farm boy // joshler

29

josh's point of view

on the way home, we stop at mcdonalds to get some food. tyler orders chicken nuggets, a twenty piece.

"are we sharing?" i ask, turning to face him instead of the cashier.

"what? no," he scoffs. "this is for me."

"okay then." i laugh at him and order something for myself. i then pay for our food and we take our cups, walking away from the counter and toward the drink machine.

once our cups are full, we pick a table and sit across from each other, our feet kicking gently underneath.

we talk about tyler's plans for when the summer comes to a close and i find myself a bit anxious. i hate hiding the fact that i applied for an art school. i hate that i distanced myself to work on my portfolio.

but what i hate the most, is that when i open my computer that night, i see an email from the art school.

it's an automated message, confirming that they got my application and reminding me to send in my records and some of my art.

my mouth is dry and my eyes are wide. i didn't think i would get this far.

regardless of how far i thought or hoped to get, i find myself tiptoeing down to the basement to collect and wrap my favorite pieces. i bring them up and slide them under my bed and then run a hand through my hair.

paperwork.

uncle scott keeps all the paperwork in a shoebox in his closet, which is in his room, which is where he sleeps...

i take a deep breath and step out of my room, padding softly to stand in front of uncle scott's door.

i press my ear against the wood and listen for any signs of his consciousness, but when i hear him snoring i figure it's safe enough to open the door.

i take steps as big and as silent as i can, attempting to make it to his closet quickly and quietly.

his closet door is unlocked, which i'm extremely thankful for. and his shoebox of papers is just within my reach.

i pull it down (very slowly) and then open it up. inside are several folders. uncle scott has always been very organized with important things, but when it comes to literally anything else, he's a mess.

i find the folder marked with my name and take it out, closing the lid of the box again and shoving it back where it belongs.

after his closet door is shut i run back to my room (after closing his bedroom door as well).

i set the folder on my bed and then walk downstairs. uncle scott keeps the stamps and envelopes in the kitchen, on top of the fridge.

i take a few of each and then rush back to my room once more.

by the time my envelopes are filled, labeled, and stamped, the sun has started to rise.

i decide that i have enough time to go to the mailbox and shove the envelopes inside. i put the flag up and and then step back, admiring my uncle's property. i could probably go ahead and get most of my work done and then take the rest of the day to rest.

i stretch my arms above my head and twist to pop my back before i walk towards the fields and start my work.

i zone out and let myself get lost in the habit and routine, paying no attention to it. due to this mindset, tyler's voice scares me.

"hey." he kneels next to me. "you're out here early."

"yeah. i didn't sleep, so i decided to get a head-start. i'm almost done with veggies if you want to take fruits." i look to him and squint at the sun behind him.

"alright. i'll see you when i see you then," he stands back up and offers a small wave as he walks to his side of the field.

i finish before him (obviously) and head inside to take a shower. i let the warm water run over me, and it feels so nice that i think i could fall asleep standing underneath it.

however, my bed sounds much more appealing, so i finish my shower, slip on some boxers and shorts, and i climb into it.

i'm asleep soon enough, and i don't wake up for for four hours.

tyler is standing beside me, his hand on my shoulder. "i didn't want you to sleep too late. then you wouldn't be able to sleep tonight." he removes his hand and shrugs a little. "and i figured you should eat. i brought you a sandwich." he picks a plate up from my beside table.

my lips tug into a smile and i sit up. "thanks, ty." i take the plate from him and then pat the spot next to me in bed. "sit."

he nods and then moves around the corner to sit next to me, criss cross on the matress. "how was your nap?"

"good. i needed it,"  i tell him honestly, taking a bite of the sandwich.

"are you okay?" he seems to have some sort of wall up when he asks this. he's not looking at me, his gaze instead averted to where the sun shines through my blinds.

"i'm-," i pause and take a breath. "yeah. i am."

my argument is not at all convincing, and i can tell he doesn't buy it.

"we have two weeks left together, you know," his words sound choked, like he's holding back tears in his warm brown eyes.

"i know." i set my sandwhich aside, no longer hungry. my stomach is too full of grief to eat.

"i don't know what im going to do, j." he looks to me now, and i was right. tears begin to slip down his cheeks, too quick for him to wipe them away (not that he would bother if they weren't). he drops his head to his hands and his shoulders shake. "i'm going to miss you so much."

i move closer to him and wrap my arms around him. "i know. and i'll miss you. but we can still-"

"yeah, we can still talk and text. we can. but we won't. long distance doesn't last long. you'll move on, you'll forget me. you'll be busy with the farm and i'll be busy with school. so just... don't tell me you'll call. don't tell me you'll write. you won't. and i'll never see you again," he rambles on, his words slurred a bit, and with each sentence that spews from his bitten lips, my heart breaks more.

and all i can say is, "i love you, tyler."

(an: this story is coming to an end soon. good luck!)