Chapter Text
They had ended up meeting at the end-of-year party the fraternity used to throw. The forest had been nothing but a dark rumor; no one remained by the river that, at night, seemed endless, and around a bonfire everyone chanted senseless conversations—some drinking, others picking at the leftovers from midday. Josh had seen him drift away from his friends; what caught his attention was that, among everyone there, it was precisely that small group he had never spoken to or shared classes with. He would have remembered him if he’d seen him before, because he carried the same darkness as the rest of his friends—though in his case, it seemed to live more in his personality than merely in the color he wanted to project through his clothes.
He caught his attention instantly, but it was his best friend, Mark, who told him the little he also knew about him; among other things, that he sang beautifully and played practically every instrument that existed. That he sang in the church choir and, when he was younger, had taught catechism during those boring mission trips his parents used to force him to attend.
That was when he approached him, and with no excuse other than what he held in his hand, he spoke:
“Want one?” he offered the pack of cigarettes, and the boy’s eyes studied him with a threatening seriousness; his irises shifted from side to side in a nearly fleeting movement, as if recognizing that Josh’s closeness was not a threat. Josh smiled, showing his teeth; the piercing in his lower lip glinted. “It’s cold, isn’t it? Take one.”
“Thanks,” he hesitated as he reached out and took a cigarette. “Yeah, a bit…”
“Want me to light it?” He flicked the lighter, and his face glowed in an orange light that reflected the moisture in his eyes. He placed it between his lips and waited until it caught, taking a small drag to burn the paper. “I’m Josh.”
“Tyler,” he smiled, blowing the smoke out through his nose.
That night, without knowing it, they formed a pact of friendship—a closeness that had not been orderly or cautious, but rather almost excessive. Josh had been the one to step first into Tyler’s garden, receiving in return a string of reasons why he shouldn’t get so close, but he insisted: calling him every day, riding his bike past his house to take him out to eat, inviting him to parties. He was the first to hug him, to sling an arm around his neck and kiss his cheeks; and to his own surprise, Tyler did not resist it, despite being someone who claimed not to accept physical contact from just anyone.
It turned out Josh was not just anyone. And in a world that felt as though it were constantly turning its back on him, Tyler felt he belonged somewhere—where everything that came with being himself, and all those things that made him doubt his sanity, made sense with Josh.
Before long, he truly loved him; every day during that summer break, he waited to see him outside his house, riding up on his bike to take him around the neighborhood. Josh introduced him to his friends, and though Tyler was quieter than he thought would be socially acceptable, Josh seemed to take on the role of protector; he didn’t allow anyone to mess with him, like a lion guarding its cub, baring teeth and growling. Always making him feel that the way he was, was simply that—and that no one else had the right to try to make him be more or less of anything.
“You’re perfect like this, I like you this way,” he assured him every time he saw him drift away from the group, trying to catch his breath to calm himself before rejoining them without feeling so insecure. The hood of his sweatshirt revealed only his upturned nose, and his thin body looked like it was swimming inside it. Josh would stroke his back and stay by his side, patient—sometimes saying nothing at all, other times saying just enough not to overwhelm him or make him feel as small as he had always hated feeling.
Their families didn’t know each other yet, but they recognized them as part of their own. Tyler’s parents always greeted Josh kindly, and almost always invited him to dinner without hesitation; even Tyler’s siblings began to immerse themselves in his life as if, without any caution, they were making him one of them—a fifth brother who, although they didn’t see all the time, they knew made their older brother happy, and so they opened their arms to him as well. That made Josh feel fortunate, and happy that his best friend had a family that always seemed attentive, always looking out for their happiness.
That was, until Tyler spoke of them with a strange kind of resentment. Being the first child in the house meant shouldering a number of responsibilities he didn’t want, responsibilities that made him feel trapped in a prison disguised entirely as love. Josh thought he only wanted to rebel, because he couldn’t see a single gap where his parents weren’t protecting him from anything bad that might happen.
“Here,” he handed him his tray of food and went back inside the restaurant for his own. A few minutes later, when he returned, Tyler’s expression was much darker, his face sunk deep into the hood of his sweatshirt. Still, he said nothing, and took a big bite of his burrito, studying his friend’s bony hands as they poked at the food as if he were no longer hungry. “What’s wrong?”
Tyler shook his head, pressing his lips together, lifting his gaze to the dark sky behind Josh’s shoulders, as if searching for something. Josh took another bite of his dinner, not taking his eyes off him, recognizing there was nothing normal about his behavior—but he didn’t want to push him to talk about something that was clearly causing discomfort, leaving his movements dulled and his appetite gone. His fingers returned to his food, tearing off tiny pieces of tortilla and bringing them to his mouth, barely chewing.
“Look at him eating like a little chick.” At the sound of that voice, Tyler’s body visibly tensed, and his eyes darkened so much that Josh instantly knew this person was the reason he had been so unsettled. He pricked up like an alert dog sensing a threat, and when two more boys approached, it was like a beast whose hackles rise, ready to bite. “What, Joseph? Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?”
He yanked the hood off Tyler’s head, mussing his hair. Josh was stunned to see in Tyler’s demeanor an imposed submission; his head lowered, angry, but unable to meet their eyes. Josh froze at his lack of response, as if his alarms were flashing on and off, still silent, still unsure whether it was wise to react or remain quiet.
“Not answering, as always,” he mocked. “We miss you at the club; they’ve put down new mats to wipe the shit off our feet, but they’re not better than you.”
The laughter rang loudly, drawing the attention of people entering and leaving the restaurant. Tyler looked at him and bared his teeth like a wolf cub trying to appear threatening.
“Go away, Sean. Leave me alone.”
They laughed again, and in an act that no one had anticipated, he grabbed the hood of Tyler’s sweatshirt and yanked it backward, the fabric tightening around his neck and pressing hard, forcing his body to follow the pull, until he fell flat on his back. The shock distorted time, and as he tried to get up, he felt the steam of his own dinner spill across his face.
“Assholes! Get the hell out of here!” Josh had stood up, trying to look imposing, but they only looked at him with mockery before turning their backs and leaving. When he turned around, Tyler was already on his feet, aggressively wiping his face with napkins. “What just happened? Who were they?”
“Doesn’t matter,” he growled, pulling away from Josh’s hands when he tried to help clean him up. He strode away, crossing the street without even looking.
“It does matter, man, they just—”
“I know!” He hurried to catch up, reaching out to grip his arm; and though it didn’t stop him, it didn’t prevent them from walking together. He didn’t have to say it for the situation to become clearer; the things Tyler’s mother had told him, worried, now made sense—the hatred for school, the contained rage, the way he spoke of friendships in general. The armor where he locked away a violent motive, choosing silence instead of making things bigger and ending up receiving more than he gave.
He didn’t ask, but without being asked, Josh had assumed the role of protector, alert all day to anyone who might approach to hurt him again. And although Tyler seemed the angrier, stronger one, Josh knew how to drive predators away—taught by his own father, and by his group of friends who would take their positions together, ready to attack if one of them was threatened. And because Tyler preferred to retreat into his own world, taking blows that, because they weren’t deep enough, weren’t painful enough either, he could endure them—and he preferred that over biting back and awakening a whole pack that would turn against him.
He watched Josh move easily among groups of people he didn’t even know; his strong yet gentle nature made him seem like a dog sleeping in his owner’s lap. No one had ever seen him turn into a beast, because he could control it—unless someone hurt those he loved. Tyler had seen him become that so many times that it made him think it wasn’t normal for him to try to protect him so much. It made him feel stupid, defenseless, as if he didn’t have the courage to stand on his own and demand the respect he deserved.
“My dad taught me how to defend myself intelligently,” he had explained one afternoon, as the two of them lay on the floor of Tyler’s bedroom, listening to music—talking now and then, but mostly sharing that silence that bound them together. “Never use violence. Just learn how to impose yourself with your body.”
“If my father knew Sean messes with me,” Tyler replied, his voice low, as if he expected his father to overhear his name from the hallway, “I think he’d congratulate Sean for not being a coward like I am.”
Comments like that sounded old—learned. He always let it be known between the lines that his family’s smile wasn’t as pretty as Josh insisted it was. He never said it outright; instead, he communicated it through imperceptible signals: that they smiled to hide their fangs, and that they were willing to endure many uncomfortable things just so, to outside eyes, the family portrait would appear flawless.
And Josh understood then why Tyler let them hit him; it was easier to say he’d had an accident playing basketball—a ball to the face, a careless blow. Using violence against Sean would surely bring even more violence, and the blows he’d receive then would be far harder to explain to his father.
“I’m not going to tell you again, idiot—give me that necklace back, now.” He held out his hand, staring him down. Sean and his friends were much taller and broader; Josh looked small beside them, but imposing, his gaze bordering on unhinged. Sean laughed, shaking his chin, and before returning the object, looked at Tyler with an air of superiority, scanning his body from head to toe.
“You need a little punk to defend you because you’re completely incapable on your own. Hope you think about that before you go to sleep tonight.” He gave him a light shove on the shoulder and tossed the necklace to the ground before leaving. Josh hurried to pick it up and nudged Tyler forward with his shoulder, urging him to walk with him, while he untangled the chain with a seriousness that tried to calm him.
“…You don’t have to defend me every time they show up, Josh…” Tyler had found the courage to ask, fists buried deep in the pockets of his hoodie. Josh noticed the movement, and his answer came just after he managed to undo a small knot that loosened the rest.
“I’m not defending you from anything. They don’t have the right to take your things just because you don’t want to look for more trouble.” He stopped walking to focus on smoothing the chain, holding it with his teeth while his fingers tugged at the last stubborn bit of metal. He lifted it before his eyes, smiling faintly, and offered it to Tyler, who stepped back slightly, avoiding it.
“I’m serious. Stop getting involved in this, please.” Josh lowered his hands, confused by Tyler’s words. The wind blew his black hair out of his face, and when he raised one hand to fix it, the pendant—a small, flat silver star—tapped against his cheek. Tyler smiled at him, took the necklace from his hands, unclasped it with ease, and looped it around Josh’s neck. Josh stood still, watching his friend’s fingers guide the chain and settle the pendant so it rested perfectly between his collarbones. “I’m giving it to you. It looks better on you than on me.”
And though he knew the gesture was meant to avoid continuing the conversation, Josh smiled and kissed his cheek loudly. From then on, he never took the necklace off, wearing it like a scar he was proud of. And he tried to move quietly behind Tyler, because no matter how much it bothered him that Josh jumped in to defend him when necessary, he was always going to be there. He overanalyzed him, touched him too much, as if checking that the wound was still there—not festering like it used to, but healing, slowly closing.
The contact between them had stopped being casual long before either of them acknowledged it. Josh touched Tyler as if he needed to confirm he was still there; Tyler allowed those gestures with a stillness that wasn’t indifference, but silent surrender. Josh had begun resting his forehead against Tyler’s when they were tired. It wasn’t something he did with anyone else. Tyler didn’t pull away. Sometimes he closed his eyes, as if the closeness implied a submission he didn’t want to admit—that he was willing to let Josh do whatever he wanted with him, or rather, to accept doing whatever was necessary together.
In their small world of two inhabitants, normalizing tenderness didn’t necessarily come with the weight of love everyone assumed they shared. Josh’s friends had begun to question it, and although he didn’t care if they misunderstood his intentions, he knew that different opinions lived inside Tyler’s head—because he was also surrounded by people who didn’t see in him the value that so many others would have seen, had they been lucky enough to see him every day. Kissing cheeks or foreheads had become part of a language only the two of them seemed to understand; and it was a small victory for Josh when Tyler was the one who kissed him—always quickly, as if afraid of being seen. For Josh, it was simpler: he didn’t care what anyone else thought. Still, he always made sure to feel in his own body how the tension eased when they touched, and every time it did, he allowed himself to touch him again—ready to obey the moment Tyler needed to pull away because he was uncomfortable.
“Your beer—here.” He set it closed on the grass, then crawled back until he was behind Tyler, wrapping his arms around his torso from behind and resting his chin on one of his shoulders. Tyler tried to slip out of the embrace, but Josh held him tighter, spreading his legs to place one knee on either side of Tyler’s body. When there was no resistance, he loosened his grip and let his interlaced hands fall against Tyler’s stomach. “Hasn’t anyone arrived yet?”
“No,” he whispered, carefully opening the beer can and bringing it to his lips. “And I’m starving.”
“They shouldn’t take much longer,” Josh reassured him, turning his head slightly toward Tyler’s neck. Tyler shivered as the cold metal bead of Josh’s piercing brushed his skin. Josh planted a couple of noisy kisses there, then sighed softly in contentment before moving around to sit in front of him and drink from his own beer. “I bought these for you, meanwhile.”
He showed him a packet of gummies. Tyler took it with a wide smile, grateful. Josh watched his thin hands open the bag; instead of reaching in, Tyler poured some into his palm and offered them to him. Josh took a couple but didn’t eat them until he saw Tyler put them in his mouth, sucking on them a little before swallowing, barely chewing. He couldn’t help thinking it was strange behavior for a normal person.
“My mom wants to invite you to our fall camping trip. Do you want to come?”
“Sure,” he said disinterestedly, not taking his eyes off him as he watched him grab two gummies and stuff them into his mouth, chewing hungrily. He received Tyler’s usual serious, almost threatening look—and a firm shove on the shoulder.
“What do you mean ‘sure’? You don’t even know what we do or anything.” Josh shrugged, laughing.
“And why should I care what you do? I like spending time with your family. I’m not going to say no.” Tyler furrowed his brows, looking annoyed; he had that cold, restrained expression he always wore, and Josh could never tell whether his personality was built from bricks of dissatisfaction or from a strength he chose to dress up as indifference. “Why are you making that face?”
“We pray and sing. And Madison starts crying and then my mom and Jay catch it. And then we eat stale cookies with coffee and sleep in beds full of spiders.” He seemed to be provoking him, not breaking eye contact, trying to scare or unsettle him.
“Sounds good.” Josh shrugged again and took another drink of beer. Tyler rolled his eyes and made a small animal noise. “Why are you growling? If you don’t want me to go, just say so.”
“I do want you to go—but not without thinking, just to be excessively nice.” Josh frowned, almost offended. He took a large gulp of beer and wiped his lips with the back of his hand, almost violently. “I’m not saying it to make you mad, it’s just—you can’t pretend that—”
“I’m not pretending anything,” he interrupted. “I like spending time with your family. Especially with you. Why would I ask questions if I don’t need answers? Anything we do, if it’s together, is fun. Stop being ridiculous.”
Tyler didn’t respond, and Josh assumed that despite the silence, there were thousands of things he wanted to say—but none of them carried love with them, only violence, and that was why he preferred to stay quiet. Not for long, though, even if the moment felt eternal as he kept staring at him, still hoping he’d say something back.
Their friends arrived then, and the tension dissolved. In the company of others, Tyler watched him constantly, always catching his eye—something Josh didn’t find uncomfortable at all, smiling at him tenderly each time. Then he went back to laughing with his friends, who handed him drinks that he accepted and swallowed quickly, without stopping to check how drunk he was getting.
Josh stayed aware of where Tyler was at all times; he knew him well enough to know that when he got overstimulated, he tended to drift away a bit. He didn’t like leaving him alone—especially when he was drunk—because Tyler tended to self-harm. He’d found him before, scratching his arms, trying to open a small cut that could leak out all the anxiety he carried. But now he felt safer; Tyler seemed more comfortable with his friends, and sometimes, between the music and the noise, Josh could hear him laughing out loud—and that filled him with pride.
The park grew darker and the streetlights came on, bathing the pavement in a yellow glow. The cold was ignored, dulled by the alcohol in their blood and by the music that made everyone dance and laugh. Josh looked for Tyler, because he knew he wasn’t really a fan of that atmosphere; the music—with its guttural vocals and heavy drums—set too many things off in his head at once. Still, he didn’t refuse it, and his body moved as if it already knew the next chords. Josh grabbed his wrists and moved him, making him dance his way, throwing his head back in laughter; his hair beginning to wave from sweat, losing the straightness he carefully brushed over his forehead every day.
When the night was coming to an end and some had already decided to go home, Josh offered his place so the party could continue—something more private, without much noise. Tyler and a few others went to the store to buy more beer and something to eat, while the rest picked up the trash and debated whether to stay or leave. He didn’t know what time it was, but judging by how dark the sky still was, there was probably a while to go before dawn appeared, and that made him feel safer—at least his parents wouldn’t think badly of him for getting home when the sun was already climbing toward its highest point over Ohio.
“They’re beating up Tyler!”
Josh turned as if he’d been struck. Wille’s face was twisted with worry, and Josh couldn’t tell how serious it really was.
“They started yelling at each other and Tyler threatened them with a beer bottle… they got really angry and threw him to the ground,” he said as they ran toward the store, where flashing blue lights cast a bleak image of people shouting to fuel the fight—three boys kicking just one, who Josh knew wasn’t doing anything to defend himself.
“His face! Hit his face!”
“Get away from him!” he roared like a beast, throwing himself at them, yanking at their clothes until, through the small crowd, he saw Tyler curled into himself on the ground, crying out in pain—eyes shut tight, lips parted as the blows stole the air from his lungs. “Enough! That’s enough!”
“Look who came to protect you,” they sneered. Tyler raised an arm to shield his face from a kick aimed straight at it. Sean turned to look at Josh, eyes gleaming like twin daggers ready to cut. “We’ll stop if you admit you’re dating.”
“We’re not,” Josh said quickly, swallowing hard to stay upright, refusing to become like them—to let rage push him to use his fists, which he knew perfectly well how to use. But his dignity and pride were always wrapped in love and patience, and he wouldn’t let his animal side win. “And even if we were, what the fuck is it to you? Get out of here or I’m calling the cops, assholes. Get out!”
Sean looked him up and down. He knew he couldn’t take him seriously—his clothes, his eyes glazed with alcohol. Josh didn’t care. He didn’t move an inch when Sean stepped closer, trying to provoke him.
“You’re just as much of a little faggot as he is. You just think you’re tougher because you’ve got earrings punched into your face. But you’re the same. Good thing your friends make you feel like you’ve got some kind of power.” He shoved him by the shoulders; with the alcohol in his system, Josh felt like he might fall flat on his ass.
Then they left, and he was left behind with an almost unbearable rage burning in his chest, fists clenched so tightly he could feel his own nails digging into his palms—full of things he wanted to say, all of them dulled and meaningless under the weight of alcohol.
Ashley, his older sister, drove both of them home, and Josh begged her not to tell their parents anything yet. Getting Tyler upstairs had been hard, but now he was sitting on the bathroom floor, his head resting against the tiled wall, staring at the ceiling, his mind gone somewhere else entirely. Josh cleaned his wounds carefully; he wasn’t bleeding anymore, just wiping away the brown traces of dried blood that made the injuries look deeper and more serious than they were.
“Does it hurt?”
It seemed like he hadn’t heard him—like he was more focused on the echo spreading through the bathroom every time a drop fell from the faucet into the tub, splashing into a small puddle. His eyes closed slowly, his lips trembling in response to pain each time Josh passed the damp cloth over his skin.
“I’m going to press a little, see if it bleeds…”
When he did, Tyler reacted immediately, recoiling like a frightened dog. Josh froze, unable to understand such a strange reaction—learned, automatic, like a command he was used to obeying. He apologized and went back to cleaning him, very slowly. Tyler stared at him. Josh lowered his gaze, feeling too imposing under that look; Tyler’s eyes were so dark they seemed to reflect no light at all. As if he were dead.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he asked, his high voice betraying submission. Josh looked up again and saw the expression hadn’t changed. He complained, uneasy.
“Come on. Go to sleep. You’re scaring me.”
He wanted to say so many things, but the alcohol in his system could only make everything worse, so he just lent him some pajamas and invited him to lie down on his bed. Josh slept on the small couch across from it, though it took a while—watching until Tyler’s breathing grew deep enough to tell him he was asleep. Only then did he allow himself to close his eyes and try to rest.
“You know keeping it inside only makes it harder, right?”
Tyler looked at him the next morning, seated at the dining table with a steaming cup of coffee. Josh was chewing on the pancakes his mother had made before leaving for her church group, and he didn’t flinch when Tyler rolled his eyes and let out a tired sigh.
“Don’t start, Josh. I’m not in the mood.”
“It’d be weird if you were, after the way those assholes left you,” he said. There was no answer—but he hadn’t expected one. He rested his elbows on the table, broke a pancake in half and brought one piece to his mouth, chewing as he watched Tyler toy with the tiny spoon in his coffee. “God knows how long they’ve been messing with you, and you keep giving them permission to do whatever they want…”
“Enough, Josh,” Tyler warned. Josh shook his head.
“No. It pisses me off seeing you let them hurt you just because—”
“Shut up!” he shouted, slamming both hands on the table, his face darkened, full of the shame of knowing that all of Josh’s friends had seen him there on the ground—different from them in every way, and also an idiot who needed help because he couldn’t defend himself on his own. “Stop putting yourself in front of me when I’m the one who has to deal with my problems.”
Josh took another sip of his coffee. His apparent indifference made Tyler feel the anger heat his blood, but it also filled him with shame—not even getting a reaction, just his best friend sitting there, chewing with unbearable slowness, breaking apart another pancake with his hands as if his outburst had been nothing more than a misstep.
“I don’t want you on alert all the time; we don’t even go to the same university. You can’t be with—”
“Okay,” Josh interrupted, shrugging.
Tyler shot him a furious look, certain the awkward silence would return. But after a small sip of coffee, Josh ran his tongue over his lips and sighed before speaking.
“I don’t know why you think I defend you because I believe you can’t handle things on your own. I don’t think that. If you want me to stop, fine—I’ll stop. But don’t think that if I see someone smashing your head against the ground, I’m just going to stand there and watch you not lift a single fucking finger to stop it.”
“I’ll do whatever I want,” Tyler growled, baring his teeth.
“And so will I. And if you’re going to get mad because I step in where nobody called me, then maybe reconsider our friendship.”
Tyler parted his lips, feeling a lash of pain strike his chest—one that only fueled the rage spreading through his body. He was ashamed that everyone had seen him there, frozen by the fear Sean had planted in him since the day they met. He wasn’t usually so docile in the face of violence, but he’d learned that staying still made it end faster.
“Are you really saying that just because I don’t want you playing the savior?”
“Yes. I’m serious.”
The casual tone of his voice only angered Tyler more. It was as if his body couldn’t contain all his emotions—they clawed from the inside, trying to tear his skin open to escape. His breathing grew uneven, his body started to shake, and though he didn’t want to lash out without being calm, he couldn’t control the boil inside him, and all he could do was let it spill out in tactless words.
“Well, you’re an asshole. Completely.”
Josh smiled, provocative. He shrugged and spread jam on his pancake as he spoke, calm as ever.
“Don’t insult me. I don’t want to stop being your friend. But what kind of friend would I be if I let them beat you just because you’re embarrassed to be protected?” He took a bite of the pancake and looked up when he heard Tyler let out an animal huff. His face was flushed, his eyes shining with sheer desperation. “Ty, what’s going on? Why does it make you so angry that I want to be there for you?”
“It always has! I’m just… tired.”
“If you sit down, we can talk about it calmly. You haven’t even started breakfast.” He nodded toward the chair, which Tyler looked at but ignored. “If you want, we can talk. I’ve got nothing to do today. Calm down, then talk without being so—”
“No. I don’t want to. I’m leaving.”
“It’ll be harder for you to come back and ask me to talk, and I know you will. Better to sit down and get it out now.”
He tried to give him space—to let him know there was patience in him, to listen, to stay. To not judge him, because he knew everything Tyler had learned, he’d learned to survive. Maybe his own mind, or maybe the world around him, which had no mercy. Tyler described himself as difficult to love, difficult to understand; Josh thought he wasn’t difficult—just slower. And he had time. Plenty of it. And he wanted to use that time to wait for him.
He knew there were many things about Tyler he still didn’t know, things he struggled to express. And all of that amazed him. It made him feel his love could be even deeper.
“I’m angry. I can’t get it out.”
He lowered his gaze, uncomfortable with the honesty. Josh nodded, understanding, then lifted his shoulders in a gesture that wasn’t meant to irritate.
“However it comes out, Ty. If it comes out wrong, my chest isn’t a storage room—I don’t care.”
Tyler’s eyes filled with tears, but Josh knew it wasn’t sadness—it was helplessness, the inability to control everything packed into his chest, all the things he couldn’t even name. He bared his teeth like a feral animal, then let out a long, long sigh that ended with him shaking his head, as if he could shake his thoughts loose that way.
“All the time,” he began, his voice trembling. He cleared his throat. “They mess with me because you’re so affectionate… it wasn’t like that before, but now it’s new, and they like teasing. Um… it doesn’t bother me like that—you know I care about you and… it’s just that…”
“Does it make you uncomfortable?”
“No,” he answered immediately. “No, it’s not that. I’m just confused about everything. At first I thought you did it because we’re friends and… now it scares me because it feels different.”
There was shame on Tyler’s face. Knowing the rigid values and religion of his family, Josh understood how much it meant for him to say that—even with a broken voice and flushed cheeks. And Josh didn’t even have an answer himself; the physical closeness had come naturally. He wasn’t usually this affectionate with anyone, but Tyler had awakened a tenderness in him he didn’t want to restrain. And noticing that Tyler received it without complaint—rubbing against him like a cat asking for affection—he hadn’t wanted to make it smaller or less constant.
“Why does it scare you?”
Tyler looked at him, almost offended. Only he understood the weight of it—the future consequences if he kept walking that path. He didn’t want to lose Josh’s friendship, and he didn’t want to have to face an identity with his parents who would accept him because they loved him, but would never stop judging, questioning, wishing his path were different.
“Because it’s not right to think these things…”
There it was again—the learned answer. Proof that when Tyler spoke poorly of his family, there was a reality Josh didn’t know. Words he’d been taught to repeat, even if they didn’t match what he felt or wanted.
“Doesn’t it scare you?”
“No. What scares me is that it scares you so much you won’t want to keep hanging out with me.”
The answers weren’t clear, and they didn’t ease the doubts. Tyler seemed thoughtful all the time now, walking faster through school hallways, head bowed lower. Like a small lantern in a sea of light, trying to extinguish its own glow—even though no one was looking. Everyone else was wrapped up in their own heads, their problems, their plans. But something in Tyler made him believe he was the target of mockery and stares, as if a little cloud hovered above him proclaiming that inside it were desires and plans and thoughts others were free to judge. And it was heartbreaking to see.
As his feelings for Tyler deepened, Josh felt himself slipping back into a cycle it had taken him a long time to escape. Being in a relationship with someone so broken had opened wounds that took years to close; he’d promised himself he’d never step into the same pond again. And yet he couldn’t help the way Tyler stirred something in his chest, his hands, his legs, his head—an overwhelming urge to give everything he had to make him feel visible.
“Want to grab some beers?” He kissed his cheek loudly. Tyler shrank and squeezed his eyes shut at the sound. “Gabe invited us to a costume party tonight, but we can start drinking now.”
“Is anyone else coming?” Tyler asked uncertainly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie as they walked toward the bike rack. Josh was already pulling the small key from the keychain hanging off his backpack, the metal chiming softly as he secured it between his fingers.
“Nah. Just you and me.” He bent to reach the lock, winding the rubber cable around his hand as he unlocked the bike. His straightened black hair fell into his face; he flicked his head to move it away, but it fell right back into place. He rolled the bike a few meters toward the street, then looked at him. “So? You in?”
He nodded and climbed onto the bike right after him, trying to hold on to nothing but his shoulders as they pedaled across the university campus. Once they left it behind, his hands slowly slid down along his sides until he clasped them loosely in front of his abdomen; a gesture Josh noticed and that made him smile broadly the whole way.
The alcohol coursed through his body, making him feel much lighter. Every time he lay down on the grass and looked up at the sky, he could see random shapes forming among the clouds, and whatever Tyler was telling him barely registered—but Tyler didn’t seem to mind, because he didn’t need answers either. He only needed to fill the silence with something lighter than the void, something that wasn’t uncomfortable, but that spared him a responsibility he still wasn’t ready to face. He would simply finish off the last beer, press the empty can in his hand, and toss it aside with the others. Then he lit a cigarette, and the smell of burning tobacco caught Tyler’s attention.
“Want one?”
He shook his head, dragging himself across the grass like a worm until he was close enough to use Josh’s thighs as a pillow, resting his left cheek against the denim and rubbing his face there with a small, high-pitched whine. He closed his eyes, and Josh admired the length of his eyelashes, the thickness of his brows. His full lips, his pointed nose. He ruffled his hair a little while exhaling smoke, lifting his chin toward the sky.
“So that’s everything the professor told me… now I have to see if I can recover next semester.”
“Mm… you’ll see you can,” Josh encouraged him, gently poking his cheek with his index finger. “You’re not on the honor roll for nothing.”
“How awful,” Tyler complained, lifting his hand to rest his fingertips under his chin like a tiny pillow. Josh smiled, taking another drag from his cigarette, tapping the butt with his thumb to shake off the excess ash. Tyler opened his eyes to look at him and was surprised to find Josh looking back, smiling softly before exhaling. The piercing on his lip glinted when he ran his tongue over it to moisten his skin, then wiped it with the sleeve of his hoodie before bringing the cigarette back to his lips for another drag.
“Did it hurt when you got the piercing?”
Josh blew smoke through his nose and stubbed the cigarette out against the sole of his sneakers. Then he shook his head, fiddling with it between his fingers under Tyler’s squinting gaze—probably because the sunlight was stinging his eyes.
“No, I was drunk. I just wanted to impress the girl I was seeing at the time.”
Tyler smiled, and Josh mirrored the gesture, slipping his fingers into the cigarette pack, debating whether to take another one. “She used to say it tickled every time we kissed.”
“I can hear it clink when you drink something.”
Josh laughed, just as he went looking for another beer—but there were none left. He snorted in mild annoyance and, with the pad of his index finger, gently poked Tyler’s face again, tracing a line from his jaw up to his brow. Tyler closed his eyes in response, letting out a small sigh.
“I don’t want to go to the party anymore…”
“What?” Josh exclaimed, surprised, drawing his attention. “I already have our costumes at my place. And my dad lent me his car so we can come back whenever we want.”
“I want to stay here,” Tyler said, rubbing his cheek against Josh’s jeans like a kitten asking for affection. “And I want to shower and eat something—I’m starving.”
Josh smiled sideways, running his open hand along Tyler’s arm, from shoulder to elbow and back again, warming him. He watched him shift his head as if his leg were no longer comfortable enough, and when he couldn’t find a good position, Tyler sat up, facing him with the unmistakable expression of someone completely drunk, which made Josh laugh under his breath. Tyler brushed the grass off his hoodie and then let his forehead fall against Josh’s shoulder, where Josh braced himself to keep from giving in under his weight.
“Let me suggest something,” he murmured, so close to him. “We stop by the store for a big bottle; go to my place, you take a shower while I cook something. We rest for a bit, and then we’ll see if you feel like going out again.”
Tyler pulled back to look at him, catching every tiny movement of Josh’s irises as they traced his face. It made him feel slightly intimidated—until the small smile he gave showed his crooked teeth. Then he leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, leaving Josh’s skin tingling all the way home, where they followed through with the plan. Tyler went into the shower after picking out some clothes from Josh’s drawers; meanwhile, Josh went downstairs to the kitchen, grateful his mother wasn’t home so she wouldn’t see how drunk he was.
When he came back up with the food, Tyler was still inside, though the sound of running water was gone. Josh sat on the small couch in front of the bed and started picking at the chips he’d set next to the sandwich he’d made. Shortly after, he saw Tyler come out wearing one of his black pairs of bermuda shorts and an oversized hoodie of the same color. His damp hair clung to his forehead, and there was a faint scent of soap that made Josh want to lean in and breathe him in. But Tyler sat beside him and smiled at the food, grabbing it with both hands and taking a huge bite.
“Mmm—I'm starving,” he said with his mouth full while chewing. Josh laughed, biting into his own sandwich.
“Are we going to take a nap after?”
“Are you sleepy?”
Tyler nodded, pulling one bare foot up onto the couch, sighing as he used his fingers to gather the sandwich filling back between the bread so he could take another bite without spilling everything.
“Well, we don’t have to get there that early. We could, um… a couple of hours. Does that sound okay?”
“Mhm,” he nodded again, rubbing one eye with the back of his hand. And just like that, he finished eating, downed the soda in one go, then set the glass on the saucer. He patted his stomach and leaned his head back against the cushion, closing his eyes.
“You can lie down on my bed if you want. I’ll join you once I’m done.”
“No, I’ll wait for you,” he said, but Josh shook his head, tapping his leg lightly with his knuckles.
“I’ll take longer—I don’t eat as fast. You go.”
“Okay.”
He didn’t need more than that. He got up and hopped onto the bed; before settling into the pillows, he leaned over to kiss Josh’s head.
“Thanks, Jeezhua. It was really good…”
Then he lay down, and the deep sigh he let out told Josh he’d fall asleep very quickly. He barely moved when he slept, didn’t make a sound except when his breathing deepened slightly; he didn’t change positions either—he always looked peaceful, hiding his face behind one arm and folding one leg over the other, his foot resting on the sheets. Josh knew him well when he slept, because he could watch him for hours, and even though Tyler stayed rigid in one position, it still amazed him how his chest rose with each breath, reminding him that he was just as alive as he was, and that his head was full of complex thoughts.
He was so foreign to him.
Not because he didn’t love him, or because he didn’t know him—but because sometimes he thought it was simply nature that had placed them in the same camp that same night, as if there had never been any other possibility on earth for things to happen differently. His life had found its balance, and he couldn’t even imagine a life without Tyler at his side. He couldn’t imagine a past without him either. As if even in his childhood memories, Tyler had somehow always been there.
“We look great,” Josh said, looking at themselves in the mirror, dressed in skeleton jumpsuits, their eyes rimmed with black shadow. Josh had left his necklace outside the costume, as a way to distinguish them—but one that, indirectly, bound them together as well. “I don’t think we’ll win the contest, but we look super cool.”
“We’re going to die of heat,” Tyler complained, tugging at the fabric over his chest, and Josh gave him a firm shove on the shoulder.
“Stop being a killjoy.”
The night had already begun, and the house was packed with people. With alcohol still in their systems, getting drunk again was easy. They danced with their friends, bodies pressed close in a house that wasn’t quite big enough. The music thudded through the windows and walls; people began drifting out into the backyard, where the cold air revived their bodies and brought relief.
Josh had seen Tyler go off to dance with a friend from college he’d run into, and the way he smiled warmed his heart. He lifted his mask when he got too hot, wiping away the beads of sweat that slid down his skin; when it cooled off again, he put it back on and kept dancing. Not in an outgoing way, but following the rhythm with a shyness that made him seem smaller next to everyone else. He didn’t do well with physical contact; he struggled when others tried to guide his movements or hug him. He grew so tense that Josh could feel it from where he stood.
At some point, he lost him. His own steps grew unsteady; sometimes he wondered how he’d ended up on the second floor, or in the bathroom, or why he was laughing with people he didn’t know at all, as if they were lifelong friends. He realized he was losing track of everything, so he staggered out to the backyard, pulling his mask off and pushing it up onto his head. He leaned his back against the wall and took another drink before letting the cup fall beside him in the grass, hearing himself let out a soft complaint. The sound of the music made his chest tremble, and he recognized the moment of no return—when images in his head came as flashes, then blackouts, then a brief moment of clarity, and then flashes again. He sighed loudly. He didn’t even know what time it was.
“Oh, Josh, I’ve been looking for you,” he recognized his voice immediately—and that worried little face, makeup smudged at the corners of his eyes. He smiled at him. “No one could tell me where you were.”
“You were asking for me?” Josh asked, delighted, and Tyler rolled his eyes, annoyed.
“You’re super drunk. Let’s go home already.”
Josh laughed and stepped closer, squinting at him as if analyzing him. Tyler dropped his gaze, intimidated, glancing around, hoping no one was sober enough to judge their closeness.
“You’re super drunk too.”
“Not as much as you…” he laughed softly, but the smile faded. “I want to go home now…”
“Okay, let’s go,” he agreed immediately. “Just let me drink a little water and see if I sober up.”
He kissed his cheek and went back inside. Tyler took his mask off completely and drank from his glass again…
At home, Josh found a note on the fridge from his mother saying they wouldn’t be home for the weekend. If he felt like it, he could meet them at the little country house. His sisters were going too. He didn’t have the headspace to feel sad about it now, so he just opened the pantry and grabbed things they could eat: a few bags of chips and cookies. And peach juice.
In his room, Tyler was undressing, pulling on the pajamas Josh had lent him. He tossed his clothes onto the bed and Josh followed suit, sighing in relief as he shed the constricting costume. Then he lay down on the bed and opened the juice, taking a huge gulp. Tyler sat beside him, thoughtful; Josh knew it was because he’d seen Sean, so he didn’t dare ask. Instead, he slid closer, resting his head on his shoulder. Josh was surprised to find Tyler's hand lifting automatically to caress his face—too fast, as if the sober part of his mind had scolded him for it. Josh smiled and leaned away to kiss his shoulder.
“Don’t you want some? It’ll do you good,” he offered the juice, and Tyler took it with both hands, placing his mouth on the spout as well. He closed his eyes at the cool sensation and nodded, smiling slightly to one side. “I had a great time—and we really were the best dressed. We’ve already set the bar high for Halloween.”
“I had fun too… but I’m so lazy about taking the makeup off,” he complained. Only then did Josh notice they were still wearing eye makeup. He got out of bed, the room spinning around his head, and went to the bathroom for some cream and toilet paper—then decided that was stupid and went into his mother’s room instead, stealing a bit of makeup remover from her vanity.
He started taking his makeup off carelessly, looking at himself in the mirror. He didn’t care if it came off perfectly; he just wanted to get rid of the dark circles. He’d shower the next day and deal with the rest. When he returned to the bed, Tyler was drinking more juice, and after swallowing he would throw his head back with a loud groan—one of those sounds he made whenever his brain was overcrowded with thoughts, overstimulated. Josh crawled over the blankets until he was close to him.
“Want me to take it off for you?” he offered, showing him the makeup remover. Tyler smiled and nodded. “Okay, sit up straight.”
He dampened the paper and ran it over his eyelids; in his head, his movements were gentle, even though Tyler complained now and then. Some of his eyelashes came off and stuck to the paper, and the moisture messed up his eyebrows. Still, he managed to remove most of the makeup.
His skin was smooth, without imperfections; it could have been compared to silk, except for his chin and upper lip, where there was always a faint shadow warning that stubble was about to grow in. If he ran his thumb over the area, he thought he could feel the follicles swelling where thicker hair would soon appear. But he wasn’t sure if he was actually feeling it—or if his mind was inventing sensations just to be more aware of the fact that he was touching him.
When Tyler opened his eyes, there was still some paint left around his undereyes and lower lashes. The alcohol made his eyes look smaller, giving him a darker expression. Josh himself sometimes wore makeup, especially when he hung out with friends who did too, and a random image crossed his mind of the two of them wearing makeup together, dressed the way he usually dressed, listening to his favorite music. Things he knew Tyler would never do—because he didn’t like makeup, or his clothes, or the music he listened to.
“You look really handsome, man.” Tyler’s eyes focused on Josh’s, confused. “Sorry, but you look really good with black shadow… you should even wear it day to day.”
“First I’d have to look like you to even consider it. With this face and this completely styleless body, I’d just embarrass myself,” Josh denied, rubbing his knuckles under Tyler’s lower lashes, trying to remove a bit more shadow. Tyler let him, a small smile on his lips. Josh caught himself prolonging the motion, pretending there was still makeup left—when really, he just wanted to keep touching him like that, to have him this docile, like a stray puppy that finally trusts someone enough to come close and ask for affection only from the one who rescued him.
Even drunk, that thought set off an alarm in his head. One he ignored. Because right now, he didn’t care about living up to the expectations he’d made with another version of himself—not the one steering his thoughts now.
“Shhh. You are very handsome. You’ve got an objectively pretty face. All my friends say your nose is perfect. And my girl friends envy you because, even though you’re a guy, you don’t take advantage of your pretty features.” Tyler rolled his eyes with a small groan. Josh laughed. “I’m not lying. I think so too.”
“Are you flirting with me?” he teased. Josh lowered his gaze for a second, then lifted it again, more determined, smiling crookedly. His hand cupped Tyler’s cheek, and Tyler rubbed his face into his palm, petting himself against it. Josh laughed and leaned in to kiss his cheek a couple of times, feeling the coldness left behind by the makeup remover.
“Can I kiss you?” he whispered. Tyler’s face drained of color, but he closed his eyes and nodded. Josh’s lips met his—just a chaste kiss, barely making a sound. Then another. And another. His hand framed Tyler’s cheek, pulling him closer. That was when he felt the taste of his saliva and the tip of his tongue outlining Tyler’s lips, parting them to slip inside and give him a real kiss—one Tyler accepted almost immediately, dusting off skills he hadn’t used in years of being single.
Tyler’s hands tightened on Josh’s cheeks. Their breathing grew frantic, as if neither of them felt any need to stop; sometimes they ran out of air entirely from sharing breath.
Josh slid his hands under the hem of Tyler’s shirt, allowing himself to touch his warm torso, up to his chest and shoulders. The breathing grew louder at the contact—nervous, anxious. He kissed his cheek, then lowered to his neck, pressing his nose into his skin first, recognizing the mix of sweat and lotion. He kissed him there, softly at first—and when Tyler tilted his head to give him more space, Josh smiled and ran his tongue along the length, biting gently, then sucking just a little. He could hear and feel Tyler’s breath against his ear; it turned into a small, high-pitched cry when Josh’s thumbs stimulated each of his nipples, making them hard under his skin and forcing his back to arch.
He had never felt this desperate to touch a body. He could blame the alcohol—but it wasn’t true. His own chest ignited into a fire that burned his tissues every time they were alone together. And though it hadn’t always been like this, over the past few months he’d noticed the change. It was hard to be alone with him. He wondered if it was obvious—and if it was, whether Tyler wanted him the same way. He couldn’t read him. He couldn’t decipher him. And it drove him mad, because night after night he tried to keep desire out of his mind—but it was inevitable. He wanted to touch him, smell him, look at him, kiss him. Be close to him.
He pulled his shirt off, surprised when Tyler didn’t protest. He looked at his chest—barely any hair between nonexistent pecs; he could see every rib, the whole ribcage rising and falling with each breath. He leaned in to kiss his neck again, then his shoulders, nibbling slightly. He traced his collarbones with the tip of his nose. And left a trail of kisses down his abdomen to his navel. His hands caressed him from knees to groin, up and down—and when he heard Tyler moan, he lifted his gaze to meet his eyes and leaned in to kiss him again. His hands framed his neck, fingers tangling in the roots of his hair, sliding down his arms, over his abdomen.
“Can I touch you?” he whispered. Tyler found it strange that he was asking, with both of them so drunk and so worked up so quickly. He nodded. Josh’s hand went first to his knees, then slid up his smooth thigh, along the much softer inner side, skipping his crotch to grope at his pubis, still covered by clothes. He squeezed slightly, and all the air left Tyler’s lungs. “Have you been intimate with men before?”
“Josh…” he started, his face already flushing pink. “I haven’t even had sex with anyone.”
Josh was surprised that at twenty, he was still a virgin—not only because few people were at that age, but because he couldn’t believe there was someone who hadn’t even had a single heavy makeout session. Tyler came from a very serious family, but Tyler himself didn’t seem that serious: he drank, he shouted, he made dirty jokes. He had dreams that weren’t religious or rigid. He didn’t pray much or go to church. He didn’t seem closed off to experimenting. Knowing he’d never been with anyone helped Josh understand many other things—and even in his drunken state, he took it into account so as not to be aggressive.
“And do you want your first time to be with me?” He kept stimulating between his legs, able to feel and guess the shape of his penis through the thin fabric of his pajama pants and underwear. Tyler ran his tongue over his lips; his eyes darkened with fear, as if cursing him for asking.
“Of course I want to… don’t say stupid things…”
“Sorry… then I’ll stop if you’re uncomfortable and—”
“Have you had sex with men?” Tyler interrupted. Josh blinked a couple of times. The question caught him off guard. It seemed obvious—but they had never actually talked about sex. Neither of them wanted to. Josh’s reason was simple: his longest relationship had made him feel like he only received affection and attention when they were in bed.
“Yes,” he answered curtly, before leaning in to kiss the corner of Tyler’s mouth, barely making a sound. “Let me take care of you. You don’t have to do much if you don’t want to.”
Josh hooked his fingers into the waistband of Tyler’s sweatpants and boxers, pulling them down his legs and knees and leaving them on the floor. He gave a quick glance at his genitals—his short pubic hair, so fine it barely formed a swirl—and then his hand wrapped around his penis. Tyler let out a heavy sigh, looking down and spreading his legs slightly. Josh got up to go to the bathroom and grab what he needed, tossed it onto the bed, then undressed as well, evening things out. Tyler felt a pang of envy at Josh’s beautiful body—the hollow line down the center of his abdomen, the subtly shaped pecs, his tattooed arms. He was shaved, which made Tyler wonder whether he always was or only when he knew he was going to have sex.
He watched him coat his hand with lubricant, and when he spread it over his penis, his back arched with a groan that sounded like pain but was pure pleasure. Josh smiled.
“It’s cold, but you’ll see how it starts to feel warm.” He kept masturbating him until he was fully hard, dropping down to squeeze his testicles lightly, then applying more lubricant and carefully bringing himself to Tyler’s entrance, barely touching, making sure he wasn’t too uncomfortable. “Do you like it here?”
Tyler only nodded, biting the inside of his lip with his buck teeth. Josh leaned down, took his length in one hand, pressed it to his cheek, stroking it with his face before taking it into his mouth and starting to work it—tongue flat, pressing it against his palate. Tyler cried out, high-pitched, long and loud. He was grateful his parents weren’t home. Josh pulled back with a wet pop, lifted his eyes to meet Tyler’s as he dragged his tongue along the entire length, sucking gently at the tip.
“Wait,” Tyler ordered, closing his legs and sitting up carefully so he wouldn’t hurt him. Josh nodded, obedient, watching him with as much seriousness as he could muster through the chaos in his head. “We’re friends… best friends… what if we regret this?”
Josh smiled; the piercing on his lip caught the light. He moved closer, stroked his hair, then kissed his lips, insistent. He knew Tyler felt uncomfortable—he wasn’t kissing back—but out of embarrassment he didn’t pull away either. Josh kept kissing him anyway, because that was how he’d learned to convince his partners that he was good enough for them.
He remembered Leonel. The commands. How he followed them like a well-trained dog, because he never received affection when they were sober and not in bed.
“Josh… I’m being serious…”
Josh pulled away, more grounded now, resting his chin on Tyler’s knees and looking up at him. His eyes seemed as tender as a puppy’s, and his chest softened with affection, erasing that boundary again—the one he’d already crossed the first time Tyler let him kiss him.
“Answer me.”
“Hmm…” His hand framed Tyler’s face, and he kissed him again. His face was flushed, embarrassed; suddenly Tyler wondered if Josh was actually drunker than he was, or if sex overwhelmed him that quickly. His fingers brushed Tyler’s hair from his forehead, and with a heavy sigh he kissed his cheek instead.
“Josh… you’re making me uncomfortable…” His voice sounded like a plea. Josh listened this time—really listened—though he didn’t stop touching him. His hands were magnets, desperately begging not to be separated from that warm, smooth skin. He reached his lips one last time.
“Were we ever really friends? I don’t think so… if every time I see you, you make me like this…” He pulled back to show his erection, stroking it slightly and provoking a moan from himself. Tyler looked down, clearly unsettled, confused, almost betrayed. Still, Josh moved closer, placing his hands between Tyler’s knees and pressing to part them. Tyler obeyed, opening his legs and letting Josh’s slender body settle between them. He let his arms loop around his neck, let him kiss his temple. He jumped slightly when their erections brushed together, but he closed his eyes, focusing on Josh’s kisses and the hands at his nape.
Josh’s breathing grew more guttural against his ear, and he felt his hips start to thrust lightly, trying to rub against him. Tyler let out a sharp, desperate whine and grabbed his waist, trying to push him away.
“Josh… move back…”
“Please… please…” he begged, pulling away to look at him, face red and flustered. Tyler shook his head, and Josh sat back on his heels, disappointed. “I’m sorry…”
Tyler shook his head again, reached for his underwear, used it to wipe away the lubricant, then pulled it back on carefully. Josh watched him, then met his eyes, ashamed. He dressed himself as well, his hands grabbing his own hair harshly, almost punishing himself. When he saw Tyler crawl under the blankets and cover himself up to his shoulders, his heart felt like it was being locked inside a small box full of cold and humiliation. Disappointment.
He crawled a little closer and tried to touch him—but quickly realized it was a terrible idea.
“I’m sorry, Tyler… I didn’t mean to push so hard. I’m sorry…”
Tyler closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep. Josh knew it was avoidance. He stayed silent for a long while, until his body grew heavy and he lay down beside him, turning off the light first to sink them into a silence that felt infinite—though it didn’t take long for him to break it again.
“Please don’t think badly of me… I didn’t mean to act like that… forgive me, please…”
More silence. Panic crept in at the lack of response. His heart raced; it felt like his lungs doubled in size but not in capacity. He was suffocating in thoughts and emotions he didn’t know how to organize after putting his body through so many physical and mental states in such a short time. He thought of Leonel again—of how he always used silence to make him feel small and desperate, ignoring him until it triggered self-destructive limits and emotional breakdowns he later victimized himself over. He knew Tyler didn’t mean to hurt him like that—but his brain was terrified that even the smallest possibility existed.
“Please answer me…” he begged, tears filling his eyes, the knot in his throat tightening painfully. Tyler stayed silent. “Please don’t leave me like this… please, Ty… I didn’t mean it…”
He kicked the mattress hard, a small sob tearing out of him uncontrollably. He got out of bed and left the room, crying with a force he didn’t understand how he’d unleashed. He repeated to himself over and over that Tyler wasn’t like Leonel—that Tyler truly loved him and that his silence wasn’t violent—but the body has memory, and the pain of feeling this small and ignored had reopened wounds he’d never truly closed.