AGALMATOPHILIA

_-:29:-_

"Since you stained your last one, I need to refit you for a proper dress," Josh mumbles around a cigarette, pulling tape measures and pins from a box atop a dusty old shelf in the basement.

Tyler awkwardly sits upon the necropsy table, dangling his legs back and forth, glancing around the tiny cell like room.

He hadn't visited the basement since the incident involving his father, the atmosphere making Tyler's gut churn with guilt and fear.

The dollmaker turns back around, brushing hair from his face, and begins to lay everything he needed out neatly beside the brunette, who only looks to the equipment with a shut mouth, flinching when Josh grabs him and pulls him down.

"Stand, lift your arms," Josh motions, Tyler reluctantly obliging, forming a T with his body, arms outstretched either side him.

"Hm, you're getting pudgy," jabbing his stomach, Josh scowls.

"Hey!" Tyler flinches back and guards his stomach with both arms.

"What? I'm confused, you should've been losing weight," the dollmaker scratches his chin, his stubble making a crunchy sound as he does.

Tyler folds around himself and shrinks back from the man.

Thoughtfully, and curiously, Josh watches as Tyler shies away from him, and protects himself with his arms, using them as some sort of safety blanket.

His eyes shift from the floor up the stairs, as if he were searching for someone.

The only other person, Brendon within the shop front, isn't around to defend the small precious kid.

The way he searches cries help, but also blame.

Catching on, Josh begins to realise Tyler was hoping for Brendon, but he knew Brendon wouldn't leave the shop until closing time.

"Let me ask you something," stepping closer, Josh's intimidating presence all but crushes Tyler down, he visibly becomes smaller.

"When you haven't been given food, have you taken it?"

The frightened kid shakes his head no, Josh nodding slow, squinting.

"And no one has given you any, yes?"

Tyler remains quiet for a moment before nodding reserved like, turning from him.

"Answer me,"

"N-no,"

Josh nods, turning to walk away, hands clasped behind his back.

A fire builds in his stomach, the kindling of anger catches alight quicker than Josh thought and spreads throughout his whole body.

He's burning up, but keeps a cool composure on the outer shell of his being.

Pacing around the room for a moment, Tyler observes him cautiously, fiddling with his own fingers, stoic but petrified.

The fiery haired man pauses, back to Tyler, he inhales deep, those burnt out lungs stretching to fill up with more fire than he could ever hope for.

Trying to peer around him without moving, Tyler peeks at his expression but finds nothing, his expression flat, focused on the floor.

The silence drags on, the frail brunette about to break the silence until Josh pipes up:

"Tell me, humour me, do I look like an idiot?"

Without an answer, Josh quickly spins around to threaten him with only his eyes, Tyler jumps and scrambles to find words.

"No S-Sir,"