american beauty // joshler

18

tyler's point of view

after our talk and a bowl of ice cream, josh suggests we do something to take my mind off things for awhile. because my tv is now broken, we end up pulling down a few games. scattergories and phase ten are abandoned on the coffee table after we finished them earlier, uno cards now held in our hands.

i place a card on the stack and then raise my hand to cover my mouth as i yawn.

"are you getting tired? i can leave whenever you want to go to bed."

the thought of him leaving makes me sick to my stomach. "wait, no. would you... can you stay? please? i don't want to be alone again, please don't leave me alone," i feel the words dripping in desperation but i can't even bring myself to feel embarrassed, too busy trying to keep the panic bubbling in my stomach at bay.

i watch him think it over, probably thinking about his boyfriend, all the reasons to say no.

he looks down at his cards and nods, "yeah, okay."

i exhale in relief, immediately much calmer knowing i won't have the entire house to myself. i've always valued my independence and alone time, but the idea of being alone tonight, after what happened, is terrifying.

"thank you." i pick up the rest of the cards and take his with them, shoving them all in the box.

i leave it on the coffee table and stand, waiting for him to do the same before taking his hand and leading him up the stairs. he's never said anything about how frequently i find excuses to hold his hand, and he never objects either.

we stop outside of my bedroom door and i drop his hand only to wrap my arms around him, to engulf myself in the scent of his cologne, which is growing familiar to me. he hugs me back, his arms around me like a security blanket. i hold onto him for longer than i probably should, expecting him to break the embrace at any moment. he doesn't, which is something i will unpack another time, so i'm left to pull away first, though it's almost physically painful to do so.

"thank you, josh. really."

he offers me a small smile, one i have trouble decoding, "goodnight, tyler."

with that, we both go into our respective rooms.

i lie there for several minutes, replaying the events from today until my chest grows tight again and i feel my skin beg to crawl away from me as anxiety covers me like the blanket i'm lying under. i try to take a deep breath, to focus on something else, but the feeling perseveres. i turn over and reach for my phone on the nightstand. i can't do this. i need something, someone, anyone, but all i want in this moment is him.

tyler: josh..?

my heart beats loudly as i wait for a reply. it comes less than a minute later.

jim 💖: yeah?

tyler: can you um... would you come lay with me?

read, 1:32 a.m.

fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck.

i made it weird. i ruined it. i've been too selfish, asked for too much. he's going to leave. i can't let him leave, i can't be alone. my hands shake as i type out another message.

tyler: please? i don't want anything from you, i just don't want to be in here by myself. it doesn't have to mean anything, i promise. platonic. friends.

jim 💖: i don't know, ty... i think this is one of the things that are different within our definitions of friends.

tyler: i'll sleep on the floor. i swear, i'm not trying to do anything, please don't make me be alone. please?

read, 1:35 a.m.

fuck. he definitely hates me now. he's going to leave. he's going quit his job and i'll never see him again, and it's all my fault.

and then my door opens.

"josh?" my voice is quiet and small and i hate it. i hate that i feel so safe around him, that i've let down enough of my walls for him to peer over the top and look directly at me.

"you don't have to sleep on the floor." he comes to lay next to me and i turn so we're facing each other, my heart beating out of my chest as he gets under the blanket. he leaves maybe eight inches between us, even though the mattress is big enough for him to lay out of my reach.

he's so close and still so far, tantalizing and bone-crushing.

"thank you." i can barely make out his features in the dark of my room and i wish i would've left some sort of light on.

"you don't have to thank me. i know what it's like to be lonely. i know you're going through a lot and i'm asking a lot from you. opening up is hard. i don't want you to feel rushed. i just want to help. you know that right?" his voice is calming, like a sound i've been searching for since before i can remember, a perfect resonance.

i think my heart is close to bursting now and god, i want to kiss him.

"i know," i whisper, choosing to keep the thousands of soft thoughts to myself. "thank you."

"you look like you want to say something else. what is it?"

"how did you know?"

"you're not as hard to read as you think. not to me, at least."

that's one of the scariest things anyone has ever said to me.

i swallow my pride, trying to convince myself that tonight doesn't count, that it doesn't mean anything. i'm going to allow myself to do this, to feel comfortable and bathe in the more pleasant feeling now resting in my chest.

"can we, um... could we maybe like, cuddle a little?"

i watch him digest the question, weigh it over in his mind.

"i mean, i won't be offended if you say no, i just... i just don't ever really get that and i thought-"

"no, it's okay. come here, tyler," he shifts to lie on his back and opens his arms for me.

i move closer to him and lay my head on his chest, bringing one arm to hesitantly wrap around his waist. this is... weird. it's new. this is something i've never done, something i've never had. brendon and i don't really cuddle, at least not like this. i can hear his heartbeat through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, i can still smell the lingering cologne and feel his chest rise and fall as he breathes. and it's nice. it's so nice and warm and safe. and i want this all the time.

but i can't have it.

and that makes things ten times worse.

"josh?"

"yeah?"

"i don't think we can be friends."

"i know."

(an: AHH. almost forgot to post this bc i am kinda sick but i love it. the quality of my writing definitely fluctuates depending on the day but this book is much more like. poetic? descriptive? than clem is. idk how to explain it. anyway, another symptom of bpd: black and white/all or nothing thinking.)