migraine ; joshler

part five ; freeze frame

*josh's point of view*

i don't know what it is about tyler.

maybe it was the way he wasn't terrified by my drawings. people often are. maybe it was that i saw myself in him. i saw something deeper than what meets the eye in that boy, and it intrigued me.

or maybe it was simply his beautiful, fragile appearance. he was just cute. the way his sweaters were always too big for him, his big brown eyes, his rosy lips.

i am falling for a boy i met less than a week ago.

it was about 8pm now, and i was thanking god that my dad wasn't home yet. it was just us in this house... and we did not get along.

i fall onto my bed, and decide to text tyler.

josh: hey!! it's josh! how are ya

i set my phone down next to me, and grab a few sheets of paper from my bedside drawer. along with that i grab a box of hundreds of colored pencils. they were all practically unused - i usually do drawings with charcoal or pencils. except today, i was feeling color for some reason.

i feel my phone buzz beside me, and pick quickly.

tyler❣️: hey i'm good i was gonna take a nap, are you doing anything tomorrow by the way?

i think for a second. no, i don't have anything on tuesdays.

josh: no, are you? you should come over, i've got a pool!

tyler❣️: you had me at pool

tyler❣️: just kidding

tyler❣️: but UM YES??? OF COURSE

i chuckle at tyler mentally, and begin drawing. the first piece i think of is nothing impressive, just a sketch of my room. i'm still getting used to drawing in color.

then, i hear the front door open - and shut. and it slams shut.

shit.

my dad usually gets home when i'm asleep, or supposed to be. why is he home this early? maybe for once he didn't go out for drinks with his friends...

i hear him set his stuff down and pause. he then starts coming up the stairs. let's pray he's sober.

"joshua!" he shouts.

nope, doesn't sound like it.

i would pretend to be asleep, but he wouldn't believe me. i instead decide to lock myself in my bathroom, as quick as i can.

i hide my drawings under my covers, and run into my bathroom. just as i'm locking the door, i hear my dad enter my room.

"joshua!" he shouts.

i stay quiet.

he stumbles around my room. he soon realizes i'm not in there, and starts coming towards the bathroom.

"hmm, joshua, are you in there?" he says, a sick tone in his voice. it creeped me out.

i stay silent. he tries to open the door, but immediately realizes it's locked.

"joshua william dun, i know you're in there!" he says, jiggling the door knob.

"let me in!" he screams, getting more aggressive as he slams on the door repeatedly.

"i'll open the door if you calm down, dad." i say, calm. i was the bigger person in this situation, it was like i was dealing with a toddler having a temper tantrum.

he stops everything. "okay. fine." he says, and i walk over to the door slowly, taking a deep breath before unlocking and opening it. he stands there for a moment.

just as the door opens all the way, i could see him in all his work clothes, his hair ruffled. he stares at me for a second.

he smiles at me. then, quickly lunges across the room towards me. he pins me against the wall with his grip on my throat. "no, no dad don't hurt me! dad stop!" i scream at him, trying to escape.

he gets real close to me. "you're such a faggot." he breathes at me.

yeah dad, we've had this conversation before.

how did this come up?

i pause for a second. "uh, well yeah. i am." i laugh back at him - something i shouldn't have done but didn't regret it.

he punches me in the face. "then you're no son of mine."

"great, i wouldn't want to be your son anyways."

he punches me again. i was halfway on the floor at this point.

"this much backtalking is gonna get you a black eye, joshua, better get the excuses ready." he says, punching me once more before exiting the room.

i sit on the floor for a moment.

tears begin to well up in my eyes, but i refuse to let him make me cry. yeah, it hurt, but i'd rather it hurt physically then emotionally.

josh: good, can't wait until tomorrow! :)

i text tyler, frowning and exhausted.

i go back to my bed, and get my charcoal. i begin sketching a very, very difficult beast.

_