american beauty // joshler

19

josh's point of view

i wake up in tyler's bed, his hands clutching my shirt tightly as he sleeps.

immediately, my mind is flooded with too many thoughts. i think about jayla, all her warnings. i think about my job, how i accepted the offer knowing i was too fascinated by tyler, too curious about this big brat everyone was so scared of and what was hiding behind his somewhat infuriating facade. i think about his friendship with brendon, how i can see now how easy it is for the dynamic to shift, how easy it is to be enthralled by him.

and i think about ayden. i think of the familiar safety of his apartment, the way his closet is organized by color and he always returns my hoodies because he would feel bad keeping them from me.

i think of how strongly i feel about tyler, even if i don't want to face what those feelings are just yet, how i feel the need to get to know everything about him, to take care of him the way i am. i try to remember if i ever felt this way about ayden, if the mundane pattern our relationship has become has been creeping up on us the whole time or if there was any sort of excitement beyond the generic fond feeling that has always blanketed us.

i haven't physically cheated but i know i've been toeing the line between having a close friend and an emotional affair. he's right, we can't really be friends. we can't be anything but coworkers.

this is just... infatuation. it's exciting and new, but at the end of the day, there can't be anything left. at least, that's what i'm going to continue to try and tell myself.

i look down at him in my arms. i don't want to leave before he wakes up. not that i could. even in his sleep, he's got such a tight grip on me. he'd probably rip my shirt on accident if i tried to pry myself away.

i wonder for a moment if the only reason i feel so dedicated is out of pity, but when he begins to stir and wake up, i feel an involuntary smile creep onto my face. i do my best to suppress it when i notice, watching as he blinks his eyes open.

"oh. good morning. you're still here?" he doesn't sound disappointed, just a little confused, a light rasp buried in his morning voice.

i have to ask myself for second if i shouldn't be here, if he expected me to leave. i just assumed he'd want me here after last night, when he was so adamant on not being alone.

"yeah, i, uh... i can leave if you want? i just thought-"

"no!" he clears his throat and closes his eyes for a second. "no. please, don't. i just didn't expect it. no one ever stays this long. brendon only does when he's hungover. it's not because he wants to see me, he just doesn't want to get up," he explains.

it dawns on me then that i don't know how many people have been in this bed, or what they've done. i'm sure whoever cleans his house for him cleans the sheets and everything, but the idea in general gives me a strange feeling. it's not quite jealousy... it's almost like a certain type of sadness. i feel for him.

i've been with ayden for so long and i never really did hookups before anyways. i can't imagine the kind of mindset that this permanent impermanence of a lifestyle of his must leave him with.

"i'm sorry, tyler," is all i say in return. i feel even worse having nothing else to say.

"don't be. i'm used to it. i've learned to expect it. i leave first sometimes, too," he says, sighing afterwards. he looks up to me with his eyebrows furrowed, making no move to lift his lead. "do we have work today?"

"no, we don't." i bring one hand up to rest on his cheek, brushing my thumb across the skin there subconsciously, as if on reflex.

i decide then to block it out, all of this. sleeping here, doing this, the fact that i wanted to do it and couldn't even stop myself.

i watch his eyes widen a little, clear in his sobriety and holding a depth that i'm still learning to read, leaning over the edge and trying hard not to fall in. the eye contact is unbearable and the breath is stolen from my chest, but i can't look away.

i watch as his cheeks slowly dust a light pink, a soft velvet blush that looks better than what any of the professional makeup artists have done for him in our shoots together.

he brings one of his hands to hold mine to his face and i can tell this is a foreign feeling for him. his fingers are cold on mine and his lips look so soft.

i can't kiss him. i can't. that's too far. that's the line i can't cross. i wouldn't be able to push that down far enough.

by the look on his face, i think he knows that. i think we're at a silent but mutual understanding that it can't happen.

i couldn't do that to ayden. the fact that the idea of kissing him is so present in the forefront of my mind is alarming and enough evidence that i shouldn't continue to do this, to let my eyes move between his lips and his eyes over and over.

i can't kiss him.

but i want to.

(an: shorter chapter! it always feels weird writing an entire chapter of one scene but this is a good one. imo at least. very fun to write josh's guilty pining.)