.YTPME. >>> joshler

.n e e t h g i e.

Scream.

I seemed to have drifted at some point in the night, but the entire house was abruptly awoken at the sound of shrieking, coming from the clenching boy beside me.

"J-Josh? Joshua buddy, wake up." I tried shaking his shoulders, to find his body was freezing.

He was still asleep, and mom and Zack were in the doorway, peering into the mysterious black abyss.

"He's having a nightmare and I can't wake him up, what do I do?" I whisper-yelled at them.

Mom was quick to our side, and she ordered Zack to fetch a damp cool towel.

Much to my protest at the fact he was already cold, she shushed me, and Zack reappeared moments later, towel in hand.

Mom draped the damp towel over Josh's sweaty forehead, and she started humming. It was a very common tune, but I couldn't quite remember the name.

Within a minute or two, Josh's breathing had returned to normal, and he seemed content. He didn't appear scared in his sleep, he simply seemed asleep. I liked it like that.

I thanked mom and Zack, and they headed back to bed, whilst I threw an arm over Josh's waist, curling myself into his back, drifting off once mo r e....

-

The sun shone brightly through the slats of my window, and the shadows managed to land everywhere on my face apart from my eyes. I leaned forward, onto my stomach before I processed the situation; Josh wasn't in bed.

I jumped up, and ran down the stairs, yelling as I did so.

"Hey guys, have you seen Josh? He's no-" I slipped running down the last step, shrieking as my arse hit the wooden floor.

I heard a muffled giggle and a gasp, both from the kitchen, where the red headed boy stood (it had technically faded to a weird pink but whatever) next to my mother, cracking an egg onto a pan.

"Tyler, you good?" Zack had followed me down the stairs, and had attempted to catch me from behind.

"As dandy as ever" I rolled my eyes.

"Ass dandy as ever?" Josh spoke up, throwing egg shells in the trash.

"You're in a good mood." I gave him a skeptical look, and he shrugged.

"Had a good nights sleep I suppose." He meant nothing by it, I know he did. But Joshua did not in fact have a good nights sleep. Was it? Were nights such terrible terrible things for him that screaming in his sleep was a good night?

The very thought made bile rise in my throat.

Mom was assisting him in making omelettes, an easy morning usual for us, yet Josh couldn't seem to flip it correctly.

"Here, let me squeeze in for a minute." Mom tapped out, taking my offer, and I guided Josh's hands through the motions, and we made breakfast like that; close.

I smelled a small scent of smoke that had been embedded into his skin throughout the years (I assume so) and he had an aroma of soap, and I noticed his hair was dripping slightly.

We sat down, everyone munching on their egg taco, and I took the time to look at Josh. His eyes were weary, but satisfied none the less. He seemed comfortable, posture relaxed, breathing at a comfortable, steady pace.

If every morning was like this, cozy and warm, light hearted jokes between the four of us, I wouldn't mind the world so much.

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