american beauty // joshler

25

tyler's point of view

i never thought i'd fall in love. i never thought i'd feel the all-encompassing, endless pit of pure, unbridled affection for anyone. i didn't think i was capable.

but when i wake up in josh's bed and see him sleeping, see every small detail of him, each freckle, each eyelash, the way his mouth just barely hangs open and the slow but steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, i think it's the closest i'll ever get.

and it's not even mine to have.

i feel drawn to him, like i never want to leave the luxury of his bed. not because it's more comfortable than my own, but because he's in it.

he begins to stir and i can't even bring myself to close my eyes, to pretend i wasn't staring.

his eyes open slowly, a sleepy smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "were you watching me sleep?"

"maybe a little," i answer quietly, scared that if i speak to loud, i'll wake up and realize this is some sort of dream.

"hmm. alright. do you want breakfast? how are you feeling?" his voice is on the edge of raspy. the smooth tone is still comforting as always, but rougher around the edges now in the streams of morning light that creep through his blinds.

"i'm feeling like i stink and like i have a headache," i admit, a small smile on my face that matches his.

"do you want to shower here? i mean, my shampoo isn't all-natural, organic, imported whatever, but you're welcome to use my stuff," he offers.

"it's okay, i wouldn't be able to bring myself to put these gross clothes back on after i'm clean. i'll just wait," i reply, worried i'm already overstaying my welcome and he'll realize any second that he wants me to leave.

he rolls his eyes a little but the soft smile i'm working on committing to memory hasn't left his face. "yeah, because i also don't have any clothes."

"are you sure you wouldn't mind?" i ask, my heart beating faster at the idea of wearing something of his.

"yes. tyler, i'm not going to lie. it was worse last night, but i can definitely still smell it all on you. please, take a shower." he laughs and brings his hands up to rub his eyes.

"i'm sorry." i feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment. i clear my throat before speaking again, "thank you for picking me up though. really."

"well, i couldn't just leave you there like that."

"you could've," i tell him, hoping that he understands how serious i'm being, how much i genuinely appreciate it.

he just stares back at me, a distant sadness lost somewhere in his eyes. it's not pity, just some faraway sense of words he can't say to me yet.

he sighs and sits up, running a hand through his hair. "alright. come on, then," he stands and stretches his arms above his head, his shirt rising to expose just an inch of skin.

i watch the way his arms move and shake my head, pulling my eyes away and forcing myself to leave his bed.

he walks around and stands in front of the door on the other the side of the room.

"bathroom," he tells me, opening the door and flipping the light switch, gesturing inside. "clean towels on the shelf." he points to the other door, on the other side of the room. "shirts and stuff in the closet. socks and underwear in the dresser," he explains.

i can feel the awkwardness settle over the room as we both realize how intimate this is. i'm going to be wearing his fucking underwear for christ's sake.