farm boy // joshler

4

tyler's point of view

my first night on the farm is spent getting to know josh. i learn that his favorite color is yellow, "because it resembles hope." i learn that he's eighteen and he moved in with his uncle when he was sixteen.

he learns about me as well, which is somewhat scary for me.

"and i, um, i'm bullied a lot in school," i admit, looking down at where my hands rest in my lap.

"why?" his voice is soft and concerned and i can feel his eyes on me.

"because," i shrug. "i'm too feminine i guess."

"how so?" he inquires. when i look up at him, he's got a thoughtful look on his face.

i scoff. "i wear pink and pastels. i don't really enjoy sports, i prefer the arts. i'm just... too girly. people in my town think anything not super stereotypically manly is girly and makes you like a 'fairy' or a 'snowflake' or something dumb like that."

josh reaches across the small distance between us and takes my hand. "i think it suits you."

"thank you." my cheeks flush pink and he gives me a soft smile.

"you're welcome."

"it was just hard, you know? they would slip notes into my locker that said horrible things. they would call me a faggot every chance they got." i feel tears prick at my eyes at the memory and josh squeezes my hand in his.

"i understand."

"how?" i look up at him. is he implying what i think he's implying?

"i, um, haven't told scott yet, but i'm gay. i came out to one friend and he freaked out and told everyone i came onto him." he sighs and then lets go of my hand.

"that's terrible, josh. i'm really sorry." i shake my head and take his hand in mine again. the room is filled with comfortable silence then.

josh eventually retreats to his own bedroom and leaves me to get some rest.

i lay in my bed and close my eyes, letting the events of today wash over me.

something feels different about josh. something about him sits different in my mind.

it might be the simple fact that he didn't judge me for being more interested in feminine things. it's possible that the flutter in my chest is my heart developing a crush on this boy solely because he has yet to ridicule me.

love nowadays seems to not be out of affection, but simply out of lack of hatred.

it's not healthy for my generation, but my knowledge of this occurrence does not change the fact that it effects me too.

my mind wanders away from the topic and i fall asleep, dreaming of strawberry fields and strawberry lips.

(an: the fact that of all my books, i have the least to edit in this one makes me proud and happy.)