Eat a Bag Of Dicks! (Joshler) [✓]

19) the billionth panic

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it's been about two weeks since tyler and josh's date, and neither have seen each other. they have texted back and forth a few times. the last text was five days ago, and tyler has been working up the courage to text josh first, considering he has never done so before.

he really likes josh. he likes talking to josh, he likes being with josh, he likes laughing with josh, he likes watching josh laugh, he likes being the cause of that laugh.

but he really likes texting josh.

he isn't good at texting, that's a fact, but that doesn't matter. tyler enjoys what may seem to be boring conversation, because that's all he knows.

as he sits and attempts to work up courage, he reads through him and josh's texts from a few days ago.

joshua:

heyo

ty:

hi josh

joshua:

hey. i heard you and debby singing karaoke, you were very good aha

ty:

oh gosh i'm so sorry i'll keep it down next time

joshua:

don't even worry about it, i meant when i said you sounded great. if anything turn it up next time

ty:

no way, you're just saying that.

joshua:

maybe i am. but it's best if you just trust me ((;

tyler's blush seems to be permanent by now, and this happened days ago.

tyler just really likes texting because it gives him the time to think of a response without wasting everybody's time. also, because josh can't see his blush and tease him.

he's smiling to himself and biting his lip absentmindedly, when his phone gives a short vibration, and the message log on screen scrolls itself down to the just received message.

joshua:

heyo, you up for a second date? friday night sound good?

tyler immediately pales, his eyes finding their way dancing across the ceiling as his mind races. the spurs of his brain steaming as they overwork themselves to finding the perfect answer.

up for a second date? yes, yeah, of course, oui, absolutely! but how does he say that without sounding desperate?

"'yeah, that's cool'?" he whispers to himself, before shaking his head, "no, that makes me sound confident, i don't want to get his hopes up," he sighs.

"'sure thing'?" he tries again, before groaning in frustration, "gah, no! that makes me sound uninterested!"

his head hurts and his thumbs are conflicted as to what they're supposed to be typing, it's either sounding far too desperate, or not at all interested-- there's no in between! so, his thumbs go the last possible route, not waiting for tyler's permission,

ty:

no thank you.

it's sent before he can stop himself, and he throws his phone across the room,

"no, no, no! no!"

he pulls at his hair to try and relieve some of the pressure that his brain is putting on his skull, but it isn't working, why isn't it working? maybe if he makes a small crack in his skull, his brain won't be pulsing against it anymore.

he's about to nod and say yes, good idea, before he realizes that the last time this happened, debby took away his hammer and any other heavy stick he could possibly use to relieve the pressure in his head.

he groans in frustration and slams his head against the wall, but it's just making the pain worse. oh, god, oh, god, he's going to die, he feels like he's going to die.

through his heavy breaths and thudding brain, he remembers the emergency med that debby left him, specifically for moments like this.

he runs to his kitchen, and ruffles through the drawer next to his dull utensils, and there, in a marijuana patterned baggy that was funny at the time of purchase, is one single pill.

he downs it eagerly, before heading to the fridge and taking a shot of nyquil. he knows he isn't supposed to do that but he could care less.

he stumbles and trips on his way to the couch, having trouble seeing through his teary eyes, before he passes out on top of the scratchy material.

he doesn't know how he's going to explain the large bruise on his forehead to debby.

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how do you cancel an appointment at the sperm bank?

just call them and say you can't come.

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