Chapter Text
cinnamon toast crunch, frosted flakes, fruit loops.
tyler’s hand stops scanning the aisle when he catches the familiar sight of waffle crisps, and he pulls it out of the shelf in one quick motion, tucking it neatly in his basket.
cereal, pasta, alfredo sauce, basil, broccoli, three boxes of mac n’ cheese, ketchup.
he scratches his head, wonders quietly. sometimes he never knew. would it be a week before he went back to the grocery? or another month? its not like he can’t make things work if he doesn’t have food in his cupboards (that’s what takeout and doordash was for, right?), but sometimes the stretches between grocery runs would draw out longer than he intended, especially when certain distractions would arise in his life.
certain distractions with soft amber hair and opalescent eyes.
tyler sighs, shakes his head.
you’d think one day off from work wouldn’t hurt. most people welcomed it; in fact, tyler used to. he remembers not a month ago when he was counting seconds until they closed the shop, seconds until he got home and washed off the smell of fresh bread and sugar. he misses those days, when he came home to emptiness, when his brain didn’t rotate around a human being and curdle with the alienating aspect of fascination and obsession.
he turns, wanders out of the cereal aisle with bleary eyes. he glances at his watch, 23:10.
a quiet sigh escapes his lips as he heads to the deli section, feet thumping rather heavily across the floor. the florescent lights on the floor hurt his eyes, the tinny christmas pop playing over the speakers grate his ears. the only advantage to coming later was the lack of crowds, the lack of incessant chatter that would stuff his head with tones and words like cotton.
he’s rubbing his eyes, and he swears they’re closed for only a few seconds when he suddenly crashes into someone, and he jerks back as soon as he feels the sudden solid warmth and hears a cry.
at first, its shock and confusion that washes over tyler; shock that there would be anyone to bump into, confusion as to where the sudden obstacle emerged from. his eyes land on a smaller figure, and he opens his mouth to murmur out a hasty apology, but then he notices the familiar heather gray of the hoodie, the familiar worn backpack, and his throat closes up in the second it takes for the smaller figure to spin around, wide eyes.
amber curls and opalescent eyes.
“i— “ he blinks, those eyes blinking once. twice. his mouth drops open, and whatever he had ready to say seems to have dissolved on his tongue. “tyler?”
“josh,” he says quietly, swallowing once and hoping the sudden pricks that poke his nerves will slide down his throat too. for a moment, he wonders if this is another trick of his brain, if his subconscious conjured up the boy and if he blinks, he’ll be gone. maybe its a dream, he ponders when the boy is still there after his eyes close once more.
his glance drops to josh’s hands, where they cradle a box of tylenol and a pack of cigarettes.
“curious,” tyler breathes unintentionally, winces when josh’s hands grip around the two items, as if trying to cover the labels with his pale fingers. when tyler glances back up, there’s a soft blush on his cheeks, something akin to shame swirling in his eyes, and tyler thinks embarrassment is a beautiful look on him.
“for my dad,” he supplies, voice tight though there’s no bite to his words, only finality.
“figured,” tyler says as if in agreement with josh’s confession, true or false. “n’ver smelled it on you anyway.”
the color in josh’s cheeks deepens, and he hums shortly.
“i—um, i didn’t see you today.”
and something in tyler curls with warmth, the way he imagines paper folds into itself as its eaten alive by fire.
“day off,” he responds. “first day off in weeks.”
“must be tiring,” josh notes with a sympathetic frown.
“not when you enjoy it,” tyler remarks, and he finds himself lost in josh’s eyes, the way they slowly widen and the way they seem to reflect the rose from his cheeks, as if he knows exactly what tyler means by his vague, short statement, as if he can read between the lines of his frozen, emotionless mask.
its silent for the few seconds it takes tyler to pull himself out of the blackholes that are josh’s eyes, though it feels like a lifetime of struggle. he turns his head down toward the deli area, as if perhaps looking away from the boy will start lessening his effects on tyler.
“sorry for bumping into you,” josh says, stealing tyler’s attention once more.
“i bumped into you,” he amends, biting back a smile when josh looks relieved. “sorry.”
josh smiles gently, and tyler’s heart damn near melts.
“see you around?”
“yea.”
they both stand silently, neither making the first move to walk away. josh stares at him with expectant eyes and tyler does the same. it blossoms a strange feeling in tyler’s chest.
six more seconds crawl by as the christmas song over the speakers switch to silent night.
“y’okay, kid?” tyler finally vocalizes, despite wishing he could trap this moment in time, just to stare at the boy, just to marvel in his soft skin and his cracked lips that seemed to be smothered in lip balm.
the look that crosses the boy’s face reminds tyler of a deer in headlights. he nods jerkily, as if pulling himself out of his mind. “yeah.. yeah,” he shakes his head before shifting his feet. “sorry,” he mumbles before hastily walking past tyler, ducking his head down as if he’s getting ready to walk through the trenches.
and tyler watches him go, despite the overwhelming desire to stop him, say something.
he passes by the pharmacy on his way out and picks up a pack of marlboro.
****
the next day, tyler doesn’t see him.
he feels stupid every time the small bell by the door jingles, whenever his head snaps automatically to look, searching. he feels stupid when disappointment builds in his stomach with each passing hour, how each minute without josh passes by and he feels like a fly trapped in honey, seconds stretching out for miles like taffy.
jenna doesn’t mention it, not once poking fun at him. its as if she knows from tyler’s furrowed brow and the deep frown contorting his face that he’s not to be messed with.
he feels it around him, a shroud of something unspeakable and pitch black.
****
the day after, he’s nowhere to be seen again.
tyler’s brain itches like poison ivy was lathered and wrapped all around his dura mater. he curses his eyes that see the world distorted, blames the migraine in his head as he silently rewires his brain to recognize josh as only a figment of his imagination.
when he catches jenna looking over at the empty table, he decides it was a small-scale event of good old-fashioned mass hysteria.
*****
wrapped in the solitary confines of his apartment, his prison, he pulls at his hair, claws his eyes bloody, cursing them to hell and back for torturing him with a glimpse of heaven.
there’s comfort in the raw pain lining his throat as he screams.
****
his eyes finally stop dripping by the time he drags himself to work, bloodied tissues shoved deep in his pockets. every blink feels like another tear into his delicate eyelids, but it’s a distraction he welcomes as the day goes on, despite the worried looks and the disgusted glances he receives for it.
jenna only holds his forearm for a moment before they open the store, concern swirling in her eyes like a storm. tyler says he’s fine and knowing better than to push, she nods silently but he can feel the weight of her eyes on him throughout the day, as if expecting him to snap or burst completely.
tyler tries his best not to.
he’s on a late break in the back a few minutes before they close, hiding amongst the fridges. there’s one lonely chair and a computer that he’s never paid attention to, and today is no different as he pulls his orange beanie from his head. he runs his fingers through his hair, examining. he feels defeated when they brush over the small patches that are missing, and he vaguely wonders what it must look like.
he hears quick footsteps and jenna comes into view. his head whips up to look where she stands, her jaw clenched.
“tyler,” she beckons, and if she notices the state of his head in all its patchy glory, she doesn’t mention it. he pulls his beanie back on and follows her out, fingers twitching at his sides.
when he catches sight of the boy, he freezes, ears and body barely registering the squeak and impact jenna makes when she crashes into him from behind. he stands motionless for a moment, and time doesn’t seem to move, even as he watches jenna walk to the door and lock it, even as he watches josh shift on his feet.
he blinks away the bit of blood that fills his eyes in lieu of pinching himself, bile rising in his throat when josh doesn’t disappear, still standing at the register with his head down and hands fiddling with his sleeves.
footfalls one in front of the other, and tyler finds himself approaching josh though his brain screams to run away, the fight or flight instinct making every hair on his body stand up and itch.
he stops just behind the register, wordless as every tooth in his mouth seems to begin tightening in his jaw. it’s the telltale blossoming of a headache.
when josh looks up, his face is pale, the bottom crescent of his right eye a muted purple, his lips split right down the middle and open like a painful flower. he looks surprised to see tyler, mouth dropping the smallest bit.
“water, please,” he says softly, nervously, barely glancing at tyler before dropping his gaze again.
tyler attributes the brevity of his words to the state of his lip, knows the familiar sting of it being split, but the way josh stubbornly averts his eyes makes a broken fragment in tyler’s stomach poke his insides uncomfortably.
then, the anger flows in like a river.
“sit down,” he orders more grimly than he intends, immediately backtracking when josh visibly flinches at the tone of his voice. he tries again. “please, go sit.”
he seems so small and meek when he obeys easily, hunched in on himself as he glides across the floor like a ghost. tyler fixes him chamomile tea, movements jerky and impatient. he wraps up a slice of citrus bread, biting his lip as he walks over. he only realizes how angry he truly is when scalding tea slips from the lid and tracks down his arms, the few nerves left lighting with an all-too familiar pain, and yet it does nothing to distract him from the absolute tumultuous rage that sits in the bottom of his stomach and the tips of his fingers.
he places down the items in front of josh, and the boy stares at them.
at first, his face is stony and emotionless, looking from the cup to the parchment paper like it means nothing, but as seconds go by, the glaze in his eyes melts away slowly. he bites his lip, jerks at the pain, and suddenly he’s shaking, hands gripping his knees as a stray tear streaks down his cheek.
“hey.” tyler feels his words become one lump in his throat as the boy chokes out a sob, and its like gravity pulls him to the ground so he’s crouching by his boy. his fingers itch to grab josh’s hand, the one just inches away from him that sits in josh’s lap uselessly, but the makeup on tyler’s hands feel much too prominent and greasy to dare.
josh doesn’t look at him, continues facing the door as he begins rubbing his eyes. he shudders as he lets out a long, shaky breath.
“don’t cry, kid,” tyler breathes his plea, so gently as if he’s afraid josh will only break more if he speaks too loudly. on the contrary, it only makes the boy begin sobbing more, heaving into his elbow, and the absolute torment in his cries makes tyler’s eyes sting. “josh,” he murmurs, and his hand finds its way to the boy’s knee, cupping it gently.
he flinches when josh suddenly turns, all but throwing himself into tyler, arms coming up and around to cling onto him as he sobs and shakes, choking on his own torment and sorrow.
tyler freezes, vaguely hears jenna cough in the back. he clenches his fists, nails digging into his palms. when he feels blood begin seeping through is when his body pulls his brain back down from the sky into his skull, and his hands begins functioning once more. he’s careful, gingerly putting his hands on josh’s shoulders and pushing him away.
josh’s eyes are wide and ashamed when he makes eye contact with tyler, and they well up even more, his chin quivering.
tyler holds his shoulders loosely, pulling his right hand away and gently nudging josh’s chin up when he tries to hide away once more. he ignores the small bloodstain he leaves on josh’s shoulder, just like he ignores the overwhelming guilt that scrapes along his brain.
“don’t do that,” he murmurs, unable to stop himself when he strokes his thumb across josh’s chin, searching out for the younger’s eyes with his own.
“i’m sorry,” josh says shakily, hands falling to grip his knees again. he seems ashamed once more, and it hurts his heart.
“no, ’s okay,” he whispers. “tell me what’s wrong.”
he’s quiet, bites his lip, flinches, and looks away.
his silence is enough of an answer for tyler, and he relents, lets it slid for now if only to offer josh some sort of semblance of comfort in privacy.
tyler sighs. “okay.” he squeezes the boy’s shoulder. “jus’ relax, you can hang out with us while we close.” josh looks up at him, wide and vulnerable, eyes shining with something akin to grateful wonder.
he nods shakily, and tyler gets up.
tyler and jenna are silent the entire time they work, heads down as they wrap everything up, wipe down all the machines. a few times, tyler catches himself glancing over to josh’s table, only to see him shaking with sorrow. tyler grits his teeth.
it feels like the last hour slips by in milliseconds, and soon enough, jenna’s tapping her foot, anxiously looking over to where the boy is seated.
“i’ll bring him,” tyler gestures to him, ignores the way jenna quirks an brow at him.
when he walks over, it feels like the ground is made of quicksand.
“c’mon.”
josh looks up, nods jerkily. he never even unpacked his things so he slings his backpack around one shoulder, gripping his tea in one white-knuckled fist. his eyes are downcast once more, shoulders taut as he moves resignedly to the door.
tyler holds the door open for jenna and josh, turning to lock it. his hands shake as he struggles with the key and he blames it on the freezing weather, blames it on the low lamplight of the street and the passing headlights that create shadows, blames it on jenna’s soft, concerned words to the boy.
when he turns around, josh stands, face completely blank and eyes staring miles away without seeing anything. jenna has a pinched, concerned look when she comes up to tyler, but he nods assuringly. it seems to console her enough to withhold her questions, and with a press of her glossy lips against his cheek, she says goodnight to them both.
“josh,” tyler says softly when it’s just them under the orange streetlight, the white snow under them reflecting and bouncing warmth off the younger’s face. tyler pretends it helps conceal out the cool tones of his bruise.
“thanks,” josh whispers before he turns, footfalls hasty as he begins evaporating into the city, no doubt moving on autopilot and disappearing just like he did every night.
“wait.” tyler can’t stop himself, voice curt and halting josh’s flee.
he swallows the sudden cobweb that sticks along the sides of his throat. “I can walk you back home.”
josh turns, and there’s something in those empty eyes that shine with pain.
he cracks a wayward, split lip smile. “no need, tyler.” and with a bullet through tyler’s offer he rushes away.
tyler would say that the ground grips his shoes with all of hell’s might, sinking him in place like the snow is quicksand. he watches josh’s form retreat, the cobwebs forming a lump in his throat with dejection. but he tells himself he’ll honor josh’s request, his obvious desire for privacy and solitude, though his feet desire nothing more than to shadow josh’s footprints in the snow.
****
he watches across the street from the shadows as josh approaches an old graffitied, dirty building, pushing the heavy, metal backdoor open. there are small windows in lines and rows, and he watches with bated breath as one window’s lights flick on for three seconds, only to be extinguished.