Reaching for Stardust // Josh Kiszka

Part VI

Word Count: ~2700 (why so short?? I don't know. I wrote this what feels like ages ago lol)

Warnings: none...but buckle up for later?

This is super late because I was 1) busy writing that GVF slash mini-series 2) busy being out of town to see OUR BOYS again 3) busy writing that new Sam fic I just posted. Anyway...

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Morning began with a tangerine sun suspended in a hazy, buttercup yellow sky. The clouds seemed to come to life as the sun got higher, moving past the orange glow in such gentle, soft movements that it was hard to even keep track of the changes, at least from mine and Josh's spot on the porch. We were both hungover worse than we'd experienced in, well, we weren't sure–it was hard to remember anything with our heads pounding, throats parched and stomachs lurching.

"Fuck. We fucked up," Josh lamented with a little groan. He shut his eyes and leaned against me, a mug of coffee in his hands. "We should've bought food yesterday. I'd take a single saltine cracker right now."

I felt the same. Hindsight was always 20/20. "Yeah, we fucked up," I agreed. I tried to shut my eyes in solidarity and to just bask in the warm glow of morning but, when I did, I felt the earth spin beneath my feet. "I need Gatorade or something, jeez."

"I shouldn't have suggested shots," Josh went on, sounding off a louder groan to punctuate his statement. "It's all my fault. Are we going to survive?"

"We'll survive," I assured him, though the coffee from the Keurig machine was too bitter on my tongue and too hot in my stomach. I was dreaming of an ice-cold blue sports drink from an air conditioned gas station, chased with an iced coffee loaded with cream and sugar. "Nothing's gonna stop us from going to the beach today."

"Tybee Island, yes," Josh concurred. He sat up straight and brought the mug of coffee to his lips, eyes half-lidded as he sipped again despite the enthusiasm in his voice. Once half of his coffee was gone he was up and moving, shuffling away from the porch, beginning to sing to himself as he carried on into the bedroom. If it'd been anyone else, that relentless cheeriness and resilience would have irritated me, but it was Josh, so listening just made me laugh to myself.

I was still excited for our beach day, though at the moment the thought of baking in the sun made me feel even more queasy. I diligently sipped the rest of my coffee and groggily hauled myself into the kitchen to chug lukewarm tap water, which tasted so different than the water back home. I did love Savannah so far, but I still couldn't imagine living there. In my mind, home was where our most beloved people were and that was back in Michigan.

That thought reminded me to check my phone for a reply from Jake. He had texted back later in the night and I immediately smiled huge and delirious at the picture–a selfie taken with the help of Danny's long arm that showed all three of the boys that I missed so badly. The text read: First birthday without Josh was weird. He sent me a text that was half gibberish did you guys go out?

I typed back, relaying that we went to the rooftop bar and got absolutely wasted and that Josh's birthday seemed a little weird without Jake and Sam and Danny, too. As I migrated to the bedroom after Josh, I realized how it was also the first birthday of Josh's that felt so empty after the fact–normally, the whole "one year older" and effects of whatever party we'd had trailed into the next day. I didn't feel that at all. Was it yet another product of actually getting older? Sometimes in my head, Josh was still the same 23 year old I'd met in that poetry class, both of us so fresh and green, with him so ready to fall headfirst into something new with me. I'd been so apprehensive and fearful and now, looking back, it felt so silly. Josh was a dream come true.