sober//joshler

HOME

A sharp ding shocked Tyler out of his light doze and his head jerked up off the window. Where the hell was he?
Smacking his lips, he raised himself up on unsteady legs, realization dawning over him. The bus. It was the end of the day, the end of another day. He was gong home.
Home.
Tyler rolled his eyes at the thought as he made his way to the door, tuning out all the excess noise and bustle from the other passengers. His head ached and he felt distinctly more miserable than usual. Why was that again?
Another wave of realization passed over him as the bus screeched painfully to a halt. Oh yeah. It was Josh, wasn't it? Well, it usually was. But it was even more than just the usual jibe or dirty look. He and Brendon were dating now apparently.
Weren't they?
"That's shitty," Tyler remarked aloud, squeezing last a mother trying to wrangle her child into its seat and stepped off the bus, relaxing slightly in the cold air. If there was one good thing about the time of year, it was the weather. Everything was clear and sharp and crisp, like a blank sheet of paper.
Yeah, at least the weather was nice.
Tyler could feel his heart thudding in time with his feet as he silently made his way down the narrow street that would take him to his house. The area was deserted. Although he lived close to a lot of people from school, just a painful block away from Josh, they wouldn't be returning home for a long time. He had grown accustomed to the sound of drunken yelling floating down the street in the early hours of the morning, when he just couldn't make his mind shut up enough to sleep. It was comforting, in the way that routine shots were comforting. At least the yelling would always been there. So much of Tyler's life had been shaken into pieces in the last few months, any constant was a constant he appreciated to the core.
Try as he might, he couldn't shove aside the slow feeling of such horror as he drew near his home.
Home was a stretch at this point. Things had never been great in terms of Tyler's relationship with his parents. After a time, they slowly figured out that there was more to his and Josh's relationship than just being "good friends." While they hadn't brought it up formally, much to Tyler's relief, now that everything had happened, he knew they knew, they had known probably for longer than he would've liked. They weren't necessarily homophobic, it wasn't like if he came out as gay he'd be tossed out on the street, but on the other hand, they were far from being supportive.
In some ways, the timing of everything with Jay had come as a relief, in the most terrible sense possible. The weeks before the news had been particularly tense, filled with harsh comments from his parents, gradually hinting more and more in the direction that their son, well, to put it bluntly, their son was a fag.
Tyler exhaled deeply, slowing his pounding march as he reached the front door. His house, out of all the houses on the street, was completely dark. In the dull grey evening light, it almost looked abandoned and empty, as if no one had been in there for weeks, months. Certainly the front facade gave off that impression. His parents had long since given up trimming their small square of grass that functioned as a lawn. Everything was messy and overgrown, weeds tangling around the discarded objects across the grass, ranging from his  sisters toys to week old newspapers, all abandoned and forgotten.
Tyler hadn't seen Abbie in three weeks. When the news came home, Tyler's extended family thought it might be best that Abbie went away for a few weeks, just while the legalities were sorted out. Who knew where she was now, really? Probably not coming back any more than Jay would.
Tyler extracted these thoughts from his mind as he fumbled with his key. Thinking wouldn't help anyone. He had two parents who were so low-functioning that if it weren't for Tyler, they'd probably be dead. He had an ex-best friend who hated his guts, but who's guts Tyler couldn't bring himself to hate. He had school stresses, the vaguest semblances of mental health to keep together and a million things to do around the house now that his family was rendered incompetent by grief. Thinking wouldn't help anyone at this point.
Still not breathing a word, Tyler unlocked the door and swung it open. The entry hall was just as expected, cluttered beyond imagination and yet painfully empty. The house stayed quiet as he slammed the door behind him and kicked off his shoes, hoping someone would realize he was home. Abandoning his bag by the door, Tyler steeled himself for what he knew would happen the second he set foot in the kitchen.
He made his way in, still silent. Sure enough, there she was. Sitting at the table, a sad display of photographs spread out infringing of her, her pale and sunken face hidden by the shadows, a nearly empty tissue box close to hand.
"Hi, mom," he murmured, not stopping on his path to the fridge.
She barely raised her head, but the emotion in her voice betrayed her. "Jay?"
Tyler ignored the sick feeling throbbing in his stomach. His hand tightened on the fridge handle but he didn't pull it open. He inhaled deeply, stealing himself before quietly responding.
"No, mom. It's not Jay."
"Where's Jay?" she whispered back, the anguish creeping back into her voice as she finally looked up. Her eyes were wide and open, but they seemed to disappear into her face. Tyler sighed again.
"Mom-"
"Where's Jay?" Now she was shouting, her voice splintering with the strain. Her hands scrabbled across the tabletop, grasping at the photos of his dead brother as if they were a lifeline. "Where's my baby?"
"He's dead." Tyler spat, a bit too harshly. Not that he cared. This was the same thing that happened, for the past three months, every time he came home from school. She would forget he had even been here within ten minutes, it didn't matter.
"W-what...?"
"He's fucking dead, mom!" Tyler slammed a fist against the cold metal of the fridge. "He fucking died three fucking months ago when he got blown up in Afghanistan, okay? Do you wanna see his flag, huh? Wanna see the fucking medal they gave him? Or should we fly Zack over too, so he can fucking tell you?"
The kitchen fell silent, save for the quiet sobs coming from his mother. Tyler shook his head, blinking furiously. If he could keep his shit together and not forget who is family members were, surely she could too?
"Who are you?" she forced out between sobs. Tyler gritted his teeth, knuckles going white. He couldn't do this, he couldn't do this.
"I'm Tyler," he said, and the softness of his voice surprised everyone, including him.
His mother looked up, for once not crying, her eyes suddenly focused on him, soaking in his presence, realizing the awful truth. That he was not Jay. He wasn't even Zack, or his father. He was just Tyler, just stupid, messed up little Tyler.
"Oh."
The disappointment in her voice struck him to the core. He pounded the fridge again and stepped back, whole body shaking with anger and sadness and hurt.
He couldn't do this.
"I'm going out." Tyler hissed through the darkness of the kitchen. "Make yourself dinner for a change."
He turned on his heel, ignoring her renewed cries. If she wanted him, she could say his name for a change, instead of sobbing out his dead brother's like it would somehow bring him back.
He scooped up his keys and a jacket, not bothering with his phone. Jenna would get it if he didn't show up. She understood. Instead, he paused for a moment to kick the wall before opening the door, stepping outside into the deserted street and slamming it behind him.

//bonjour sorry I haven't been updating very often! I've been super busy and been working through a few issues, but I'm all good now and should be back on track! Thanks you for waiting in the meantime!//