile.

The girl nodded once, clearly not caring.

"So did you wanna buy something or?" she asked, her words dripped with apathy. Tyler's stare on her blonde roots hardened at the slight insult.

He huffed to himself and looked at the wall of cigarettes, wraps, and vapes.

"Um, Marlboros, please, red."

The girl nodded, and by the time the defeat in Tyler's chest sank in, he had already paid for the cigarettes. Maybe he was defeated, and maybe it hurt that Josh lied about where he'd be, but knowing he didn't have to face this truth again relieved him.

"Thank you," Tyler spoke, his voice hushed. He grabbed the pack off the counter and pulled out a cigarette; it hung loose in his mouth as he started to walk out of the store.

Tyler stopped when he heard shuffling behind him, and when voices filled the room. He stilled, and an all too familiar voice rang out behind him.

"Kat, can I bum your lighter?"

Josh.

He was here, in the same room, breathing the same air. Again.

"In my purse," Kat drawled casually.

Tyler didn't dare turn around; he hovered by the door as a lone car pulled into the parking lot and parked right before him. The headlights burned into him, but still, he didn't move. He was caught.

His fingers shook, and his breathing stopped.

"Hey, are you okay?" Kat called from behind the counter.

God, he must have looked like a fucking idiot.

Tyler turned around and rolled his lips tighter over the cigarette. There he was. Josh stood with a pink lighter twirling in his fingers, and a look of determination strewn across his features. He was all wide nose and scattered freckles, large, all-consuming eyes, and perfect fucking teeth.

He had dyed his hair since Tyler last saw him. The blue was gone and replaced with his natural color; a layer of deep red consumed the lower half of his hair. It must have been fresh because red stained his neck and hands.

Tyler stared at his hands, it was almost like blood. The memory made his stomach drop.

"I'll be damned," Josh huffed, "you actually showed up." Josh gave Tyler a smirk, and he would be lying if he said he didn't get butterflies. The pang of the blood on Josh's hands was flushed away in an instant.

Josh was wearing knee-length black shorts and a store windbreaker over a white t-shirt. The brightness of the white made the red bolder. His shoes were white too, white vans that matched the socks poking out from underneath. A thick black, red, and white necklace hung just above his collarbone. He looked good, really fucking good, and it made Tyler sick.

"Um…" Tyler mumbled under his breath. Josh always seemed to have this power over him; one look, and Tyler would fold. One word, and Tyler would do anything for him; he hated it. He hated how Josh could control him, and he hated where that got him, and he hated how much he liked it.

The door behind Tyler swung open, the bell rang loud in his ears, and a man who reeked of booze pushed past him.

Tyler jumped out of the way and moved to speak, but Kat yelled over him, "Gary, I told you, if I see you in this store one more goddamn time, I'm calling the fucking cops." The guy —Gary— grumbled and moved on, trudging down past the fridges and into the back corner. "I'm getting the bat." Kat shot up and out from behind the counter, yelling curses at Gary.

Josh was still staring at Tyler, with the same smirk still spilled across his face. Tyler felt like he could explode. His hands were shaking even more, and the twist in his gut was replaced with something more promising, because this was real. Josh was real and in front of him, finally.

"C'mon. My shift just ended," Josh beckoned with his chin, and Tyler followed without question, out the front door and back into the humid air. It had cooled slightly, and a refreshing breeze had asserted itself.

Tyler followed Josh to the back of the store, where a few milk carts and standing ashtrays stood like landmarks, but Josh just rested against the brick wall. Tyler copied him, letting the warm brick scratch against his back.

"Is she gonna be okay?" Tyler asked, the first words he'd spoken to Josh in months. Josh just laughed and nodded.

"Oh yeah, she'll be okay," he laughed, "Last time Gary was here, I had to hide her from the cops because she hit him so damn hard." Josh pulled out a pack of spirits and placed a cigarette between his lips. He lit with the pink lighter after the flame kept sputtering out on him. "Didn't want her to catch a charge."

It was silent for a moment before Tyler spoke, "You're good at that."

Josh huffed a laugh in response, "What? Lighting a cig, it doesn't take a genius, Tyler-"

"No," Tyler interrupted, "hiding from the cops." Tyler regretted the words the second they came out of his mouth.

Tyler turned into another person around Josh, one with more confidence. He had the guts to say things to him that he wouldn't even think to himself when he was alone. But it still ate at him, the memory. The truth. Though he still wouldn't dare make eye contact after he said things like that to Josh, he was scared of what he'd see staring back at him.

"Hm," Josh nodded, inhaling deeply from his cigarette. He was focused on something, an idea maybe. Tyler thought he had pushed too hard, evoking a feeling in Josh that he shouldn't have. Though the thing that ate at him wanted it, wanted Josh to feel what he felt. Seeing him again made this real, made the anger and nightmares real. Tyler found footing in Josh, a luxury he didn't have on his own.

"Can I use your lighter?" Tyler twisted the cigarette in his mouth; the tip was damp now, it had been sitting in his mouth for so long. The paper taste had left a dull stain on his tongue.

"No," Josh hummed with a shake of his head. He pushed off the brick wall and turned to face Tyler. The light above them cast shadows down Josh's face, contouring the most beautiful parts of him.

That shaky feeling of anticipation flooded Tyler again. The look Josh gave him made Tyler feel like he was being hunted, and again, he felt like a deer caught in headlights.

Josh stared hard at Tyler before leaning closer, and instinctively, Tyler stepped back. The brick wall was already behind him, mocking him, and the rough texture pressed harder against him. Josh leaned in closer until the end of his cigarette found Tyler's.

This close, Tyler could count the freckles on Josh's face, make out details that he had forgotten about, or remember the ones he couldn't stop thinking about. He basked in Josh's presence.

Josh could tell; he smirked at Tyler and stared hard at him through half-lidded eyes.

Tyler inhaled and felt the smoke reach his lungs. Josh didn't move away; he inhaled and pulled the cigarette out with two fingers. Tyler stared in awe.

Smoke filled the space between them, both exhaling at the same time.

"You look good," Josh smirked.

He knew what he was doing, getting this close and saying things like that to Tyler. Josh knew everything about Tyler; he knew what buttons to push, what words to say, and what spots on his neck would send chills all over.

"Stop." Tyler blushed and looked away, breaking eye contact first. He looked at the corn, the acres that seemed to go on forever.

Soon, harvest would happen, and plumes of dust would fill the air. Processing plants would make towns reek, and the dull ache of winter would come back to haunt him. Summer was always temporary, over before it even started.

"I missed you," Josh confessed.

Heat rushed into Tyler's face, eating at his neck and ears. He couldn't just say stuff like that. Josh knew that they couldn't be together; they both knew that.

"Josh," Tyler whispered. It was a confession that needed no explanation. Josh knew what he meant; he always knew what Tyler meant, even when Tyler didn't even know himself.

"You miss me too, you wouldn't have called if you didn't."

"No," Tyler lied. He looked back at Josh, into his eyes that seemed to eat away at Tyler's conscience. "No, I don't," he insisted.

Another deep inhale of smoke flooded his lungs. Josh hummed in response.

"You always were such a bad liar." Josh took a step back, and the space around Tyler felt cold. Josh shoved his free hand into his pocket, and Tyler saw the way his hand shifted in itself. Josh was nervous.

"I am not a bad liar," Tyler lied, again. He wasn't believable, and damn, he didn't even believe himself. He couldn't let Josh get under his skin, not again. Calling Josh had already been a moment of weakness; coming here had been one too. Being with Josh wasn't worth the risk—another lie that Tyler still didn't believe.

"I can remember at least three times I had to cover up your shit lies," Josh mused. He was smiling again, a real one this time, not some cocky grin that made Tyler's stomach twist, but one that sent warmth down his spine instead.

"Oh yeah? Well, go ahead then," Tyler laughed. That must have shifted something because Josh looked happier in that moment, relieved even.

"Okay," Josh stepped closer to Tyler, instantly, the space around them heated. "In our junior year, we got caught smelling like weed when we went to your house, and you said that we got sprayed by a skunk on our way home." Tyler's face reddened at the memory. He moved to speak in his own defense, but Josh stopped him. "I had to tell your mom that it was my weed and I smoked it, you only smelled because you were in the car with me." Josh was grinning like a fool while telling the story; it was ridiculous.

"That's not fair, I panicked!" Tyler laughed at Josh's smile and the warm buzz he got from the memory.

Josh exhaled a cloud of smoke around them, and Tyler realized just how close he had gotten. Their chests almost touched, and Tyler could feel his skin vibrate with every sweep of Josh's eyes.

The tension was nauseating; it ate and pulled at Tyler, but he couldn't let himself get close to Josh. Every time he tried, old wounds would resurface, and Tyler would turn back into a shell of a person again. Josh was something Tyler used to depend on, a crutch he could use whenever he needed.

He was trapped in Josh's gaze, his eyes consumed him whole. He was so entranced that he didn't even notice the finger Josh had running below his jawline; it sent goosebumps along Tyler's skin.

He trailed gentle strokes to his chin and back down until he was tracing small shapes on Tyler's collarbone.

Tyler felt electric under Josh's touch. Each motion left him wanting more.

Tyler took a final deep inhale of his cigarette and let the smoke fill the small space between them before putting it out on the wall behind him. The cigarette butt fell to the floor.

"Josh," Tyler whispered, his voice coming out gravelly and rough. "We can't."

Josh heard his words but didn't register them or the history they held.

"You don't have to be sacred Tyler. I won't hurt you." Josh hummed, his finger trailing back up along the underside of Tyler's jaw.

"I know you won't hurt me; it's not about that." Tyler's gaze betrayed him; his eyes flicked from Josh's lips to his eyes. A knowing smirk rested on Josh's face.

"Then what is it about?" Josh asked, and Tyler didn't know if he was being sincere or not.

"You know what this is about, don't play dumb."

Josh's finger stilled, and after a moment, Josh dropped his gaze to his feet. He hovered for a moment, seeming to try to find the right words to say, but he still said nothing.

Tyler had ruined the moment, ruined the fragile thing between them that he had been itching for for so long. Though maybe that was good, maybe it was good to stay away from Josh and all the hurt Tyler brought him and the trouble he caused.

"Josh," Tyler tried.

"What did you want me to do, Tyler?" Josh's gaze shot up to meet Tyler's. His black eyes were blown wide, and a shine pooled deep within them.

Josh placed one arm above Tyler and against the wall, trapping brunet in front of him. Tyler didn't feel threatened—he never would have.

"I don't-" Tyler stilled, faced with the truth yet again. He should be scared of Josh; he should want him gone, but he couldn't stomach the distance. Tyler was connected to Nico; their paths had become intertwined so deeply that he would haunt him everywhere. Josh being so close to Tyler would be a risk. "I don't want you to get caught."

Josh's brows were furrowed, and a redness spilled across his face. He looked like he was about to start crying.

This is what Tyler did: the people closest to him did things for him that he didn't deserve, and they would get punished for it. Things like gifts outside of holidays or listening to Tyler's rambles for too long always made him feel twisted. So that's why it was wrong for Tyler to keep Josh, and it was selfish of him to want him so much. What they did to Nico would ruin their lives, but more likely it would ruin Josh's, and Tyler couldn't live with himself if Josh was ever caught because of him.

"It's been eight months, Tyler. It was ruled an accident." Josh excused it —like it mattered, like cases like these didn't resurface every few years.

What they did to Nico was only for them to know. It's not like Tyler was worried about his own reputation; he didn't really have anything going for him at the moment. He had dropped out of university in January and struggled to make ends meet ever since. He worked mundane jobs and moved back in with his family when living was too rough. Regardless, it's not like an education degree would have gotten him much stability anyway, but Tyler quickly realized that he wouldn't be able to look those kids in the eye anymore.

If Josh got caught, Tyler would never forgive himself. He already carried a burden—that pull in his chest— it tugged at every memory and forced itself to act as a weight on Tyler's shoulders.

When Tyler looked back into Josh's eyes, he didn't think before he spoke; he only let the weight of—whatever the hell this tug was—speak for him. His throat burned, and his eyes mimicked the sensation. With a sharp, shuddered inhale, Tyler snapped.

"He's still dead, he'll never not be dead, and we-" Tyler's breath hitched, "we will never be able to go back and not kill him," Tyler emphasized the words with sharp bites. The words hung heavy in the air, but so did the silence. His chest burned, and it felt like he was going to throw up. Josh stood with the same look on his face as if the truth hadn't bothered him at all, like Tyler was the only one who understood the weight of that that meant.

Josh still puffed on his cigarette; it had almost burned itself out, but Josh still inhaled as deeply as he could. "He was going to kill you, Tyler," he said matter-of-factly.

"No, he wasn't, I was fine." Tyler tried to shove the memory away. Nico's hands around his neck, the loud pangs of the ice cracking below him, the snow dusted over the frozen lake that had melted away under his neck. Tyler remembered how unusually warm it was that day; it had been a warm winter, and the ice wasn't as strong as it was supposed to be in December.

"You were blue, Tyler! He had his hands around your fucking throat and—unless you forgot—he broke your hand in four places." Josh pushed off the wall and threw his cigarette on the floor. With a quick motion, Josh put it out with a twist of his shoe. Before Tyler could blink, there was another one in his mouth, already burning. "I didn't have a choice," Josh's words came out broken, and it killed Tyler; it killed him that he made Josh feel this way.

Josh let out a few smoky breaths before either of them spoke again. The stars above them twinkled bright against their dark background, and Tyler blinked at the clusters as he did in the mirror, hoping that he could restart his day—or his soul. He was all twisted up inside, and he had brought Josh down with him.

Maybe if he tried hard enough, he could hide behind the glitter in the sky or be held by the clouds. Maybe one day, he would find a sanctuary outside of Josh.

"That doesn't mean what we did was okay!" Tyler threw his hands up in the air as emphasis.

"Nobody said that what I did was okay, in fact its actually really fucking bad." Josh inhaled as if his sanity depended on it, "You were about to fucking die, Tyler, and I couldn't lose you, not for real this time, and maybe that makes me selfish, but you were just letting him kill you." Josh's words came out with tufts of smoke, each syllable floating away with it. "And stop saying we. I killed him, not you."

The air was stagnant, and Josh stared down at his white shoes, unable to look Tyler in the eye.

"I should go," Tyler whispered.

Josh's head snapped up quickly. "What? No, Tyler, please, don't go. I'm sorry," He dropped the lightly smoked cigarette on the ground so he could grab both of Tyler's hands. It burned slowly on the ground, but Josh clearly didn't care. "You can't," he pleaded.

Tyler's hands felt tingly inside Josh's. He stared at their intertwined hands and tried to ignore the red stains on Josh's. It hurt to look at them, but he couldn't seem to look away.

"Josh, you know we—"

"Why, Tyler?" Josh interrupted. He loosened one of Tyler's hands and used his fingers to push Tyler's chin up. The pad of Josh's thumb felt warm against his chin, and Tyler melted at the touch. He trailed his gaze up to Josh's own and stilled when he saw real tears in Josh's eyes. They danced down his face in gentle streams. It almost scared Tyler.

He had only seen Josh cry one other time, and it was after Nico fell under the ice.

There was still blood on Josh's knuckles by the time he made it back to Tyler, who was dazed on the ice. Josh was crying—sobbing—trying to get Tyler to look at him. He pleaded and wailed on the ice, and Tyler remembered all the blood smeared on his face from wiping away his tears. Under the stars and the moonlight, the blood looked black.

Tyler knew that the stains on Josh's hands right now would also look black under the moon and stars.

"Josh," Tyler whispered, "I want you." It was a confession on its own, but Tyler's hushed voice made the words a tragedy. "I can't keep hurting you," he whispered.

Their faces were inches apart, and Tyler could smell the cigarette smoke off Josh like it was an entity surrounding them.

"You couldn't," Josh whispered. "You don't hurt me, why do you think that?" His eyes were bearing into Tyler's soul, and if he looked hard enough, maybe Josh could see what was killing him. Maybe he could see why Tyler had to push him away so forcefully and let him go.

It was dumb coming here, and it was dumb to call Josh in the first place. Tyler shouldn't have picked up the phone yesterday; it was a lapse of judgment.

Josh's stare hardened, and his tears stopped pooling; they looked silver under the stars.

"I still love you, Tyler, and I miss you," Josh spoke with raw sincerity that Tyler couldn't hide from. The doubt and guilt crescendoing in his mind urged him to push Josh away, but Tyler couldn't do it. He basked in Josh's determined stare and his stable words; he had found his footing in Josh again, but he knew this cycle; he had seen it before. Josh did too; they played it together for years.

Tyler remembered the first time he saw Josh, it was in their high school music appreciation class that they had together. Josh had bright pink hair and a lip ring that he said he did himself. He was loud and funny and perfectly everything Tyler was not.

Tyler fell hard and fast.

Josh did too, but once Nico—a scrawny kid that Tyler's brother had hung out with once—got involved, Tyler and Josh kept playing a dangerous game together, one that drew them back and forth so violently, Tyler would get sick with guilt each time. Nico came in like a bullet; he was violent and addicting and surged at Tyler with a vengeance. All Tyler knew was to push Josh away and then pull him back in once Nico disappeared.

But Nico always came back.

He had left scars so deep that Josh had his own to match. They were burns and bruises and new pills that would be shoved under Tyler's tongue.

After high school ended, Tyler didn't speak with Josh until his sophomore year of college. Seeing Josh again was like coming out of a haze, like a veil had been lifted, and Nico no longer had his talons dug deep within him. It was freeing, and Tyler fell back into a comfortable habit with Josh.

But Nico never left, and instead, he poked and prodded at Tyler until he had enough of his identity in the palm of his hand. Nico controlled everything Tyler did, and if Tyler didn't listen, he would dig deeper and harder. It was safe to say that Nico was livid when he found out about Josh.

Nico mocked their confessions to each other; he stabbed at the way Tyler fell back into a dreamlike fantasy when he was with Josh. It was like Nico lived in his mind, read every one of his thoughts.

That's when he brought Tyler out on the lake last December.

He thought he was going to die.

Nico was going to kill him.

"Tyler." Josh's voice snapped Tyler back, and he hated how much it felt like an anchor.

"It's like he still lives in my head," Tyler confessed. His whole body felt tense and wild, like a live wire. "I feel stained and dirty, but the thing is," Tyler trailed off. He looked deeper into Josh's eyes. Maybe he would find something about Josh in there, a secret that he didn't know or a story he hadn't told. He knew that Josh would tell him everything if he asked.

"You're not stained," Josh started, but Tyler cut him off. He was too alive with this aching guilt that had fed on him until he was raw; he was alive with realization.

"I know that he's dead, Josh, but he still haunts everything that I do." Tyler ground his teeth together, tension churned into enlightenment, and he didn't even realize how tightly he was squeezing Josh's hand until Josh hissed at him to loosen his grip.

Maybe Tyler was glad that Nico died, though life didn't seem to get any easier. His body had been pulled out of the lake in May after all the ice had melted. He was bloated, gray, and gross, and Tyler hated that he enjoyed it.

"He deserved it," Tyler whispered, more to himself than Josh. He was testing the words out, seeing if they tasted right on his tongue. The revelation was freeing, but it was damning.

"He did," Josh hummed, and he made Tyler look back up at him with his thumb and index finger. Josh wiped away a few tears that Tyler didn't even realize had fallen.

He sank into the shared confession, and a small weight eased off his shoulders.

"He's still in my mind, Josh. I feel unholy, and I feel stained." Tyler's words weren't shaky anymore; they had bite and a force within them.

"You were made holy," Josh emphasized. He cupped both hands on Tyler's cheeks, rubbing the pads of his thumbs along the damp, plush skin. "You were made out of stars and blood. You were made of fucking glitter and clouds." Josh smiled softly at Tyler, and he reluctantly mirrored Josh's grin.

"You're so stupid," Tyler huffed.

"You love me," Josh teased.

Tyler knew it wasn't a statement; it was an ask. Josh needed Tyler to say the words back to him.

This close, Tyler could see a small stain of dye smeared under Josh's eye. It mirrored the real ones from that day; Nico's blood was taken from him, and Josh still bore it.

"I do love you," Tyler spoke, and the ease that radiated off of Josh could have been visible. His ears reddened, and his pupils blew out. Tyler would say it a million more times if it meant Josh would look at him like this again. But he knew he couldn't stay.

"Then keep me, stay with me, Tyler." Josh pleaded.

Tyler didn't know how to answer him; he didn't know how to fully articulate why he couldn't be with Josh. Nico followed Tyler everywhere, his ghost haunted him, and even though Nico was dead, the cycle wasn't.

Tyler was just going to hurt Josh over and over again. He was damned, and he couldn't take Josh down with him.

"I'm just going to hurt you," Tyler confessed.

"You won't. He's gone, it's gone. And the sooner you realize that you are nothing like him, the sooner you can be happier." Josh trailed a hand down from Tyler's face and onto his hip to hold him there. To stabilize him. "I'll wait for you."

The words rang like church bells in Tyler's ears. The feeling of Josh's thumb rubbing soothing circles into Tyler's hip bone pulled him in deeper.

Tyler looked at Josh carefully, trying to decode him and look for any weak spots, but he was sure.

So Tyler did what he had been aching to do for months.

Tyler surged forward and planted fragile lips onto Josh's. The kiss was urgent but delicate, words and feelings left unsaid bore themselves as blatant truths.

Josh's lips were warm against Tyler's cold ones; they were soft and delicate, whereas Tyler's were rough and torn apart by his own teeth.

Their kiss was a dance of vulnerability and beginnings; it was what Tyler hadn't let himself want for months, but he couldn't deny how good it felt.

Josh trailed a hand around to the small of Tyler's back, his other still gripped his hip. Josh's hands were firm in their spot; he held Tyler like he was going to run away. But Tyler wouldn't run this time, not yet. He would enjoy this while he could; Josh's gentle lips and slight arrogant demeanor that Tyler was able to melt away, his strong hands that had memorized each curve and edge of Tyler's body, and his words that bit with good intentions.

Tyler found himself falling back into place with Josh. History was repeating itself, but this time, Nico wouldn't be able to physically hurt Tyler anymore. He would always be there, dancing in the back of Tyler's mind, taunting truths and fears, and haunting Tyler for as long as he could.

But right now, Tyler found his footing; he relished in Josh's touch, trailing his own hands to bury them in Josh's freshly dyed hair. He twirled Josh's curls between his fingers and hummed to himself when he felt Josh's tongue brush gently across his lower lip. It was a soft demand, and Tyler obliged; he would always oblige when it came to Josh.

In a few week Josh would ask Tyler to run away with him, to leave the Midwest and go to the West Coast. Josh would run on ideas of freedom, and for Tyler to start school again, he would get so excited about being somewhere new for once.

Tyler would say yes. It wouldn't be all new, and it wouldn't be the same. Tyler would still feel stained and wake up in a pool of sweat with air missing from his lungs. He would still feel phantom hands pressed on his throat and warm blood on his face.

But it wouldn't be cold anymore, and he wouldn't leave Josh again, and eventually that tug of the tight rope around his chest wouldn't hurt anymore.