Chapter Text
"We're playing in Indiana, Wisconsin, Illinois, and Michigan. We'll be back to play Ichthus festival. It's like the B stage of the B stage but we're there." Tyler took a breath. "And we're playing the same set. It would work smoother if we put anathema in front of guns for hands, but Ben says that it's too tricky to set up without a long transition, and" Tyler looks down. "Nevermind."
Kelly Joseph sits with her oldest son at the kitchen table. Tyler is going on tour in a week, and Kelly is worried. She feels a little guilty at this, that she can't just be excited for her son, but four states in three weeks?
Tyler is an adult. But she looks at him and sees her baby; baby fat still clings to his cheeks and he has a pimple on his forehead. If it wasn't for the uneven stubble growing on his face he'd look fifteen. He sits there, fingers tracing the veins in their wooden table, just like he did when he was little.
"No, no, it sounds good, Tyler. I don't know much about the whole concert thing, but I know you're going to make it work."
"Thank you."
"Just promise you'll call me once a week." She knows he will. Her heart hurt. She'd never gone this long without seeing her oldest, not even while he was in college.
"And Tyler? People don't always mean what they say. They aren't honest. Just, please, stick with Josh."
Kelly knew Tyler wouldn't want her saying that. But Tyler was not a large man. And his unwavering honesty had its downfalls. Namely, he naturally assumed everyone else was the same way.
"I know Mom. I'm not stupid."
"I wasn't saying that and you know it. Also, please call Zach before you leave, I know he'll miss saying goodbye."
Tyler nodded.
Kelly tried to look into his eyes. They were always so expressive. They hadn't changed since he was a baby. She used this trick when he was little, when communication was nearly impossible for him, when tears were frequent. It helped her glimpse into her son's world. She wanted to figure out what was so fascinating about the ceiling fan, why he would look and look; why toothpaste was torturous.
Right now his eyes shone.
He was excited. About the music, about spending every day with Josh, about performing. He could create a world on stage, picking the most vulnerable parts of his mind and heart apart in front of a hundred other broken people.
He was no longer separated from everyone when he was on stage. People connected with him. Apparently he was charming during performances (Josh enlightened him).
Every jeer, every lonely day -there were many-, every eye roll ripped into him. The stage healed him. He was looked at because he wanted to be. And he had Josh.
However, ecitement and fear felt the same to him, and it wasn't exactly pleasant. His racing heart and burning face urged him to leave, to go somewhere to process all of this.
Tyler stood up.
"I'm going to my room." He was also here to get some clothes for tour. The stairs creaked as he went up the steps. He was greeted by the familiar chips in their painted wall, the pattern of the wood floor. He'd seen it since he was little. His face wasn't red anymore. He flipped on the bedroom light.
Zach had kept the room unchanged, partially out of kindness, but also because he lived in a dorm most of the year. So Tyler's bed was still set up, basketball trophies sitting on the shelf above his headboard.
He could imagine all the past Tylers in this space. Seven year old tyler squeezing under the bed, falling asleep and giving his parents a scare. Later, they would stop to look there before calling for him. Ten year old Tyler reading Zach his bedtime story (a book of basketball players' stats, but close enough). Fourteen year old Tyler sitting in the closet in his underwear because real school was far too much all the time and this was the only way to feel right again. Seventeen year old Tyler at night, biting his lip and doing something that would make his mother cry, but he had to since he hated himself. He shook those thoughts away (literally) and began packing.
A few pairs of shoes and shirts later, Tyler was saying goodbye to his mom. He'd call her again before tour, since he called every Tuesday, but this was the last time they'd see each other in person.
"Hugs?" She had to ask, it was worth a try.
Not today. "No thank you."
Kelly giggled. He was definitely her Tyler, always polite.
"Okay, love you Ty, drive safe."
"Love you too Mom."
He put his box into the back seat, then got in the car.
"Say hey to Josh for me!"
"Okay Mom."
That night he stayed on the porch as the sun set and the air changed. There was a breeze and Tyler closed his eyes and laid back into the grass. He picked at it, before deciding to leave it alone. He didn't want to kill the grass.
A year ago, he wouldn't have done this. He wouldn't have just sat, let his body do what it wanted. Tyler had killed himself. Not literally, but that is what it felt like. He hated himself so much that he forgot who he was. There was too much shame for Tyler to exist.
But seven and ten and twelve year old Tyler fought back. Through memories Tyler was able to save himself. He remembered how good the night air was. How he scrubbed his bare feet through the grass and hummed. How he rocked and felt the earth moving with him. A million other tiny moments he made his home from.
He never knew what autistic meant as a child. He knew it was bad, so it had to be whispered. It made him go to therapy twice a week and none of the kids wanted to talk to him unless he had a basketball in his hands. Unless he had something to give them, something to 'make up' for this word that had a thousand faces and no concrete meaning to stand on.
Tyler knew now that half the 'traits' of autism were simply coping mechanisms for the other half. His body knew what his brain needed, most of the time. Sometimes he needed help. He knew that shame and loneliness were there too. But right now things felt good.
|-/
The house always smelled different when the air conditioner wasn't working. More like wood. Also stinkier, since four men were sweating their guts out in the living room. But they were having a pretty good time, even if their backs were stuck to the leather couch.
Josh brought sushi from his second job. It was the good stuff, real crab and fresh fish. They were leaving Friday, so it was sort of a celebratory lunch. Probably the last good food they'd get for three weeks.
He worked two jobs now. Guitar Center was fun, but he was chipping in for gas and hotel money, and the van, and equipment, and food on the road. Guitar center paid him barely above minimum wage. In short, they were all broke.
Currently, all five guys were sprawled on the couch, in fromt of the tv, and more importantly, the fan. Their AC had broken.
There wasn't anything good on, according to everyone but Mark. Trashy reality tv was his favorite. Michael and Nick kept talking over Khloe and Kim Kardashian, who were promptly shushed by Mark. This caused Tyler and Josh to giggle, and the cycle started again.
Josh looked at Tyler, as he so often did. He looked good today. His cheeks were flushed a rosy pink from the heat, his hair stuck out in different directions. Josh found Tyler hard to read. But he supposed he was happy, his odd little laugh frequent.
Josh soaked in these details, along with other things he didn't want to forget. Like the easy conversation in the background, Mark's shushing, the sushi in front of Tyler untouched. Tyler.
He couldn't help his crush. But he could shove it down a little. Not that Tyler would really notice anyway. Josh felt bad for thinking it. But it was true. For someone so intense, so observant, he was blind with that kind of stuff.
So he turned back to the tv. One of the girl's boyfriends was chewing them out. Mark turned the volume down.
"You wanna go outside?"
Josh looked at Tyler, who was shifting in his seat.
"Sure." They unstuck themselves from the couch and walked towards the porch.
The screen door slammed behind Josh as he made his way out. A breeze was blowing, drying the sweat on his torso. It was cooler out here.
He looked at Tyler, who was looking everywhere but Josh. Josh learned early on that this was not sheepish behavior for Tyler, but natural, easier for him.
"Six days 'till we leave."
"Yeah." Josh paused, then ventured on. "Uh, are you gonna be okay for the tour? I'm mean- Uh, sorry- I didn't mean it mean I just, well, you have a hard time in Walmart."
Josh had to ask.
Tyler grinned. He appreciated Josh's (usual) straightforwardness. He just said what he thought. That's how Tyler knew he was genuinely kind.
"Yes, Josh. I have ways of coping. And it wasn't mean. Thank you for thinking of me."
Josh let out a breath.
"Good, just, almost a whole month in a van would bother anyone, you know?"
Tyler nodded. That had kept him up at night. Josh and the guys were going to see him, know him when he was tired, and stressed, and too exhausted for a facade. He hoped he'd have friends in three weeks. But that was nothing new to him. He looked at his wrist.
"Have you ever wanted a tattoo?" Tyler's words startled Josh back into focus.
"Yeah, totally. Why?"
"I don't know, I've never heard of anyone getting tattooed on stage before. It would be sick, man."
"Really sick," Josh agreed.
"What would you get? Like, in general, not just on stage." Josh wanted to know.
Tyler already had a tattoo on his right bicep. He got it right after he turned eighteen; it was the roman numeral reference for a bible verse that was important to him. It talked about rough times. It also talked about strength. Josh thought it fit him perfectly.
"I want to get a wristband right here." Tyler said, gesturing to his rubber band- clad wrist. Josh didn't need him to explain. "And maybe some more armbands. Just black."
Tyler was silent then, so Josh continued the conversation for him.
"I want a tree. Like a whole sleeve, full of color. Kind of like a painting. I think it'd be really cool."
"I think it would fit you, Josh."
"Maybe I'll get Mark's face on my pec."
Tyler laughed.
"And I'll get Michael's. Best friend tattoos."
Best friends. Tyler hoped they were there. He didn't know. But Josh merely smiled at him and gestured back to the door.
The rest of the afternoon was spent in Tyler's basement recording bass tracks and laughing at jokes that are only funny in a heat induced delirium.
|-/
Epic Sushi and Hibachi House was a popular hole in the wall place in the strip mall that Josh and Tyler would climb.
Josh cleaned tables weekday nights. It was a busy job, and it paid well. He wasn't being paid during the tour but his boss had guaranteed him a job when he got back. That was all he could ask for.
Josh slid into his car and untucked his shirt, unpinning his name tag too. He sped off, eager to get home. It was already eleven at night and he still had to pack.
He started a Death Cab cd and backed out of the parking lot. Josh loved to drive. It was the second best place to listen to music (besides behind his drum kit). He was speeding. He would slow down, forget about it and speed up again. It was eleven at night and he felt like he was buzzing. The korea tour he'd done with house of heroes had been the best time of his life. And he wasn't even in his favorite band then. He wasn't with Tyler. The speedomete read 55. He pushed the brake pedal again.
He opened the door as quietly as possible, as to not wake his family. Walking downstairs with shoes on was not particularly auiet, however. But Jordan would most likely be up. Sharing a room with him was fun, but their clothes got mixed together; neither of them really cared and they were the same size.
It took him half an hour to find his duffel bag.
"Is this yours?" Josh threw a black tshirt at his brother.
Jordan glared at him, not realy mad.
"I don't think so." He threw it back, hitting Josh square in the face.
"Cool."
"Maybe it's Tyler's." It probably was. It seemed a little long for Josh to buy for himself.
Jordan wiggled his eyebrows and turned around, doing that thing where it looks like you're kissing someone else.
"Oh Tyler, oh, oh." Jordan made exaggerated kissing noises.
Josh rolled his eyes.
Tyler would be awake.
Josh pulled out his phone and stopped at Tyler's contact. Should he call or text? He really wanted to call. Was that weird? Would Tyler think it was weird? Did Tyler even like phone calls? He couldn't remember ever calling him. He pressed the phone icon anyway.
"Tyler, baby, you left something over here."
"Shut up Jordan, stop being such an-"
"Hello?" Tyler's voice seemed unsure.
"Hey man."
What if he had woken Tyler up?
"Sorry, I hope I didn't wake you up, but- stop being so stupid! god- sorry, I think I have one of your shirts, and I know you might need it to pack."
"No, I was awake, and huh?"
"Jordan's being annoying. I think I have one of your shirts?"
"Is it black? I'm missing a black t shirt."
"Yeah, this is probably it."
Josh had Jordan in a half nelson to avoid any interruptions.
"Um, can I come get it right now? It's just easier to pack when you have everything, and, well." Tyler trailed off.
"Sure dude, just text when you're here so I can let you in."
"Okay. Goodbye Josh."
"Bye Tyler."
Jordan squirmed out of Josh's grasp and started rubbing his neck.
"Geez dude, you must really like him."
"Uh, yeah." Josh looked intently at the jeans he was holding.
"Cool. Sorry. I didn't know it was important."
"It's fine."
"Yeah, no, and Tyler seems cool."
"Cool?"
"Yeah, I think he is, in a Tyler sort of way."
"I guess he is."
It was cheesy. But Josh liked cheesy things, and he understood what Jordan meant.
Tyler let out a sigh after saying goodbye to Josh. He'd spent the last hour looking for that shirt. Now he could continue packing. He pulled into Josh's driveway, texted a quick 'here', and walked up to the porch.
The night air was always special. It felt cool on Tyler's face, not as abrasive. Things weren't usually as abrasive at night. He closed his eyes.
They snapped back open when he heard footsteps. A few seconds later Josh was ushering him inside.
"Hello Josh."
"Hey Ty, the shirt's in my room, lemme go get it."
"Okay." He stopped walking.
"You can come with me."
"Oh."
He followed Josh down to his bedroom. There were clothes thrown in a pile on his bed, an open duffel bag squeezed in near the headboard. Jordan was sitting on his bed. Death Cab was playing on Josh's old CD player. He could recognize the song. Josh was saying something.
"What?"
"I don't know if I can sleep tonight man, I'm really really excited."
"Okay." Josh would need to sleep if he was going to drive.
Josh smiled at him like he did when there was a surprise party for Mark. Like he knew something that Tyler didn't.
"Are you excited?"
Oh. Right. "Yes. But I'm also scared."
"Yeah you've never traveled this much really." Josh's voice got soft, like he was thinking. "Here." He held out Tyler's black shirt. Tyler took it and looked closer. It was definitely his. He neatly folded it up, sticking it under his arm.
"Thank you Josh."
"No problem man, I'm glad you got it."
"Yeah, now I can finish packing. To be honest, I don't know how much I'm supposed to take or what I'm even supposed to take."
"Deodorant and toothpaste." Josh grinned.
"Wow, I really stink that bad?"
"Yeah dude I can smell you from here."
"You stink too." Tyler was indignant.
"We're just two smelly boys." This phrase always made Tyler grin.
"That's our new band name."
Josh lowered his voice to imitate an announcer. "Please welcome, all the way from Ohio, Two Smelly Boys!"
It wasn't really funny but Josh chuckled anyway, which made Tyler clap and scrunch up his face the cute way Josh loved.
"But seriously," Josh continued, "I'm just packing a ton of t shirts so I don't have to do laundry in every city. It worked when I was in the other band."
"That sounds like a good idea Josh. Except I wear like four shirts. I'll just see what happens."
Tyler looked at Josh, at his messy hair and into his kind, honest eyes. He loved their shape and color. He remembered the way they looked when they were first meeting. Not once were any of Josh's intentions cruel. His words were never judgmental. He could almost just exist around Josh, in a way that he couldn't in front of anyone else, not even family. It patched up that deep gash inside of him. He ached still, with a loneliness that threatened to steal his breath away. None of that was Josh's fault though.
Instead of saying all this, he just said
"I need to go finish packing. Thank you for the shirt."
"Sure, see you tomorrow."
"Goodbye Josh, see you tomorrow."