Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Tyler! Get your ass up ‘n greet your daddy’s new farmhand!”

Summer, 2002. Ohio.

Tyler lays on the couch. The air is sticky. The ceiling fan above him does nothing to cut the humidity. He’s on his stomach, legs kicking in the air lazily. Every blink is slower than the last, and he’s about to fall asleep before his mother’s voice jolts him awake again.

“Tyler! Don’t make me come in there, boy.”

He can hear her mutter about how lazy he is. There’s plenty of muffled complaining on his own part before he rolls himself off the couch and pads into the kitchen, clad in shorts and a baggy t-shirt. “I’m goin’, Mama, I’m goin’,” he mumbles, skirting around her just in case she wants to swat at him for good measure. The knife in her hand doesn’t do him any good.

His bare feet creak against their old wooden floors and he looks back to see his mother still cutting the onions he picked this morning for tonight’s supper. His nose wrinkles at the smell. The summer air clings to him and bugs buzz in his ears. He peers out the kitchen window before opening the screen door and sees a boy hopping out of a beaten-down red pickup truck. He hesitates in the doorway.
“Ain’t Pa supposed to meet the new guys?” He shifts on his feet and sees a pair of pretty brown eyes look in his direction. He feels his face heat up and backpedals into the kitchen. “Why do I gotta do it?”

Kelly grunts over the counter, doesn’t give him a second glance. “Tyler, your daddy’s at the farmer’s market,” his mom answers, “so go out there dammit, before I whoop your ass.”

“Oh yeah,” he says, almost to himself. “Forgot.”

So out he goes. 
“Hey,” he calls out from the porch. “You the new farmhand?” He leans over the railing.
New Guy turns his attention onto Tyler and smiles sheepishly. He crumples up a piece of paper and stuffs it into his pocket. “Hi. Uh, yeah. I’m Josh,” he says, adjusting a cap on his head, “is Mr. Joseph around? Or-are you…?”

Tyler shakes his head and cuts him off. “Nah, he’s out at the farmer’s market right now.”

“All right.” Josh comes closer, with steady steps and a sturdier smile when he shakes Tyler’s hand. Tyler doesn’t have a very firm handshake. “You’re…Tyler, then, right?”

Tyler narrows his eyes just slightly. “Yeah. How’d you know that?”

“Oh, well,” Josh clears his throat and it almost looks like he’s trying to peek inside the house to see if anyone else is inside. “Your dad just said-“

“He was talkin’ to you about me?” Tyler interrupts again.

Josh is pretty. He has curly, dark hair. And it looks like he has a tattoo on his right arm underneath the button-up he’s wearing. He doesn’t look like any of the other farmhands his father had hired in the past. Way too pretty.

He stares so long Josh’s face heats up under the pressure. “Um. No,” he says. He laughs nervously. Is this kid for real? “Just…small talk. He didn’t say anything bad, I promise.” He laughs again, but Tyler seems dead serious.

“Tyler-I told ya to say hi. Stop making him uncomfortable!” Kelly shouts through the screen door. She steps outside, wiping her hands on an apron tied around her waist. “Josh, you come on inside. Let me see ya up close, sweetheart.”

Josh’s attention is split from Tyler. “Yes ma’am,” he nods and heads inside, where a chattering Kelly starts to poke and prod.

Tyler stands in the driveway still, fists clenched at his sides, mind reeling. What made his dad choose this guy? After so many years of working alone? What makes him so special?

“Tyler Robert Joseph!”

He snaps his gaze up and fades away from all the daydreaming just to earn a sharp smack on the side of his head. He hadn’t even noticed her storming up to him until it was too late.
“You got anythin’ left up there?” His mother hisses, head still shaking in disappointment. “Swear ‘ta God, boy, are your ears filled with cotton? Get in the damn house.” She huffs, and he follows her into the house.

“Sorry, Mama,” Tyler mumbles, fingers instinctively going to rub the soon-to-be bruised lump on the side of his head. Josh is standing in the kitchen, and looks slightly perturbed when Tyler comes in after his mother looking wearier than before.

Kelly almost instantly softens the second her eyes are on Josh again.
“Oh, well, just look at ya,” she says. She’s all up in his business, patting his cheek. “Yeah, you’ll do just fine here. You’ve got a stocky build just like Tyler’s daddy. Good for hauling hay bales.”

She clicks her tongue, hand running down Josh’s bicep. “Y’know, it’s such a pity Tyler never took after him. All skin and bones, he is. Except for that big fat mouth.”

Tyler doesn’t say anything. Kelly continues to fawn over Josh. He watches them, jaw clenched, head pounding.

Josh smiles nervously. “Well, thank you, Mrs. Joseph-“ he clears his throat, “I’m excited to be here.”

Kelly hums. “Good. We’ll treat ya well, that’s for sure.” She turns and takes her place back at the kitchen counter. “Go show him ‘round, will ya?” She says to Tyler. “I gotta finish makin’ supper. Your daddy should be home before sundown.”

Tyler finally looks up, eyebrows raising slightly. “Really?”

“Did I stutter, boy? Now go!” She shouts at him, brandishing her knife.

He tugs on Josh’s sleeve and pulls him outside before she could get any angrier.

“Is she always like that?” Josh asks when they’re out of reach.

“Like what?” Tyler looks back at him.

Josh frowns and lets the silence settle before shaking his head. “Nothing.”
Maybe it’s just their quirks. They do live out in the middle of nowhere, after all. This is what he signed up for! The life of rural, simple country folk. Like the shows he used to watch on TV.

Despite the family’s odd personalities, the Joseph farm is truly a sight to behold. It’s incredibly well taken care of, much to Josh’s surprise. Chris had told him over the phone their primary crop was corn, but there are dozens of other smaller garden beds teeming with other produce.
“How is everything so…alive?” Josh asks, particularly interested in the veggies that seem to only grow during the fall months.

“Oh, my pa makes a special fertilizer,” Tyler informs him, fingers plucking a few ripe strawberries from the vines. He offers one to Josh. “Dunno what’s in it though. He don’t tell me. He don’t let me touch it, either.”

“So…you don’t buy anything? You grow and raise everything you eat?” Josh asks, mind racing as to how they’ve not made a killing with all of their quality livestock and produce. They should be on the cover of farming magazines or something. Or selling this magical fertilizer, at least.

“We go to the farmer’s market,” he says as he continues walking to the cattle pens, tossing strawberry stems into the grass as he goes. “Well-only Papa goes. Me and Ma stay here. He brings us back stuff we can’t grow or make ourselves.” They pass by free-roaming cows that Tyler stops to pet every ten seconds, pens of chickens and roosters clucking away at each other, and a hog house. “I don’t ever leave the farm.”

Josh’s eyebrows raise. “Never?”

Tyler’s cooing at a smaller cow-a dairy cow, from the looks of it-that has a bow tied around her neck. He shakes his head. “Don’t need to. This is Lola.” He doesn’t seem like he wants to talk about it.

Josh pets Lola. She’s abnormally small. Maybe that’s why Tyler likes her. Reminds him of himself.

“Anyway, you’re boutta live here too, right?” Tyler asks him as he feeds Lola the rest of his strawberries, “Mama said you’re gonna stay in the hayloft.”

Josh nods. “As far as I know, yeah.”

“I should probably show that to ya then,” Tyler tells him. “C’mon.”

Josh follows him, wondering how he’s able to walk over everything with no shoes on. That’s gotta hurt, right? The roads here are all gravel.

But Tyler’s already moved on, still babbling about how much he adores the animals and how he just can’t bear it when his father would take them out back to slaughter them for meat. But he’d never kill Lola, because Lola is Tyler’s pride and joy. And she’s a dairy cow, anyway. Tyler tells him that he only drinks Lola’s milk.

The hayloft inside of the barn is nicer than Josh expected. Not only will it be warm during the winter months, but there is already a small rolled out mattress pad up in the loft and a few oil lamps to light the darkness during the evening. He spies an old hot plate near the entrance, too.
“Oh, wow,” he says, looking around. “This is…great, actually. Really nice.”

Tyler hops up onto a hay bale and frowns down at him. “You just can’t be from ‘round here,” he says suddenly, “you’re too damn polite. Last guy who stayed here told me it was the worst thing he’d ever slept on.”

Josh laughs at that, scratches the back of his neck and replies sheepishly.
“Uh, yeah, I come from a very,” he clears his throat, “interesting family. They weren’t too happy when they found I was moving here to work as a farmhand. I’ll just say that. But I chose to leave. I want this kind of life.”

“Well…I’m glad ya came,” Tyler says with a crooked smile, “you’re a lot nicer than any of the others who worked here.”

Josh squints up at him through the sunlight peeking through the slats in the barn. “Yeah?”

“I s’pose I should show you ‘round more now,” Tyler drawls, legs swinging off the side of the hay bale, “but I don’t really wanna.”

Josh wanders around the hayloft, and spots a few stray cats skittering around as they hunt for mice. “Do you know what time your dad will be back?” He asks absentmindedly, breaking through Tyler’s incoherent rambling that he definitely was not listening to.

“Before supper,” Tyler answers, picking at his nails. “What time’s it now?”

Josh checks his watch. “2:37.” He watches Tyler jump down from the hay bale.

“Guess we could wander ‘round some more,” he says with a sigh. “You ever tried honeysuckle?”

“Can’t say I have,” Josh replies. Tyler hums.

“Mm. Yeah. We’ll do that. Lola loves honeysuckle.” He leads Josh around the outside of the barn. There’s a thicket of trees right next to it that dissipates into the cornfields. The shade is comforting.

“How did your family come to own this land?” Josh asks absentmindedly. Tyler digs through some bushes until he straightens up holding a white bloom.

He shrugs. “I dunno. Was before I was born. Ask my pa if you wanna know.” He holds out a honeysuckle blossom to Josh. “Just suck out the bottom,” he says, and to Josh’s dismay, “just do it, it’s good! Promise.”

Josh grimaces before bringing the end of the flower to his lips, but instantly he’s met with a sweetness leaking from the bloom.
“Oh,” he says, “wait, that’s actually really cool.”

“Told ya.” Tyler’s on his knees in the dirt, picking a handful of the blossoms. “Sometimes Mama makes ice cream outta ‘em. But not often. They don’t grow very much.”

He stands, holding his bunch of honeysuckle. “I’m gonna take these to Lola. You can follow me if ya want. Or keep lookin’ around. I don’t care.”
And then he’s humming as he starts back towards the cow pasture. And Josh feels…nosy.

He doesn’t follow Tyler back, and instead looks around at the land surrounding him. The forest seems to go on forever ahead of him, circling around the farmland and stopping where the road cuts through.

Kind of makes him claustrophobic.

He ends up back in the barn-his new home. He’s peeking through all of the old things from past employees. Scraps of paper. Toolboxes. Some weirdly red stains that are probably rust.

He kneels down as a black cat rubs against his leg. “Hi girl,” he says softly, petting her. She purrs, smoothing herself against him. He’d say this was all so jarring, but he hasn’t even gotten to the job part of this place yet.

The ad in the newspaper was vague. Maybe Josh was just desperate to get away. Maybe his family finally just pissed him off enough that they pushed him away. But now, he’s kneeling in a barn full of hay, petting a cat, and his phone has zero service.

He smiles.

“Oh. Ew.”

Josh looks up and Tyler is standing above them. The cat skitters off immediately.

“Ew?” Josh questions.

“I don’t like cats,” Tyler says, “make me sneeze. Ohh no. Mama said black ones are bad luck, too. They’re just good for huntin’ the mice in here. Only reason we keep ‘em.”

Josh shrugs. “I don’t think so. That’s just superstition.” He’d go into some rant about religion being the cause but then he sees the cross around Tyler’s neck and ends his sentence there.

“Anyway,” Tyler bounces on the balls of his feet, “you wanna go through the corn maze?”

“Um. Not really, actually,” Josh says sheepishly, “that sounds terrifying.”

“What. You scared of corn?” Tyler cocks his head.

“More like…what’s in the corn.”

And yet, he’s lead out into the damn field anyway. It’s the middle of the day. How scary could it really be? Right?

Right?

Tyler immediately walks between the corn stalks and leaves Josh behind before glancing behind him.

“You comin’?”

Josh hesitates.

“You can hold my hand, if ya want,” he offers. Josh feels himself flush before grasping Tyler’s hand. It’s weirdly soft. Not what he was expecting.

“You guys plant this field like this every year?” He asks, grimacing at the bugs on the leaves that rustle as they move.

“Yeah,” Tyler says, “I’ve got it memorized. Been playin’ in it since I was little.”

How brave.

“Has it always been like this?”

“Since before I was born, yeah,” Tyler replies.

They make it to the center of the field, into a clearing of stomped down dirt and old corn stalks, and Josh already feels uneasy enough. “So, why have this?” He asks, “do you guys host like hay bale rides or something during Halloween or before harvest?”

Tyler turns around and stares at him. “No,” he says, as if the question was absolutely insane to even think about.

Josh feels like something is watching him.

“Oh,” he says.

Silence falls between them. “Ookay,” Josh continues, glancing around anxiously. “We should probably head back then, right?”

Tyler shrugs. “Yeah. I guess.”

He leads Josh out of the field and they see a setting sun. Josh can already hear Tyler’s mother calling for the both of them from their back porch and Tyler’s face heats up.

“You stay here,” he tells Josh. He runs back up to the house, and there’s a faint sound of yelling and the sound of skin hitting skin before Tyler’s jogging back out to him.

“Okay,” he says, with a considerably redder left cheek than before, “you can come in now. Mama says supper’s ready.”

Josh frowns. “Oh. Okay.” He hesitates before following inside.

He has a lot of time to take the decor in once Tyler leads him in. It’s very…religious. It dawns on him just how many crucifixes are hung on the walls when he takes specific note of them. His family isn’t religious. Sure, they’d pray before Thanksgiving dinner. But this is something entirely different.

“So Josh,” Kelly calls out from the dining room, “what’d ya think? Good quality farm for a young man like yourself?”

Josh wipes his brow and tries to ignore Tyler rummaging through the fridge, bent over. “…Uh, yes ma’am. Gorgeous land you have here. I’m more than happy to be working on it.” He walks into the dining room, and it’s just like the rest of the house.

Old. Creaky. There’s a grainy portrait of a family on the wall, and a painting of Jesus next to a closed door. All of the doorknobs look so old. They have skeleton keyholes.
A chandelier hangs above the dining table, but it looks like it’s seen better days. Melted candelabras sit on the table runner, surrounded by the plates of food Kelly is laying out.

Kelly nods in knowing approval and continues to dish out bowls of spaghetti and meatballs in their proper place settings. “Tyler, go call your daddy in for supper.”

Tyler perks back up with a pitcher of tea in his grasp and sets it on the table before jogging outside without a word as the sound of an approaching pickup truck becomes louder.

“Go ahead and grab a seat, Josh,” Kelly says, setting the final serving down on the dining room table. Four bowls. Four place settings. Six seats at the table.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Josh says, taking a seat. The heads of the tables are reserved for Kelly and Chris, surely, so he’ll be eating across from Tyler. Kelly serves him salad alongside the entrée, and God, Josh hasn’t seen produce this fresh in forever.
“Apple pie for dessert,” she says. Josh is suddenly aware of just how hungry he actually is. His stomach growls, and she laughs.

“I’m assumin’ you’ve got a man’s appetite just like my Chris,” she says, piling a bit more onto his plate. The meatballs themselves could be a main dish. They’re huge. It’s Josh’s turn to laugh. “I guess so,” he says, “I’m sure I’ll work up an appetite once Chris puts me to work.”

“Not Tyler though, God bless him,” Kelly mutters, “I couldn’t beg that boy to eat half as much as his pa. Just a skinny thing.” She makes a noise in the back of her throat and shakes her head, still mumbling as she moves on to her own plate.

Tyler walks back in, looking between Josh and his mother before slipping into the seat across from Josh. “He’s comin’,” he tells Kelly.

“Thank you, honey.”

Kelly places a considerably smaller amount of food on Tyler’s plate as he sits down. Josh waits for a reaction, but there’s nothing. Guess she was telling the truth.

“Thank you, Mama,” Tyler says instead. He’s so incredibly timid when in the presence of his parents. Josh hasn’t seen how he is around Chris yet, but he’s assuming it’s probably even more so.

Kelly kisses the top of his head.
“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” She busies herself back into the kitchen, humming under her breath. It’s just Tyler and Josh, sat across from each other.

Josh feels awkward. He clears his throat, opens his mouth to speak but then the screen door slams open and heavy footsteps echo off the wood-paneled walls. Tyler damn near flinches at the sound.

Chris enters the dining room and Josh finds himself standing. He feels weird, but, this is the guy he’s supposed to be reporting to, so...

And the fact that he’s already sat at the table when the head of the house arrives. It feels like some sort of disservice to have made himself at home before properly introducing himself.

He walks up to him, a bit awkwardly. “Hi,” he says, moving to shake Chris’ hand. “It’s so nice to finally meet you in person, Chris.” He smiles, and Chris doesn’t. His handshake is firm.

“That’s ‘sir’ to you, boy,” Chris says gruffly. “Don’t be forgettin’ your manners while you’re workin’ for me.”

Josh’s expression falters slightly. “Right. Sorry.” He sits back down, and he feels like he’s just been scolded by a teacher. Tyler glances at him from across the table. He keeps his head down. Picks at his food. Josh tries not to feel intimidated.

“Oh, Chris, take it easy on him,” Kelly scolds as she walks into the dining room, “it’s his first day. Tyler showed him ‘round, so he probably filled his head with all sorts of nonsense.” She gives Josh an empathetic look as she sits down at the opposite head of the table, across from her husband. “Don’t worry, hon, Chris’ll give you a real first day tomorrow.”

She clears her throat. “Now, since everybody’s here.” She holds her hands out. Josh takes one of them, and Tyler takes the other. Chris is too far away for them to hold hands, so they just…reach for him, palms flat on the table.

Chris starts the prayer, to which Tyler and Kelly follow along under their breath. Josh keeps his head bowed because he doesn’t know the words.

“Bless us, oh Lord, for these thy gifts which we are about to receive from thy bounty, through Christ our Lord. Amen.”

“Amen,” Tyler and Kelly say. They release each other’s hands and everyone seems to wait for Chris to nod curtly before they start to eat. Josh worries his food is going to be cold, but it doesn’t bother anyone else, apparently.

“Don’t worry ‘bout the prayers, you’ll learn ‘em soon enough,” Kelly whispers to him.

Josh gives her a soft smile, but it quickly fades. He tries to change the subject. “Um. This is really good,” he tells Kelly, gesturing to his pasta. “I never had a lot of home-cooked meals in the city. My parents always worked a lot.”

Tyler still watches him. Chris watches Tyler. Josh tries not to look at either of them because he feels really weird and out of place right now and maybe Chris is just like that. One of those scary old men who are actually really nice and soft on the inside. At least, that’s what he’s hoping for.

“You’re sweet,” Kelly says, waving him off. “These two never compliment my cookin’ anymore.” She shoots a look at Tyler and Chris. Tyler seems to shrink in his chair slightly.

He’s really not trying to be a kiss-ass, but God does he feel intimidated. It feels like he’s constantly intruding on something.

A silence falls between them all. Just the sound of clinking silverware and the rustling of the trees outside breaks the silence. And they seem okay with that. No one else tries to make small talk.

Tyler’s foot creeps over his under the table and-is he trying to play footsie right now? What the fuck?

Josh looks up, glancing between Chris and Kelly, mouth full of food as he tries to register what’s happening. He frowns, mouth full of food. Tyler pretends like nothing’s happening.

And that’s just how the rest of the dinner goes. Dessert is indeed homemade apple pie with ice cream on top, and Tyler beams when Kelly notes that the ice cream is made with Lola’s milk. Chris doesn’t seem phased by it at all.

Kelly collects the plates at the end, and Josh offers to help clean up, but is very quickly turned down.

“Oh, no, hon,” Kelly says, shaking her head, “not a job for someone like you. I’ll take care of it. You better head off to bed, though. We’ve got an early morning tomorrow since it’s Sunday.”

Josh nods. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you, again. For everything.”

Chris stops him at the doorway.

“6:00 AM mass tomorrow,” he tells Josh, “don’t be late. We’ll start workin’ straight afterwards.”

“Understood,” Josh says. “I mean-I won’t be late. Sir.”

Chris grunts and stalks off. Not much of a talker. Josh isn’t too sure who he spoke to on the phone when he called the number on the newspaper ad for this job, but it certainly wasn’t him.

“Tyler, go on and walk Josh back to the barn. It’s too dark out to go alone,” Kelly says.

The air is chilly when they walk back out to the barn. It’s not a long stretch, but long enough that the lights of the house are twinkles in the distance. It is almost dark, too, just like Kelly said, and Josh is lucky the sun is out just enough so that he can see the silhouette of the barn. He’ll be making this trek alone in the future.

They’re trudging through the weeds and Tyler just never shuts up. “They’ll want ya to come to church with us,” he tells Josh in passing. “We go in the mornin’. Pa probably already told ya that.”

“Where’s that at?” Josh asks, “nearby?”

“Yeah. Just down the road. When it’s nice we ride the horses. Sometimes Pa makes me walk. Most of the time we go in the pickup, though.”

Josh feels that pit of discomfort in his stomach again. What is it that these people have against Tyler? He doesn’t seem BAD by any means. He’s just…simple. Maybe that’s the wrong word.

“Did you go to school?” Josh blurts out.

Tyler stops them in front of the barn. “Huh?” He frowns. “Why d’ya ask that?”

Josh shakes his head. “It’s a stupid question. I’m sorry-“

“Mama homeschooled me,” Tyler tells him, “my brothers and sister got to go to the town school, though. Not me.”

“You have siblings? Do they live here?”

Tyler shakes his head. “Not for a long time. How old are ya?”

Josh shifts with his hands in his pockets. “22.” He really just wants to ask Tyler about his siblings now. Call it natural curiosity or just plain nosiness, but there’s something beneath it all that makes him want to pry.

Tyler’s face lights up. “Me too!”

Huh. Interesting.

“Nice,” Josh says, returning the smile, but he’s interrupted by a yawn.

Tyler (thankfully) takes the unintended hint. “Well…all right,” he stands with his hands behind his back, like he wants to say more. “I’ll…leave ya now. To get comfy and all that. Hope you brought your church clothes for tomorrow.”

“Goodnight,” Josh says, smiling.

Tyler chews on his bottom lip. “‘Night.”

And then he’s gone. Josh slips inside the barn, and it’s…quiet. But not, at the same time. Cicadas are crying. Mice shuffle amongst the hay. Josh hoists himself up into the hayloft and throws his bags into the corner. He didn’t bring much, but thank God he looked up what a hayloft was before coming here. While the previous tenant left some small blankets and a rolled-out mattress pad, it’s pretty bare. Smells like hay and cats. He sneezes.

The threadbare lightbulb swinging from the ceiling doesn’t seem to have an off switch, but he’s fine with a little nightlight.

Josh strips his shirt off, wriggling out of his jeans until he’s just in his boxers. It’s warm up here, despite the air cooling down during the evening. He’ll have to inquire about where to shower later.

That is, if they even have a shower.

It’s only when his head hits his pillow does he realize just how worn out the day has him. Overstimulating is one word for it. Maybe just…busy, if he’s being polite.

The switch from city to rural life has him reeling, but dammit. He’s not admitting defeat, especially not to his parents. It would be the bluff of the century for him to slump back home and admit he was wrong.

He’s sealed the deal.

And he’s not going back.

Chapter Text

6:00 AM comes quicker than expected.

Josh is woken up by the roosters crowing, and surprisingly, when he checks his phone, the screen says 5:46 AM. And the battery flashes red. He brought a charger, but there’s definitely nowhere to plug it in around here.

Not that he’ll be actually using it to call anyone anytime soon. This place is a dead zone.

The black cat from yesterday somehow found its way up and is curled up next to his head. When he sits up, she chirps, blinking slowly as she rouses, too. Josh scratches between her ears, and then he’s digging through one of his bags for something decent to wear, anxious that Chris might have something to say about whatever he chooses. Kitty stretches, yawns, rubs up against him and hops down via haybale until she’s disappearing through a crack in the barn’s wall. He’ll have to figure out a name for her.

Josh decides on his nicest pair of blue jeans with a long-sleeved button up that he’s trying to smooth out the entire time he’s climbing down from the hayloft. There’s a dusty mirror nailed to the wall above a workbench that he tries to fix his hair in.

And then it hits him. Why is he preening himself for church? He’s never even gone before. Just for weddings and stuff like that.

Whatever. Just go meet everyone out front.

It doesn’t look like they’re taking horses to church today, as when Josh wades through the grass up to the house everyone is piling into Chris’ worn-out powder blue pickup truck. He’s actually quite thankful for that. Never ridden a horse before. Doesn’t really want to start before sunrise.

Tyler’s sitting on the edge of the lowered tailgate, legs swinging. He’s wearing khakis and a light blue button-up. His mom is trying to slick back a cowlick on his head. He straightens up when he sees Josh and he tries to squirm away from Kelly.

“Mornin’,” he chirps.

Kelly passes by and presses two pieces of cinnamon toast wrapped in a napkin into his hands. Josh smiles. “Still kinda dark out,” he notes to Tyler, nodding a silent thank you to Kelly as she climbs into the passenger seat.

Tyler scoots back into the bed of the pickup. “I don’t mind it.”

Josh peeks around to the driver’s side. “I could drive my pickup, if you wanted,” he offers to Chris, who waves him off.

“Don’t waste your gas. Just ride in the back with Tyler,” he grunts.

Josh shrugs and hoists himself up into the bed of the truck with Tyler. “Doesn’t it get dusty back here?” He asks, settling back against the metal. He unwraps his breakfast and takes a bite. Tyler pulls the tailgate shut.

“Sometimes,” he answers, “but I just shake it outta my hair.”

“Everybody in?” Chris calls from the driver’s seat. Tyler reaches over and hits the side of the truck twice and it rumbles to life.

They bump along the gravel road, and it’s about a five minute drive before they’re pulling up to quite possibly the smallest church Josh has ever seen. Fog is still rolling around the ground it’s so early, and Josh even finds himself shivering.

Rickety. White paint chipping, cross on the front worn and rusted. Looks like it could maybe fit fifty people if everyone squeezed together.

Josh follows the Josephs inside until they’re scooting into a little pew. It’s as cold in here as it is outside. Windows covered in mildew do nothing to stop the morning chill filtering in through the cracks. It smells of dust and mold and something else Josh can’t quite put his finger on.

An out of tune piano starts to play and everyone stands as the priest walks down the aisle with the altar boys, who don’t appear to actually be…boys, but rather grown men. Weird.

Candles, crucifixes. Singing. The Processional hymn is Amazing Grace, and he’s actually surprised that he recognizes it despite its off-key quality.

Gives it kind of an eerie vibe.

The priest takes his place at the altar, Book of the Gospel displayed in front of him. He raises his hands to the congregation.

“Let us begin in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,” he says, voice brittle and old. Echoing off the tall ceilings but having nowhere else to go.

Everyone makes the sign of the Cross and mutters back an “amen.” Josh tries to ignore some of the looks that the others are giving him due to his lack of participation.

“The Grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Lamb of God, and the Communion of the Holy Spirit be with you all.”

“And with your spirit,” everyone says immediately in reply.

It’s an hour long mass. Josh gets on his knees with the rest of them. Stands when they stand. The pews creak. The choir sings, but it’s just slightly off key. There only seems to be a couple of them leading the parish. He can hear Tyler mumbling along to the hymns under his breath. He doesn’t know when to sit, or stand, or kneel, so he just goes along with the people around him.

Hands clasped in front of him, eyes closed in prayer, Tyler knows every damn word. Josh can see him clutching the cross around his neck from time to time.

When it’s time for Communion he’s told by Kelly to cross his arms over his chest as he approaches. The priest blesses him, and he doesn’t take anything. He watches Tyler drink from the chalice of wine.

It’s all so…unfamiliar. Songs he’s never heard. Prayers he’s never said. By the time it’s over his knees ache and he can almost feel himself nodding off.

The congregation starts to chatter amongst themselves. Mostly older couples. Josh thinks him and Tyler might actually be the youngest people here. Can’t be more than twenty-five of them in here.

He stretches, back aching from kneeling over the pew.

“So what do ya think?” Kelly asks. Josh isn’t sure how to respond to that.

“Good,” he says, nodding, “yeah, uh. Really…powerful.”

Kelly and Chris nod approvingly. “Tyler’ll have ya singin’ those hymns before you know it,” she says, running her fingers through Tyler’s hair lovingly. “You know, he plays piano for the church every now ‘n then,” she says proudly, “he’s damn good at it, too. Sometimes if I can convince him, he sings with the choir.”

Tyler flushes. “Mama, don’t embarrass me,” he mumbles. Josh opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by an unfamiliar voice.

“You’re a new face,” the priest, a wrinkled old man, steps between them, facing Josh.

“Uh, hi,” Josh says, sticking his hand out. The priest’s hand is weirdly cold. Disturbingly cold. Must be an old people thing. “I’m Josh. I just started working for the Josephs.”

“Very nice to meet you,” Father says. He nods approvingly at Chris and Kelly. “Fine young man, you’ve got here,” he continues, turning back to Josh, “I think you’ll enjoy working for these two.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Josh says.

How is everyone so nice?

“You don’t go to church much, do ya?” Tyler asks him when they’re back in the bed of the pickup, bumbling down the road.

“No,” Josh answers, “never, actually.”

Tyler’s eyes widen. “Never? That was your first time?”

Josh shrugs.

“Well, you’ll wanna get your first Communion,” Tyler says, fiddling with his hands, “you haven’t been baptized either, have ya?”

Josh shakes his head. “Is that…like, required of me? To work here?” Surely not, right?

Tyler just frowns. “Um. I-well, you would want to, right?” He acts as if hearing that Josh wouldn’t want to have these things happen isn’t even a plausible thought.

The truck abruptly stops as Chris puts it into park in the driveway of the house.

“All right. Everybody out!” He shouts. Josh and Tyler climb out of the back of the pickup wordlessly. Thank God.

Josh heads straight for the barn to change. He’s shimmying out of his pants when he hears a startled squeak and the sound of the door banging. He turns, eyebrow raised as he grabs a pair of, well…nicer jeans. Obviously he didn’t have much to bring that wasn’t some tacky brand name or literally new.

“Sorry-“ he can hear Tyler saying from behind the door. “I didn’t know-“

Josh pokes his head out. “It’s okay,” he says, “you can come in.”

“But you don’t have clothes on,” Tyler says, hands covering his eyes.

“Uh. That’s fine. If you don’t want to, you can stay out there. But I’m not-I mean, I’m not gonna get mad at you if you walk in on me changing. It’s just pants.”

Tyler just makes a noise. “I’ll wait,” he says.

He throws on a pair of new ‘work’ jeans and a baggy cut off tank top. God, he looks like he’s straight out of a fashion magazine. It’s embarrassing.

“It’s just-impolite,” Tyler continues, cheeks still red.

Josh laughs. “Whatever you say.”

It’s getting hotter now that the sun has risen, and Josh is starting to feel the effects when a bead of sweat rolls down his forehead as he pushes out of the barn to see Tyler peeking through his hands. He frowns when he sees Josh.

“You’re wearin’ your church clothes to work?”

Josh feels his face heat up. “Huh?”

Tyler points at his jeans. “Those are way too nice to be diggin’ in the garden or paintin’ or…whatever.”

“Uh. They’re all I had.” Josh sticks his hands in his pockets. “I don’t have any actual work clothes.”

Tyler stares at him for a minute. “Oh yeah. I keep forgetin’ that. You and your city clothes. Sorry.”

He opens his mouth to speak more but Chris is approaching, and shoos him away. Tyler waves hastily behind him as he trots back up to the house.

Chris clears his throat, coughing into a greasy rag that he promptly sticks back into the pocket of his bibs. “Now I know ya probably expectin’ some rough manual labor-workin’ with tractors or somethin’, but you’re gonna have to work your way up to that.”

Oh.
Josh is led to the chicken coops, and suddenly becomes aware of their peeling paint and worn-out attire. There’s cans of paint and brushes sat next to the doors.

“Oh,” Josh nods, echoing his previous thought. Chris continues as they walk the perimeter of the little buildings.
“Poor thing ain’t been painted in years-I just haven’t had any time to get to it. I’d like ya to scrape the old stuff off first, then put on the new coat. Should take ya all day just to get the old off,” Chris explains, “just a cosmetic thing, y’know. Makes the hens feel good about themselves.” He laughs at his own joke.

…All day?

Then Josh has a scraper in his hand and is left to his own devices as he starts to chip away at the curling lead paint still stuck to the wood. He frowns when it hits the ground, then figures he’ll just clean it all up later after it’s all gone.

“I’ll be workin’ on my combine, so if ya have any questions direct them towards my wife, or even Tyler. Though he might not tell ya anythin’ worthwhile. He don’t got much goin’ on up there. I had him move the hens over into a separate pen so ya don’t have to worry about steppin’ on any of ‘em.”

Josh laughs politely. But it doesn’t seem like a joke.
Chris shakes his head. “I’m sure that boy won’t be able to keep his damn hands to himself for much longer anyway,” he mutters under his breath as he leaves, hobbling through the grass.

…whatever that means.

Tyler indeed makes an appearance, but Josh isn’t mad about it. He’s in a baggy cream-colored t-shirt and those same cut-off jean shorts. He’s barefoot again, toes stepping on stones next to the pathways.
He greets Josh with a glass of lemonade.
“Mama told me to come out here ‘n check on ya,” he says, “also brought ya this.”
Josh takes the glass happily, murmurs a thanks and downs almost the whole thing in one gulp. He’s been working for hours, fingers starting to blister from the tool in his hand. Chips of old paint litter the grass around him and the perimeter of the coop. Some is caked in his hair, on his damp skin.

“You work real fast,” Tyler muses.

Josh sets the empty glass down gently. It’s dirtied from his hands and condensation rolls down like the sweat soaking his back.

“I think the sun is probably guiding that,” he jokes, “I can feel myself getting sunburnt.”

Tyler’s eyebrows raise. “You didn’t put sunscreen on?”

Josh shakes his head. “Forgot to pack it, surprisingly. I’ll probably be fine.”

Turning on his heel, Tyler’s jogging back up to the house wordlessly. He returns with a jar filled with…sunscreen possibly?

“Mama makes it,” he tells Josh before he can question it. “Lots better than the stuff they sell in the stores. All natural.” He unscrews the mason jar and Josh catches a whiff of something quite pleasant actually. He’s not too sure if he believes the part about it being better than the store brand, but…it’s better than nothing.

He can tell Tyler’s eyes are still on him when he peels his shirt off, sweat dripping down between his shoulder blades.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to. I can try and get it myself,”he says sheepishly, pushing his hair from his forehead.

“No.” Tyler licks his lips. “S’okay. I got you.”

His hands are gentle. He makes sure there’s not an inch of skin left exposed, and when he pulls away Josh is almost saddened by the loss of touch. Unfamiliar but…leaves him wanting more.

He dips his own fingers into the jar and slathers his arms and chest as well. It tingles, and smells like raspberries. He’s not too sure if it’ll actually do anything, but the placebo will help him sleep at night. Whatever.

Tyler steps back, swallowing thickly. He seems to hesitate for a second. “‘Kay,” he finally says, screwing the lid on the sunscreen shut, “all done.” He wipes the excess on his leg.

Josh stretches, shoulders popping from the tension he’s been holding all morning. “Thanks,” he says, turning around, “a lot. Really. I didn’t even think about sunscreen, honestly.” He laughs. Tyler seems to be fighting some internal battle, as he does not laugh.

“Mm.” Tyler looks everywhere but at him. “You’re welcome.” He seats himself on one of the old crates pushed up against the coop-that Josh will have to move soon-and watches him for the time being. He tucks his legs up, sitting criss-cross.

“D’you have any extra you’d be willing to lend me?” Josh asks, bending down to crack the lid off the paint can. One of the coops is done, and he’s sick of paint chips sticking to his sweaty skin. So it’s paint time. “Since I’ll probably be out here a lot more.”

Tyler watches him like a hawk. “Mama can probably make you some. She’ll make it stronger, too. Since ya outside so much.”

“Oh. Nice.”

The paint is odd. It’s red, but a shade he’s almost never seen before. It’s very heavy, very...dark. Not something he’d think to put on a chicken coop. Smells kind of weird, too, but doesn’t all paint? He dips the brush into the mix, and it’s not separated at all. Looks perfectly mixed. Maybe Chris did it for him before dropping it off. They’re small, too. Quart size, if he remembers correctly.

He feels a bit weird, he won’t lie, having Tyler here. Just…sitting there. It’s not like he dislikes the company, but having time to himself is also nice.

“So, where do your siblings live?” Josh asks, back to him as the first glob of paint soaks into the old wood. The brushes Chris gave him aren’t very big. Maybe it’s so he takes his time.

Tyler scratches his cheek. “Uh, I dunno actually,” he says, looking off at the cattle field. “Pretty sure they all went off into the city when I was younger.”

“They’re all older? You’re the youngest?”

“Mhm.” Tyler seems to clam up and doesn’t say anything else. Josh takes the hint.

“I’m the youngest, too,” he says, trying to deflect onto himself. “Guess that’s why I’m so rebellious.”

Tyler hums. “Really?”

He nods. “I got into trouble a lot when I was a kid. I think I was just looking for attention.”

“Oh. I never acted out,” Tyler replies, “none of us did. We’d get hit if we did that.”

Josh…doesn’t quite know what to say to that. So he just nods.

“Did your parents hit you?”

He shakes his head. “No. They did not.” He pretends to be focused on painting.

“Huh. Must be a city thing. Maybe that’s why you were so bad as a kid.”

Josh moves on to the other side of the coop and Tyler follows like a lost puppy.
“Sooo,” he says, “you wanna take a break or somethin’?”

Josh wipes a bead of sweat from his brow and pushes up against the grain of the wood, slowly peeling a long strip of paint from its place. “Uh. I don’t really think I should.” He laughs.

Tyler hums for a bit, chewing on the inside of his cheek.
“Well. It’d only be for a little bit. I could show ya the pond.”

“I don’t think your dad wants me to take a break.”

Tyler hesitates before shaking his head. “But I want ya to take a break. With me.”
“You think your dad would be very happy if he found out that I snuck off to go frolic in the summer breeze instead of finishing his coops that he’s paying me to paint?” He raises an eyebrow.
“I dunno,” Tyler sighs in defeat, “maybe not.”He pauses. “You’re not gonna tell him I was out here, are ya?”

“I could,” Josh jokes. His back is to Tyler as he bends down to grab a new can of paint but is interrupted by a hand grabbing his shoulder and turning him around hard.

“You wouldn’t,” Tyler’s voice lowers significantly into something more anxious, eyes searching his frantically. “You’re not serious, right? I didn’t really mean it.”

Josh softens and shakes his head, frowning. “No. No,” he says quietly a bit shaken, “I’m…not going to say anything. I was just joking.”

Tyler grimaces like he’s scolding himself. “Right. Sorry. I just-not good with uh…sarcasm or whatever it’s called.”

Josh watches him closely. Clears his throat to try and change the subject. “It’s okay. It’s fine.”

There’s a pause between them. Josh opens the second can of paint.

“…So, d’you guys ride the horses a lot?”

Tyler’s hackles seem to fall and he sits down in the grass.

“Nah. I mean, they’re mostly just for goin’ to church. Sometimes we let the neighbors use ‘em to go to town.”

“Neighbors?”

Tyler goes quiet for a moment. “They’re far away,” he says, “we don’t see ‘em very often.”

“That makes sense. I mean,” Josh gestures around them, “you guys are kind of in the middle of nowhere.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No.” Josh dips his brush into the paint again. “Just an observation.” He pauses. “Do you think it’s a bad thing?”

It takes Tyler a minute before he answers. “Well, I don’t really know any different,” he says cautiously.

“I guess not,” Josh agrees.

He can feel Tyler’s eyes boring into his side as he makes sure to cover every last splinter. It’s too quiet. Like the bugs themselves have stopped chirping for this moment. The air is humid, and every bead of sweat on Josh’s brow slides down into his eyes and makes him a little more irritated.

Kelly comes out with a plate and a glass of something, and Tyler almost instantly skitters away once she realizes he’s been loitering.

“Stop botherin’ him, dammit!” She yells at him in passing.

Josh looks down at his watch and realizes it’s already lunch time.

“Here ya go, sweetheart,” Kelly says, setting down what looks like a turkey sandwich. There’s carrots with what looks like homemade ranch, a peach, and a slice of apple pie from last night tucked beside it. The glass is filled with iced tea and she takes the empty one Tyler had brought.

“Thank you,” Josh says in earnest, “this looks really good!”

Kelly straightens up and smiles at him. “Well, since ya workin’ so hard. You deserve somethin’ that’ll fill ya up.”

Josh wipes his hands on his jeans and picks up the sandwich to take a bite. “Turkey?” He says, mouth full.

Kelly shakes her head. “Ham,” she answers, “from our hogs. Don’t usually slaughter them often, but they also last us a real long time when we do.”

Josh nods. “Well, it’s delicious.”

Kelly pats him on the shoulder fondly before heading back up to the house. It doesn’t take him long to clean the plate. He still can’t get over how fresh the produce is. One bite of the peach had juice damn near spilling down his chin. Perfectly ripe. The tea is sweet, too. It’s like she somehow knew that he has a distaste for unsweetened tea.

By the time Chris comes back to check on him, he’s nearly done.

“Lookin’ good so far, boy,” he says, inspecting the current paint job. “I’ll have ya do the trim in white when you’re done with the red.”

“Thank you, sir,” Josh says with a nod. Thank God. He’d hate to have to peel it all off and do it over again. The paint smell is making him kind of dizzy.

Chris leaves him and he for some reason can’t stop thinking about the way Tyler’s hands felt on his back. Like he’d want to feel them again. In more places.

And then he’s chastising himself because Jesus, Josh, he’s the son of your boss. Keep it in your pants.

He can’t say that Tyler isn’t pretty, though. His nose. His lips. His eyelashes. He holds himself in such a way that it just enamors him. He’s…different.

Josh doesn’t see Tyler for the rest of the evening. Not until Kelly calls him in for dinner. And his stomach grumbles at the mere thought of another meal made by her hands.

He sets the paintbrush on his side, tilted against the now-sealed paint can. One chicken coop down. Two to go. The sun is setting, and he’s never been more thankful for the chilly nighttime breeze.

Dinner is pulled pork sandwiches with coleslaw. Baked beans with bacon and cornbread. Potato salad. Josh feels like he’s being fed like a king. Ice cream for dessert and he’s damn near comatose.

Tyler picks at his food once again and keeps looking up at him like he knows something that Josh doesn’t. Every time their eyes meet a smile curves the corner of his mouth and his cheeks heat up slightly.

He’s told after dinner that there’s a bathroom upstairs-Tyler’s bathroom-that he can use to bathe. It’s nothing fancy. Chipped tile floor. Wooden walls with peeling wallpaper. A single window with white drapes next to the toilet. And a claw foot tub in the middle of it all. The medicine cabinet fogs when he turns the spout on and he’s honestly surprised they have running hot water at all for how old the house seems to be.

It’s not a shower, but it’s enough. The warm water eases his muscles. He washes his hair, scrubs the sweat and dirt and leftover paint off of himself.

He towels himself off and dresses in a pair of gym shorts and a tank top, hair still wet. When he opens the door, he’s surprised to see that it’s unlocked. He could’ve sworn he locked it behind him. Whatever. Nothing happened, anyway.

Dirty clothes balled up in his arms, he comes downstairs to see Tyler in the kitchen, elbow deep in the soapy water washing dishes.

Vaguely, he remembers Kelly not allowing him to help at all after dinner. Not his job or something like that. At first glance he would’ve thought it was some patriarchal thing-not that he would’ve agreed with it. Yet Tyler’s here. Maybe she just meant it wasn’t his place. He isn’t part of the family, after all, no matter how hospitable they’ve been to him.

He passes by silently, barefoot as he tiptoes back to the barn, trying not to step in mud or dirt or gravel or cow shit under the dim light of the moon and the stray light glowing from inside the house. He’s not sure where Kelly or Chris are. He can hear the sound of coyotes howling and vaguely wonders how they don’t get into the chicken coops or any of the other animal enclosures. He doesn’t remember seeing any type of guard dog.

A dark little idea growing in the back of his head tells him that Tyler might be scared of his parents for good reason, but he shrugs it off quicker than he can really ponder it. Isn’t everyone a little scared of their parents? Hell, maybe his dad never hit them, but Josh and his siblings always knew better than to piss him off anyway.

His shoulders still hurt and his hands ache with newly formed blisters soon to be calloused onto his palms when he climbs up into the hayloft. This cheap mattress has never felt so comfortable, and it’s only his first day working.

He’ll need to ask if Kelly has any homemade lotion he can use alongside the sunscreen. Or maybe he can hitch a ride with Chris sometime to the farmer’s market and pick up some stuff.

Either way, he’s hurting. It’s a good pain, though.
This is the life you moved here for, he can hear his parents saying. Snide, gnashing blows to his ego. The crickets and cicadas outside sing him to sleep.

Yep. This is the life he moved here for. And even though he’s aching, he can’t wait for tomorrow.

You better enjoy it.

Chapter Text

“Well. That’s a damn shame.”

Josh is shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand, eyes staring down at the carcass of a dead calf sunken into the grass. It’s still fairly small. Couldn’t have been older than weaning age.

It’s already started decomposing, fur almost stuck to the earth below it. The place where its eyes should be are blood-blackened holes. If it weren’t for that and the abundance of flies already taking ownership of the bloated thing, he’d think it was just sleeping.

It’s so far away from where the cattle graze, too. It just…doesn’t seem right. It should be glued to its mother’s side 24/7, but she’s nowhere to be seen. This calf was found across the gravel road in the ditch. Next to the cornfields. How it got that far out here, who the hell knows.

Josh is holding his breath, trying to figure out what could’ve slit the throat of such an innocent creature and leave the entire body to rot.

“Coyotes,” Chris says, as if he could read Josh’s thoughts, “maybe even wolves. Damn things.”

He mutters under his breath and shakes his head in disappointment.

“They kill for sport like that?” Josh asks, frowning. “I’ve never seen that sort of behavior in animals. Shouldn’t they have at least tried to eat it?”

“Well, you probably haven’t seen many animals at all from where you’re from,” Chris quips, turning a large shovel in his hands. He clicks his tongue. He begins to scrape the calf remains from the ground into a wheelbarrow until it leaves nothing but dead grass below it. “Been meanin’ to get some sort of guard dog for the livestock. Tyler’s just so damn scared of ‘em.”

“What about the eyes?” Josh questions again. “That’s the only thing they took.”

“Bugs.” Chris’ tone is short. Josh takes the hint and stops talking.

“Lord forbid Tyler see this. He gets real upset when any of the animals die.” Chris says it like it’s more of an inconvenience than a tragedy. Seems like he uses that tone exclusively for when Tyler is involved. He lets out a big sigh.

“Anyway. I’m sure Kelly’s got a few tasks for ya,” Chris says over his shoulder. “I’ll handle the rest of this on my own. Go on now.”

Josh heads off warily, stepping over the electric wire fence. He’s trying to shake off the image of that calf. It’s just what happens on farms, right? That’s all. It’s nature. Cruel, sick, unfortunate nature. He’s only been here maybe a week now, but this is the first instance he’s seen of animal death. Chris seems to be the only one who butchers the other animals for meat.

As he’s walking back to the house, he spots Tyler out in the grazing field with Lola. The cow-a Highland dairy cow, he’s finally learned-is curled up, Tyler in her embrace. He’s picking dandelions just to place them in her hair. Every now and then he offers one to her and she eats it.

Cute.

Josh wonders what someone like Tyler could get up to every day. No job. No school. Chris doesn’t ever seem to feel inclined to make him help Josh out with anything. He just…exists.

He derails from the path to the house and wanders into the field, stepping over the low electric fence into the field. It’s nothing strong. Just enough to give the cows a zap if they wander off too far. Should’ve given the now-dead calf one, too. It didn’t, apparently.

Tyler sees him approaching and waves. Josh finds himself unable to not smile at the greeting and thinks oh God, he’s really fallen for him, hasn’t he? That’s bad.

Josh kneels beside them in the grass when he reaches them. It’s a weirdly clean part of the pasture. Maybe Lola just gets special treatment.

“Mornin’,” Tyler says.

“Hi,” Josh replies. It’s the time of morning right before it gets hot. Still dewy. But warm. Lola looks over at him, blinking sleepily.

“Hi Lola,” he says gently, leaning forward to scratch between her ears. She huffs, shaking some of the dandelions from her hair.

“She likes you,” Tyler says. “Don’t let that get to ya head, though. She likes everyone.”

There’s a pause.

“Everyone except Papa.”

Josh makes a soft noise of acknowledgement, watching Lola’s body rise and fall in peaceful breaths as he pets her. Then suddenly there’s a dandelion in his hair, too. He looks up, and Tyler’s already trying to stick another one behind his ear.

He makes a face for a second. It’s a silent exchange, but he doesn’t move away. Tyler’s fingers brush against his cheek in passing and he shivers.

He’s been like this a lot lately. Touchy. Clingy. As soon as he sees Josh he’s following him around, chatting his ear off until one of his parents shoos him off. Not that Josh minds. The company is nice. And sometimes, Tyler will bend down in those fucking cut-off shorts and Josh has to look away because he can’t afford to be thinking about that shit at work.

It’s an internal battle that’s getting harder and harder to face purely because of this forced proximity. Chris has been taking notice, too, and scares Tyler away at every given chance. Maybe he just doesn’t want Josh to get distracted. Yeah, that’s probably it. He’s none the wiser to anything else that’s happening.

“I should probably get back to work,” he says absentmindedly, watching the way Tyler’s fingers start to weave the dandelion stems together. Lola huffs again and moves, her head falling onto his lap. Trapping him. God damn, she’s cute. Like a big dog.

“Mm. Yeah.” Tyler finally stops and looks up at him. “You’ll come back, right?” He gestures to Lola. “She’ll miss you.”

Josh gives her one last scratch behind her ears before getting up slowly, murmuring an apology as she moos at the loss of touch. Like she’s complaining that he’s leaving. Maybe it’s because he’s got a soft spot for her, but he sees a lot of Tyler in her. Like they were made to be pet and owner.

Or something.

He waves goodbye, and wishes that he could just lay in a field under the sun with a fluffy cow all day. How could Tyler ever get bored with his life? It just seems too easy. Or maybe he’s just a little burnt out. Maybe both.

Before he realizes it, he’s inside the house. Time flies when a man is pondering. And pining.

“There ya are,” Kelly says, wiping her hands off with a dishrag when he approaches. A cutting board with raw chicken sits on the counter. Josh tries to stay cautiously optimistic at what he’ll have to do today. At least it won’t be hard labor. Hopefully. She tends to go easy on him.

Kelly pulls out a crumpled piece of paper from her apron and starts reading it off to him.

“Well, I’ll have ya pull the weeds in the garden, then I’ve got some veggies I’ll have ya pick for supper tonight. You’ll need to till the summer squash bed, too, since they’re outta season now. Make sure ya get the fertilizer from the shed-Tyler’ll tell ya where that is…”

Josh is spacing out until she’s handing the paper to him alongside a breakfast sandwich wrapped in a paper towel.

And then he’s sent off, the sun already starting to beat down onto him. He takes out the list Kelly has given him, the first chore at the top being to feed the hogs. Huh. She didn’t mention that when she was reading it off to him.

He folds it up and shoves it in his pocket before trudging out past the garden. He unwraps the breakfast sandwich and takes a bite, and God does Kelly know how to cook. Bacon and a fried egg, just a little runny. With mayonnaise and cheese on homemade bread so thick it almost hurts to swallow.

He stops when sees Tyler sitting between the rows of tomato plants, looking through the vines like he’s trying to find something.

“Tyler?” Josh stops at the dirt pathways.
Tyler ignores him, reaches up to cup something carefully on the leaves of a plant next to him, and stands with dirt stuck to his legs.

“Look,” he murmurs. It’s a ladybug, trapped in the palm of his hand.

“Pretty,” Josh observes through a mouthful of bread.

“Make a wish. Ladybugs are good luck.”

Josh pauses, raising an eyebrow. “They are?” He’d never heard that one before.
Tyler smiles and brings the bug close. He screws his face up, and after a moment blows on it gently, stirring it enough for it to fly away into the dull summer air. Josh takes another bite of his sandwich. Maybe he’s just not in tune enough with nature to understand. Or whatever.

“What did ya wish for?” Tyler asks him, still trying to follow the tiny red body buzzing off in the distance.

Josh blinks surprisedly and swallows before speaking. “Oh. Nothing, I guess.” He shrugs. “Did you make a wish?”

“Uh. Yeah.”

“What did you wish for?” He asks.

Tyler laughs at him. “I can’t tell ya,” he says. “if I told ya, it wouldn’t come true.”

“Why ask me what I wished for, then?”

Tyler thinks about it for a minute. “I’m nosy,” he admits.

“Okay. Well. I’ve gotta go feed the pigs,” Josh says, turning on his heel, but he doesn’t leave alone, and maybe that was his plan. Tyler’s stumbling after him, trying to brush the dirt and bark mulch off of his knees.

“I can show you where the feed is,” he says hurriedly, falling into step with him.

He’s not mad about it. “Thanks,” he says. He makes a note to finish his breakfast before they fully enter the hog house because he can smell it a good mile away as they walk. Makes sense why it’s the farthest away from the house, next to the horses.

He’s only been in it a few times. Chris showed it to him briefly during his first couple days, but never really fleshed out what goes on inside.

There aren’t many hogs. A few piglets run around, squealing under their feet. How Tyler is barefoot right now is a mystery. But he seems very careful as to where he steps.

“So we kind of just mix whatever together in the troughs,” Tyler chatters, “our scraps bin is also right outside, so you’ll wanna throw some of that in. They love the fruit peels.”

He leads Josh to a few big bins. “And then the rest is in here. Just scoop it into the troughs.”

Josh opens the bins and sees the grainy texture of what could only be described as-

“Corn,” Tyler explains, “and other stuff. Cereal grains and all that.” He shrugs. “I dunno. Daddy does most of the mixing. But I used to feed ‘em a lot when I was younger, too.” He stares into the feed. “Before we started gettin’ help like you.”

Josh nods. “Right.”

He starts with their water bowls. Just big plastic tubs that he dumps out and rinses with the hose before filling up with fresh water.

“Do you guys sell the meat?” Josh asks, grunting as he sets down a freshly washed tub. He holds the hose over it, stray water droplets splashing onto his boots.

Tyler shakes his head. “These are just for us to eat. Papa only sells eggs and sometimes milk at the farmer’s market. And the corn.” He thinks for a minute. “And sometimes stuff from the garden…”

He trails off, frowning as he kneels to try and pet a piglet. “They get butchered when they’re 6 months old.”

Josh stares down at him. “Do you enjoy eating meat, Tyler? Because it doesn’t sound like you do.”

Tyler doesn’t react right away. “I eat whatever Mama makes for me,” he says hesitantly, “I know it’s not bad to eat what God’s given us…” he looks over at the snorting piglets. “But sometimes I wish they weren’t so cute, y’know?”

Josh does not think that the piglets are cute. They stink, and they’re fucking loud. It’s giving him a headache. His boots squish in the mess as he hoses out the troughs and lugs out dirty water pans to spray off. But he’s not one to dim Tyler’s love for the animals.

He’s cleaning out one of the troughs when he frowns, fingers picking out what looks like a…tooth. He vaguely thinks it’s part of a nut or possibly even wood but it’s too hard. Chipped and old. He grimaces.

“What the hell…?”

“Oh. That’s from the roadkill.” Tyler’s behind him again and scares the fuck out of him. He looks at it closer and it does resemble something from a possum or raccoon.

“Sorry.” Tyler tilts his head. “Pigs eat anythin’, so whenever somethin’ dies on the road Papa just throws it in the trough.”

Josh wrinkles his nose and tosses the tooth away. “Sick.”

That’s probably where the calf went, then. An early morning snack for the hogs. Makes Josh’s stomach turn, and suddenly he wishes he hadn’t eaten that breakfast sandwich so quickly.

Tyler stares down into the mud, hands in his pockets. “Better than rotting alone.”

And then they stop talking.

Josh fills the troughs with cereal grains and scraps from the bin outside. The hogs squeal and fight each other to crowd around the food. He adds a bit of water to both of the troughs, and, well, they really do look like they’re filled with the textbook definition of pig slop by the end of it all.

When they’re done, Tyler looks unfazed as he hoses the bottoms of his feet off, and Josh feels like he needs to take a shower in boiling lava. His soft, city life is showing and it makes him a bit embarrassed.

He wipes sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand before unfolding Kelly’s list from his pocket. He stands just outside, hovering in the little shade that the hog house roof gives. He’ll be in the garden for a while now. Pulling weeds and picking vegetables.

“What’s that?” Tyler asks, peeking over.

“Oh, it’s the list of stuff your mom gave me to do,” he replies, turning it so Tyler can look, “you see anything exciting?”

Tyler steps away, shaking his head. “Oh, no. I can’t read.”

Oh. Right.

“Never? I thought you said you were homeschooled? Did your mom not teach you how to read?”

Tyler shrugs. “Said I didn’t need it.”

Josh folds the list back up and sticks it in his pocket. “Well, I mean-I could teach you, if you’d like? Just some simple stuff.”

Tyler opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted.

“Tyler Robert!”

Tyler nearly jumps out of his skin at the gruff voice calling for him. He’s running out from the hog house and Josh hears the hard sound of skin hitting skin, even over the snorting of the pigs.

He walks out and sees Tyler straightening up from the presumed blow to the face. Hands fisted at his sides, face screwed up and red.

“What did I tell you, boy? You stay away from him. He don’t need your dumbass botherin’ him while he’s workin’, you understand?”

“I wasn’t botherin’ him, I was hel-“

Josh flinches as Tyler is slapped upside the head again and shrinks below his father.

“Don’t you argue with me, boy,” Chris barks.

Tyler sniffles. “I was just-“

“Do you understand?”

Tyler finally gives in, shoulders slumped.

“Yes, Daddy. Sorry. I’m sorry,” he says thickly. He’s sent away, and Josh feels awkward. It’s not his place to say anything, he knows that, but…still. He feels inclined to defend Tyler in some form. He really was helping, after all.

Chris turns to him now and Josh tries not to wince.

“Josh,” he starts gruffly, “I need ya to stop fooling ‘round and get to actual work. I don’t pay you and let you live on my land to fiddle around with my sorry ass excuse for a son.”

Josh straightens and clears his throat. “Uh-I’m sorry, sir. I just-your wife just asked for some help and I was doing a couple chores for her.”

He hands the list over to Chris, who promptly takes it, skims over it, and sticks it into his own pocket. “Well, right now I need you to be a man and do some actual work instead of listenin’ to a woman. I’m your boss, not her,” he snaps.

Josh shifts on his feet uncomfortably. Ouch.

“Go out and walk the corn,” Chris continues, almost as if it’s a punishment, “it’s gettin’ closer and closer to harvest. Need everything to be ready before they grow to full size. Take some of the bug spray if you need.”

Josh tries not to feel weighted down by the thought of walking through waist-high corn stalks in blistering weather for hours on end.

He stops back at the hayloft to grab a hat and sees a jar of Kelly’s homemade sunscreen sitting on one of the workbenches. Huh. Nice.

So he slathers himself in that, too, and prepares for the mundane.

You should be grateful this is all you’re getting, Josh thinks to himself. He could’ve been a lot meaner. Maybe even slapped you himself.

Vaguely, he wonders if Chris knows what Tyler’s agenda is, or if he’s just that desensitized that he doesn’t care.

He digs through the shed outside of the house until he finds a bottle of pest repellent. Thank God their fields aren’t the size of some that he saw while driving here for the first time.

Now that he thinks about it, he hasn’t driven anywhere in a long time. Not too sure how he hasn’t gone stir crazy yet. He misses his pickup. It sits in the driveway next to Chris’.

There’s dust on the bottle. He takes it from a rickety shelf that holds a rusty metal bucket, a jug of something dark and gelatinous, and a pile of chains. Normal things to have in a creepy, smelly old gardening shed. Plus a lawnmower, a weed-eater, and a bunch of gardening tools.

His mind is already frazzled with the buzzing of insects. It’s a constant around here. Flies, mosquitoes. Ladybugs.

Walking the corn is boring. Really fucking boring. He’s only doing the sweet corn-since that’s what gets sold at the farmer’s market and needs to be the healthiest-but God. It’s so boring. It’s a smaller field, next to the cow pasture.

If he squints can just barely make out the outline of what looks like Tyler on the back porch. He’s crouched, head buried in his knees, staring out into the fields. Josh feels bad for him. Hell, he’d follow him around too if he lived that kind of life. Maybe he’s the only form of entertainment for Tyler.

He just keeps walking, spraying pesticide onto the plants that need it and wondering if this stuff is even safe for humans.

The crops are actually thriving. They stand tall, stalks strong even when he brushes up against them. Leaves almost completely clear of any bugs, which surprises him the most. Must be the magical fertilizer he has yet to actually see. He would’ve thought it’d be in that gardening shed, but apparently not.

The next time he looks over at the house, Tyler is gone. He turns towards the cow pasture, and he’s not there, either. Huh.
He’s spacing out, eyes blurring with the green of the corn, one foot in front of the other with no real urgency. Chris really must have just given him this job to get him away from Tyler. There’s not much to do but get sunburnt. He can feel the heat through the sunscreen, and knows that it’s not nearly enough SPF for his liking.

He’s checking his watch constantly, and what feels like hours is merely minutes, so he just stops looking at it.

He’s broken out of his heat-induced trance by Kelly calling out to him.

“Josh, you come in here and help me get ready for supper!” she says from the back porch, “you’ve done enough, sweetheart.”

Josh stands there like a dumbass, squinting at the figure of Kelly.

“But Mr. Joseph said-“

Kelly waves her hand. “He can answer to me. You come on in here now. Into the shade.”

Josh isn’t one to argue. Especially not with her. He’s ducking into the house, immediately relaxing at the shade and breeze from the rattling ceiling fan. His head damn near spins when he takes a deep breath, shirt soaked with sweat.

“C’mere and wash these carrots. Makin’ chicken noodle soup tonight,” Kelly says, moving to the side at the sink. “I’m gonna start on my broth.”

Josh takes her spot at the sink and plunges his hands into the cold water. It’s absolutely lovely. He wishes he could dunk his head in here. Sponge in his grip, he’d much rather be hunched over scrubbing at carrots than out in the sun. Maybe he’s just still a bit of a pansy. He can’t help it! It’s how he was raised. He’s still soft.

It’s like Kelly can read what’s really on his mind, though.

“Tyler’s a sweet boy, you know,” Kelly tells him, “he’s just real sensitive. I know you saw him poutin’ out there.”

Josh nods, fingers scrubbing dirt off of freshly picked carrots. There seems to be some sort of sticky substance clinging to the vegetable, like the soil itself is glued to its skin. “Yeah, I…noticed that,” he says cautiously. “Mr. Joseph just-“

“Chris just wants the best for him,” Kelly finishes for him, “he’s the only one of our kids left y’know. I know he’s real hard on him, the poor thing. But it’s all out of love.”

She purses her lips. “All his siblings went off and started different lives, different jobs. He just couldn’t bear to leave us. Too much of a mama’s boy.”

Josh opens his mouth to ask another question, but as if on cue, Tyler’s stepping through the screen door, gaze still locked outside on something.

“Hi, baby,” Kelly greets.
Tyler stumbles a bit when he sees Josh and looks between them. “Hi Mama,” he mutters.

“Whatcha after?” She asks, eyebrows furrowing at her son’s shaken state.

“I-um,” He shakes his head, swallowing nervously. “Nothin’.” He stands there for a minute before hurrying off. Josh hears him go upstairs and a door shuts. The walls are very thin in this house.

And then Chris enters the house. The door slams. He silently gives Kelly a look when he sees Josh standing at the counter, and toes his boots off before stomping upstairs. Josh feels himself falter slightly. Prays he’s not going up there for Tyler.

“Don’t you worry about him,” Kelly tells him under her breath, “he’s all bark and no bite, sweetheart.”

She pauses. “When it comes to you, that is.”

Dinner is indeed chicken noodle soup, and it’s one of the best bowls Josh has ever had. It’s served with homemade rolls and mashed potatoes. Dessert is an incredibly rich chocolate cake with white icing. Josh watches Tyler the entire time because he just can’t help it.

He picks at his food, every swallow looking like it takes all his strength. There’s a bruise starting to form beside his left eye. He doesn’t look up once, and only leaves the table once Chris is finished and stalks off to his office on the other side of the house.

Josh helps Kelly clear the table-despite her best efforts to not let him-and she finally shoos him off to go bathe. He doesn’t blame her. He’s kind of nasty.

There’s really nothing that feels better than the bath. Fuck. Josh lets out a sigh when he sinks down into the water, eyes fluttering closed. He’s been sore constantly lately. The warm water is nice, but he could easily fill the tub with ice and be just as satisfied.

His mind wanders to Tyler. Because of course it does. His eyes open, staring up at the shitty popcorn ceiling. Obviously there’s something off about Tyler, but he’s not completely positive what it is. He’d never had to think about his sexuality like this, but maybe the bath isn’t the best place to be doing so.

All right, Josh. You have to actually get clean now. Stop being a weirdo.

He’s not straight. But like, he still likes girls. He’s scowling while dunking his head under the water to wash out the shampoo. This is stupid. He’s literally just a farmhand. This is his job, and he’s lucky that Chris and Kelly are nice enough to open their home to him. Let him eat their food, use their bathroom, do his laundry-on top of paying him. It might not be a lot, but the necessities that he’s given make up for it.

He does not need to be debating his sexuality because of their damn son. Tyler is just nice. And clingy. And extremely sheltered. That’s not his fault. He shouldn’t take advantage of that.

The door is unlocked again when Josh towels himself off, and this time he’s sure it’s been done from the outside. Weird. He pulls on a clean pair of boxers and shorts before slipping downstairs softly. Kelly and Chris aren’t anywhere to be seen, and he’s not surprised because it’s fairly late. Probably asleep.
But then he spots Tyler in the living room, sat in one of the chairs, eyes locked on him. In the dark. They have a silent standoff, staring at each other before Josh breaks contact and turns to leave.

Okay. Whatever. Everyone has their own hobbies.

It seems like the wildlife has gone quiet when he walks back to the barn. He’s still incredibly grateful for the rickety street lamps lighting the way. Not even street lamps-more like big logs in the ground that happen to have a big light hanging from them. He’s not too sure how safe they actually are. He’s not too sure how safe anything in this place is. But that’s just part of the experience, right?

He’s standing in the barn shirtless, hair still wet, water dampening the dirt floor when the barn door opens.

He glances behind him, and it’s Tyler, because it wouldn’t ever be anyone else. Josh can feel his eyes boring through his skin. Honestly, he’s just fucking exhausted.

“Hi,” Tyler says tentatively. No knock, no announcement of his arrival. He’s just here.

“Oh. Hey,” Josh says. He turns fully, and realizes that Tyler doesn’t seem to care about his half-nakedness anymore.

“What happened to being ‘impolite?’” Josh asks with a laugh, but Tyler must not think it’s that funny. He looks like he’s eating him alive in his mind.

“Just…wanted to say g’night,” Tyler says, wandering around aimlessly. He seems like there’s something on his mind.

“Oh.” He hesitates. “Are you oka-“

“I’m fine,” Tyler says immediately. He takes a step forward.

Josh frowns. He’s obviously not in the mood to be poked and prodded at.

“All right. Well, goodnight,” he says, frowning slightly. He throws his towel up over a low-hanging rafter to dry.

“I just wanted to make sur-“ he feels a hand on his shoulder from behind. He turns, and- oh. Tyler’s kissing him.

He jerks away after realizing what’s going on. Tyler licks his lips, rests his palm against his bare chest, and nothing feels real. His face flushes, stomach turning at the sudden act of affection.

“Tyler,” Josh says cautiously, searching his gaze. He swallows thickly. He could cut the tension in here with a fucking butter knife. His heart is beating rapidly, the shock of it all washing over him. His boss’s son just kissed him and he didn’t really hate it. Shit.

Tyler’s lips press harder against his a second time, and he doesn’t push away as quickly because fuck, it’s nice. Tyler tastes like the icing from dinner and blood from his chapped lips.

Then Josh is hit with the reality of the situation and Tyler’s palms are sliding down his chest so he’s pulling him away, hands on his shoulders to keep him at arms length. “Tyler-“

Tyler’s damn near panting, pupils blown, lips parted. Staring him down like a predator about to pounce on its prey.

“I don’t think this is appropriate,” Josh blurts out, cheeks red. “For us. I mean-this.” He takes a step back, rubbing a hand over his face, fixing his shorts because fuck, he’s nearly half-hard just from that. God damn, he really liked that kiss. “I don’t think we should-do this. I work for your dad-“

“He don’t gotta know,” Tyler interrupts, but suddenly looks unsure himself. He’s fingering the cross around his neck, teeth pulling at his bottom lip like he’s realizing what he’s done. “Do you want it, too? I know you do, Josh. I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

“Tyler,” Josh says weakly. “Listen, I like you, but-“

Tyler cuts him off.
“G’night.” He turns on his heel, and as soon as he arrived, he’s gone.

“Tyler-“ Josh tries to follow, but it’s too late. He’s left standing there, listening to the bugs resume their chittering.

…what the fuck?

That was too calculated. Too collected. It’s like he was sent in here for a mission, completed it, and just…left. Gave no time to explain. Josh feels stupid. He feels like he just got whiplash from the rush of things that just happened, but most of all, he’s just fucking tired. Physically, but now emotionally too.

He climbs up into the hayloft and pretends like everything’s normal and totally doesn’t jack off with Tyler’s pretty mouth on his mind and a hand over his mouth. That would be dirty. And incredibly unprofessional. And totally not confirming everything he was thinking whilst in the bathtub.

So he’s not too sure why his right hand is sticky the next morning.

Chapter Text

Tyler acts as if nothing happened, and it’s driving Josh insane.

He watches him at church every Sunday, studies how hard he prays and sometimes he can even spot tears pricking the corners of his eyes. He sings every hymn as loud as he can, as if he’s trying to make up for something.

There’s one Sunday he’s not in the pews with them, and that almost makes it worse, because Josh still hasn’t totally figured out the order in which mass goes. So instead of having Tyler as a buffer, he gets to have Chris’ harsh, judging eyes watch his every move as he struggles to remember when to kneel or stand.

It’s starting to make him resent God in a weird, inconveniencing way.

Josh has been here a month now, and every day it feels like he gets farther and farther from understanding Tyler. His phone has become somewhat of a relic. Dead, because even if he wanted to, he can’t call anyone. He’s tried. There’s a landline in the Joseph’s kitchen, but he’s not even sure if it works. He’s seen the telephone poles lining the roads, too, so it’s not like they’re obsolete out here. There has to be somewhere with service.

A pit of resentment grows inside of him because, surely his parents would at least TRY to contact him, right? Somehow? He could be missing, dead on the side of the road and they would be none the wiser.

It makes him uneasy, how careless they seem. He’s still their son.

He’s fallen into a comfortable routine. His circadian rhythm adjusted surprisingly fast to waking up at dawn. He gets up, grabs whatever breakfast Kelly has for him and eats it on the way to wherever Chris has him working that day. Kelly will bring him a lunch, Tyler will try and fail to follow him around. The sun sets. He eats dinner with the Josephs. He bathes. He sleeps. Rinse and repeat. Sometimes he sees that little black cat around, but she’s seemed to have found a better life outside of the hayloft.

Josh doesn’t blame her, honestly. He’s getting tired of shaking hay from his hair and finding it in his clothes.

He’s found a nest above him in the hayloft, too, but he’s not sure what kind of bird it is. It’s more of just a pile of twigs than a nest, really. It’s fun to watch at night though. Just in case something comes around.

He has to keep himself entertained somehow, right?

It’s debilitatingly hot today. Barely any wind. Little shade for where Josh will be working. He sticks his hat on, slathers on a thick layer of Kelly’s sunscreen, and prays that he won’t be forced to be out here for long.

Lunch today is-well, it’s more brunch than anything. Bacon and eggs and sausage. Fresh fruit and milk (from Lola, of course.) Josh is allowed a second helping and he takes it gratefully. It’s actually been a slower day, much to his surprise, allowing him to sit down and eat rather than take it on the move.

It’s nice. He’s by himself at the table, which is odd, but he’s not complaining. He’s not sure where Tyler is. But he doesn’t pray before eating, and waits until Kelly’s out of sight so she doesn’t catch it.

Kelly dotes on him regardless, refills his glass and adds serving after serving until he’s practically forcing her away. He brings his dishes in afterwards and she takes them from his hands before he can even attempt to rinse them off in the sink.

“Chris’ll be in shortly for ya,” she tells him, now elbow deep in soapy water, “you can stay in here while you wait. Keep ya out of the sun as much as possible.”

Josh gives her a polite nod. “Right. Cool. Um-thank you by the way-for lunch.”

Kelly’s eyes sparkle. “Oh, it’s nothin’. I always appreciate your gratitude, though. So much more thankful than Tyler.” She pauses for a minute before turning back to the sink. “Anyway. I’m goin’ out to get whatever’s ripe outta the garden after these dishes.”

“I was gonna ask you, actually,” Josh blurts out, “how do you deal with pests? If you don’t mind me asking. I’ve walked the corn and picked enough stuff from the garden, but there’s…never any real damage from animals. Like-rabbits or squirrels, or-“

“Just the fertilizer doin’ its job, sweetheart. That’s all.” Kelly gives him a sympathetic look before drying her hands off. “We make it strong enough that it’s harmless to humans but tastes bad to the critters.”

Josh pauses before nodding. “Oh,” he says, “right. Yeah. That makes sense.” Does it? Or does she just not sound like she wants to answer any more questions?

There’s a faint sound of a piano playing that echoes through the house. It’s been that way for a while, but Josh seems to really notice it when the silence settles between them. Kelly seems to ignore it purposefully and leaves wordlessly, a big wicker basket on her hip.

Josh wanders through the house to find the source of the music and in the living room Tyler is sat at a beaten down upright piano, playing what sounds like one of the hymns they just sang at mass.

It’s out of tune, which gives it an eerie quality, but he’s good at it regardless. The piano itself sits next to the landing at the bottom of the stairs. Josh has actually never really been this far into the house before. Just…a lot more crucifixes and paintings of Jesus. And some other people he assumes are family members.

The living room itself is connected to the dining room, separated only by two wooden dividing shelves with glass doors. It’s old architecture-maybe early 20s? But it fits. At least for the style the Joseph’s are going for.

Josh pads quietly up behind Tyler and watches the way his fingers move across the keys. He’s content with just observing, but then Tyler notices he’s there and jumps in surprise, nearly knocking the piano bench over as he stands.

“Sorry,” Josh says immediately, trying not to laugh, “I should’ve said something. I just didn’t want to interrupt you.”

Tyler stares at him wordlessly for a few seconds. “S’okay,” he finally says, settling back down. He wipes his hands up and down his thighs almost nervously. He’s still in his khakis from church.

“What were you playing?” Josh asks. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Just-um, somethin’ I heard at church.”

He seems so…vulnerable. It’s like he’s a shell of who he actually is. Too shy. The opposite of the boy who was ready to give it all up in the barn last week.

Josh eyes him. “I can leave you to it, if you want-“

“No.” Tyler tries to step towards him, and almost knocks the bench over again by tripping on it. His cheeks heat up again. “I mean-you can stay. I like it. When people watch me play,” he says, staring down at the bench.

“Well. You’re really good,” Josh tells him, “even better than your mom told me you were.”

Tyler adjusts himself and sits back down. “Well, I’ve been playin’ for a while,” he says sheepishly, “never wanted to do any of the other stuff like my brothers, so Mama sat me down here and taught me to play.”

“What did your brothers do?”

He bounces his leg. “Stuff with Pa. Farmin’,” he says shortly. “Sports and all that. Before they left, anyway.” He clears his throat.

Josh opens his mouth to speak but Tyler scoots the bench back in.

“I’m just…gonna play now.”

He straightens up, and when his fingers start on the piano, it’s nothing Josh has heard before. It’s far past anything they play in church. And trust, he’s heard plenty. Maybe it’s a familial hymn. Sometimes his fingers slip and play the wrong key and it makes it all the more charming.

It has an odd echo as it rings through the house. Bouncing off of aged wood and peeling paint. Asbestos-filled ceilings and creaky doorframes.

Josh can hear him humming under his breath, mumbling lyrics that slowly get louder as he gains confidence.

“Must be tonight.”

Tyler’s eyes close as he plays. He relaxes, as if there’s nowhere he’d rather be than right here at the piano.

“The old man sits all by himself, ‘n thinks of better years…”

Josh’s eyebrows furrow the more he listens. It’s oddly simple, but the way he sings it gives it more depth than at first glance. It’s obvious that it’s a self-reflection, and it eats away at him. Tyler’s holding so much more inside of him than his parents are letting him show.

“We must all agree, there’s a point in life when darkness breaks our brittle hopes and dreams…”

The piano echoes through the house. Tyler’s voice rises as he repeats the chorus, and it feels odd to hear him so loud.

“Must be tonight.”

It’s like something possesses him. He becomes a different person. Josh has never seen him like this before, and he’s completely enamored by it. Despite…what has happened between them.

The song ends, fading out into nothing, the chords of the piano lingering a bit too long. Tyler sits back, looking almost uncomfortable.

Josh breaks the silence.
“Did you write that yourself?”

Tyler fists his hands atop his thighs. “Yeah,” he says, “I don’t play that stuff for Mama. She don’t like it when I don’t sing hymns.”

Josh eyes him, “I really liked it.” He hesitates. “Is it about you and your dad?”

The question makes Tyler freeze. “I…dunno,” he replies, “I guess. It’s not really about anythin’.”

Josh opens his mouth to reply, but hears Chris calling for him and just waves a quick goodbye before beelining it outside, God forbid he find out that they’d been together.

Maybe it’s not his place to contemplate what the song is about. It obviously seems personal. He’s too in his head when he steps outside. It’s already hot. He’s rolling up his sleeves, looking for where Chris is yelling from, and finds him out in the garden with Kelly.

“Mornin’,” Chris says. Josh waves. He seems in a better mood. Maybe. Hopefully.

Thankfully, their conversation doesn’t last long. Chris is busy with preparing for harvest. Josh ‘isn’t ready’ to help with that yet. And he’s okay with that, honestly.

There’s only a few different items on his list today, so he starts with the familiar after changing out of his own church clothes.

So he’s off without a hitch to feed the hogs, and tries not to cringe when he cleans out their troughs. Picking out animal bones and bits of fur. Makes him sick. Animals who seem so harmless being capable of something like that just…doesn’t sit right with him.

They’ve warmed up to him though, enough so that they don’t squeal and run away when he enters the hog house.

It’s a decent routine. Sometimes he wanders to the horse stables and feeds them stray apples from the trees growing near them. There’s three of them, and it makes sense. One for each Joseph. He can easily tell which one is Tyler’s, too.

Today he lingers longer than he usually does, just because he can. He normally never stays longer than five minutes-just enough to feed them some treats and maybe pat their heads. Hell, he doesn’t even know their names, if they have any.

Tyler’s is a small white mare with a cream mane. It’s obvious that she’s Tyler’s because, well, she honestly reminds Josh of Lola a little too much. It’s odd that Tyler’s animals are so cute and kind, and yet the kind of animals he attracts are…not as much. He’s seen him fiddling with raccoon bones, crows and dead mice and possums. Freaky stuff.

Kelly’s horse is a chestnut mare with white diamond markings on her nose. Her stable has the name Sage carved above it.

Chris’ horse is a larger breed. A stallion, the only one they have. Maybe mixed, Josh thinks because of its hooves. Red pinto Rome and intimidating as hell. Its name is Samson.

Only Chris and Kelly’s horses have their names carved into their stables. Their horses are also significantly less friendly than Tyler’s. They don’t like to stick around, and will take whatever Josh gives them, but won’t do much else. They just…stare, mostly off at the road, like they’re waiting for something.

Tyler’s horse always trots up to Josh immediately, whinnying in greeting when he holds out an apple or sugar cube in offering.

He reaches forward to turn a charm around that’s hooked to the horse’s bridles and reads the name Lady.

Lady and Lola. Cute.

He lets Lady eat slices of an apple out of his palm that he cut up with his pocket knife. She nuzzles at his hand gratefully, and he smiles. He wonders why he was never officially introduced to them, but maybe Chris just doesn’t think he needed to be.

He gives Lady one last pet on her muzzle before feeding her the rest of the apple and leaving. He still needs to feed the chickens and collect eggs for Kelly.

He’s moving one of the hens over to reach into her nest when Tyler’s voice startles him. He hits his head on the wooden frame above the nests and winces.

“We’ve got a pond,” Tyler offers, peeking over his shoulder, “over in the woods. If ya wanna cool off. You look hot.”

“How did you get here?” Josh says, a bit more irritated than he wants to be.

Tyler shrugs. “Saw you walkin’. Followed. You wanna go to the pond or not?”

Josh sighs, rubbing the back of his head. “Yeah, I mean-let me just get these back to the house.” How did he not hear Tyler at all? This place is full of hay and dry grass and chicken feed. Anyone’s footsteps would’ve been loud as hell.

Tyler bounces on the balls of his feet. One of the chickens pecks at him. “I’ll meet ya here, then,” he says.

Josh drops off the basket of eggs, trying to act as nonchalant as possible.

“What’re you up to today?” Kelly asks him in passing. Looks like she’s making some sort of jam. Her apron is stained with berry juices, and bowls of strawberries, raspberries, and blackberries are lining the counter.

“Oh,” he lies, “nothing after this. Might wander around the garden and see if there’s anything I can do. Unless you’ve got something for me?”

She smiles sweetly. “You enjoy a nice break, hon. Stay in the shade, and don’t tell Chris I told ya to relax!” And she shoos him off with a laugh.

Tyler’s sitting in the chicken coop when Josh walks back. He has a chicken in his lap that he sets down as he stands, brushing dirt and feed off of himself.
They start towards the woods wordlessly.

“I saw your horse’s name is Lady,” Josh finally starts, breaking the silence. “Do you name most of the animals?”

Tyler freezes. “You went to the stables?”

Josh raises an eyebrow. “…yeah? Is that bad?” They stop walking, and Tyler’s eyes flick towards the house for a second. Then he relaxes. “No. Sorry. Just-didn’t think you’d go over there.” He licks his lips. “I’d like to go with ya next time. I really like the horses.”

Josh nods. “Uh, yeah. I’ll let you know.”

Tyler seems to skip a beat when the silence settles and he clears his throat. “But-um no, I don’t name the other animals,” he says after a minute. “Just…just Lola and Lady. That’s it. The rest of them are usually for slaughter.” He stares down at the ground as they walk. “We don’t use the horses much. Me and Mama’s are just for ridin’. Daddy’s is the one that gets used on the farm sometimes to pull carts or the plow.”

He frowns, almost grimacing. “Daddy don’t take as good of care of ‘em as he should. I do most the work.“

And then he doesn’t say another word about it. So Josh doesn’t pry.

Tyler leads him into the woods, a bit deeper than he’s comfortable with, but he can feel the temperature drop already as they dive into the shade of the trees.

The pond is amazing. Cold, and it’s relatively clean-looking, too. It’s a relief from the heat. Surrounded by plush grass and the occasional flower that springs up beside it.

Josh toes off his boots, peels his socks off and rolls his pant legs up as far as he can.
“D’you come out here a lot?” He asks as he wades into the water. It’s almost to his knees when he stops, toes digging into the mud at the bottom, water kissing the edges of his rolled-up jeans. It looks like it’s about waist deep at the lowest point.

Tyler sits on the edge of the pond, knees to his chest. “Sometimes. I get cold real easy though, so most of the time I just come out here to walk around. I don’t swim much.”

He watches Josh closely. “There used to be fish in there,” he says, “but they died out. I miss them.”

“Probably be fun to fish. Not a lot of space for them to hide in here,” Josh agrees. “Are there any other lakes around your area?”

Tyler stares at him. “I dunno,” he answers, and oh yeah. He doesn’t ever leave. Josh keeps forgetting that.

“Sorry,” he says quickly.

“Nothin’ to be sorry for,” Tyler tells him, inching forward to dip his toes into the water. The birds are chirping around them. It’s pretty, but then a crow squawks and a hoard of songbirds flutter out of their perches suddenly.

Josh watches them fly off. Wishes he had wings, too, because maybe things would be a lot easier to accomplish if distance wasn’t an issue.

He’s stepping out of the pond, already feeling like his feet have started to prune up.

“What do your tattoos mean?” Tyler’s eyes trail down his arm and back.

“Oh, I-well, I thought it was pretty,” Josh answers, gesturing to his sleeve, “my left arm is kind of just an amalgamation of things I love. My childhood dog Jim, Columbus, my mom…”

Tyler stands to inspect them closer. “I don’t like dogs,” he says simply. “They scare me.”

“So I’ve heard,” Josh replies.

Tyler looks up at him, eyes narrowed before turning on his heel. He goes to the shrubbery, digging around for honeysuckle. He’s so purposefully bent over right where Josh can see it’s almost embarrassing. Almost desperate. And he’s falling for it so hard.

Josh clears his throat and Tyler straightens up with a few leaves in his hair and a fistful of honeysuckle blossoms. He approaches, offering Josh one and fuck, he’s looking up at him again with those stupid doe eyes, dirt-covered hand tentatively reaching for him.

“Tyler,” Josh says, watching him like a hawk.

“We’re alone out here,” Tyler offers, and they’ve both forgotten about the flowers. He watches his own hand slide up Josh’s side, swallowing thickly. Almost begging.

Josh takes a cautious step back. “No. Tyler. Don’t.”

“Why? ‘Cause you won’t be able to stop if we start?”

That’s exactly why, Josh thinks, but he says nothing.

Tyler hesitates for a moment, teeth digging into his bottom lip, watching him like a wolf watches a lamb. Then he just takes a sharp breath and walks off ahead of him, feet cracking stray twigs as he goes. The honeysuckle lays in a pile on the ground. Just a distraction.

Josh waits a minute before following him. He bends down to grab his socks and boots first and jogs to catch up. The sun is not a nice greeting once they make it out of the tangle of trees. The grass almost instantly crunches under his footfall the second he’s out in the open again.

He squints, and realizes Tyler has strayed a lot farther from him than he thought.

Tyler’s kneeling on the ground a few feet away, reaching out towards a fat crow. It hops forward with something in its mouth that it drops onto the dirt. Tyler drops a rock in exchange. The crow nudges the rock around with its beak for a moment before picking it up.

Tyler just traded with a crow. Okay. But for what? Josh starts walking towards them and it looks like…a bone. Or something. No. Not a bone. Right? Josh approaches, and the crow doesn’t even budge. In fact, it acknowledges his presence by staring straight at him.

He pries his gaze away from the bird and sees Tyler holding his prize in the palm of his hand.

It is a bone. An animal bone. Something small, but it makes Josh grimace. There’s still a bit of fur stuck to it. “Oh,” he says, holding back from saying, “what the fuck. That’s really gross. What the fuck.”

“Think it’s from a possum,” Tyler says absentmindedly, eyes narrowed as he inspects it. Then he’s pocketing it and wiping his hands off on his thighs as he stands back up. The crow hops away and takes flight, rock between its beak. He looks over at Josh and frowns. “It’s not weird,” he says defensively.

“I…didn’t say it was weird,” Josh argues. “Just said it was gross.”

Tyler stares at him, eyebrows furrowed. “Okay,” he says slowly. He stands awkwardly for a moment, like he’s unsure of what to do. He knows Josh isn’t going to let him kiss him again. If not in the forest, then especially not now-out in the open. They’re unsupervised, but not alone. It’s an open field. One look out the window and Josh’s job is gone.

He looks around and sees a few crows crowded on the roof of the house in the distance. Watching, their gazes set on Tyler in the pasture. He frowns. “Have those…” he trails off, because Jesus, those crows look like they know exactly what he’s saying, and they don’t like it.

When he really thinks about it, there seems to always be at least one crow around Tyler. At all times. It’s not something that he was particularly perturbed by. Not until now, knowing that it’s not just nature being weird, but rather an unnatural connection with said nature that Tyler shares.

Josh is not one to believe that animals are that intelligent, and maybe they do have some connection, but for the most part, he’s just creeped the fuck out. Is this normal? Or is Tyler some weird crow whisperer? He’d Google it if there was actually service or internet out here.

“What?” Tyler asks, popping the bubble of thought. Josh shakes his head.

“…nothing.”

He just needs to change into damn dry pants.

The silence between them is quickly broken, and they both jump in surprise as a gunshot rings out through the clearing. Dust scatters around them as the crow quickly flutters out of sight along with its murder. There’s a divot in the dirt, just inches from where the bird was standing. Tyler and Josh quickly look to the source and see Chris standing on the back porch, shotgun in hand.

Josh has genuinely never seen Tyler look so upset. Chris points at Tyler and then at the house, and the message is clear. Josh watches him walk up past his father and into the house, head down, feet shuffling. Chris makes eye contact with him and he backs up silently, turning towards the barn.

God forbid he doesn’t miss next time.

It’s eerily quiet in the barn. Josh towels his legs and feet off, changes into dry pants, and tries to ignore the shaking in his hands as he re-laces his boots. He knows Chris wasn’t aiming for them, but fuck. He’d never been that close before. His ears are still ringing. He hopes Tyler is okay.

Something inside of him tells him that he shouldn’t think that, that he should put Tyler in the back of his mind, but he just can’t help it. He can’t.

His list of chores has started to blend between what Kelly and Chris want him to do. Chris hates Kelly’s chores, and Kelly tolerates Chris’. Josh kind of feels like a child of divorce sometimes. He remembers vaguely that Kelly wanted him to water her flowers in front of the house, so that’s exactly what he starts on next.

It’s about an hour before he’s trudging out with a heavy watering can weighing him down, because maybe he was dragging his feet a little more than he should’ve been. He’s still a little shaken, okay?

Big bushes of white hydrangeas. Daises and clumps of other wildflowers that line the outside of the house. He grunts while tipping the can over, water sloshing out of the sides unintentionally. They look like they need a good drink, that’s for sure.

He starts to overhear a conversation through one of the open windows, and God knows he should mind his business, but it’s really hard when they’re right there.

“I think you should take Tyler with you to the farmer’s market this weekend.” Kelly’s voice is just barely audible over the sound of the water hitting the plants. Josh eases up and tries to be as quiet as possible to not raise suspicion.

“No,” is Chris’ immediate answer to his wife.

“Chris, don’t argue ‘bout this with me.”

“I’m not takin’ him to the damn market. He don’t know what he’s doing, Kelly. The damn boy might as well got rocks in his head!”

Kelly’s voice gets scarily quiet.
“No. No, Chris, he’s gettin’ too damn soft around here. You need to take him with ya. No buts. He needs to toughen up. You and I both know that.”

It doesn’t make sense. Not only because Josh has only ever seen Kelly be sweet to Tyler around him, but the fact that she had explicitly told him that Tyler was sensitive. Maybe she’s sick of it. Maybe there’s more that Josh doesn’t know. It’s really not his business to judge their parenting skills, but God is it hard to not make it his business when they do it like this.

“You’ve seen how he’s gettin’ with Josh. Way too comfortable and you know it.”

“I’m keepin’ it under control.”

Kelly scoffs. “There’s only so many times you can smack him silly before he starts gettin’ crafty, dammit! You know how he was with the last one.”

There’s a long pause. Chris lets out a long sigh. “Fine. I’ll take him. Don’t say I didn’t tell you so, though.”

Theres shuffling, and frustrated grumbling, and Josh very quickly scrambles to pretend like he wasn’t craning to hear every last detail like the nosy, drama-loving city slicker that he is at heart.

The back door slams open and shut as Chris lumbers off and Kelly begins to hum to herself. The sink turns on, and Josh takes that as an opportunity to tiptoe out of the flower bushes and back to the garden before anyone could notice.

He tries to shake it off as he walks the watering can back to the garden shed. Maybe he is just nosy. It’s rude to eavesdrop, his parents taught him that much. Maybe he just cares too much about Tyler.

He’s still all up in his head when he’s lumbering back to the barn, ready to take a break for as long as he can until Kelly is yelling for him to come in for dinner. He checks his watch and it’s almost three, which means he’s got plenty of time to kill.

The only issue is, as he’s walking up, there’s something-or, well, someone-in his truck.

His truck that, since he’s not been driving it much, has been driven out and parked in the grass next to the barn. Just to make more room in the driveway. He feels bad, sort of abandoning it, but it’s not like he has anywhere to go. Even if he did, he’d need someone like Chris or Tyler is guide him. He can’t even remember the way he got here from the city.

Regardless, Tyler is in the back of his pickup, clad in only a pair of denim shorts, skin glistening under the sun. No wonder he hasn’t been able to find him. He’s been hiding this entire time. Getting crafty, as his mother might say.

“Tyler,” Josh starts carefully, “what are you doing?”

Tyler doesn’t move. Doesn’t open his eyes, isn’t fazed. “Tannin’,” he replies casually. There’s a towel laid beneath him, shielding him from the hot metal of the pickup.

“In my truck?” Josh asks, and he’s trying not to look at the way the sun is hitting on those fucking legs. He glances behind him, hoping they can’t see them out here. They’re sheltered just enough by the garage and animal pens that Chris would have to come looking in order to catch them.

“Well, where else am I supposed to do it? S’not like you’re usin’ it,” Tyler snaps back.

“The deck maybe?” Josh’s tone is somewhere between incredulous and irritated. And horny. Kind of. Tyler’s really promiscuous, and it’s pissing him off.

Tyler kicks his legs lazily. “Roof covers the deck too much. Not enough sun. This is the perfect spot.”

“What about your dad’s truck?”

“No,” he says plainly.

“Okay. Well-“ Josh stumbles over his words. “Um.”

“I don’t see why you’re mad,” Tyler says matter-of-factly. “I’m just tannin’.”

“Because that’s my truck,” Josh says, and suddenly feels very whiny. “And you’re-you-“

“What?”

“You’re…half naked.”

Tyler stretches. “How else is the sun supposed to get on me?” He looks back for a second, lifting the white, circular sunglasses he’s wearing up off his face. Josh can only see his eye peeking over his shoulder, narrowed and accusatory, as well a fresh red welt on his cheek that has already started to swell. “Am I distractin’ you?” He asks, and it’s a horrible invitation. A rhetorical question they both know the answer to, and it pisses Josh off.

“No,” he says shortly. Tyler makes a noise and turns back, sunglasses down.

“Then I don’t see what the problem is,” he chirps.

Josh grits his teeth. “Okay.” He throws his hands up. “Okay. Whatever. Do whatever you want.”

And so he leaves Tyler to it, to fucking tan in the bed of his truck because there’s not much else he can do about it. He’s really pushing it, being around him at all. And he doesn’t want to get yelled at again, so he’s going to remove himself from the situation before he can get more caught up in this stupid plan Tyler has to seduce him.

Josh really wants to keep this job, okay? It’s just…getting really hard to do so. There’s a million things racing around his mind at once. Bad things. Inappropriate things. Nosy things. He wants to know about the farmer’s market. He wants to kiss Tyler again. He wants to do bad things with Tyler but also wants him to tell him why his parents hate him so much. He wants to figure out this complicated relationship with God that he’s creating and pick Tyler’s own brain about his religion.

There’s a crow on top of the barn that watches him when he walks in, holding the dead body of a mouse in his beak. It’s all he can think about during dinner, when Tyler’s foot creeps up his calf under the table again.

He can’t help but feel like he’s the mouse, and Tyler is the crow. A ticking time bomb waiting to explode. Constantly on the precipice of…whatever they have going on between them.

And Josh is determined to defuse it.

Chapter Text

Josh isn’t too sure what goes on at the farmer’s market.

Last week, Tyler came and went. They left Friday, and came back Saturday evening. Tyler didn’t talk, didn’t even look in Josh’s direction for days. Chris performed business as usual. Gave Josh his chores, handed him his pay, told him what he was doing right and wrong. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

So what the fuck happened to Tyler?

He doesn’t see him around much, either. Sometimes in passing, sometimes he spots him out in the field with Lola. He’s very withdrawn. They make eye contact every now and then. Tyler will look up from the dinner table at him but as soon as their eyes meet he’s turning away.

Chris always seems to have one eye on him, too. Never close enough, though. Tyler is sneaky.

But now it’s Friday again, and Josh just keeps thinking about Tyler’s whereabouts. Is he going again today? Or is it some sort of every other week thing? Maybe it’s only when he’s…bad? Whatever that might mean in Chris’ eyes. It’s not like it’s hard to piss that man off.

It’s a slow day today. Josh gets done with his chores early, because he’s kind of got them down to a science now. It’s an easy rhythm for him to fall into. The hogs now squeal with delight when they see him instead of running away. He’s gotten closer with Lady, too. The chickens don’t peck him as much. It’s like they’re finally starting to accept him as part of their life cycle, and it certainly makes things easier. It mainly just allows him to be more leisurely. He takes his time, letting the hogs sniff him, tentatively trying to pet the chickens and being as gentle as possible when moving hens to collect eggs. He even thinks Lady has started to recognize him, but maybe he’s reaching.

Chris doesn’t tell him to take care of the horses, but he always makes sure to give them all a little treat if he happens to pass by. They just seem so…lonely. Josh doesn’t know why they’re not on his repertoire of livestock to take care of.

He’s noticed that he’s started to bulk up, too-not just because of the change in scenery. Not that he ever missed a day at the gym back in the city, but living out here is a different kind of workout. Pushing hay bales, lifting calves and heaving around baskets of produce.

He’s still waiting to work on the machinery, though. That’s all he really wants. The tractors tucked away in the shop are calling to him. Maybe when it’s closer to harvest.

All of that-mixed with Kelly’s insanely rich cooking, he’s surprised he hasn’t gained more weight than he has. There aren’t a lot of mirrors around-only in the bathroom, really-so he takes the time after bathing to preen and prune at his reflection. That much of his city boy persona is still alive.

Plus he may or may not be trying to look good for Tyler.

Josh will see him loitering, not too close, but just enough so that they’re within eyesight of each other. Always watching. Safely distanced so that Chris can’t pick up on anything. So that Josh can watch him bend over and harvest strawberries, or lay in the flower patches half naked, legs kicking behind him as he twists together dandelion bracelets. Or-

“Josh!” Chris’ voice echoes across the yard.

Josh glances up from the herd of chickens he’s standing in and picks his way out carefully, trying not to step on any of them. He feels his face heat up, because how does he get distracted standing in a pen full of loud ass chickens? Has Tyler really invaded his brain that much?

He can see Chris in the distance, over by the cow pasture, hands on his hips. Staring at…something. Something stuck in the fence. Something sick inside of him hopes whatever it is, is already dead. He sees what looks like a shotgun in Chris’ hands and his heart drops.

Chris glances behind him a few times, watching Josh approach. Making sure he doesn’t turn away at the last minute.

Josh can see clearly once he finally reaches Chris that it’s a fawn stuck in the barbed wire fence. Bleating feebly, still unsteady on its legs. Just a baby. Blood is dried on the metal. It’s been here a while.

“Found her this mornin’,” Chris tells him. “Must’ve gotten stuck last night from the looks of it.”

“Oh,” Josh grimaces, “God. That’s horrible.” He can’t believe it’s still alive. “Can we get her out? Cut the wire or anything?”

The deer is still flailing weakly, stuck in the barbed wire of the fence. It’s gouging deeper into its skin every time it struggles. Its head moves to the side for just a moment, and Josh can see a hole where one of its eyes used to be.

“No use ruinin’ the fence,” Chris grunts. “I’ll let ya do the honors. Every man’s gotta have his first.” He hands the shotgun to Josh. The same shotgun that was pointed at him a week ago. That left a dent in the dirt inches from his shoe.

“I-“ Josh starts to object, but shuts up. No use in arguing. Not with Chris. The poor thing is going to die anyway, the least he could do is make it somewhat humane.
He cocks the gun, jaw clenched.

Just something he has to do out here. It’s nature. Unfortunate, but it’s real life. It’s dirty and gross and unfair. It won’t be the first time he does this.

He points the gun at the deer, and wishes he could close his eyes when he pulls the trigger. It gives him one final look of desperation with its singular eye.

A flock of birds startle, flying off into the sky when the shot rings out, echoing as far as the trees. The deer jerks, blood spurting from the wound Josh just put into what used to be its head. The kickback makes him flinch.

He can’t stop staring at it. Brains, bone, fur, skin. Mushy, scattered remains of what used to be a beautiful creature.

Chris takes the gun from him abruptly. “Yep,” he says, “that’s life.” He sniffs. “I’m gettin’ ready to go to the farmer’s market. Clean that up and throw it in the hog troughs, will ya?” He pats Josh’s shoulder as he leaves, making him wince.

There is really anything he’d rather be doing right now than untangling the dead carcass of this fawn out of the fence. It’s not hard to do-minus the gore near the head area-since it’s not flailing anymore. It just didn’t know. Still new to the world. Wide-eyed and eager. And now dead.

He can feel the blood seep into his clothes. It’s still warm. He’s holding his breath the whole way to the hog house, desperately trying not to inhale the raw stench of both fresh and stale blood. The poor deer falls into a heap on top of the leftover scraps of breakfast from this morning. He’s trying not to feel guilty. It’s just a shitty way to go. Of course, he can’t bury it. But still. Turned to pig slop. Not the way he’d want to be disposed of.

The hogs are ever so grateful, and Josh tries not to watch them attack their new treat. He feels his stomach turn and suddenly wishes he hadn’t eaten that second egg salad sandwich Kelly had brought out to him for lunch.

It’s a long walk back to the hayloft. He can feel the blood already sticking to his skin, drying into the fabric of his shirt and jeans. There’s no way he’ll ever get used to something like this. Cow shit? No problem. Hay in his clothes and hair? Whatever. Rotten vegetables? Been there, done that. He has to draw the line somewhere, though.

He’s immediately stripping as soon as he’s in the barn, balling up the stained clothes into the laundry hamper he’ll take to Kelly as soon as he can. It’s a wicker basket overflowing with days of work clothes. He can still smell the death on himself. Even in the short amount of time the gore covered him, the heat alone was enough to send flies buzzing his way.

He’s pulling on a clean pair of jeans, wishing he could drop everything and bathe. Really, the one thing he’s missed the most is a shower. The bath is great-it gets the job done, sure-but it just isn’t the same as a nice, hot shower after a long day.

So to cope he wets a towel under the well water spigot outside the barn to wipe his arms and chest off before throwing a new shirt on. It’s not the best, but it’ll get him through the day without smelling like blood. Hopefully. It feels like it’s stuck in his nose. The stench of death. The smell of gunpowder.

He picks up the wicker basket full of laundry and hobbles to the house, grunting at the weight. He’s been slacking a bit at keeping up. Back at home, his mom took care of everything without him even noticing half the time.
He almost feels bad bringing Kelly as much clothing as he is, but lord knows she won’t let him raise a finger to help her out.

Tyler’s in the kitchen when he walks into the house. Cross-legged on the breakfast bench built into the wall. He’s busy peeling the skins off of a bowl of onions, but as soon as that screen door opens, his attention’s on Josh.

Kelly has multiple pots on the stove. She wipes her hands on her apron when she sees him. “I was wonderin’ when you’d bring me these,” she says with a laugh, taking the basket from him with ease.

“Yeah, sorry,” Josh tells her sheepishly, “haven’t been on top of it lately. I can help you if you want-“

“Oh, no, no,” Kelly says, as if on cue. “I’ll handle it.” She waves him off and sets the basket down on the table where Tyler’s sitting.

“Tyler, honey, go take these down to the basement for me, will ya? I need to finish getting everythin’ ready for supper tonight.”

Tyler peels another onion skin off, letting it land on the floor. He ignores her for a minute. “I don’t wanna go down to the basement,” he says in protest. Kelly almost instantly whips around to face him, as if she hadn’t heart him right.

“What did you just say to me?” She snaps.

There’s a minute of silence between them where Tyler almost looks defiant, staring down his mother. He clenches his jaw before standing, finally breaking eye contact as he bends down to grab the basket.

Josh stands awkwardly until the sound of the basement door opens and slams behind Tyler. He didn’t even know they had a basement. The door is hidden next to the pantry, blending into the wall. It has two locks on it and he doesn’t feel the need to ask.

“Now you go on,” Kelly’s telling him as the dust settles. “Don’t worry ‘bout him. He’ll fix his attitude later.” She purses her lips, as if she wants to say more, but something thuds downstairs and she lets out a sigh before putting down the wooden spoon in her hand.

Josh takes the opportunity to leave right when she heads towards the basement.

There’s nothing else for him to do today, so afterwards, he finds himself rifling through his pickup because it’s just been sitting vacant for so long. He might as well clean it out and take out the random things he never got to unpack. Fridays and Saturdays are slow, since Chris is always gone. Kelly will dote on him, give him menial tasks and feed him snacks until the sun sets. But he wants to feel somewhat productive today regardless.

He remembers reading somewhere about Sunday being a day of rest since it’s a holy day, but apparently that doesn’t matter when you’re a farmer. Because Chris always immediately gets him right back to work after church. Not like there’s really anyone around to dispute them or their beliefs.

He finds a few articles of clothing he forgot about-hoodies, swim trunks, (bonus! He thinks, for the pond) mismatched socks. It looks like something tried to burrow in and live in his backseat. It’s not until he realizes the back hatch window is cracked that he relaxes. God forbid something chews through the wires of his truck and fucks it up. Sure, he doesn’t drive it much of anywhere anymore, but still. It’s for his own peace of mind.

There’s a picture of his family that falls out when he lowers the sun visor. Faded and crinkled with age. He can’t be more than thirteen in the photo. They had taken a trip to New York for New Year’s Eve. Josh stares at it. Something he used to hold as a fond memory now tainted with disdain for the current state of their affairs.

Maybe he’s too privileged to be angry at his parents. They never hit him. Especially not now, at this age. Not like Tyler’s parents. Maybe he should be more grateful. But then he remembers growing up, and never being good enough in his father’s eyes, always compared to his older siblings by his mother.

He clenches his jaw and shoves the photo into this center console, letting it slam shut. He lets out a huff, shaking his head. No use brooding about it now.

Josh just barely hears it-but the sound of bare feet rustling the dirt makes him turn around. There’s only one person on this farm who walks that quietly. How convenient of Tyler to approach during this time of emotional instability.

And he’s already staring at him when their gazes meet. Eyes lidded, head cocked in curiosity. A silent stand-off that leaves Josh pale when he realizes what’s going on.

Tyler’s in a white dress. Lacy and a bit dingy. Dirt stains around the hem. The fabric sags in the front because of his lack of tits. Everywhere else is hugged so tightly. Perfectly. Around his waist, his shoulders, hips. And he knows it. Fucking relishes in it. It contrasts so perfect against his tanned skin. Not everyone can pull off white like this.

Josh feels his heart jump into his throat. Jesus Christ.

“Tyler.” He doesn’t know where to look. It’s so much. His dirty bare feet, the see-through nature of the dress, his incredibly intense gaze just locked on him.

“Hi,” Tyler says, “you busy?”

Josh feels his mouth go dry. “No,” he says slowly, “not really.” Eyes up, Josh. You pervert.

“That’s good.”

Tyler backs him up against his pickup in just a few steps, and his demeanor isn’t one of someone who’s going to stand down. He’s actually so-so fucking casual. It’s terrifying.

“Tyler,” Josh squeaks, “what uh-what are you doing here?” He can’t stop himself from looking down, even though he knows it’s a silent invitation for more.

Tyler looks like he wants to eat him alive.

“Don’t act dumb,” he says. “You know what I’m doin’. What I want.”

He’s pushing both of them into the truck, forcing Josh into the drivers seat. Tyler climbs onto his lap, dress fanning out on top of them. He stares down, like there’s no other place he’d rather be. Like this is his alma mater.

“Tyler-“ Josh chokes out. His hands immediately go up, avoiding any contact. Avoiding the consequences. He scoots back as far as he can in the seat.

“Daddy ain’t home,” Tyler says, hands flat against his chest. He pushes forward, pressing their foreheads together. “It’s Friday. He’s at the farmer’s market. Nothin’ to worry about.” He tangles his fingers into Josh’s, pulling his hands down onto his thighs. Forcing contact. “Nothin’.”

Josh balks. “Tyler.”

“Josh.”

“I can be what you need,” Tyler whispers, licking his lips. “See? Look what I did for you. I’d do anythin’.” He slides Josh’s hands up under the skirt of the dress. “I can be a girl for you. I can be whatever ya want me to be.”

Josh feels his boxers under the dress. God, he shaved his fucking legs, too. But just off enough that Josh knows he’s playing a part. He’s desperate. It’s terrifying. But he’s gorgeous.

“It’s not about that,” Josh breathes, but it’s getting harder and harder to push back. He cranes his neck away, swallowing thickly. “It’s just-more complicated than that-“

Tyler keeps his eyes on him, boring straight into his when he moves closer. So fucking close. Forcing Josh’s hands up to his chest, as if he were a girl letting her boyfriend touch her for the first time. Lips parted, breath hot against each other, Tyler crashes their mouths together after a tantalizing minute of silence and that’s when it all breaks loose.

“Tyler-“

Tyler’s hands let Josh’s go and instead slide down his chest, tugging his shirt out of his jeans.

Josh scrambles for something. Anything. A distraction. “Tyler-“

“Stop talkin’ so much,” he says impatiently against his lips. They’re almost instantly soaking with sweat, the sun beating down on them through the windows.

Fuck it.

Josh reaches down to lower the seat back, Tyler’s thighs bracketing his waist. Laid down, open, vulnerable. Tyler looks giddy. Josh is completely at the mercy of the angel above him.

No. Not an angel. Something sicker than that.

Tyler leans down, eyelashes batting, a smile curling his lips. He’s finally got what he wants. His tongue sticks between his crooked teeth, like a cougar about to dig into its final meal.

Josh’s hands are tentative-almost scared. They squeeze Tyler’s thighs, itching to go higher. He bunches the fabric of the dress up under his grip. It’s dangerous.

“Anythin’ you want,” Tyler repeats against the shell of his ear. Josh arches his back off the seat and groans. Tyler holds him down with a surprisingly strong grip and continues.

“Yeah. Just for you, Josh. I knew you were special right when you stepped outta that truck. All for me, aren’t ya?”

They’re kissing again, like two teenagers on prom night. Hot and sticky against each other. Tyler tastes like honeysuckle. It has to be one of the hottest things he’s ever done. Tyler slams the pickup door shut, trapping them in the humidity. The stale, hot air now stuck with no way to filter it out.

“I want you,” Tyler tells him, “wanted you since you looked at me the way you did.” He lets Josh stick his tongue in his mouth, lets him pull at his hair.

For someone who’s been extremely pent up this past month and a half, it’s like a dam breaking loose for Josh. He doesn’t mind if they’re just making out-it’s more than he’s had thus far. Tyler’s lips are chapped, rough against his, tinged with blood. He lets Josh’s hands roam wherever they please. Up his sides, down his waist. Over his ass.

The windows have started to fog, condensation sliding down the glass from their heavy breathing and sweat.

Tyler is so…fucking pretty. Above him, grinding against him, tangled in that stupid dress. He can’t even find it in himself to hate the sweltering heat around them.

The forced proximity is making Josh brave. Braver than he should be. He sucks in a breath, pulling them apart forcefully. Hands on the sides of Tyler’s shoulders, squeezing them tight. “What do your parents mean when they talk about the other farmhands?” He asks, watching Tyler’s face pale in reaction.

He freezes, grip loosening out of Josh’s hair as his hands fall into his lap. Staring ahead out the back window. Avoiding eye contact. “I dunno what you’re talkin’ about,” he says after a beat.

“Don’t lie.” Josh is getting brave.

“…where did you hear that?”

“I-“ Josh swallows thickly. Does he tell the truth? “I overheard your parents talking.”

Tyler stares him down with an expression he’s never seen before, something carnal. Something hungry. “That’s a lie.”

“Don’t listen to what my parents say,” he continues, voice low. “Ever. Not when they’re talkin’ about stuff like that. Okay?”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Okay, Josh?”

Josh…feels suddenly very unsafe. “Okay,” he says. “Yeah. Yeah.”

Tyler tucks a lock of hair behind his ear for him. Bites his tongue, brushes his thumb over Josh’s bottom lip. “They want you to be confused,” he continues, “not me though.” His voice drops again, softer, sweeter. “Not me. I don’t wanna lead you on. I know what’s best for ya.” He’s petting him, hands soft, gentle against his skin. Holding him like he’s precious.

“You just need to listen to me,” he says, more firm, “Josh. Look at me.” He holds Josh’s face in his hands, forcing eye contact. “‘Kay?” Just repeating the same things over and over again. Josh isn’t sure if he’s trying to reassure him, or himself.

“Tyler-“

“Please,” Tyler says, and he sounds like he’s getting choked up, “just say okay. I need ya to say okay. Please.”

Josh watches him. “Okay,” he says again. “I’m…sorry.”

Tyler seems to relax, sighing, hands fitting themselves into the crook of Josh’s neck. Not choking, just sitting there. He hums, nodding. “Good. Good.”

“You’re just…real special. Don’t wanna…lose ya,” he mumbles, trailing off. Lost in thought.

Totally not ominous at all. Completely normal. Josh would be incredibly more afraid if it weren’t coming out of Tyler’s mouth.

And speaking of Tyler’s mouth, it’s latched onto his neck, lapping at the skin. Josh grimaces, tensing up at the thought of a hickey, but theres’s no real biting. Tyler’s just sucking at him, like he’s trying to clean something off his throat.

Vaguely, Josh thinks of the deer blood that had splattered onto him, but…no. He washed it off. Surely all of it.

Tyler nuzzles at him, in a trance, infatuated with Josh’s throat. His fingers keep him in place, and when he starts to nip at him, Josh hisses. The heat buzzes around them. “I think you should get off me, Tyler,” he says carefully.

Tyler finally sits back, lips red, and watches him, fingers fiddling with the buttons on the front of his shirt. “Almost supper time,” he says, and it’s a vague agreement. Suggesting it as if he’s the one who wants to leave. His idea.

He pulls the handle, kicks the pickup door open with his foot and gives Josh a hard, nose-crushing kiss before slipping out, dress trailing behind him in the dust.

Josh sits in his truck, heart racing and jeans significantly tighter than before. He rubs a hand over his face, and all he can smell is Tyler. Honeysuckle and dusty lace and fresh fruit. His hair sticks to his forehead. He reaches for the cap in his passenger seat and throws it on to keep his sweaty curls out of his face. Fuck. It’s never normal with Tyler. Never.

He’s nearly falling out of the pickup, stumbling into the barn. Clothes stuck to him with sweat. He looks in the dusty, cracked mirror hanging on the wall, and…no marks. None. There’s no trace of Tyler on his skin, but when he unbuttons his shirt, he sees little flecks of blood dried onto his skin from this morning. Right below the collar. Somewhere Tyler wouldn’t have been able to reach. Everywhere else is clean. He tries not to think about it too hard.

It takes him a minute to recollect himself. He leans on what used to be a workbench, now his makeshift vanity, trying to steady his breathing. How is he going to face Kelly and Chris after this? Sure, Chris is gone for another day, but sitting down to dinner with Kelly is going to kill him. If he had internet around here he’d Google “how to be cordial with your boss’s wife after making out with her son.”

Whatever. Lock in. Focus, Josh. It’s not a big deal. If Tyler can make it work, so can you. It’s almost dinner time. Will away that fucking boner and get ready to say Grace.

Dinner is hot dogs and hamburgers. Josh eats one of each, only because Kelly insists he takes them. He tries to smile through the disgust when she goes into detail about sausage-making processes and how they use their meat. He’s never been one to enjoy the processes of things like that. Best to let the result speak for itself.

But hey, they taste a hell of a lot better than anything found in a plastic package.

There’s potato salad and French fries, with vanilla ice cream for dessert. All homemade. All dishes richer than the last. Tyler seems especially proud when Kelly notes that the ice cream has Lola’s milk in it and was made by him, too.

It’s great. Really. Every meal’s better than the last. But it’s not the food Josh is focused on.

He’s trying so hard not to look at Tyler.

Tyler, who’s in blue jeans and a baggy t-shirt. Who’s acting like his plate is the most interesting thing he’s seen all day. Whose foot is slowly creeping up Josh’s leg under the table again. When the fuck did he have time to change?

He feels sick. Sick for sitting here at the table with Kelly and pretending like his lips don’t burn with the remnants of Tyler’s. Pretending like his hands haven’t wandered far past where they’re supposed to. He feels guilty. Sure, he wanted it. Returned it. But fuck, in the long run, is it really worth it? To have this kind of relationship with his boss’s son? They’ll be nothing but a secret. Josh doesn’t even know how long he’s planning on staying here. The summer is flying by fast.

He can’t just leave. His parents will mock him for years to come. Tell him that it was just a phase. Tell him that they were waiting for him to come running back, tail between his legs.

Josh thinks about winter on the farm and knows damn well that hayloft isn’t going to be as warm as it is right now.

How long is Tyler going to torment him like this? Egg him on, then pull away once his parent’s catch wind? How much longer are they going to be walking on eggshells? It’s incredibly distressing, and not at all what Josh thought he’d be worrying about when he took the job.

“Your laundry’s by the door,” Kelly says, and snaps him back to real life. He looks up, almost confused for a second.

“Oh,” he says, letting out a sigh, “right. Thank you.” He nods, like he’s assuring himself he’s still here. Still real. Everything that’s happened today actually happened.

“You okay?” Kelly asks, eyeing him. “Ya seem a little lost in thought.”

Josh laughs it off. “Yeah, uh-I’m good. Just a little tired.” He can feel Tyler watching him. Never making eye contact, only staring from afar.

She hesitates before going back to her own food. He knows she knows there’s something wrong. It’s a mother’s instinct. Josh’s own mom could tell when something was wrong from a mile away. He’s sure Kelly is no different.

He doesn’t know how many more of these quiet dinners he can take. Maybe there’s just not enough to talk about, but God, it’s like hell listening to the clinking of forks against plates. At least back home there was a television on to distract everyone from each other.

Is that his home? Should he call it home anymore? Josh feels like he’s losing his mind. His line between both worlds is getting blurrier and blurrier every day. Maybe he’s just really that down bad for Tyler. Or maybe there’s something more sinister lying underneath it all. He can’t tell.

His dreams have been nothing but odd as of late. More like nightmares. He’s never been one to really have dreams at all, so waking up in a cold sweat every night isn’t a normal occurrence.

It’s always endless fields. Darkness, eyes on him, beady and white and glowing. The stench of blood and smoke. Heat of roaring flames threatening to lick at his skin.

And Tyler is always there. Watching him silently, like he always does. As if he’s the one orchestrating it all.

Josh finally sees the cause of the nest in the hayloft window. It’s an owl-bigger than a normal one. Sitting atop the roof. It’s watching him, still in the night as he walks into the barn after dinner. Big and scary and intimidating. Its eyes look eerily similar to Tyler’s, but maybe he really is just tired and delirious.

He wonders how many nights it’s stood perched over him as he slept.

His clothes are all clean. Folded neatly. He’s grateful. He finds his jeans from this morning and there’s not a speck of blood on them, which he’s surprised by. He can’t seem to find his shirt, though. Not that it’s a big deal.

He stays awake all night, watching. Waiting for the owl.

But it never comes.

Chapter Text

“Did you do that to that deer?”

It’s the first thing he hears this morning.

Tyler’s standing before his father, fists clenched at his sides. They’re in the kitchen. It’s almost dawn-still dark outside. He doesn’t say a word. His mother’s not awake yet.

“Answer me,” Chris spits.

“No,” Tyler blurts out, “I dunno what deer you’re talkin’ about.”

“Tyler Robert.”

“I didn’t mean to,” he says, backtracking. “I didn’t actually do anythin’ to it. It got stuck by itself.”

“I know you’re lyin’ to me right now, boy,” Chris says, and the second he moves forward, Tyler winces defensively. “It was missin’ a damn eye.”

He doesn’t have anything to say to that. He braces for the impact and it comes hard, against the side of his head. His ear rings.

“What the hell’s the matter with you?”

“M’sorry,” he tries, “I-it’s just-“

“Just nothin’,” Chris snaps, “you’re gettin’ way too brave. ‘Specially around Josh. Don’t think I don’t see ya out there. Whorin’ yourself out. Actin’ like he wants ya.” He curls his lip. “No better than the meat we hunt.”

Tyler whimpers. “I’m-“

“Go to confession,” his father growls under his breath, “tell Father what you been doin’. Maybe he can sort you out. Lord knows I’ve tried.”

“Daddy-“

“Now!”

Tyler hesitates before turning on his heel, face red as he sprints to his bedroom.

Chris grumbles as he goes. “Gettin’ way too close. Way too brave,” he repeats.

Tyler hears the screen door slam and covers his face with his hands to muffle a frustrated sob. He falls back against his bedroom door. He doesn’t understand. No one understands. And he doesn’t have time to wallow.

He strips out of his clothes, pulling on his khakis and clean, ironed button-down. He doesn’t want to go to confession. There’s anything he’d rather be doing right now. He’s pulling on these stupid dress shoes that pinch his toes, running his fingers through his messy hair. He snatches his rosary off of his dresser before storming downstairs, face red, straight outside to the stable.

He’s still sniffling when Lady neighs at him, and for a split second he finds comfort in her. He pets her mane, trying to steady himself. She’s extremely keen to his emotions, he’s had her since she was a filly. They practically grew up together. His siblings were so jealous. They all wanted horses too, but their parents knew it was just a phase.

Not for Tyler. They didn’t love animals nearly as much as Tyler.

It’s still dewy outside. Still a bit chilly. He usually loves the summer mornings, before the sun comes out and dries everything to hell. Not this morning.

He sees Josh right as he mounts Lady. Walking to the house from the barn, his hayloft. They make brief eye contact across the yard, and Tyler’s quickly yanking Lady’s reins, forcing her to trot off towards the road.

The sun is rising when he reaches the church. It’s a short ride on Lady, but he tries to savor it. It would be a beautiful day to ride, if the destination he’s seeking wasn’t so foreboding.

Their church really is in the middle of nowhere, much like the farm. Surrounded by trees, tucked away. Overtaken by nature, but still standing. Ivy and moss and plants Tyler doesn’t even know the name of sprawl over the wood. Chipped and peeling white paint. It looks damn near abandoned most of the time.

But to Tyler, it’s a second home. The only other place he’s ever been outside of the farm. It’s a…complicated relationship.

He tethers Lady to one of the rickety hitching rails, kisses the side of her muzzle, and walks as slow as humanly possible into the church.

It’s very quiet. There’s still a few hours before the Monday morning mass. Sunlight has just begun to stream in through the stained glass windows.

Tyler’s footsteps echo even though the ceilings aren’t that high. It’s an ominous feeling. He’s never liked coming here alone. Even when he was little.

Father is always in the confessional before mass for anyone who needs it. Most parishioners try to get theirs in to feel extra holy. Or something. It’s tucked away in the back of the church. Private. Intimate.

Slowly, Tyler’s opening the confessor’s door, slipping into the darkness. A single dim lightbulb hanging from the ceiling is all that allows him to see.

He kneels at the pew, staring into the darkened window in front of him. He doesn’t need to say any greeting. He can feel Father’s presence. He takes a deep breath, and begins.

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned,” Tyler mumbles shakily, “it’s-it’s been…” he trails off, trying to remember.

“A month,” Father answers for him, “since your last confession.”

Tyler tears the skin off his bottom lip. “I’ve done bad stuff,” he whispers. “Father. I-been lustin’ after a man. I killed one of our calves. And…a deer.”

There’s a pause.

“This isn’t the first time you’ve told me this, Tyler. About your issues with lust.”

“I know.” Tyler wrings his hands together, foot shaking behind him. “I know.”

“Do you think you’ve tried to better yourself since last time?”

“No,” Tyler answers immediately, voice shaking. “I just, well-it’s mainly with the crows-“

“You’re avoiding my question,” Father interrupts. “This isn’t about the crows.”

Tyler’s mouth feels dry.

“You cannot keep accepting that the crows are what control you,” Father continues. “Divine miracles come to many, but what makes you think you’re that special, Tyler?”

Tyler shoves the heels of his hands into his eyes to stop the tears forming. “I dunno,” he says thickly.

“Do you truly think that God sent these crows to communicate with you? After what you’ve done and continue to do?”

The tips of his ears heat up with embarrassment. “No,” he says.

“This isn’t about the crows,” Father says again. “This is about you. Do you think God is proud of you when you lust after men?”

“…no,” he mumbles.

“Do you think God wants you to lust after men?”

“No,” he repeats, vision blurring.

There’s a beat of silence before Father speaks again.

“Your penance will be the same as last time,” he says. “You will fast until tomorrow evening. And tell your mother about your lustful thoughts as an act of mortification.”

Tyler feels his face screw up. “Please,” he starts, voice weak, “can I have somethin’ else?”

“That’s not how this works.”

He’s shut down so easily he feels his heart sink.

“The Act of Contrition, please.”

Tyler stares down at his hands, at the rosary he’s now clutching like a lifeline.

“My God,” he starts, trying not to cry, “I am sorry for my sins with all my heart. In choosin’ to-to do wrong and failin’ to do good, I’ve sinned against you, who I should love above all things.” He swallows thickly, knuckles white.

“I firmly intend, with your help, to do penance, to sin no more, and to…avoid whatever leads me to sin. Our Savior Jesus Christ suffered and died for us. In his name, my God, have mercy.”

“…amen.”

It’s quiet, except for the chirping of the morning birds. Tyler shifts uncomfortably, head still bowed.

“I think you should stay afterwards for mass, don’t you think?” Father tells him.

“I…don’t think I should do that,” Tyler says thickly. His fingers rub over the beads on his rosary. Nothing could ever protect him.

“I feel it’s that you don’t want to.”

He sucks in a breath. “I-um. I just need to get home. Mama’s waitin’ on me.”

There’s a long pause. Tyler feels a lump form in his throat. He hears a rustling on the other side of the confessional. He’s trapped. It’s not the first time this has happened. And it won’t be the last. He hears the door of the confessional open, and suddenly he’s face-to-face with Father. Like a fish in a barrel.

“Lying is another form of sin, Tyler,” he says carefully.

And so Tyler stays.

𐕣

“Hi Mama,” Tyler mumbles, shuffling into the house. He lets the door shut behind him. It doesn’t slam nearly as loud as when his father comes and goes.

“Hi baby,” Kelly says absentmindedly. She stands at the sink, washing colanders of fruit. “You go to confession like your daddy told ya to?”

“…yeah. I stayed for mass, too.”

She nods. “Good. Lord knows ya needs it.” She pauses, sensing the emotion in the air Tyler tries to sneak past her unnoticed. “Do ya have somethin’ you need to tell me, sugar?”

Tyler screeches to a halt in the doorway of the kitchen. “Yeah,” he says again, staring into the dining room. Fuck. He was so close.

He turns around, avoiding any and all eye contact with his mother. She stands before him at full attention now, arms crossed over her chest.

Tyler licks his lips nervously. “Um.” His face screws up again, heartbeat quickening. “I…” he doesn’t want to say it. It feels foreign in his mouth. “Josh-“

“Trust me, I know.” His mother cuts him off with a huff. “You think your mama and daddy are dumb, Tyler Robert?” She shakes her head, lips pursed. “A blind man could see the way you flaunt yourself around that boy.”

Tyler lowers his head, bottom lip quivering. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry to me,” Kelly chides, “be sorry to Josh. Poor thing. You know what’s gonna happen eventually.” She turns back to the sink full of fruit. “It’s ya own damn fault for becomin’ attached. Just gonna make it worse for both of ya. Dunno when you’ll finally learn.”

She’s not wrong. But Tyler wants to make her wrong. He wants to prove her wrong. Somehow.

He shifts on his feet, shoes still pinching his toes. “…can I go now?”

Kelly shoos him off with her hand. He’s immediately running up to his bedroom, but shuts the door ever so softly behind him. He leans back against it, hands behind his back as he processes the morning.

It’s almost noon now. He should change.

A painting of Jesus watches him shed his church clothes. Sometimes it feels like the eyes follow him when he walks around the room. He’s pulling on a pair of shorts back purposefully to the painting. Bent over. Dirty. His cross necklace rubs against his neck in all the wrong ways today.

Tyler moves to the windows-two full length panels, adorned with white curtains. He can see Josh outside. The cow pasture is right outside of his window. In perfect view. He likes to watch Lola from time to time. Josh is out there now. Replacing hay bales. Filling waterers, hose dragging behind him. Tyler’s got a keen eye on both him and Lola. She’s curious. Just like him. She follows behind Josh-just slow enough to never catch up.

He seems to notice at some point, finally adjusting his pace for her. Tyler watches him pet his cow. Watches her butt her head against him.

She must know. Tyler knows she knows. She’s smart. Smarter than everyone thinks. She’s just like him.

Josh offhandedly looks up, and their eyes find each other again. Tyler’s immediately jerking away from the window, curtains swaying in his wake. God. His vision blurs. Heart pounding. Josh is…he doesn’t want to think about it. A pit of regret starts to grow inside of him. Is he doing the wrong thing? Was what happened in the truck too far? Or just right?

Tyler’s desperately trying to keep his father’s voice out of his head. He turns back to his room. No more looking out of the window. He’s going to stay in his room.

His bedroom. His pristine room, the crucifix above his bed’s headboard, pictures of Jesus and Mary on the walls. All dark wood furniture, hand carved and stained by the brave men who came before him. How disgraceful of him to even be using anything here. He stands in the mirror above his dresser, staring into his own lifeless eyes. The rosary hanging off the side of the frame swings softly in the breeze.

The curtains billow slowly. The window is still cracked, just barely. He’s not allowed to open it any more than where it is.

Then in a blink he’s on the floor, stretching across old carpet to reach under his bed for the one thing he’s been waiting for all day. His fingers grip Josh’s shirt and yank it from its hiding spot. He sits back on his knees, holding it to his face.

It’s stained with the remnants of the weekend. Balled up under his bed, marinating in its own filth. He can taste it. He mouths at the fabric, sucking anything he can from it. Sweat. Blood. He’s already breathing heavy, thighs squeezing together. The denim of his shorts creates a friction that makes him gasp. He unbuttons them.

He stole the shirt from the laundry, when his mother made him take it down to the basement. He’d feel bad, but he knows Josh won’t miss it. Probably didn’t even realize it was gone. The blood has already dried, deep red and rust-colored. Smells so fucking good. He sneaks a hand between his legs and ruts up into his palm.

Josh. His Josh. So much better than the rest. He’s so gentle, so tentative. It makes Tyler’s heart swell. He’s not like the rest. He doesn’t push or pull or press.

Tyler stands, stumbling to his dresser, fist full of fabric. He’s lifting the needle of his record player before he realizes what song is playing. He needs music. Needs sound to drown this out. It’s a distraction.

You’re mine.

And we belong together.

It crackles through the shitty phonograph speaker. He falls back onto his bed, onto his pretty baby blue quilt, back to the covers, hips perched in the air.

Yes, we belong together.

For eternity.

He sticks his fingers in his mouth, already drooling on them. Kicks his shorts off all the way so that he’s lying there in nothing but his baggy t-shirt and a pair of lace panties. Too tight. Digging into his hips, his thighs. The perfect amount of friction for him. He stole them from Maddy’s room. She left them anyway, so it’s not like she’ll be back for them. They might as well be his. He deserves them more. He’s stripping just as fast as he’d re-dressed. All for not.

How filthy of him, to have worn them to church. Hidden beneath his khakis. He’s tired of keeping these dirty secrets.

He’s too impatient. Arching his back, he’s pushing his fingers past the lace and into himself. He loves the pain. Craves it. The drier the better-even if he’s limping the next day. Something inside of him tells him that he deserves the pain. It’s his penance for being this way.

You’re mine.

Your lips belong to me.

Swallowing thickly, Tyler raises his hips up, eagerly trying to reach that beautiful fucking spot inside of him that makes him squeal. It’s a hard feat for him. Josh would probably reach all the right places. He wouldn’t have to twist and bend himself like this if Josh were the one fucking him.

Josh would treat him well. He’s a good man. Strong-willed. Eager to please. Perfect. Perfect. Everything about him. Perfect.

Yes, they belong to only me.

For eternity.

Sucking on the little silver cross in his mouth, Tyler thinks it somehow makes up for what he’s doing. His meager apology to God. His teeth clamp down on the chain, holding it in place, and it burns against his tongue. His fingers aren’t long enough. Josh’s shirt starts to dampen with drool and snot every time he huffs into it, eyes squeezed shut. Metal and iron and blood and Josh.

Whimpers muffled, tears slipping down his cheeks, he finds peace in this sin. His cock weeps down onto his stomach, twitching, aching. He doesn’t dare touch himself. His thighs are beginning to become sore, muscles taut, calves clenched to keep his lower half upright. Hopelessly trying to get his fingers to reach that sweet spot.

You’re my, my baby.

And you’ll always be.

Tyler whines into the shirt, choking on a sob. His record player suddenly skips, and he’s thrust into silence. It’s what he deserves. He’ll never be clean. Be holy. It’s a fact he’ll have to live with forever. He can’t survive without this. He’ll go to confession as many times as it takes as long as he can keep doing this. God knows who he is, what he is. That can never be forgiven.

His jaw falls slack, eyelashes fluttering as his eyes roll back into his head. He’s so God damn close. He’s never felt so enamored before. So obsessed. Nothing could ever be more perfect than what Josh is. His sweet Josh. Tyler’s knuckles are white where they grip the shirt. He holds it against himself, lets it soak up the pre-cum slipping down his cock.

He’d give everything up for Josh. Everything. He’s never felt like this before. Not with anyone. He’d burn this fucking farm to the ground if it meant Josh would stay forever.

Tyler bites his lip so hard it starts to bleed, the pain only spurring him on. He imagines it’s Josh’s blood in his mouth instead. Josh’s blood flooding his senses. How he’d love to drain that boy of all he’s got.

Toes curling, fingers cramping, Tyler cums. His thighs shake, and he squeezes his eyes shut, desperately trying not to cry out Josh’s name. His cock twitches meekly, covering his already sweat-soaked shirt in cum.

He’s still crying, hiccuping back a sob. Panting, limbs falling weakly onto the bed, he trembles, letting the waves of aftershocks wash over him. The clarity of what he’s done. How pathetic he truly is. He turns his head to the side and makes eye contact with the painting of Jesus.

Am I no good?

Is he past the point of no return? Unfixable? Unlovable?

He fiddles with the buttons on the front of Josh’s shirt absentmindedly. Then he’s yanking his pillow out from underneath himself. He affixes the shirt to it, fingers still shaky as he slips the buttons through their respective holes. Sitting back, he stares at his creation. At least it’s something solid. Swaying, he drags it off of the bed and shoves it back under into his hiding spot. He’ll come back to it later. Now sans a pillow of his own and, filthy t-shirt covering his shame, he staggers into Zack’s bedroom.

It’s dusty, unused and dank except for the singular spot Tyler always occupies during times like this. The room is dark, the curtains pulled closed. He crawls onto the bed, under one of the handmade quilts given to them by their grandmother as babies. If he tries really hard, he can still smell him.

Because here, in the dusk, he is allowed this comfort. Face shoved into Zack’s pillow, he cries afterwards, curled up under the quilt. He begs God for forgiveness. This isn’t who he wants to be. But Josh doesn’t know that.

The fabric eats up his sobbing. Curled in on himself, he drools onto the pillow, nose running, shoulders shaking. His eyes close, and for a moment, it feels something like peace. He thinks about Zack. Thinks about Jay. And Maddy. He can’t say he misses them, because it would be a lie. What does he feel, then? What can you feel for your siblings who went the way they did? An aching feeling opens up inside of him. A loneliness he’ll never be able to fill. He can only pray Josh would be willing to. But he knows it won’t be enough. It’s never enough.

He’s too hungry.

Something overtakes him-whether it be exhaustion, guilt, want-and the world quiets.

He doesn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until he’s blinking his eyes open, eyelashes crusted with tears, mouth dry. Zack’s bedroom smells of mildew. It’s so old. Old and dark. He’s the only one who comes in here anymore. His parents are rarely upstairs anyway. Nothing for them up here besides the attic.

Tyler sits up, and it’s still quiet. Quiet and sad. The curtains are closed. Clock ticking on the wall reads some time past supper. He nearly falls out of the bed, rubbing at his eyes as he walks out of Zack’s room.

The hallway is dark. But there’s a light at the end, coming from the bathroom. Tyler feels his vision fog for a second.

He can hear it. Just barely. His stomach turns. Feet slipping across the carpet, he’s slinking back to his bedroom to fumble for the universal house key he stole ages ago. He’s still half asleep, eyes bleary, limbs flimsy.

He has to be quiet. The lock clicks ever so slowly. Through the door, through the tiny crack he’s made, he can see it.

He’s gripping the key in his hand so hard it’s digging into his palm. He can’t open the door any more. It’ll give him away. He has to be satisfied with this. He can’t get too greedy.

Josh is in the bath again. But not like the other times.

Under the water, hand moving beneath the suds. Head tipped back, teeth worrying his bottom lip. Tyler can ever so faintly see his hips buck up. Eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed together. He’s beautiful. It’s more than Tyler could have ever asked for. Dreamt of. Every fiber in his body wants to open this fucking door and finish the job for him. He’d do a good job, too. He knows what to do.

His jaw drops. Eyes drinking in everything he can. It’s like watching an angel in real time. He feels a rush of heat wash over his body. Maybe it’s shame. Maybe it’s both. Who cares.

Josh, so beautifully unaware. Maybe he’s caught on to Tyler’s peeping, and this is his repayment of sorts. God, wouldn’t that be something? He could just be that blissfully ignorant to it. Most likely the latter, but Tyler can dream.

His gaze is locked on muscles of Josh’s shoulder moving beneath his skin every time his arm moves. Just gorgeous. Freckles on his skin. If Tyler closes his eyes and focuses real hard he can imagine it’s him underneath the water.

Maybe next time.

He watches Josh cum, watches his lips part in a silent, breathless moan. Watches him come undone so beautifully that he has to cover his own mouth with his hand.

He steps back, leaning against the hallway wall. Speechless. Out of breath. He can’t believe he just watched that happen. Today doesn’t feel real. Is it even still today? Maybe he slept until tomorrow night. He feels groggy enough. No. No, it’s still…Monday.

The bathtub plug is pulled. The sound of water, the rustling of clothes and towels wakes him from his daydream, and Tyler’s ducking into Maddy’s old bedroom-the closest one to the bathroom. Just in time before Josh is opening the door, still toweling his hair off. Clad in a pair of shorts and nothing else.

Tyler can still hear the water swirling down the drain when Josh’s footsteps echo down the stairs.

He waits until the silence settles again, then he’s damn near sprinting back in, slipping on stray puddles of water on the bathroom floor. He’s closing the door behind him. Turning the lock. Face-to-face with the bathtub, in all its glory. His bare feet make no noise as he approaches.

He’s lowering himself against the damp porcelain. Like a parishioner ready to worship. He presses himself into the tub. Feels tears slide down his cheeks when his lips meet the metal drain. He tongues at it desperately. Praying for a taste of Josh. Anything. Everything. The hem of his shirt dampens, dipping into the water. The steam in the bathroom sticking to him. The last dregs of water surrounding the edge he slurps up, panting.

It’s metallic. Mildewy. But faintly, ever so faintly, he can taste Josh. Maybe it’s all in his head, but he’s okay with that. He’s relishing in the moment more than the takeaway. He shoves his face closer, into the tub as if he could somehow reverse time and be there when it happened. Nose squashed, breath raspy.

His eyes close. Fingers tracing around the metal of the drain in mourning. He sits there for God knows how long, praying for…something. He’s not too sure what.

But next time. Next time, he’ll catch it.

Tyler lets out a shaking breath, lips wet, and rises from the tub. He stumbles out of the bathroom and leaves wet footprints in the carpet leading to his bedroom.

He falls into bed, fisting his hands into the sheets. He has no pillow, and dares to laugh at himself. He feels sick. A lump forms in his throat. It’s not enough. Nothing is ever enough for him. He’s too fucking greedy for his own good.

He lays there, still trying to catch his breath, staring up at the darkened ceiling. He’s not going to be able to sleep tonight, but that’s okay. Instead, he listens to the creatures outside his window. Beautiful animals. Beasts of nature. He feels more connected to the coyotes howling, snarling, baring their canines, than he ever could to his mother and father.

Every now and then there’s lowing of the cows. The chickens make a few measly clucks, even. He hears an owl hoot in the distance.

But not a single crow.

Chapter Text

It’s almost harvest.

Josh finally gets his hands on the equipment. Big, hard machinery. Two tractors and a single combine, kept tucked away in the shop beside the house. Nothing more, nothing less. Just what they need.

It doesn’t take him long to learn the ins and outs. Driving a tractor feels like he’s a little kid sitting in the front seat of his dad’s truck all over again.

It’s something positive that offsets the constant string of weirdness that’s been happening. It’s like Tyler just attracts it. He has this energy about him.

Josh is incredibly excited to keep working. So much so, that it’s almost poetically ironic that it’s raining when he wakes up. Meaning that today is, well, a nothing day. Nothing he can do. Not when the fields are soaked.

All he can do is pray Tyler doesn’t come looking for him and try to keep himself occupied and free from distractions.

Tyler’s been awfully busy though anyway-always in the kitchen with his mother. They’ve been canning foodstuffs in preparation for the colder months. He keeps his head down and eyes focused on his work. The house is filled with the smells of pickling, preserved meats, assorted fruit sauces.

Every now and then, when Josh is sat at the nook in the kitchen, he’ll catch Tyler out of the corner of his eye. It’s like some unspoken bond. A language Josh is desperately trying to understand. He feels like he’s nothing if not anxiously kept on his toes. Like some sort of tension is building that he can’t quite put a finger on.

Even sleeping has become a chore. The owl-that fucking barn owl-ever since he first discovered it, has made itself incredibly present in his nights. He’ll wake up in a cold sweat and see it in its perch just…staring. Unmoving. It doesn’t even look real. God forbid he tries to shoo it away. That thing has talons and a beak sharper than anything he wants to mess with.

Mix that with the general uneasiness he’s felt for the last couple of weeks…yeah. He’s kind of on edge. All the time.

The only time Josh finds true peace nowadays is when he’s in the bath. As cliché as that is. The warm water, the silence. He’s grown accustomed to the constant chirping of bugs outside.

His body aches have long since resided into firm muscle. Now, it’s just bliss for him.

He even finds it in himself to light a couple of candles, too, and turn the lights out. Dimly lit. Warm. He could almost fall asleep right now.

Almost.

Something rattling outside, causing him to sit up sharply, watching as the lock on the door clicks slowly. The rusted old doorknob turns gingerly, and Tyler is opening the door to the bathroom, wearing a thin robe. He shuts the door behind him softly, leaning against it, hands pinned behind his back. He says nothing. Their eyes meet and it’s enough. He almost looks bashful.

“Tyler,” Josh says under his breath. Eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Their eyes are absolutely locked on each other. Hard. He can barely see his expression in the dark, but doesn’t make any move to get out or grab a towel. He swallows thickly, and feels his face start to flush at the way Tyler’s devouring him right now without saying a single word.

Tyler unties the robe and lets it fall in a puddle of fabric at his feet. He’s bare underneath besides a pair of off-white lace panties. They’re so tight he might as well just be naked. Josh’s eyes immediately take it all in. His body. The way he stands before him, the curves of his frame accentuated by the candlelight.

There’s a crucifix above Tyler’s head hanging above the doorway. Jesus is watching them all and Josh feels-for the first time in his life-like there truly is something otherworldly in the sky looking down on them right now.

“You’ve been the one unlocking the door,” Josh realizes, but he’s not at all surprised.

Tyler licks his lips. Steps forward until he’s dipping his toes into the water and silently sinking down onto Josh’s lap. Bare against each other, the water slowly becoming cold from their bodies seeping the heat away.

“Tyler,” Josh says again. A wet hand covers his mouth. Tyler shushes him softly.

“Y’know,” he starts, “I watched ya. The other night.” He’s caressing Josh’s face. Touching him like he’s made of gold. “What ya did in here.”

It takes him a minute before he realizes what that means. “You-“

Tyler’s hands slide down his wet chest. “Mhm.”

Jesus is still watching them from above the doorway. Josh keeps finding himself looking up at the crucifix, as if it’s alive. He can’t stop.

“Heaven forsakes the masturbator, Josh,” Tyler whispers. “Spillin’ your seed. Wasting it.” His lips part. “God’ll have you damned for that. Killed. Just like Onan.”

Josh scowls. “I-“

“It’s okay,” Tyler cuts him off, lips curling into a soft smile, “I won’t tell.”

“Tyler, you-“

“Shh.” Tyler’s fingers are pressed against his lips again. “Don’t talk. Don’t talk. Can’t have ‘em findin’ us.” He moves closer under the water, pressing their foreheads together. Breath hot, lips just barely touching. Wet. The rain weeps outside just as the water slides down their skin.

“No, no,” he repeats, staring down at Josh’s mouth. “Can’t have that.”

And Tyler kisses him like it’s the first time. Gently. Josh’s hands stay firmly planted on the sides of the bathtub. He’s anxious, but God, is Tyler beautiful. There’s something hidden behind those eyes that terrifies him at the same time.

“You can touch me,” he says, as if noticing the way Josh is repelled by their physicality. “You can do whatever you want to me. Y’know.”

Josh tries to stammer out a response. “It’s just a lot. Right now. I wasn’t uh, expecting…company.” But his hands find Tyler’s waist anyway-under the suds, under the water. He’s soft, softer than he’s been. Josh’s fingers curl underneath those damn panties, the lace floating in the water. They’re so tight on him. They’re nothing if not a calling card for what Tyler really wants out of this.

“I can knock next time,” Tyler tells him.

“I don’t think there will be a next time, Tyler.”

It’s like a fever dream. Josh is warmed by Tyler’s body heat, his hands, his mouth. It feels like a build up to something awful. Tyler makes a soft noise of dissent, but ducks down to kiss him again like it’s nothing but a conversation for another day.

“I’m not fucking you,” Josh says suddenly under his breath, spit connecting their lips. Tyler seems to hesitate for a moment, swallowing thickly.

“…I know.”

Josh searches his face. “Do you? You look disappointed,” he dares to say.

Tyler doesn’t reply. He just keeps his wet hand smoothing over Josh’s slicked back hair as if saying nothing could change the outcome.

But it doesn’t.

“Not disappointed,” he says absentmindedly. Licking his lips. Catching stray drops of bathwater. He pauses, like he wants to say more, but doesn’t. Ends it there.

When he leaves the still water is murky. The bubbles are gone, the soap is used. Tyler barely disturbs it when he moves, so silky and quiet. No wonder he’s so good at sneaking around.

Josh is left in cold water. Cold enough to send a shiver down his spine. Cold enough to shock him back into reality and wonder did that actually happen? Or is this some fucked up dream that he’ll wake up from and find himself staring into the eyes of the owl again?

He watches Tyler slip his robe back on, the fabric sticking to his wet skin. Then he’s fucking bent over, wriggling out of his panties until they’re a soggy heap on the floor. Josh feels his face heat up, eyes dragging their way back up to Tyler’s face.

Tyler, who doesn’t seem to have a singular care to what he’s doing. And how he’s affecting Josh.

“My room doesn’t have a lock,” he tells him over his shoulder, fingers curled around the doorknob.

Josh hears the sound of his footsteps against the carpet, his bedroom door shutting, and the soft crackle of a vinyl player needle hitting a record.

He should go to bed.

𐕣

It’s still pouring when he runs back to the barn. He’s damn near more wet than he was in the bathtub by the time he shuts the doors behind him. They creak as they slide closed, lighter than they look, but still incredibly drafty.

He throws his soaking towel up over a low-hanging rafter to dry and reaches for a new one.

It’s more annoying than anything. He strips out of his wet clothes, tossing them aside too. Standing in nothing but his boxers, he towels himself off for the second time tonight, huffing in frustration. He should’ve just walked outside with a bottle of shampoo at this point.

But then he wouldn’t have gotten such nice company, his mind says sarcastically. But he doesn’t actually know if Tyler’s cameo in the bathroom was something he disliked fully.

He’s trying not to think about it. Trying to will away the thoughts crossing his mind of what would’ve happened had he said yes or initiated further.

But he doesn’t haven’t to wonder that now.

Josh turns with a start as he hears the creaking of the barn doors and sees Tyler, just in the doorway, looking disheveled. God, it had only been what, thirty minutes? An hour? Not even.

Tyler looks distraught. Beside himself. Part of Josh knows it might just be act like everything else, but he still feels pity.

“Tyler?” He’s stepping to him, arms outstretched but never touching. “What’s wrong? God, you’re soaking wet…” he’s immediately looking for any sign of injury, but finds none.

Tyler waves off the jacket Josh tries to give off himself.

“Josh,” he says over the rain beating down outside, “I dunno a lot-and I know…you know that-“ he sniffles, “but I do know that what we’ve done together-I-I know it’s right. And it feels. Right. And-“

His voice begins to wobble. “And I know Mama always told me that Jesus loves us all no matter what. So, I-“

“Tyler-“

“I just need to tell ya,” Tyler interrupts him, acting like this is the worst thing he’s ever done. “I have to. Before it’s too late. Please. I know ya said that-that you didn’t want to…” he cuts himself off, as if unable to even form the words.

So he doesn’t. Instead he acts upon them.

Tyler’s kissing him harder than he had before. It’s not a peck on the lips-he kisses Josh like he wants to eat him alive. It’s an admission of need, of obsession, of want, said without a single word.

He’s pushing them back into the barn, the doors slamming shut behind them in a chorus with the thunder rumbling outside. Hands, limbs, lips, teeth. Tyler’s a biter. Josh tastes blood, and he can’t pinpoint whose it is.

The dam, if it was ever still standing or rebuilt or-whatever, finally breaks for good. Josh can’t try and stop this anymore. And maybe he just doesn’t care enough to try.

They’re scrambling up into the hayloft, desperate for shelter from the rainy drafts creeping in through the slats of the barn.

Tyler’s got him cornered, laid back on his makeshift bed. They both breathe heavily, pupils blown. Eyes hungry. This is it, Josh thinks, this is where it all ends. If what happened in the truck was the start, then this is the finish line.

Tyler seats himself onto Josh’s lap, arching his back as he peels his wet t-shirt off. Making a spectacle of it. Because he knows he can. Because he knows Josh loves it. It’s something out of one of those cheesy movies his mom would watch. When she’d cover his eyes and tell him to never repeat what he heard.

Tyler lays them down, lets Josh’s hands push and pull at his shorts, lets him grab handfuls of his ass, his hips. He rolls back into the touch like it’s all he was born to do.

“Yeah,” Tyler breathes, hot and heavy and aching. “Yeah.”

It hits Josh that he’s finally given this little freak everything he’s wanted. Finally been chipped away until his resolve is nonexistent.

He’s incredibly hard. And Tyler feels that. Rolls his hips back against it, nuzzles into the crook of his neck to feel the vibrations from his throat when he moans.

Josh suddenly feels his face heat up, and his hands slide up Tyler’s sides to get his attention.

“I mean-uh, I don’t wanna sound rude but, do you know, like-or, have you ever…”

Tyler stares down at him.

“You wanna know if I’m a virgin or not.”

Josh feels embarrassed, but nods. “Not in like, that way. Just-if you’ve-“

Right. Right.

“Long time ago,” Tyler continues with a sigh, almost wistfully, “Daddy’s old farmhands used to bring me in here. They taught me everythin’. But I never gave ‘em exactly what they wanted. ‘Just enough, but never enough,’ they’d say.” He laughs to himself. “S’why Daddy always keeps such a close eye on me now. Doesn’t want it to happen again.”

“Doesn’t want…what to happen again?”

Tyler licks his lips. “That don’t matter now,” he replies, cupping Josh’s face. “‘Cause you’re here now. And you’re special, Josh. It’s all for you. I kept my virginity. ‘Cause I knew someone like you’d be in my life soon enough.”

“What happened to them, then? The old farmhands?”

Tyler hesitates, his sultry expression fading away into something akin to annoyance. “Fired,” he says shortly. “That’s all.”

Josh sits up, propping himself up on his elbows. “Tyler. When all this happened. How old were you?”

“Does it matter?” Tyler says impatiently.

He studies Tyler’s face, eyebrows furrowed. “I mean.” He tries to find the right words. “How old were they, then?”

Tyler shrugs, looking away. “‘Bout as old as Papa sometimes. I dunno. Doesn’t matter.” He suddenly looks very self conscious. Sitting here on Josh’s lap. Half naked, scrunched in on himself.

“It does matter.” Josh sits up fully, feeling gross. “Tyler, that’s not-normal. You were probably just a teenager. Jesus-“

“It ain’t bad,” Tyler interrupts him, his face growing hot. “Don’t say that. You dunno everything.” He sniffles, pushing Josh back onto his makeshift bed. “This ain’t about that. Or them. This is about you. And me, Josh.”

He’s repositioning himself. Flaunting. Holding Josh’s face between his freezing fingers. “This is about you and me,” he repeats, voice lowering to a whisper, “and what I’ve done for you. What I’ve saved for you.”

“Tyler,” Josh worries his name out in his mouth. Like he can’t find anything else to say.

“All that’s in the past. I’m grown now. I know what’s right and wrong. I know it’s you I wanna give everythin’ up for.”

“Do you?” Josh challenges.

Does he?

It seems to make Tyler short-circuit. It was always easy for him to change the subject. Woo Josh over and distract him with something sexual. But now he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place and Josh isn’t budging.

“Stop.” Tyler says it after trying to speak, mouth opening and closing. “Stop it.” He looks panicked. As if this wasn’t part of his plan, and there’s no backup for him.

“You dunno what I’ve done. What…the things I’ve done.” He huffs. “I’m-not what you think. Those men who took advantage of me in the past-they’re just in the past. I-I was in control.” He shakes his head. “I knew what I was doin’.”

He still looks as if one touch could set him off.

He’s scrambling off of Josh, tears blurring his vision. “For the righteous falls seven times and rises again,” he digs the heels of his hands into his eyes, the prayer stale on his tongue. “But the wicked stumble. The wicked stumble.”

It’s so much. Too much. More than Josh thought he was ready to unpack.

He reaches for Tyler, but he flinches away. Hard. “I just-don’t want to hurt you,” he tries, sitting up on his knees. “Tyler. Please.”

“I don’t care,” Tyler snaps. He’s crying, and Josh instantly tries to backpedal.

“It’s not you,” he says instantly, “there’s nothing wrong with you, Tyler.”

“You said it,” Tyler shoots back. “I’m wrong. Wrong. What they did to me.” He shakes his head. “I…thought if I prayed hard enough. I could be good for you. I kept myself clean. Did everythin’ right. Even though I-“ his face is screwing up and he’s turning away.

“That’s not what I said,” Josh says immediately. “You know that’s not what I said. I didn’t mean anything like that-“

“There was a point,” Tyler says, gaze unwavering, “where everything broke down. And it took somethin’ from me, when I was real young.” He licks his lips. “Somethin’ I can’t quite explain.”

Josh stares at him, falling silent. Watches him like he’s a ticking time bomb, because, in this moment, he is. His demeanor, so drastically changing from one sentence to the next.

“And I always wondered if it would come back,” Tyler continues. “And love me the way it said it was supposed to. Mama always said everyone’s got someone out there for them.” He finally looks up, finally meets Josh’s gaze.

“But maybe it lied,” he says. “Maybe it was all a lie.” He pauses, like he’s trying not to cry again, tongue heavy in his mouth.

“I’ve tried so hard to explain in words what it meant to me. How it felt to me,” he warbles. “But I don’t think it’s meant to be explained.” He shakes his head. “I’m no good with words. Not like you. Not like Mama.”

He takes a shuddering deep breath. “Maybe it’s not meant to be marked down in words, or-or written out on a piece of paper.”

Tyler’s hand is on his chest again, fingers toying their way up to his hair. “‘Til then, guess I’ll just lie here and wait for it to come back and love me again. I thought-I thought it was you.” He makes eye contact with Josh. “I thought it was you.”

“Tyler,” Josh says softly. Where does he even begin?

“D’you think you know how to give up?” Tyler interrupts him. “D’you…think you understand what it means to love and be loved, Josh?” He smiles, but it’s not funny. He’s nearly hysterical.

“You don’t. And ya never will. Not the way I do.” He’s crawling closer again, like a hungry animal. “But I can tell ya right now,” he purrs, “it’s beautiful.” Tears in his eyes, Adam’s apple bobbing with every choked-off breath.

“Such a precious thing to be loved.” His eyes drink in each wrinkle on Josh’s face. Every hair. Josh feels as if he’s being eaten alive.

“That doesn’t sound like love,” he tries.

Tyler shakes his head again, teeth bared in a grin. “Such a precious, amazin’ thing. To be loved.” It doesn’t sound like he’s saying it to Josh. It sounds like he’s trying to convince himself of this.

“Just…such a wondrous and painful thing…to be loved.”

Josh feels sick.

“You said you wished that someone loved you.” Tyler catches his attention again. Pulls his gaze back in with the touch of his hand against his face.

“I didn’t say th-“

“You did.” Tyler holds his face, eyes widening. “I remember it. Never gonna forget it. Sittin’ on the tailgate of your pickup. You’d just gotten done balin’ hay. We were talkin’ about your high school crushes.”

He lets out a soft breath, resetting himself. “…you said you wished someone loved you. Really loved you.” His eyebrows knit together sadly.

“I do, Josh,” he whispers. He locks their hands together, their fingers intertwined. “I do.”

“You don’t love me,” Josh says weakly, “you don’t even know love, Tyler. This-what you’ve done, what you’ve experienced. That isn’t love. This is some sick, twisted version of-“

“Don’t tell me what I know,” Tyler says under his breath, and for the first time, Josh feels genuine fear in those words. He knows he could overpower Tyler. It wouldn’t be hard. But the real issue is would he? Should he?

“I love you,” Tyler drones. “I love you.” Petting at him, like he’s some prize already won. Josh feels a lump form in his throat. The rain is pounding outside. Thunder. The barn illuminates with ever flash of lightning.

Their lips meet again. Soggy, unruly, tasting of poison. Sickly sweet poison. He can’t get enough of it. He kisses Tyler through the tears still sliding down his cheeks and into their embrace. He kisses Tyler through the water still soaking them from the rain when he opened the barn door. Kisses him because despite everything, what the fuck has he got to lose?

“No one’s ever gonna love you,” Tyler says against his mouth, “not like me.” His touch fades as he pulls away, and Josh has never felt so cold. He shivers watching him redress.

And so Tyler leaves him, aching and wanting. His touch bruising on Josh’s body, but never visible. Scared and yearning. For what, he doesn’t know. He can’t say he’s disappointed, but this was definitely not the night he was expecting.

He’s terrified of Tyler.

He listens to the barn doors shut, the rumble of thunder as the summer storm subsides.

Josh lays back, staring up at the ceiling. Mind reeling. What the fuck is he doing? This isn’t what he imagined for himself months ago. He should be living the life of a rugged, rural farmer, not knee-deep in a hot affair with his boss’s whore of a son.

He can’t even find it in himself to feel bad, either. Maybe at first. But not anymore.

The rain only dies out after Tyler leaves, weirdly enough. The thunder still rolls, the lightning still strikes, and Josh is afraid of a possible tornado. Not afraid enough though, for after the gloomy sun has set he’s left wandering outside in the shadows, searching for…something. Anything. He’s shaken, not just from Tyler’s behavior earlier. Everything seems to be falling apart around him. Mentally. Maybe he’s going stir crazy. Living on a farm isn’t for him. Maybe his parents were right and he’s just a fucking yuppie who can’t even hold his own for half a year because he misses his cellphone and cable television and normalcy.

His eyes are locked on the dim light glimmering in the upstairs window. Tyler’s window. Maybe he should visit Lady. No. Too far. Barefoot in the mud, his feet lead him to the garage. He’s not sure why.

But Josh finds the tub of fertilizer. Hidden. Next to the recycling and compost. So incredibly out in the open and yet he’s still never been told about it.

He’s digging into it before he can fully comprehend what he’s doing. Something possesses him. Morbid curiosity, the feeling of insanity…whatever it is. It’s pulling at him. Been pulling at him. He flips the lid open and dives into it, despite every bone in his body screaming at him not to.

Fingers pulling at the fibrous dirt. The stench makes him gag. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for.

Lips twitching in anticipation, he strikes gold and pulls out a solid object. He’s fucking arm deep, bicep pressed up against the inner wall of plastic.

Holding it to his face, under the dim light of the street posts, he can clearly see that it’s a bone. From what, he doesn’t fucking know. He sways where he stands. Catches himself on the edge of the bin and swallows down the vomit trying to rise in the back of his throat. He’s not crazy. He’s not crazy.

He sticks the bone in his pocket. Closes the lid of the bin and leaves it exactly how he found it. He’s filthy, stumbling into the house wordlessly to wash up. Despite every bone in his body telling him not to. He could just use the water pump outside of the barn. He could. But he doesn’t want to.

And so he walks into a scene he isn’t supposed to be seeing.

Tyler’s on the floor, illuminated only by the light of the open fridge doors. Sprawled out on his haunches, dirty feet behind him. His shoulders shake as he sobs. He turns immediately at the sound of the screen door closing. His lips are tinged with red, tears still slipping down his cheeks. In his hands, a piece of raw meat sits. Chunks taken from it, ripped flesh, torn sinew. Stuffed into his mouth, one cheek distended from his current mouthful.

They make eye contact, and it’s a silent exchange. Josh is still trying to catch his breath. A quiet voyeur. Tyler’s shaking on the floor, eyes wide where he looks over his shoulder at the door. Red everywhere. Smells exactly as it did when Josh took that deer to the hog house. Blood and sickness.

Josh toes his boots off. Beelines it for the bathroom upstairs. The light makes him squint. His arms are covered in it. The smell, God, the smell. No matter how much he scrubs, it’s still sticky. Slimy. Like when he cleans the vegetables. Tinged with red. He watches it swirl down the drain, tries to swallow the vomit rising in the back of his throat.

He stays there, catching his breath. Rinsing and re-rinsing. Making sure not a trace of it exists. He even wipes the sink clean.

Tyler’s gone when he goes back downstairs. There’s no evidence of his presence there. No blood. He even flicks the light on to inspect the tile. No meat. Nothing. There’s no way he could’ve cleaned it all up that fast. There’s just no way.

It’s silent and dark, just like his walk back to the hayloft.

He’s not crazy, he says to himself again. He’s not crazy.

Sounds like something a crazy person would say.

Chapter Text

When he’s not driving a semi truck, Josh is questioning reality.

Sure, he’s pretty aware. He can tell what’s real for the most part. Maybe it’s just Tyler that forces him to wonder what’s real and what isn’t.

He’s having fun though. Following Chris around, listening to the sound of the corn as it funnels out of the combine and into the semi trailer. As the days drag on, the weather stays mostly stagnant. If anything, Josh feels like it’s gotten hotter.

At least he’s found something to keep himself busy. Instead of pondering his own mental stability, he gets to drive a tractor. It’s kind of a win-win, in a way. A sad, lonely, Josh way.

The only thing he looks forward to more than steering around a 6,000 pound piece of machinery is lunch time. If there’s one thing Kelly doesn’t mess around with, it’s making sure he’s fed.

Today, he’s greeted with a turkey sandwich, pasta salad, a ripe pear, and a tall glass of milk.

“This Lola’s?” He asks, gesturing to the cup.

Kelly makes a noise from where she’s buried in the pantry. “No. That’s from one of our others. Chris says he thinks Lola’s gettin’ sick, so she’s not gonna be givin’ us milk for a little bit.”

Josh frowns. “That’s not good. What makes him think that? Tyler takes such good care of her.”

She clicks her tongue. “Just life on the farm. Animals are born, animals die. When they get sick it’s more dangerous to try and save ‘em than it is to just let ‘em die.”

That’s…morbid. Josh stares down into the cup he’s drinking from. He can’t imagine a life like that. One step out of line and you’re as good as dead.

He clears his throat. “Anyway. Uh-I was wondering…if the landline works at all,” he asks. “I haven’t heard much from my family. My phone doesn’t work out here, but I thought they might’ve tried calling the house. I could try and call them now, actually, if that’s alright?”

Kelly shakes her head. “Oh, that phone hasn’t worked in years, I’m afraid. I can have Chris check the post office next time he’s in town. Maybe they sent ya a letter or somethin’.”

Josh deflates. “Oh. Right. Yeah, that…that’s fine.” He opens his mouth to speak, but Chris is calling his name and he’s mumbling a hurried thank you and goodbye before he can ask any more questions with confusing answers.

He squints when he gets outside, the sun beating down on him immediately. He spots Chris standing outside of the slaughterhouse-somewhere Josh has yet to fully explore. He feels his expression fall, stomach turning as he approaches.

The slaughterhouse isn’t anything special. Just a small little shed-like building, big enough to house and butcher a couple of bled-out hog corpses. With a workbench in the back for butchering and a plethora of knives and hooks within its walls. It smells of nothing but death. There are a couple of windows cut out, letting the lazy sunlight stream in and reflect off the tin. No door. Everything is aired out.

“Mornin’,” Chris greets. Josh waves. There are three pigs with him, rope still tied around their necks as makeshift leashes. Chris ushers them into a small pen beside it, just to keep them from scrambling when the gun goes off.

“‘Bout time you learned how to properly butcher a hog,” Chris tells him, shuffling into the pen. He waves Josh in, who steps inside gingerly. “I’ll show ya the first one, then I’m off to finish hauling corn to town.”

“Okay. Sweet.” Josh nods, rolling his sleeves up. He can’t ever look at that gun the same way. What was once pointed at him, then made to kill that deer, is now going to be in his possession again. Killing again. It does nothing but kill.

He tries not to think too hard about it.

Chris cocks the gun. “Imagine there’s a little ‘x’ on its forehead,” he says. “Makes it easier.”

The gun goes off. The two other pigs scatter, with nowhere to go. They crash into the sides of the pen, trying to escape. It’s…not easy to watch.

Josh flinches at the gunshot. The pig squeals, limbs flailing as it falls to the ground, stunned and deceased. Chris is quickly turning it to its side with a grunt. His knife finds the end of the sternum, wrist flicking as blood begins to rapidly gush into the dirt.

Chris drags the oozing carcass out of the pen and into the slaughterhouse before securing it to two hooks by its feet. He pulls the opposite end of the chain, successfully lifting the dead hog above the ground to let it bleed out.

He wipes his hands on his clothes. He’s surprisingly clean. “Figure it won’t be as easy for you,” he says with a dry laugh. “But you’ll get a hang of it. We’re just bleedin’ a couple out today. Later we’ll scald the hair off and skin ‘em, cut ‘em, and Kelly’ll get ready to preserve ‘em.”

“Right.” Josh watches the blood. The smell of it is nothing new to him anymore. He might even say it’s comforting. Familiar. But he’ll never fucking say that out loud. It’s only because he associates it with Tyler.

Chris claps him on the shoulder as a goodbye. Leaves him with nothing but his thoughts and this stupid gun. He steps back into the pen, into what will be the last thing these poor hogs see. Just find an ‘x’ on their forehead. Easy. One and done.

He feels his vision blur when he pulls the trigger. Normally, he’d be vomiting by now, just thinking of sticking his knife into this thing. But right now, he feels nothing.

Nothing.

His cut isn’t as clean as Chris’. He focuses a bit too hard, cuts just below the wrong spot, and the pig’s blood sprays him. He sputters, stumbling back. Warm and wet and covering him. It startles him for just a minute. But he just tosses the knife aside and drags the carcass to another set of hooks. Fucking gross. He’s soaked.
But this must be par for the course. So he’s onto the third and final hog as soon as the hooks are through the pig’s feet.

The last one goes down easier. Josh isn’t sprayed as bad, but there’s still blood covering his boots. Three of them hang now, lifeless bodies weeping silently. It’s a passing thought-how quickly life is given and taken away, whether by outside force or nature’s cruel fist.

He really hopes Lola is okay.

Blood drips down the concrete floors, congealing, puddling into the thin drainage paths carved into the stone. It’s already hot enough outside, but flies soon detect the scent of death and fester inside. On the walls, in clumps. Buzzing. Eager. On the hogs, desperate for anything they can gather. It’ll all be boiled off, yeah, but it’s still gross.

Josh wrinkles his nose and swats away any that try to cluster on his clothes. Thank God he didn’t get a job at a meat packing plant or something.

As if the flies weren’t enough, Josh spins around when he hears the soft pitter-patter of claws against concrete. It’s a crow-because of course it is-completely unafraid of him. He watches it hop into the room, interested only in the bodies hanging. It caws, pecking at the limp feet. Gross.

Even here, watching this, watching the bodies, Josh can only think of Tyler. The blood. The crow, the way the crows attach themselves to him like they have some weird connection. Everywhere a crow lands, Tyler is never far behind.

…speak of the devil.

“I remember Zack’s first time. He did the same thing. Got all dirty. He cried though. But not you.”

Josh jumps, head snapping up to attention. Tyler’s leaning in the entryway, eyes locked on the hogs. He drags his gaze to Josh, like he’s been there the entire time. Like this isn’t a fucking weird thing to do.

“Jesus.” Josh takes a deep breath. “I need to put a bell on you or something.”

Tyler’s grinning. “Just wanted to say hi.” He’s obviously holding back. Josh can tell by the way he bites his lip, swallows thickly, fidgets in place. He’s aching to do something. He fans himself, barefoot, heels red from the puddles of blood in the dirt.

Josh looks around them before backing them into the slaughterhouse. Dragging Tyler by his arm. “I don’t think you’re here to just say hi,” he says, staring him down. “What the hell do you want?” Tyler yanks himself free, watching him through lidded eyes.

“How d’you know?” He asks. “What d’you think I’m here for?”

Josh narrows his eyes. “You’re looking at me like I’m one of the hogs I just killed.”

“Dead?” Tyler cocks his head, makes a pouty face.

“Hungry.”

His hand is creeping up Josh’s back before he can do anything. Arms wrapping around his neck. His touch is fucking electric. It sends a shiver through him.

“What makes me hungry, then?” Tyler asks him innocently. “If that’s what ya think.”

Josh clenches his jaw. “I don’t know,” he answers, “I don’t want to know.”

Tyler’s hands smooth down the front of his shirt. Pressing the soaking wet fabric against his skin. It makes him grimace. “Maybe you’re lyin’, then. That’s a sin, y’know. I can only keep so many secrets for ya before God finds ‘em all out.”

“I don’t think you should be here,” Josh tries, to no avail. He’s locked in place now. Stuck.

Tyler’s fingers are ever so eager. So curious. They smear the blood around, painting Josh’s face with it. He looks so enthralled, breath coming out in short pants. Obsessed. Enamored by the mess.

“Only your first time, and ya did so good,” he says, gutturally, like there’s nothing that could please him more. “You hold that knife like you were born to do it. Did you know that? You had this…look in your eyes. So beautiful.”

“No,” Josh replies, swallowing thickly. “I didn’t. I didn’t know that.” He’s looking down at the mess covering him, vision blurring. Tyler shakes his head.

“No, no…you did this for me. Just for me. Didn’t ya?” He snakes his hand up Josh’s neck, thumb slipping over his cheek, his mouth.

Josh lets those fingers, tacky with blood, wander between his lips. He sucks them clean. It’s all iron and salt. Nothing different than when Tyler kisses him.

And that’s what he’s doing now. Hot, shiny lips against his. Tongues pushing bloody spit into each other’s mouths. Filthy and raw and wanton. His palms preoccupied with pulling Tyler ever closer, he feels the resolve left inside of him crumble. Hungry. He’s hungry. So fucking hungry.

Tyler almost grins against his lips, trying to hold back. His shaking hands claw at Josh’s clothes, his hair, his skin. Anywhere he can reach.

Josh takes a sharp breath in, separating them for a second. He’s already panting, heart racing. “Wait,” he tries, “just-hold on.”

“Changed your mind again?”

“Stop,” Josh snaps.

Tyler grabs him by the front of his shirt, hard. “You know what’s right ‘n wrong, Josh. Don’t act dumb.”

There’s a moment of silence between them, filled only by the sound of blood dripping, bugs chirping. Josh clenches his jaw, his self resolve nothing if not pathetic. Has he no backbone? What the fuck are we doing here, Josh?

They’re staggering farther back into the safety of the slaughterhouse, behind the flimsy metal walls splattered with gore. Josh takes them all the way to the back, hoisting Tyler up against the workbench. Forcing his legs around his waist. Bringing them to an impossibly close proximity. He’s rough on purpose. He wants it to hurt. Their foreheads hit each other, noses bumping, lips parted.

“There he is,” Tyler gasps, hands dragging through the mess on Josh’s neck. “My Josh.”

That does something to him. Really does something. Something bad.

“Don’t,” he says firmly. It feels good. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he is. He is Tyler’s. Tyler’s Josh. He pulls at him, anywhere he can reach.

“You want it,” Tyler says, and he’s right once again. “Anythin’. Anythin’ you want and it’s yours, Josh.”

Josh feels his stomach do a flip. Tugging at the shorts hugging Tyler’s waist, he hisses, “Off.” Tyler silences him with a kiss while his fingers fumble with the button on his shorts. He’s yanking them down blindly, until they’re still left dangling from one foot.

“You knew something was gonna happen?” Josh says under his breath, catching Tyler’s lustful eye. He’s gone commando. Now completely naked from the waist down. Because of fucking course he has.
He’s not sure what’s more scandalous: the too-tight panties or absolutely nothing.

Tyler bites his bottom lip, smiling. “Maybe,” he answers slyly. Josh noses at his neck, hands wandering. “I knew you’d like it either way,” Tyler breathes. He’s precariously balancing on the edge of the counter, legs wrapped around Josh’s waist just enough so he won’t fall.

One hand keeping himself up, the other clutching onto Josh.

“I do this all the time by myself. With my fingers,” Tyler admits with a shaky laugh, “thinkin’ about you.” He gasps, toes curling when Josh’s hands slide down his waist. “Didn’t ever imagine it’d be like this.”

“But you imagined it happening?”

Tyler smiles. Almost to himself. Bites his lip like he knows a secret Josh doesn’t. “Yeah,” he hums, “I did. Knew it would happen one day. One day.”

Josh nips at his earlobe. “And you picked today?” He mutters, “coming in here like this?” His free hand squeezes Tyler’s waist. “You-fuck, Tyler. You’re a whore. You knew what was going to happen. You’ve been doing this for months. Driving me crazy. I can’t believe you haven’t tried this shit sooner.”

Tyler laughs again, the sound quickly dissolving into a whine. “I know,” he answers, “I know what I am. Don’t need you tellin’ me it for it to be true.”

Josh noses at the crook of his neck, at his necklace. “What’s the point of this, then?” He asks. Tyler seems to freeze at the question.

“Can’t a whore still love Jesus?” He answers wearily. “Or do you think I’m past the point of no return?”

“You tell me.”

Tyler drags his tongue over his teeth. “When I die,” he starts, forcing Josh’s head up to make eye contact. “I’m gonna be at the head of the fuckin’ table. Right next to God.”

It’s the first time Josh has ever heard him curse, and he feels like it’ll also be the last.

Josh shoves his fingers into Tyler’s mouth, who sucks them until there’s drool dripping down his chin. A little dramatic, but he can’t really blame him.

They’re soaked, and Tyler doesn’t give any resistance when Josh presses two fingers into him. He gasps, arching his back regardless. His nails dig into Josh’s shoulders, cementing him in place.

“Not new to this?” Josh asks under his breath.

“Did it this mornin’,” Tyler replies casually. “Yours are…different, though.”

“Good or bad?”

“Good.” Tyler swallows thickly, voice weak. “Good. Stop talkin’. Please.”

Josh hums. Silence falls between them, but it’s not really silence. It’s heavy breathing, Tyler’s whimpering, the slick sound of blood dripping on the floor. The sound of Josh’s fingers crooking up into that pretty little spot that makes Tyler squirm.

It reeks in here. Like sweat and blood. If Josh wasn’t so desensitized to everything, he’d be gagging into Tyler’s mouth. But he feels nothing if not at home here. In this mess. Tyler’s lips feel natural on his.

His free hand drags up Tyler’s thigh to his cock, but gets swatted away. “Nuh-uh,” Tyler says, breathless, “Don’t. I like to-mm.” He rolls his hips back on Josh’s fingers, practically riding them. He likes it hands-free.

“Harder,” he orders after a beat.

“I don’t want to hurt you-“

“I don’t care,” Tyler snaps, “you can’t even tell what blood’s mine or the hog’s. Harder.”

It’s a…strangely familiar exchange. Josh starts a mental tally of how many times Tyler has stated his carelessness for being hurt. For being hurt by Josh. He fears it’ll only grow.

Josh spits on his fingers before resuming his pace. Tyler groans low in the back of his throat, hips rolling forward to meet his palm. Urgently trying to go deeper, faster.

“I love you,” he cries thickly, “I love you. I love you, I love you.” He shoves his face into the crook of Josh’s neck, inhaling the scent of blood. They’re incredibly hot against each other.

Josh can feel the warmth of Tyler’s tongue flat against his skin. Sucking at the drying flakes of blood, desperate for anything he can garner. Whining nonsensically, begging for forgiveness, for release. Josh can’t tell where Tyler’s pleas to him stop and his prayers to God begin.
Josh knows this isn’t what love is. It can’t possibly be what Tyler believes love to be, even if his brain is as skewed as it is.

He cuts Tyler off with another kiss, swallowing down the moans that would otherwise be his name if said out loud.
“Josh-“ he breathes, eyebrows knit together in concentration. “Josh.”

He can tell he’s close. “I know,” Josh mumbles. He can feel the pre-cum from Tyler’s cock dampening the front of his shirt even more, their bodies impossibly connected.

Uncomfortably close. Josh’s wrist already feels sore.

“Please,” he begs, but Josh isn’t sure what for. He’ll give Tyler whatever he wants. It’s unfortunate, but deep down they both know it’s true.

Tyler’s cums onto his shirt, onto both of them. His nails grip onto Josh’s biceps so hard he swears his own blood is going to be mixed in with the hog’s. He cries out softly, biting down on the collar of Josh’s shirt. Teeth dug in so tightly Josh feels like the fabric could rip at any second. He can feel him tremble, shoulders shaking with sobs. He hides his face, clutches onto Josh like he’s going to leave any minute.

“Hey.” Josh finds his voice softening. “Tyler.”

“M’fine,” Tyler insists, “fine. Gimme a sec.”

It takes him a good five minutes before he emerges, cheeks red and eyes puffy. Josh suddenly feels bad.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Tyler looks at him like he’s crazy. “Told you I’m fine,” he says, as if the question itself is asinine. As if he’s not sitting here with red-ringed eyes and a runny nose. “Are you okay?”

Josh scowls. What’s that supposed to mean? Like Tyler somehow can see the guilt already setting in. The twisting stomach and racing mind and rapid heartbeat Josh will experience the next time he sees Chris.

Tyler wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Drool and blood and snot. He sniffles, rubbing stray tears from his face with the heels of his hands. He pets at Josh, at his hair, his arms, his face. Holds him. Cradles him.

“You should go,” Josh tells him absentmindedly.

“I don’t think I should.”

Josh pulls away. Puts them at arm's length. “Tyler.”

“Josh.”

He speaks more firmly, “Go. Go home.”

Tyler cocks his head, legs swinging off the edge of the workbench. “Am I just somethin’ you fool around with so that ya don’t have to keep usin’ your hand?” He asks. His tone is light, but his face is dead serious. Eyes shooting daggers.

Josh groans in annoyance. “Tyler, please. I really just need you-”

“No,” Tyler sighs, “I don’t think ya do. You want me to believe ya need me, though.”

There’s a pregnant pause. Josh feels his guilt get overtaken by anger. “You’re sick.”

“You’re sicker. For doin’ it too,” Tyler shoots back, “you’re just as sick as me. You ain’t any better.” He takes a step forward. “Actin’ like I’m the only one.” He scoffs. “Actin’ like-like I pushed it on ya. I-” he shakes his head, “it takes two, Josh.”

Josh takes another step back, running a hand over his face and unintentionally smearing the blood even more. “Go,” he says, swallowing thickly. “Tyler. Please.”

Tyler sits there for a minute. “Just ‘cause you’re already feelin’ bad doesn’t make me a monster,” he snaps, then bites back a laugh. “‘Cause I’m not. And I don’t feel bad. Ya don’t ever feel bad when you’re really in love.”

“Fucking-go, Tyler,” Josh snaps. “Fuck off.”

There’s another moment of hesitation before Tyler hops down from the counter. He bends down, picks his shorts up and redresses. “You can wash it off, but it’s still gonna be up here,” he sings, tapping the side of his head. Just mean.

Josh stands there, listening to him as he leaves. Gingerly stepping over puddles of blood. Toes squishing into the mud soaked in the stuff. Blood everywhere. It fucking stinks in here, now that he’s coherent again. Finally able to let it all sink in.

Tyler’s right though. It’ll be there forever. He can push him away and pretend like nothing happened, but it’ll always be a shared memory between them. He feels sick. He’s fucking everything up. This time, he thinks, this will be the last time. Surely. He can’t be this stupid, right?
Right?

“Fuck,” he says under his breath. It finally starts to sink in. “Fuck. Fuck.” This is more than just kissing behind closed doors. Josh fucked it up big time. Now he’s too far in. Tyler’s got him wrapped around his stupid finger.
Standing here, covered in drying blood. He takes a stray rag and soaks it in water from one of the pumps, desperately wiping at his face to get anything he can off. The taste remains. Stuck in his mouth, the smell locked in his nose. His life has become a never ending cycle of blood. Is that too dramatic?

He should change his clothes. Yeah. Get these off. Take a breather. He’s got time. Everything is fine. Plenty of daylight left. He did what he needed to.

He leaves the hogs to bleed, stumbling back to the barn. Chris won’t notice. He’ll be fine. He’s got some time to kill.

And he’s so incredibly hard.

He’s stripping before he even ducks into the shelter of the barn. His shirt sticks to him, fabric peeling itself from his chest. The blood is already darkened, stiffening his shirt, his pants. Somehow he bothers to redress even though he’s just climbing into the hayloft, heart thumping against his ribcage like a fucking trapped hummingbird.
He flops down onto his stupid makeshift bed, and only one thing is on his mind. Before he can get his jeans down, before he can wrap a hand around himself.

Tyler’s panties.

Those fucking panties. Left for him like a goddamn calling card on the floor of the bathroom. He replays the scene in his mind every day and if he thinks about it too hard then…good riddance to any coherent thought. He’s kept them shoved into a crevice in the hayloft, trying to forget they exist. But he can’t.

So, whatever. He’s digging them out blindly with one hand, the other haphazardly trying to unzip his jeans. Chris could find him in here right now and he’d be worse than dead. Probably hung from the rafters with X’s over his eyes for everyone to see. City slicker falls in love with the boss' son and gets his ass whooped, classic.

No. Josh isn’t in love. Not with Tyler. Not with…Tyler’s view of love. He’s not. He’s just enamored. He’s lustful. It’s just fucking. Fooling around. Huffing a pair of panties while he spits into his palm and shoves his hand down the front of his boxers. It’s embarrassing how wet he already is. Aching, desperate for friction.

He squirms, shoving his boxers down just enough to free his cock, and he hisses at the cool air. His face flushes, body hot with…something. Lust? Embarrassment? He’s thinking about Tyler. Tyler’s hips. Tyler’s waist. Tyler’s mouth. God, what he wouldn’t give to have Tyler’s mouth on him right now.

Josh groans, bucking up into his own fist. He doesn’t even need spit or lube, he’s that hard and leaking. He’s so fucking gross. He can’t believe he’s doing this right now.
He can believe it, actually, but he’s not going to remember it in a positive light tomorrow.

They still smell like Tyler, too. Like the faded scent of blood and honeysuckle and the dirt he’s always covered in.

He’s so nasty. God, he’s going to hell for sure, and it’s not even something he’d ever concerned himself with before. He doesn’t care what God thinks of him, but he just can’t stop thinking about those crucifixes in the bathroom. In the kitchen. The dining room. The living room. Watching. It’s only a matter of time before he finds one tucked under his fucking pillow or something.

He feels like a teenager. If it weren’t for Tyler outright giving the panties to him, this would be the perfect setup for some cheesy 80’s panty raid movie.

The fabric eats up his moans. He rubs the lace between his fingers, back arching. Fuck. They smell so good. Feel so familiar. It strikes Josh in the heart that he’s just as obsessed with Tyler as Tyler is with him. Their actions may be different, but deep down their intentions are the same.
At least, that’s what he hopes the case is.

He can live with this-this secret act of rebellion on his own part-but he can’t believe he did that with Tyler. After everything that was confided in him? After seeing Tyler break down like that? He feels like shit for indulging. For letting Tyler win. He needs to start distancing himself before he actually does hurt him.

The only thing he’s scared of more than Tyler is hurting Tyler. God rest his soul. He’d never forgive himself.
He’s thinking way too hard for anything to be practical right now. Eyes squeezed shut, Josh grits his teeth and bites back a groan. His wrist starts to ache, worn with overuse. Getting sloppy. Desperate.

He wants to fuck Tyler so bad. Wants to feel him underneath him, wants to make him cum again. Thoughts he’ll never share with another living soul.

His cock twitches, pre-cum oozing down in between his fingers. His legs start to shake, muscles taught with the anticipation of this orgasm.

Tyler, Tyler, Tyler. Josh hates him. He’s obsessed with him. He’s going insane. Tyler’s driving him insane. This farm is driving him insane. He needs to talk to his parents. Bad.

Josh cums on Tyler’s panties, watches them dampen through bleary vision. Sweating, shaking. It takes a full minute before he throws them away from himself, one hand covering his face with shame. The clarity of it all hits harder than the orgasm.

He lays there in his mess, soaked in sweat. Panting. He’s so fucked. He needs to get redressed and see if Chris is back yet.

He nearly falls off the ladder, legs still weak. Jeans wrinkled, face flushed. He shoves his boots back on right as the sound of tires on gravel grace his ears. Just in time. Horribly perfect timing. He gives himself a minute to fix himself, and as soon as the truck’s engine dies he leaves the barn.

Chris greets him while he’s trying to walk as nonchalantly as possible back to the slaughterhouse.

“Got ‘em all hung up?”

Josh nods, smiling weakly. “Yep. All good. Just uh, had to change real quick-I got all bloody.”

Chris laughs. “Well, yeah. It’s easier the more ya do it.”

“Yeah. Ha.”

Clearing his throat, Chris starts walking, and Josh falls into step with him. “Tomorrow we’ll scald the hogs and get ‘em ready for butcherin’. For now I’ll have ya go help Kelly with whatever she’s doin’. I’ve got some more errands to run.”

Josh doesn’t quite understand why he can’t help with those. Or why he can’t haul corn to the silos. Or why he can’t drive the combine. Maybe Chris just likes doing things the hard way.

They part ways, Josh heading up to the house and Chris towards his truck. Josh can smell whatever’s going on inside before he opens the door. It’s not a bad thing. Smells like vinegar and heat. Kelly’s standing over the stove with a pot of boiling water and an assortment of jars filled with cucumbers-soon to be pickles. Tyler is nowhere to be found.

“Oh good,” she says when she sees him, “C’mere. Stuff these jars for me so I can seal ‘em.” She gestures to a line of jars filled with vinegar on the counter. There’s a plate of sliced cucumbers and a bowl full of every seasoning Josh could think of.

“Just dump in some of the herbs and things, then pack as many cukes as ya can in there,” Kelly tells him. “I had Tyler helpin’ me, but he ran off.” She mutters, “Always does. Damn boy.”

Hah…weird. Wonder why.

Josh doesn’t say anything. Just focus on the jars. Put cucumbers in them. Put the seasoning in. It makes him sneeze the first time he does it. Dill, pepper, rock salt and whatever else he’s handling. It’s a nice routine. Repetitive. Silent. He can let his brain go numb because God knows he needs it. It’s all in his head, he thinks. He’s just a little stir crazy. That’s all. Nothing is as bad as he’s making it out to be. He’s always been the dramatic one in his family, after all.

Yeah. Keep telling yourself that, Josh. Maybe one day you’ll actually believe it.

Chapter Text

Church is nice.

Josh never thought he’d be thinking that, but it is. It’s a constant. Something that’s not the fucking farm. He gets to see different faces, even if they’re old people who glare at him like he’s the antichrist. He’d get the same looks back home. It comes with the tattoos and piercings.

They’re piling out of the pickup, Josh purposefully getting out before Tyler can say anything. He dusts himself off, avoiding the obvious gaze glued to him from behind.

At some point, they’ll have to talk about it. Josh can skirt his way out of view and busy himself the best he can, but he can’t escape Tyler forever.

He looks to the church, and sees not a crow-which is all he sees nowadays when he looks in the creeping areas of the farm-but an owl. Not only is it weird, because it’s daytime, but it looks almost identical to the one Josh has been seeing perched in the window of the hayloft.

It probably isn’t the same one. Maybe. He’s usually overcome with drowsiness when he sees it, so he’s never gotten a good look.

It’s intimidating nonetheless. Watching him. Nothing moving except its eyes that follow his every step.

“You go in,” Chris tells him, and he breaks the staring contest to acknowledge conversation, “we’ll be there in a minute.”

Josh nods, albeit a bit confused. “Oh. All right.”

When he looks back up, the owl is gone.

He tries to shake it off. Forget about it. Half the time he wonders if it’s even real. He glances behind him and Tyler’s the only one meeting his eyes.

So, he turns on his heel and leaves without another word.

But then Josh walks into the church and his heart drops. Harder than it did the first time Tyler kissed him. Harder than it did when he washed the fertilizer off his hands. What he sees trumps anything he’s ever seen in his life up to this point.

Father is hanging from the rafters.

A noose, made from his own stole, holds him there. He’s been here a while. Bones already cracked under the weight, his spine distends unnaturally due to the noose still gripping him tight. Skin pale, eyes bulging. The smell of death is stronger than any incense that’s ever graced these pews.

Josh is the only one in the entire church. They’re not early-not at all.

So where are the rest of the parishioners?

Josh feels the color drain from his face. What a fucking way to go. There’s no way he did this himself. He’s too far up.

He’s backing out of the church, slipping on gravel as he books it back to the pickup. Fuck. Fuck.

It takes everything in him not to throw up his breakfast. He’s never seen a dead person before. God, he’s lucky enough to never have even had to go to a funeral. He’ll never get this out of his head. Why would Father do this? How did nobody find him sooner?

Josh’s mind is reeling. He just started thinking of this place as some sort of safe haven, and now it’s been turned into a nightmare.

“The-“ he gasps, “the priest is dead. Father is dead. He-“ he points to the church. “Hung himself. Inside.”

Kelly and Chris look at him quizzically. Tyler just…stands there.

They immediately follow him into the church, stopping dead in their tracks in the same spot Josh did once they see the damage.

“Oh my,” Kelly says under her breath. She covers her mouth with her hand. Josh feels Tyler brush up behind him. He turns, and sees nothing on his face. No expression. If anything, he looks vengeful. As if this was a mere accident. Like he couldn’t care less.

“Selfish. That’s what this is,” Chris mutters. “Goin’ to hell for sure. Damn shame.”

He turns to Josh, making him jump slightly. “You two walk back to the house. We’ll take care of this. Got some neighbors up the road who’ve got a workin’ phone. Get the sheriff down here and all that.”

“Are you sure? I could-“

“Go.” Chris’ tone leaves no room for argument.

Josh swallows thickly. “Okay.” He backs up, down the stairs, towards the road. It takes everything in him not to keep staring. He trusts them-Chris and Kelly, at least as much as he can. Tyler quietly falls into step with him. The sun has just begun to beat down on them, sweat beading on their foreheads.

Their shoes wobble over the gravel, unsteady. Not made for this.

“Why would he do that?” Josh blurts out. “I just-I don’t understand.”

Tyler doesn’t reply. He stares at the ground, one foot in front of the other.

“It doesn’t make sense,” he continues. “He never even acted like he’d ever do that. I guess…you never know what people are going through but, still.” He rambles aloud, sensing Tyler’s discomfort, and trails off.

Maybe the subject of death is too much. Tyler was probably much closer than he was to Father. Maybe it’s deeper than he thinks. He shuts up anyway.

Josh feels Tyler’s slender fingers hesitantly slip between his after a minute, and he doesn’t pull away. Their hands lock together, despite the heat and the sweat on their palms.

“You hate it so much,” Tyler says under his breath, “but you ain’t pulling away.”

Josh feels his vision blur. “I never said I hated it.”

“I’m not an idiot.” Tyler sighs. “I’m know I’m slow, but Mama didn’t raise me without common sense. I know what ya mean when you say those things.”

There’s a minute of silence where the crunching of their footsteps and the sound of the morning cicadas are the only things that can be heard.

“I’m sorry,” Josh finally says.

“I don’t want that,” Tyler tells him, “I don’t want an apology. Don’t need that. Just words. Empty words.”

Josh frowns. “What do you want?”

Tyler stops them in the middle of the road. Not that it’s busy. He looks at Josh, through a glare. “Somethin’ real,” he says. Hand on Josh’s chest. “Somethin’ I’d be willin’ to risk what I’m riskin’ right now for. Doin’ what I’ve done with you.”

Josh says quiet. Jaw clenched.

“If you don’t want it, then say it,” Tyler continues. “Say it. Tell me ya don’t want me.”

He gets no response. “Say it, Josh. Tell me ya don’t like me. Tell me to go away, and I will.” They both know it’s a lie.

Josh closes his eyes, steps away from Tyler. Pinches the bridge of his nose. “Tyler-“

“Say it!” Tyler’s voice raises. “Tell me you hate me!”

“What are you doing right now?” Josh spits back. “What-this isn’t-the fucking priest is dead, Tyler. We just saw a dead body and you want to talk about our relationship that doesn’t even exist?”

“Doesn’t exist?” Tyler echoes. He’s instantly curled in on himself, tears in his eyes. Overdramatic and Josh completely falls for it

“Tyler,” he starts weakly, “I didn’t-you know I don’t-“

“Don’t touch me.” Tyler jerks away from any contact, stumbling as far from Josh as he can on the gravel road.

“I didn’t mean-“ Josh trips over his words, trying to console him. Fuck. He’s such an idiot. Tyler has him so entranced that he’s completely forgotten about the fucking dead man they found literally less than an hour ago.

“It was all just fake then, huh?” Tyler sniffles, hiding himself away. It’s incredibly out of character for him to just give up like this. He’d normally argue to the ends of the earth. And now they’re just quarreling in the middle of the road like two high school sweethearts.

“No, of course it wasn’t fake-“

“Then why would you say that!”

“I don’t know! I’m fucking-this isn’t the time to be talking about this, God dammit. This isn’t important.” Josh raises his voice, and as soon as he does, Tyler flinches.

“Okay,” Tyler says, voice softening, eyes staring straight ahead. “Okay. Fine.”

It’s an instant sign that he’s fucked it all up.

They walk the rest of the way back to the farm in silence. Josh feels a pit of guilt start to build in the bottom of his stomach. Is it his fault? Should he feel bad right now? Or is Tyler overreacting? There was a dead man hanging from the church rafters and yet he can’t stop thinking about how he’s going to apologize to Tyler.

He shouldn’t have yelled. That’s his fault. But he’s fucking frazzled, okay? He just saw a dead guy.

They part ways as soon as they reach the farm. Josh to the barn to change, Tyler to the house. It’s awkward.

The barn is so quiet nowadays. Ever since that stupid owl started stalking him, he hasn’t seen the little black cat that used to greet him every morning. Probably scared her off. Damn bird. He just hopes she’s all right. Maybe she escaped and lives on a different farm. A farm where there aren’t any homoerotic back-and-forths or freaky birds.

He changes, into something nicer than work clothes but more casual than what he wears to church. His boots kick up dust when he walks out of the barn. It’s so incredibly dry. Been dry ever since that one night of storms. The night Tyler laid him down and poured his heart out to the cadence of thunder and lightning outside.

In a weak-willed attempt at checking in, he finds Tyler out in the cow pasture. A small figure in the distance, and Josh can’t help but start walking towards them.

Tyler sits with Lola’s head in his lap. She sleeps peacefully, every now and then nuzzling up against him. He’s barefoot again, of course. Shirtless, too, the only article of clothing covering him being those stupid cut-off jean shorts.

Josh frowns as he approaches. Lola looks just fine. He’s not really sure what Kelly meant when she said she was ‘sick,’ but it can’t be this. She’s never looked happier.

Tyler doesn’t acknowledge him when he steps up to the two of them. He sits down gingerly in the grass. Tries to scoot as close as he can to Tyler without pissing him off.

“I’m sorry,” he says, for what feels like the fifth time today. “I shouldn’t have yelled. I was just…scared.” Tyler doesn’t look up. His fingers card through the hair on Lola’s head. Perfect and soft and well taken care of. Josh has seen him a couple times with her and the hose. Shirtless and barefoot and covered in mud as he scrubs her clean. God, he loves her. To death.

“Tyler.”

Tyler looks up after a moment. Lola doesn’t stir. She huffs softly at the movement, tail flicking at the few flies that buzz around them in the field. He stares at Josh with apprehension. With disdain. “I already told ya I don’t want an apology,” he says, looking back down at Lola.

Josh creeps closer, trying to break through this barrier. “It’s-I’m just having a hard time. With this. With everything. I know you know what I’m talking about.”

Tyler frowns. Furrows his eyebrows. He stops petting Lola, who rouses slowly, shakes her head in annoyance and covers him in grass.

“They don’t know,” he says, talking about his parents. It’s bullshit. They have to know. “If they did you woulda been fired by now.”

Josh moves closer. Closer until he can tilt his head down and force eye contact. “It’s not just about that, Tyler,” he says. “It’s about you.”

Tyler’s face screws up. “I already told you-“

“And I remember all of it,” Josh interrupts. “I don’t want to be like what you’ve had. Or what you’ve done. That’s not me. That’s not who I want to be.”

“You’re not.” Tyler swallows thickly. “You never were. Thought I made that obvious to ya.” His voice shakes, eyes wet. He’s immediately shying away, trying to hide it.

“What we did-in the-the other day. I was just…really stressed. And I know it wasn’t right. It wasn’t okay to-to take advantage of you like that-“

“I didn’t say no,” Tyler says immediately.

“I know you didn’t say no,” Josh echoes, exasperated. “But it’s not right. I work for your dad, and I shouldn’t have even entertained this at all, because now we’re here, like this, and I feel awful about it, Tyler. I don’t want-“

Tyler kisses him. Shuts him up real quick.

It’s the last thing they need to be doing. The absolute last. But it’s nice right now. It’s soft. Soft like the first time their lips met. Soft like Lola’s fur, like the skin of Tyler’s thighs.

Josh can’t help it. He melts into it. Lets Tyler crawl between his legs, onto his lap. Lola shakes hay from her hair, unbeknownst to everything. Unhappy purely because of the lack of attention she’s receiving.

Tyler whimpers into his mouth. Touches Josh like he’s made of glass when his hand comes up to rest on his shoulder. Straddles him like he’s the only thing worth living for.

It’s addicting. Tyler’s mouth. The taste of his lips. Josh feels himself falling, feels the same dragging temptation trying to pull him under.

He pushes Tyler away, as gently as he can. Holds him at arms length. “Tyler. Stop. You can’t keep doing this shit. Every time I try to talk to you seriously, you just…”

He trails off, swallowing thickly. Tyler’s looking at him through those pretty eyelashes. A lidded gaze, obsessed with what they’re watching. “Just what?” he says under his breath. He’s not playing.

He pushes Josh’s hands off of him. Envelops him again, sticks his tongue in his mouth again. He grabs Josh’s hands, forcing them onto his waist, his ass, his thighs. Anywhere and everywhere he can reach to subdue the doubt. To kill the nagging voice in the back of Josh’s mind that knows this is wrong.

“I love you,” Tyler whispers desperately, eyes shiny and wet. “I love you, Josh. So much. I love you, I love you.”

And when Josh doesn’t reply he sits back on his haunches, the distance growing between them once more. Tyler swallows thickly and cowers away, crawling back to Lola.

Lola moos in protest at the movement. She lays her head back down on Tyler’s lap, rubbing up on his legs.

Josh feels weak. Utterly helpless. “Let me do something for you,” he offers, blurting out whatever he can think of. “I can…bathe Lola. Do your chores. Whatever. I want to make it up to you. Please let me make it up to you.”

Tyler side eyes him. “Why?” He asks. “Why d’you wanna make it up to me?”

“…I don’t know. Because I feel bad.”

“Because you won’t tell me you love me?”

Josh tenses up. How many times can he say sorry?

“S’fine. I get it now.” Tyler scratches behind Lola’s ear.

“I get it. Yeah. So…even if ya do love me, deep down, where you won’t tell me, then just…keep it to yourself. And I,” he closes his eyes for a moment, “don’t need anythin’ else to keep me up at night anyway.”

It’s not exactly an agreement, or a white flag. It’s strangely threatening. Josh feels threatened. For some reason.

He leaves, because he can’t stand the silence that falls. Because he knows Tyler is right and that he’s been a huge asshole. He’s just scared. It’s not like he’d ever had a real relationship before. His time in high school was spent studying and being bullied.

Hell, this isn’t even a real relationship. What, does Tyler think they’re boyfriends? There’s absolutely nothing conventional about them. Josh isn’t even quite sure Tyler’s religious attachments would even let him commit to something like this.

That might be too much. Josh isn’t even quite sure where his own religious alignments are, let alone his relationship with God. He’s fearful. He wants to believe there’s something up there, that he’s being watched and protected.

There’s just too many wrongs in the world for him to think that Tyler’s God is all-loving.

𐕣

Tyler lets him bathe Lola. Hesitantly. It feels like he’s just humoring him at this point, but Josh will take it. It’s the best he can get, and it helps his bruised ego.

He takes her from the pasture, over to the troughs where there’s another spigot set up. He’s got a lead rope latched onto her halter, just to keep her from wandering off. But she’s a good girl.

Lola trusts him, more than he once expected. She butts her head against him playfully, pawing at the ground as she awaits her bath. It’s like she knows what happens over here, and is almost impatient that Josh hasn’t gotten on with it sooner.

He laughs. Ruffles the hair between her ears and loosely ties the rope to the spigot to keep her in place. He grabs the from where it’s coiled on the ground and screws it into the spigot.

The water’s cold, but Lola doesn’t seem to mind. Shes almost happy at something refreshing breaking through the layers of hair. As soon as Josh cranks the spigot on, she lets out a content moo as her fur dampens.

An old, worn out bottle of shampoo is sitting in a basket next to the spigot. It’s got brushes, hoof trimmers, scissors. Must be Tyler’s kit for grooming her.

When Josh opens the shampoo bottle, what comes out is definitely not what was originally in the bottle, but he figures there’s nothing wrong with recycling. The logo is long gone.

It smells like fruit. It must be homemade. It has a quality to it-very watery. But it lathers just fine. Lola seems to enjoy it, too. Any water that cascades down her snout she licks at. Josh can’t help but smile. She’s so fucking cute. He pushes the fur back from her eyes and she squints at the direct sunlight.

He uses his hands, mainly. Massaging into her coat. Her eyes close, tail flicking absentmindedly. Josh has a second thought to try and trim the fur around her eyes, but decides against it.

After being fully soaked and lathered, Lola decides the best course of action is to shake, thoroughly covering Josh in soapy water, dirt, grass, hay…whatever else was hiding in her fur.

“Awesome,” he says, deadpan. He wipes his mouth on the collar of his shirt, grimacing. “Thanks, girl.” He sighs and finishes rinsing her body off.

He’s scrubbing down the long fur on her legs when his hand catches on something. It’s already hard to see what’s going on, but there’s definitely something abnormal. It’s not hoof, or bone, or a joint.

He digs past the hair and finds out what the issue is. It’s a tick. A fat one at that. Stuck into Lola’s flesh and still actively feeding on her. Nasty.

At first he tries to gingerly pinch it between his fingers, but it doesn’t budge. Lola grunts, pawing at the mud below her.

“Sorry,” Josh mutters, trying to dig his fingernail under the pinchers. He grimaces, and finally decides to reach into his back pocket for his utility knife. It’s nothing special. Just useful for things like this.

He flicks the pocket knife open. It should come off with that, right? He tries to move the slick hair out of the way again, tries to get the clearest view of it he can. His hand shakes ever so slightly, just out of the pure anxiety he feels at either not getting it or harming Lola in the process.

Eyebrows furrowed, tongue between his teeth, Josh gets the tip of the knife under the mouth of the tick. Perfect.

Then Lola kicks.

Kicks her leg back and Josh’s knife goes into the flesh. She howls in pain, a sound that echoes through the farm. The panic sets in when she rips the lead rope free from the spigot. She hobbles off in fear, blood starting to pour down her leg.

“Shit.” Josh is stumbling to his feet. “Lola!” He tries to call her back, tries to desperately stop her panic, but she doesn’t listen to him anymore. He hurt her. He’s broken her trust. Fuck.

He quickly shuts the water off and slips on the grass in an attempt to chase after her, but she’s in a panic.

Josh knows it’s only a matter of time before Tyler is there. As if on cue, Josh sees him running-no, sprinting-towards them. Nearly falling down the stairs he’s moving so quickly off the deck. He can see the debate in his eyes, whether he runs to Josh or Lola first.

Lola hears him yell for her and stumbles to a halt, the bell around her neck clanging. She keeps her leg up, limping as she turns towards Tyler’s cries.

Josh catches up to them, panting, heart racing with not only fatigue but anxiety.

Tyler doesn’t look at him. He’s locked on Lola. Fallen to his knees, hands and arms still covered in what looks like apple peels and dried molasses. Lola nudges at him, laps at his palms. He cradles her face, thumbs rubbing over her wet nose.

“What did you do.” Tyler doesn’t say it like a question. His tone is deadly. Quiet. Intensely calm.

“I-there was a tick on her leg. She kicked back, my knife-“ Josh starts, “I was just trying to get it off. It was an accident, Tyler. I swear I didn’t mean-“

“Y’know what Daddy does to lame animals?” Tyler snaps, his voice wobbling ever so slightly. “A lame animal’s a dead animal, Josh.” He stands up. Runs his hands over his face anxiously and begins to pace. “Josh. Josh. She can’t die. She ain’t gonna die.”

He’s suddenly on Josh, his voice deadly quiet. “Don’t tell Daddy none of this. Or Mama. Nothin’. They’ll kill her, Josh. Shoot her right between the eyes like the hogs.” He lets out a shaky breath. “Promise me. Ya won’t say anythin’. Swear on your life.”

Josh swallows thickly. “I swear. I won’t say anything. I promise.”

Tyler cups her face again, holds her. Lets her rub up against him as much as she wants. He gets covered in wet hair and grass and blood. “Don’t move, baby,” he mumbles, eyes wide and searching. “Please…”

“I can help you move h-“

“You’ve helped enough,” Tyler snaps. “I don’t need you. I don’t-I don’t need you.” He pets at Lola, almost anxiously, before tugging at the leads hanging from her halter to slowly ease her towards the field. Josh can hear him start to cry, start to reassure the cow that she’ll be fine. He’ll fix it. He’ll make her better.

Inside the house, there are pans of something that smells sweet. Brownies but…not brownies. There are carrots, apples, sugar spread on the counter. Oats. Josh realizes these might not be for them but rather for Lola and the horses. Treats for them. Tyler was just trying to make something nice and Josh was busy hurting his pride and joy.

He feels a lump form in his throat. Can he do anything right? More and more every day he’s starting to wonder if he’s actually good for this farm and the people in it.

𐕣

Chris and Kelly come back just before dinner.

Kelly frets over him, over his lack of lunch, over the both of them being left unattended, as if they aren’t grown ass adults. Josh lies through his teeth, tells them everything went fine, that Tyler’s just spending some time with Lola and has missed her. They clean the kitchen together and finish up the molasses bars for the livestock.

And they believe him. All of his lies. They believe him because he has their trust and he’s lying to them.

Josh sees Tyler in the fields for the next week and a half. Sleeping next to her. Cradling her and being cradled by her. He doesn’t leave her side for days. Not until she’s putting weight on her leg again and Tyler can trust her to still be alive when he leaves.

Josh feels awful. It’s not like he meant to-he’d do anything to reverse what had happened.

There’s no funeral for the priest. At least, not that Josh knows of. When asked, Chris and Kelly change the subject, or chastise him for trying to gossip. Must be a sensitive subject. He can’t blame them-it sounds like they were fairly close.

But it still feels…wrong. It’s not his place to suspect anything, or theorize on why, but deep down he wishes he could find out the reason.

Josh sees Tyler’s form in the darkness after dinner when he’s walking to the barn. He wasn’t at the table at all. Been outside all night. Josh can just barely see him through the light of the moon, the dim street lamps beside the sheds and barn. He’s curled up against Lola. It looks like they’re both sleeping.

In any other situation, it would be cute. But all it does now is make Josh’s heart ache.

She’ll be okay, he tells himself. It wasn’t that bad of a cut. Right? Tyler will patch her up. He’d try to help, but he doesn’t want to make anything worse than it already is.

He steps into the barn and the fatigue of the day hits him right in the face. He hobbles to one of the work benches, tossing his still-damp shirt into the makeshift laundry basket on the ground.

Nothing is as it seems. There’s a dead man and a wounded cow and he’s never felt more sick to his stomach.

He wriggles out of his jeans, climbs up into the hayloft and falls into his bed. Right now it’s the most comforting thing about this entire day.

Josh falls asleep without looking up at the window above his head.

And he feels watched all night long.

Chapter Text

It’s the middle of harvest and Josh can’t afford to keep doing this shit.

It’s like Tyler’s determined to get them caught. It’s his only mission now. Not even out of lust, or love, or whatever fucked up thing his mind comes up with, but out of spite. Just for the thrill of getting caught. The idea of it, of being punished.

Josh will see him lounging on the deck, watching him work. A raspberry popsicle between his lips. Staining his mouth and tongue and teeth. He doesn’t even try to eat it properly, either. Just sucks on it and makes incredibly uncomfortable eye contact with Josh because he knows exactly what he’s doing. Letting it drip down his chin, laying it flat against his tongue. It looks like a murder scene by the time it’s melted.

He’s walked into the barn before and stopped dead in his tracks at the sound of Tyler’s muffled noises from the hayloft. An achingly loud invitation to investigate.

Fucking himself, lips parted, legs spread on Josh’s bed. On his bed that’s not even a bed but rather a mess of blankets and a roll out mattress pad. Staring at him with not a single word spoken. Like he didn’t need Josh’s help. Like he was just marking what was his.

It was probably the most blatant Tyler had ever been with him to date.

Josh said not a word. Went back down the ladder and walked to the pond to…cool off in the cold water. He can’t keep getting distracted like this.

He’s still not too sure how Tyler isn’t still holding a grudge against him for what happened to Lola. He’s definitely not as…friendly, but he doesn’t seem angry. More spiteful than anything.

As far as Josh is concerned, Lola recovered with no issues and is as happy as can be. She doesn’t approach him as easily now, though. It makes him sad.

He almost wishes Tyler were more mad at him. To create more distance. Not that he would ever hurt Lola or any of the animals on purpose, but he figured the consequences would create a slightly bigger gap between them.

He hates his job, only because it forces him to think about shit like this. He’s constantly left to his own devices. Stuck in an endless cycle. Alone with himself, if Tyler’s not following him around.

And in this cycle, Josh has a horrible, heart-wrenching realization: he misses his mom.

He misses everyone, actually. His mom, his dad. Even his siblings who did nothing but give him a hard time about everything. He misses them real bad. It hits him, in the middle of the day, halfway through changing the hay racks in the horse stables. Like a punch to the gut.

He decides to write a letter. Yeah. He’ll write something, just to tell them he’s okay, despite their obvious lack of interest towards him. He can ask Chris to take it into the post office sometime. He probably won’t get a response, but it’ll ease his own mind for the time being.

He distracts himself with another task. He wanders off from the stables, into the garden. It should be tilled-at least, what’s been fully harvested and ready to wither away into fertilizer. But he doesn’t really want to do that. So he pretends to look busy in case Kelly pokes her head out or happens to glance through a window at him. He digs around in the garden shed. Rearranges some stuff. Throws some old stuff away. Monotonous, boring labor. He still doesn’t know why Chris won’t let him work the combine, or even haul corn to town. Sure, he’s never driven to town, but it can’t be that hard to teach him, right?

His mind stirs with these thoughts and more until he just can’t take it.

Josh finds himself at the entrance of the corn maze after deciding his boredom is stronger than the fear of being chastised for laziness. He’s never explored into the maze, and forgets it exists most of the time. But now, with nearly all of the surrounding fields flat and desolate, it sticks out like a sore thumb.

He can see the horse stables from it. He can see Lady. And Tyler, who’s feeding her something from his palm while his other hand strokes her mane. She’s a beautiful horse. It’s a shame they don’t seem to ride that much. He’d have thought they would be more useful than they are, but maybe he doesn’t see everything.

Tyler suddenly looks over at him, and he thinks that surely he can’t see him from this far of a distance. Not enough to make eye contact, even though it feels like it.

Josh turns back to the maze.

It’s not like there’s anything else for him to do. Bugs chirping, wind whistling through the cornstalks. They’re all overripe. Within the next few months they’ll start to sag and rot. They most likely keep it up as long as they can. Halloween is probably exciting. Must be worth it if people are willing to come all the way out here.

Though, he’s never seen anyone yet.

Josh steps into the maze. He’s immediately engulfed in the corn. He turns around, and the route he’s taken has seemed to disappear as soon as he passes it. Creepy.

It’s not hard-in fact, he’s almost surprised at how easily he’s able to navigate his way to the middle. It’s the getting back he’s worried about. The entrance is far narrower and harder to locate than the clearing in the middle. The corn is drying out and turning brown and brittle under the sun. It feels like Fall is never going to come at this rate. It’s still incredibly hot, and bits of dirt and debris from the corn sticks to Josh’s sweaty skin.

It’s nice in here. Secluded enough. A bit eerie, but aren’t all corn mazes like that? Maybe he’s just watched a few too many horror movies in his lifetime.

There are a few crows there when he arrives and they caw as soon as he steps towards them. They’re fucking huge. Larger than he thought crows would be. They flutter away in their small group. It has to mean that there’s only seconds before-

“Josh.”

Tyler stands in the entrance of the clearing, looking as if he’s seen a ghost. “What are you doin’?” His eyes are wide, like he’s looking for something specific.

Josh turns. Of course. It’s not a normal work day without some weird Tyler interaction. “Oh. Just uh…exploring. I was bored.” He shrugs. “Wanted to see if I could find the end of the maze. Sometimes I forget it even exists. Kinda sticks out now that most of the fields are flat again.”

“Well,” Tyler says tightly, “you found the end.” He looks like he wants to say more, but doesn’t.

“Am I…not supposed to be here or something?”

Tyler’s eyes keep flicking behind Josh. “No,” he says hesitantly. “I just…didn’t expect ya to be here. Thought you’d be workin’. That’s all.”

Josh stares at him. “I got done early.”

Tyler’s jaw clenches. “Oh. Okay,” he says.

“You’re being weird.”

He stares right back at Josh, just as intimidating. “I think supper’s almost ready,” he says absentmindedly. The cross around his neck glints in the sunset.

“You should go check, then,” Josh offers.

Tyler almost laughs, but it turns into more of a choked noise. “I think you should,” he says in reply. “Josh.”

They stand at this weird checkmate, and it feels more tense than it needs to be. A crow cries in the distance.

Josh is the one who breaks. “Okay,” he says. He doesn’t make a move to start walking until Tyler shuffles out of the way. Their shoulders brush as he passes by, and he’s never felt so disconnected from what’s happening.

It’s surprisingly harder to exit than it was to enter. Josh finds himself turning around, backtracking, huffing in frustration until he just pushes through the stalks of corn. He stumbles out, covered in silk and bugs and whatever else. Sweaty and frustrated. Hopefully Tyler didn’t see any of that.

The sun is just beginning to set when he enters the house. Kelly pokes her head out and starts to yell for him right as he approaches the house.

Just in time.

Dinner is country fried steak, mashed potatoes and homemade gravy. Corn that was probably harvested earlier that day. Josh’s place at the table feels out of place for some reason. It is oddly tense, just like how this whole damn day has been.

Tyler isn’t there, and he never even shows up. Josh stares at the empty place setting, with a mouthful of potatoes and wonders why Kelly didn’t bother putting a plate down for him. Did she know he wouldn’t be joining them?

He doesn’t say anything, because God knows Chris would more than likely get pissed off at him for asking.

Dinner is silent. Nothing except for Grace is spoken aloud. Josh feels like he’s walking on eggshells. It’s reminiscent of when he was a child and got in trouble. Tense, waiting for someone to break the ice or scold him, even though in this situation he’s done nothing wrong.

It’s a gut-wrenching feeling that leaves him both longing for home and struck with fear at the same time.

𐕣

“Hey, Kelly,” he says softly when he’s bringing his plate into the kitchen, “I um…wrote a letter for my parents. I don’t know if Chris is planning on going to town before the weekend, but-“

“Just set it on the pile by the door, sweetheart,” Kelly cuts him off, pointing to a small pile of letters with a soapy finger. She says nothing else, just takes his plate and dunks it into the sink with the rest of the dishes.

“Oh-okay.” Josh nods. “Cool. Thank you. And thanks for dinner, too.”

Kelly gives him a nod in reply. That’s it. Silence, save for the sound of the sink. It’s oddly hostile, but he’s probably just overthinking it.

He’s been overthinking a lot of things lately. He should stop doing that. It’s going to be his downfall one day. Especially here.

It’s a scratchy letter written on a piece of discarded paper with a ballpoint pen on its last leg.

Dear Mom and Dad, (and Ashley and Jordan)

Things are going well. I don’t have service out here, so I can’t call. I don’t know if you’ve tried to call, either. We’re pretty dead out here.

I really like my job! It’s a nice change of pace. I think even you guys might like it out here. Chris’ son has a pet cow named Lola that Ashley would love. She’s a sweetheart. They have horses, too. And chickens and hogs and other cows. I’ve learned a lot.

I miss you guys though. I know it’s probably hard to reach me out here, if you’ve tried, but I’ve thought about maybe taking a week to drive back home and visit for a while. Or maybe Chris will let me go home for the winter. I’d love to be home for Christmas.

Love you guys. See you (hopefully?) soon.

Love,
Josh

There’s a pile of empty envelopes by the bills. Josh finds it almost foreign writing his parents’ address. He even hesitates for a second whilst trying to remember the zip code. God. Has he been gone that long?

Their stamps have flowers on them. Josh picks one with honeysuckles on it and sticks it to the envelope. He can feel Kelly’s eyes on him, even if she’s not directly looking at him. Always keeping watch. What used to be a motherly, caring aura has now turned…sour. Maybe it’s his fault for assuming things and fucking around with her son a little too much.

He’s not as innocent as she believes, and he thinks she’s starting to figure it out.

𐕣

Josh goes straight back to the maze the second he steps outside. Absolutely beelines it. He doesn’t even stop at the hayloft because he just can’t be bothered to. Maybe he’s just that nosy, maybe he wants to see Tyler again in such a secluded area. If he’s even there.

It’s harder in the dark. He’s trying to be quiet, but the wind rustles the corn anyway. Something tells him Tyler never left. In fact he knows Tyler never left because he’d watched the window in the dining room like a hawk, waiting for any sign of him.

What the hell was he doing in here for so long? It’s been hours.

Josh makes it to the middle and sees Tyler kneeling in the dirt near the far edge of the clearing. Just a dark blob as his eyes try to adjust.

“Tyler.”

Tyler’s jumping up almost immediately, bare feet slipping in the dirt as he stands up. He looks like a criminal caught with contraband. Eyes wide. Pupils blown. Once again.

“Josh.” He says it in reply like it’s the last thing he wants to hear. Like he’s trying really hard to steady his voice and it’s not working the way he hoped.

Josh squints in the darkness, trying to make out Tyler’s shape under the moonlight. “What are you doing?”

“What are YOU doin’?” Tyler retorts. He’s never sounded so nervous before.

“You weren’t at dinner. You haven’t left the maze.”

“Yeah, well,” Tyler snaps. “Curiosity like that’s what got Adam and Eve in trouble, y’know. Too much snoopin’ll end up killing ya.” He’s not looking at him, but rather behind him. Like it’s not just them in here.

Josh turns, trying to find where Tyler’s eyes are looking, but before he can do so, he’s whipped around by two hands clenched into the fabric of his shirt. Tyler’s crashing into him. Hands, lips, tongues, teeth. Everywhere. Everything. Josh is taken aback, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“Tyler-“ he tries, but every word is eaten. Devoured by Tyler’s hunger. He’s so easily distracted.

He can swear Tyler’s been avoiding him, too, a bit pissed off and distant ever since the Lola incident. So what the hell is this?

His hands are everywhere. Greedy. He’s sticky, as if he’s been out here a long time, suffering in the humidity.

“Hey-“ Josh has to pull them apart, like he’s done so many fucking times before. Eyes desperate to adjust to the darkness. “What-the fuck-Tyler. Why are you doing this? What’s going on?”

Tyler smiles at him, that much he can see. “I just.” He says, running his tacky hand down Josh’s bicep. His voice wobbles. “Um. I’m ready. For…this. I’m ready for ya. I wanna be ready. Don’t you feel it too?” He sounds incredibly nervous and not like someone who’s ready for this. Or like he’s trying to cover something up.

“Ready for what, Tyler?”

Tyler cups his face and all he can smell is blood. “Forgiveness. For…you and me to make this real.”

Forgiveness.

Josh’s stomach hurts.

Forgiveness.

“What does forgiveness mean right now?”

Tyler brings them down into the dirt, tugs Josh by the shirt to get him closer. He’s delicate and forceful all at once. Josh doesn’t know whether to push or pull away.

“Tyler.”

There’s a long pause. Tyler’s hand stops on his chest. Flat against him, he swallows thickly. “If you don’t want it-“

“I want it,” Josh tells him, grabbing his bicep. “God, Tyler, I just-I’m worried. I don’t know why. I want to make sure this is right…for you.”

It seems to strike a nerve. He can see the cogs turning in Tyler’s head, see his face screwing up with emotion. He drops it as soon as he can and looks up with a death glare. Pushes Josh down onto his back, brackets his hips with his thighs to keep him in place.

He leans down, voice breathless and hot against Josh’s ear.

“I think of ya, while you’re out workin’,” he says, “out in the fields. I tried so hard to quit ya. Like I promised Mama I would.”

Josh shivers.

“I wanna hate you,” Tyler continues, “but I can’t. I can’t. So you’re gonna give me what I want, Josh. ‘Cause you know I won’t break.” He moves over, their lips barely touching. Teasing. “‘Cause you know there’s no one for ya but me.”

“You smell like shit,” Josh blurts out. He swallows the lump in his throat. “What the fuck were you doing out here?”

Tyler laughs against his mouth. “I was takin’ care of somethin’,” he says, “that’s all. Finished a chore for Papa. Don’t worry about it.” His cross necklace swings, glinting in the moonlight.

He reeks of blood. Blood and filth and dirt. It’s not abnormal for him to smell like blood, but it’s really fucking strong right now.

It subsides just slightly when he’s wriggling out of his shorts. They seem hard to get off. Like they’re stuck to him. Once he’s in nothing but his boxers and t-shirt does he take Josh’s hand by force and suck down his first two fingers. Slobbering on them, tongue flat against them. It damn near makes Josh grimace.

He pulls them out wet, not bothering to wipe his chin.

“You know how long I’ve been waitin’ to do this?” Tyler asks, gasping as he bends over. Breath hot on Josh’s skin. He slides his boxers down, just enough to guide Josh with shaking hands. Pushes his fingers into himself and muffles his cries into the fabric of his shirt. “Takes everythin’ in me, Josh. Every day. Watchin’ you out there. You got me actin’ like a two-dollar whore.” He licks his lips, hips pushing back until Josh’s fingers are knuckle-deep. Jaw clenched, teeth grit. Fucking himself on them like he’s done with his own fingers so many times before.

Josh feels wrong-not just because he’s still fully clothed. It’s a sense of debauchery he isn’t too sure he was ready to explore just yet. He still tries to move in time with him.

Tyler must know something he doesn’t.

He’s completely obsessed, drooling, blissfully unaware of Josh’s silent caution. Pleasuring himself and high on Josh’s despair.

It’s the hand shakily unzipping his jeans that snaps Josh out of this trance. He’s hard. Of course he’s fucking hard. Despite the unlawfulness of the situation gnawing him to death he can’t hide that Tyler makes him feel this way. Has him so entranced. He was just fucking him open with two-no, three fingers.

“Are you sure-“ he starts to choke out, but Tyler shuts him up quite quickly. He’s pulled away, turned around, back to him. Josh can’t see his face or read anything about his body language. Shoulders hunched, pale skin barely visible in the moonlight.

“Oh. Look at you.” Tyler sounds like he’s about to cry. Gingerly wrapping his hand around Josh’s cock, relishing in the sharp gasp he gets in return. He’s gentle with it. Barely touches him hard enough to do anything but make Josh shiver. Like he’s scared.

Josh suddenly wonders if something like this has ever happened with the past farmhands, and the mere thought makes him want to crawl in a hole.

“Tyler.” Josh swallows thickly. “Are you okay? We can…stop.”

Tyler pauses for a moment, back to him. “M’fine,” he says. “Sorry.” He sits back up, turns himself around again to face Josh. “Just…” he laughs, breathily, like a lovesick teenager. “Feels like a dream, y’know?”

Josh lays there, staring up at the sky while Tyler preens him like a bird. He swears he can hear crows in the distance. Fists clenching and unclenching, heart racing. He can hear his heartbeat in his ears.

It’s obvious Tyler isn’t new to this, and some sick part inside of Josh makes him feel guilty for what’s happening. Teeth grit, toes curling in his boots because fuck, Tyler’s hand feels good.

He straightens up, damp fingers trailing up Josh’s thighs. Properly settles between his legs and looks up at him through the darkness with those fucking doe eyes.

Fuck.

Sure. Josh has thought about this a lot. Tyler’s mouth. His lips. He’s had a few pretty intense dreams that left him sweating and hard.

They’re nothing compared to the real thing. He wishes he could turn a light on just to relish in this moment and capture it forever in his mind. All of this happening at night just makes it more clandestine, makes it more secretive than it already is.

Tyler’s lips are surprisingly soft. He trails them up the side of Josh’s cock, kisses the head. Lays his tongue flat against it just because he knows what he’s doing and loves to do it.

Josh throws an arm over his face. “Oh my God.” He’s so far gone.

The contact stops.

“Look at me,” Tyler says. “Don’t wanna do this unless you see it, Josh. I want ya to watch me.”

It’s more threatening than anything. It’s demanding. Tyler’s never been scared to say how he feels, or what he wants. It’s terrifying.

So Josh watches him. Watches the way his lips part, shiny and plush. He’s too good at it. Swallows Josh’s cock down like he’s nothing more than one of the other farmhands who’ve experienced this way before him. His stomach turns, and he can’t tell if it’s pleasure or fear.

He watches the way Tyler’s pretty eyelashes turn dewy the longer he stays down. It feels like his eyes are always wet. Always on the verge of tears, as if a sickening second nature. He bobs his head, wet and messy. All Josh can smell is blood and arousal. It’s becoming a sick response. Crows, blood, death. It surrounds Tyler. Thrives around him. Josh can’t tell the difference between what’s right and wrong when Tyler lays him down and rips him open in the worst ways.

He knows Tyler isn’t stupid. He knows just as much as Tyler does that sex is powerful. Sex is manipulative. Sex is passionate and obsessive and raw. Josh is fully immersed in it, too. Wrapped around Tyler’s crooked finger. Josh would do whatever Tyler wants him to because now they’re going to have sex and make it REAL.

“Tyler,” Josh manages to choke out, “you gotta stop or I’m-“

Tyler’s pleased with himself. Almost a little too much. Chin slick, teeth nipping at his bottom lip when he pulls off. He knows he’s good. He knows how to make a man break down inside and out. He knows that they’re ready for this, that they’ve been ready for this for a long time now. He’s careful with it. Blissfully patient, eagerly waiting. Tempting Josh at every chance he can get, but always staying just out of reach until now.

He climbs back up onto Josh’s lap. “Doesn’t even feel real,” he says again, swallowing thickly. “You and me, Josh.” He lets out a shaky sigh. “You and me.”

Josh wonders vaguely if this is just a fever dream they’re sharing.

Tyler holds him down, more forcefully than he’d like. It’s like he can see in the darkness better than Josh, and it unnerves him.

He’s sinking himself down with a soft gasp. Letting Josh fill him, all of him. Finally locking them together for the first time. Tyler sits for a second, letting the feeling settle between them. He trembles, whimpering at the stretch, but Josh doesn’t know he likes it to hurt.

“Tyler,” Josh breathes, hands itching to move Tyler by his hips.

“Touch me,” Tyler orders, grabbing Josh’s wrists. “Yeah. Please. Please.” He brings his hands up to his waist, up to his chest. Josh peels his t-shirt off and tosses it aside. It’s sticky too. Damp with sweat.

So Josh touches him. He touches and squeezes in all the right places because it’s all he wants to do. He just wants to reciprocate what Tyler’s been pushing onto him since day one.

“So pretty,” he mumbles absentmindedly. Tyler covers his mouth to muffle his noises. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s moving haphazardly, face stuffed into the crook of Josh’s neck. Hips chasing any friction, any pleasure he can give Josh.

Should he say something? Is this an appropriate time for dirty talk, or is that out of line? Josh is at a standstill. Tyler’s mewling and grinding down on him like his life depends on it. It’s more intimate than any porn he’s ever watched. It’s not fucking-it’s anything but. It’s barely even making love, either. It’s something darker, deeper, more twisted than he could imagine.

It’s as if Tyler wants to crawl inside of him and become a part of him.

With no importance placed upon his own pleasure, he purely chases Josh’s, like the mere act of making Josh cum is enough for him to get off himself. Josh tries to wrap a hand around him, he smacks it away. Insists upon rubbing himself off wherever he can. Against Josh’s stomach, against his own. He won’t let Josh touch him without prior authorization. Josh barely realizes it, but he’s not in control here. He never has been.

Tyler arches his back. Josh is almost in mourning because it’s dark and he can’t fully see what’s going on. He wishes he could for the tenth time. They’re both so sticky, wet with sweat. The humidity is suffocating.

“Oh my God,” he groans, hands tight on Tyler’s waist. “Fuck.”

Tyler’s hands smear down his chest, down his thighs. “This ain’t God,” he pants. “He can’t treat you like I can.” He leans down, capturing Josh’s whining mouth in a kiss. “God can’t love ya the way I do.”

It sounds like a threat. Hissed against his wanton attempts at physical affection.

“I love it,” Tyler cries, voice cracking, “I love you. So much, Josh. Love you.” His chest heaves, body trembling. He’s overworked, bodies tense around each other. He repeats those three words, over and over until his voice whittles off into a hoarse whisper.

Josh can feel the way Tyler shakes, hear the trembling in his voice and the way he sniffles. Josh doesn’t like how much Tyler cries after they fool around. It makes him feel as if he’s done something wrong.

“Hey.” Josh readjusts them, cups Tyler’s face. “Why are you crying?”

Tyler laughs wetly. “Nothin’,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m just…real happy. We got to do this. Together.”

There’s a moment of silence between them, where Josh lets his imagination run wild and he feels like this was something far deeper for Tyler than he first expected.

He takes initiative. Lifts Tyler off of him, strips his own shirt off and lays him down atop it so he’s not flat on the dirt. It feels so romantic. And dirty.

“I got you,” he says under his breath. “S’okay.”

Tyler sobs into the crook of his neck when he’s slipping back inside. Legs instantly locked around Josh’s waist, hips weakly bucking up, desperate for anything. He’s silently begging for Josh to start moving again. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. His voice pitched up with emotion. “I’m sorry.”

Josh shuts him up with a kiss. It’s aching, and sad, and he’s almost losing his lust because of how much pity for Tyler’s coursing through his veins. “We can stop.”

“Don’t stop,” Tyler says immediately. Josh feels like he’s at a standstill.

“Tyler.” He feels a pit in the bottom of his stomach. “What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry,” Tyler says again, “I’m sorry. I ruined it. I messed everything up, Josh. All of it. I-“ he shoves the heels of his hands into his eyes, chin slick with drool and snot.

“What are you talking about?” Josh tries to cradle him, coddle him.

“Nothin,” Tyler warbles, “nothin’. I’m bein’ dumb.” He pulls Josh impossibly closer, legs going numb from how tightly wrapped they are around his waist. “I need you,” he murmurs, breathlessly, “more than anythin’. Right now, Josh.“ His bottom lip trembles.

Josh indulges him, but he feels perverted. He feels like he’s taking advantage of Tyler in all the wrong ways. Hell, this is Tyler’s first time. He’s no longer a virgin and it has to be the worst situation he’s ever been in to date.

They’re having sex in the middle of the corn maze at night, covered in dirt. Not the first place Josh would recommend, probably one of the last.

But Tyler doesn’t seem to care. His nails dig into the skin of Josh’s shoulders, scratching down his back, marking him in only ways that create pain.

Josh is stuck in this weird haze of guilt and lust. He feels good-it feels good. Tyler feels good. His noises sound good. But everything feels inherently wrong.

“Fuck,” he hisses under his breath, “Tyler.” One hand on Tyler’s waist, the other planted on the ground to keep himself steady.

“Yeah,” Tyler breathes. He can’t stop touching. Everywhere. Josh’s neck, his face, his back, his chest. It’s overwhelming. His cock sits neglected and leaking against his stomach, twitching every time Josh rolls his hips. It’s trapped between them, desperate for friction when their bodies rub against each other.

Josh knows he’s not in control, but being on top of Tyler gives him some sort of headspace he’s not used to having.

He’s been so focused on Tyler that he hasn’t even realized he’s lost his virginity too. At least, his…male virginity. He’s fooled around with girls enough. Obviously he’s never done anything as serious as this.

He’s just acting on instinct, really. And Tyler takes it because he’d take anything Josh would want to give him.

“Oh my God,” he mutters, teeth grit. He noses at Tyler’s neck, under his jaw. He licks his lips and all he can taste is blood. Blood and sweat. “Fuck. Tyler-“

Tyler’s jaw falls slack, breathing heavy. “Love you,” he gasps, words slurred, “love you, love you, love you.”

Josh’s knees are aching, dug into the dirt. His jeans sag down his thighs, hastily shoved enough down to let him move the way he needs to. Sweat drips down his brow. He’s covered in it, just like Tyler. He starts to shy away, the pull in his stomach growing with every roll of his hips.

“No.” Tyler grabs at him, almost terrified at the thought of him pulling out. “No. Don’t.” His grip softens after a beat and he runs his fingers down Josh’s biceps. “It’s okay.”

Josh feels like he’s being fucking baby trapped but it’s nowhere near true.

There’s something raw about it all. Josh is way too careless. No condom. In the dirt. Outside. In the dark. He’s muffling his own noises in the crevice of Tyler’s throat, trying to ignore the stench of death.

Tyler makes no effort to hide his moans. He cries out, whines and writhes below him like the fucking pornos Josh used to watch in high school. Gorgeous. If they weren’t filthy and outside, maybe it could be beautiful.

Josh cums with a desperate groan, and for a split second, everything sort of flashes behind his eyelids as they’re closed. He loves Tyler. Why can’t he say it? He loves Tyler. Not as much as Tyler loves him, but enough to make him behave like this.

Tyler eases him through it. Pets at him with sticky hands, sniffling gasps, lets him use him for everything he’s worth and he hasn’t even gotten off yet. “God loves you,” he whimpers. He cups Josh’s face. “God loves you.“

Josh searches what he can see through the darkness. “I don’t believe you,” he replies. He takes Tyler’s hands away from his face. Squeezes them once, and lets them fall.

Tyler sobs, lets his emotions take full control and hiccups below him. He’s breaking down. Josh pulls away, but Tyler just climbs on top of him again. Naked, against each other, but it’s everything but sexual now.

“I’m sorry.”

Josh feels his vision blur. There’s not a way he can excuse himself from this. Not anymore. This is like Adam and Eve. Curiosity and lust blinding them until their punishment catches up.

“Please stop saying that,” Josh tries. “Please.”

“I only wanted you to-to-“ Tyler doesn’t finish the sentence. He hesitates, like he’s picking the right words. “I heard you,” he says softly. “Saw you. Felt you. Gave you. Everythin’, Josh. Everythin’ for you.” He cups Josh’s face in this saddening, grieving way. “I’d leave this place for you,” he whispers, eyes wide like he can’t fucking believe he’s saying it aloud. “If you wanted to.”

“Why would you say that?” Josh replies, searching those beautiful eyes. “Why would I want to leave? What are you not telling me, Tyler?”

Tyler thumb brushes over his bottom lip before he climbs off of him. Gathers his things from off the ground, stumbles away from Josh. He covers himself with his clothes haphazardly. “You should go,” he says, almost like an afterthought. Standing there like there’s anything he’d rather be doing than this right now. He’s still hard. Ignoring his own pleasure like the plague.

Josh feels a hot wave of shame wash over him, and it’s not even his fault. “Yeah.” Staring up at Tyler, thinking he could ever get a straight answer out of him. What an idiot he is.

He redresses with Tyler’s eyes on him. He’ll never be able to wash this off. This touch, this moment. The experience that will haunt him forever because he shouldn’t have let it happen.

His day of judgement will be a cruel, harsh one.

𐕣

Josh hobbles back to the house. He could go straight to the hayloft to clean up, but something tells him he needs more light. More efficiency. Proper running water and maybe a glass of fucking liquor to process this.

Everything is dark. The house has never seemed to quiet, yet so loud. Every footstep or creaking floorboard makes Josh flinch in fear of waking up Chris or Kelly.

He feels awful. It’s nothing like he was expecting. Maybe he shouldn’t have expected anything at all.

He toes his boots off, and tries to tiptoe up to the bathroom. God knows where Tyler is. He didn’t follow him back.

The bathroom light is blinding. Josh rubs a hand over his face, squinting as he readjusts.

He looks up into the mirror and his heart drops. What he tried in the moment to excuse for dirt, for sweat, wasn’t either.

He’s covered in tacky, drying blood. Pink and red and deep maroon.

It takes him a minute to let it sink in. He’s covered in blood. Okay. It’s not his, he decides, after a quick rundown of himself. Could it be Tyler’s? He doesn’t remember feeling any wounds. It’s obviously old. Gummy.

Okay. Okay. It reeks. Josh feels lightheaded for a second before he regains his momentum.

Slowly, he strips himself of his shirt and gives himself a lame sink bath with a washcloth. Tyler’s scratches don’t wash off. He doesn’t have any other clothes to change into. He can’t take a full bath right now, God forbid he wake anyone up with it. Just get whatever he can off. Just clean it off.

How did he not smell it? How did he not realize what was being tracked all over him?

He’s swallowing down bile. Hot and foul in the back of his throat. It’s okay. It’s fine. It’s probably something from an animal. Whether domesticated or wild is anyone’s guess. Maybe it really was Tyler’s blood and he was just hiding something awful he did to himself.

Josh wipes what he can off of himself and staggers back to the hayloft. He doesn’t know where Tyler is, and frankly, he can’t be fucking bothered to find out.

He silently prays that this is all a dream and he’ll wake up confused.

But it’s not. If anything, it just adds to the waking nightmare. The owl is waiting for him, perched atop the barn when he returns, and he wishes he had a gun.

The very next morning, Chris asks him if he’s interested in moving out of the hayloft and into the house. Into one of the spare rooms upstairs.

Next to Tyler.

Chapter Text

Life is a series of events Josh can’t seem to keep in a straight line.

The room he moves into is small-bigger than the hayloft, by far, but still tight.

Chris told him it was Zack’s old room. One of Tyler’s brothers. It’s dark, and dank, and could use some dusting, but Josh finds it a thousand times better than getting covered in hay and being watched by an owl all night.

And hell, he finally has a bed now. A real bed, with a mattress and bed-frame and everything.

Tyler watches him move what little belongings he has into the room. Stares from the doorway of his own bedroom. Hungry.

Josh tries not to notice.

He’s left perusing what’s left, studying paintings on the walls and pictures still framed. He’s eyeing a family portrait-the first glimpse he’s gotten of Tyler’s siblings.

Tyler looks like his older brother, Zack. The two boys and one girl stand together in the photo, but Tyler is obstructed. Almost sectioned off, like he doesn’t belong with the rest of Chris and Kelly’s kids.

“Jesus can always reject his father.”

Tyler says it behind him, and he jumps, heart thudding. Of course he didn’t hear those fucking feet padding across the carpet. Tyler’s a master of stealth by now.

Josh lets out an exasperated sigh, but Tyler just keeps going.

He seems to study the photo behind Josh. “He can’t ever escape his mother’s blood, though. He’ll never escape what he’s made up of, Josh.” Slowly, his eyes drag from the photo to Josh’s waiting gaze.

“What’re you made of?”

“I don’t think you want the answer to that,” Josh tells him, “I think you’ve already got it made up in your mind.” He’s trying to be hostile. Trying to push away as much as he can because now it’s going to be even harder to keep himself under control now that Tyler is right next door.

He looks over Tyler’s shoulder. The door is closed. Of course it is.

“I don’t think you wanna know what’s in my mind,” Tyler tells him, tracing his gaze. Always hungry. Always so intense.

“I don’t like that,” he replies. Tyler kisses him. Soft. He wants him to shut up but won’t say it aloud.

“I used to come in here a lot,” Tyler says under his breath, “used to cry my eyes out. Zack’s smell always made it better. But I guess now I got a better reason to visit, huh?”

There’s no way Chris did this on purpose, right? He can’t know the full extent of what they’ve done together. He surely has an inkling, but last night’s experience has to be a secret between just him and Tyler.

Tyler licks his lips, eyeing Josh’s mouth. He presses his hand to his chest. Hesitating.

Then he leaves, wordlessly.

Josh is left in his dusty, mildly humid new bedroom feeling more lost than he’s ever been. His lips can still feel Tyler’s against them. It’s a curse.

He shakes himself out of his trance. He needs to finish putting his things away. He fills the dresser drawers with clothing, brushes off as much dust as he can from the aged wood. He can’t help but feel like an intruder, even if Zack hasn’t occupied the space in however long.

It’s not hard to make himself at home. He doesn’t have much, but it’s enough. He sets his brick of a phone on top of the dresser and digs through one of his bags until he finds the charger.

Now that he’s got electricity, he might as well…

It takes a bit, but the phone finally lights up. He still doesn’t have any service, but he tries to check his messages anyway just in case anything came through in the downtime.

Nothing.

He sighs, flips the phone shut and tosses it back on the dresser. He really hopes his parents got the letter he sent. There’s just something awful about feeling so alone, and for the first time in a long time, he’s feeling homesick.

So homesick that tears prick his eyes. He doesn’t want to cry. It’s stupid to cry about this. But he’s covering his face with his hands, sniffling back tears. He misses his mom, even if she used to nag him all the time. He misses Jordan, and Ashley, and his dad, and the smell of their house.

Josh swallows the lump in his throat and brushes himself off. Focus. He looks up into the mirror above the dresser and sees only Jesus staring back at him. There’s a painting above the bed. Creepy. He wants to take it down but isn’t too sure of how he’d go about it without scrutiny. He’ll just have to…ignore it for now.

Speaking of-there’s never any word of a new priest. The church lies abandoned. Josh hears Tyler praying in his bedroom every night as if to make up for it. But it’s never spoken about again. Any chance Josh gets to talk about the priest, or the church, or even just going to mass in general is shut down and derailed by something else.

Like it never happened, or existed in the first place. It creeps him the fuck out. His initial thought is because of the taboo of suicide, especially in Catholicism. But the way the Joseph’s act about it…just isn’t right. Something’s always off with them. Something’s always been off, and Josh is just used to it by now.

He shakes it off, shakes everything off when he goes to work. It’s all new. New bedroom, new him. He’s going to turn a new leaf and be better. He’s not going to let any of this distract him from the peaceful life he should be living. Hell, there are cows around him, wind whistling through the trees, clean air and home-cooked meals. He’s got nothing to worry about.

He’s plowing the garden, adjusting the hat on his head as sweat soaks into it. The plow is old-hand-driven. It takes a lot of effort to push through the dirt to till it properly, but it gives his mind something to focus on.

He looks up as he’s making his way down a row of what used to be tomatoes when he sees Tyler out in the cow pasture. He looks lost. Almost panicked. Josh can’t see everything perfectly out there, but it looks like he’s searching for someone or something.

None of his business. He’s just here to work. That’s all.

Tyler doesn’t approach him. Doesn’t talk to him at all, actually. He’s too preoccupied with something, but Josh isn’t complaining. The more peace he can garner, the better.

He does see the owl, though. It’s what breaks his streak of normalcy for the day. It’s in the roof of the henhouse. Watching him. He’s convinced it’s not real, purely because there’s just no way a nocturnal animal like this would go out of its way to present itself in the daylight.

He watches the owl, and the owl watches him, until it’s distracted by a murder of crows trying to mooch off of extra chicken feed.

Josh hates these fucking birds. 

Cheeseburgers for dinner. Fries, a big bowl of garden salad. Corn on the cob slathered in butter and salt and pepper. Sweet tea.

Tyler sits across from Josh, but he’s not looking up from his plate. He’s like a statue. So still it’s a wonder he’s even conscious. Josh can tell he’s not fully here. He’s been off all day. Which is weird, because usually he’s off, that’s just how he is, but today just feels…abnormal. For everyone.

Chris clears his throat and it shakes Tyler from his trance. He looks up with a start, making nervous eye contact with his father. His jaw clenches and unclenches anxiously, fingers gripping the tablecloth so hard his knuckles are white. Josh can hear his leg bouncing under the table. He starts chewing on his fingernails, his bottom lip.

What the hell is wrong with him?

“Tyler.” Chris says it and Tyler flinches, freezing all movement.

“Eat your food.”

Tyler stares down at his plate. “I’m not hungry-“

“NOW.” Chris’ fist slams down onto the table, making the silverware clatter. Even Josh startles.

Tyler jumps, mouth opening and closing in a failed reply. He looks like he’s going to be sick. He’s pale, swaying in his seat slightly. He lets out a weak whimper, bottom lip quivering. Eyes welling with tears. He dry heaves once and covers his mouth with his hand. He can’t do it. He can’t eat it.

It only takes Josh a second to finally realize why.

Tyler’s hands shake next to his plate on the table. Jaw falling slack as salvia gathers in his mouth. He’s shoving himself away in an instant, beelining it for the door. Josh hears a strangled cry and the sound of vomiting.

It’s Lola. They’re eating Lola.

They sit at the table and listen to Tyler’s descent. Josh forces himself to swallow what’s in his mouth and pushes himself away from the table to follow. He’ll take Chris’ punishment later.

Tyler’s fallen to his knees outside, halfway between the house and the cow pasture. Hands fisted into the grass, voice raw as he screams his grief to no one.

“Tyler-“ Josh scrambles over to him, feeling sick himself. “Hey-“

Tyler’s hiccuping on his own sobs, gagging with every shaky breath. Josh gingerly rubs his back.

“Tyler. You don’t know, she…she could’ve been sick, or-“

“She wasn’t sick,” he cries, “she was never sick. All twelve years I had her. She was perfect. Never had anythin’ wrong with her.”

He pauses, body heaving. “Did she tell you that?” He whispers hoarsely. “Did someone tell ya she was sick, Josh?”

Josh opens and closes his mouth, trying to form something that won’t send him spiraling all over again. “I-your mom just…she might’ve said something about it-“

Tyler sobs so hard he gags, and vomits again, but little comes out. “This ain’t mercy killin’,” he sobs, “it’s a punishment. My punishment, Josh. I did this.” He clutches the front of Josh’s shirt, chin covered in spit and bile. “Shouldn’t have ever-ever been like this. Ever.”

What that means is a mystery. He could be talking about the entirety of their relationship. He could be talking about his own thoughts and actions. Josh isn’t one to be speculating right now. He’s never seen Tyler so distraught, and that’s certainly saying something. It’s wrong. It feels wrong. Josh wishes he could do something about it, but there’s nothing to be done when it comes to life and death.

Josh can’t stay out there for long. He can’t. Tyler eventually stumbles his way to the cow pasture, and another wail is heard as he crawls through the grass. Signaling his grief to the other cows, letting them know he’s hurting just as much as they are. Josh shuts the door behind him right as it happens, cutting the noise short.

Chris and Kelly are still at the dinner table.

Josh walks into the dining room and all eyes are on him. He walks to his seat, grabs his plate and excuses himself without saying a word. All he can do to keep himself from throwing up is try and fog his mind as he goes upstairs to his bedroom.

Lola. Innocent Lola. Fuck. She didn’t even do anything. Sure, it’s a fucking farm. This stuff happens all the time. But this is just sick. She wasn’t an animal for slaughter. Not like the hogs, or the chickens. She was a pet over everything. Tyler’s pet. Tyler’s baby. To take her away like this, to do this to her…

Josh feels his stomach turn. He’s pale. He peeks through the curtains hanging from the singular window in his room and sees that Tyler’s outside still. Crouched in the cow pasture, surrounded by the livestock like they know his grief and share it with him.

Then Chris’ voice yells in Tyler’s direction and Josh has to step away before he witnesses anything else he doesn’t want to see. He steps back from the window, hand covering his mouth. He needs to…do something. Occupy himself.

He should take a bath.

Warm water, the sound of bugs buzzing outside as the sun begins to set. Josh still feels dirty no matter how many times he scrubs himself with soap. He’s since stopped locking the door. No use in it anymore.

Not when he knows he won’t be alone tonight.

Tyler opens the door to the bathroom, on cue, but this time he’s fully naked. Covered in blood, fresh and shiny. He’s shaking. He stands in the doorway and Josh can’t help but see his frame as some second coming of Jesus. Dark red and ominous and beautiful.

Tyler lowers himself into the water and immediately turns it a sick shade of pink. He wraps his arms around Josh. Holds him like he might run away.

“When I was twelve my brother made me kill a raccoon,” he says into the crook of Josh’s neck. “Someone ran it over. Its legs were broken. Couldn’t do much but cry.”

The soap in the water dissipates slowly.

“Zack went out and got Papa’s gun. Told me I had to do it since I found it first. He said it was only fair ‘cause I never killed nothin’ before.”

He licks his lips, traces his fingers down the veins he can see on Josh’s neck. “I never wanted to kill anythin’.”

There are tears in his eyes again. “Daddy never flinches when he kills. Never. He woulda done it, too. But he wasn’t there.”

“Why are you covered in blood, Tyler?”

Tyler’s eyes are unseeing. He doesn’t answer. He instead covers his face with wet hands, the water washing red from his cheeks, his hair.

It’s not sexual. This thing between them, their bodies impossibly close under the darkening water. That’s the thing about these…visits. They’ve never been sexual. Ever. It’s so incredibly intimate, and Tyler has chosen Josh to see him like this. Naked, vulnerable. They’re the same as they were when they entered into this world, and will probably be the same when they exit. Split open and swallowed by the earth.

Josh glides his hands up Tyler’s thighs. He’s honestly surprised nothing has come out of it yet, but he’s glad it’s stayed like this.

“I’m sorry about Lola,” he says under his breath. Tyler stiffens.

“Not your fault,” he says, but he doesn’t sound like he means it. “I shoulda known.” He closes his eyes. The blood not washed from his face crusts, flakes off into the water as it dries. The cross around his neck is still covered in it. His hands find their way to Josh’s neck. He takes an aching deep breath and presses their foreheads together.

“Pray with me,” he whispers. “Listen to me.”

Josh listens.

“Blessed be the Sons of the Damned,” Tyler murmurs, “bound to suffering eternal through the sins of their fathers committed long before their conception.”

His hands slide up to hold Josh’s face. His voice doesn’t waver, as if he’s in a trance. Eyes fluttering closed in prayer.

“Blessed be their whore mothers, tired and angry and waitin’ with labored breaths in a ferry that’ll never move again. Blessed be the children. Each and every one comin’ to know their God through senseless acts of violence.”

“Tyler-“

“Blessed be you…” he says, eyebrows knitting together with emotion. “…promised to me. Promised to me by a man who can only feel hatred and contempt towards ya.” Tyler opens his eyes and searches Josh’s, his pupils blown wide and desperate despite his calm demeanor.

“I’m no good nor evil. I just am, ‘n I’ve come to take what’s mine. What’s been promised to me and only me.”

His grip tightens. “You.” He recites whatever fucked-up prayer this is to Josh like it’s the last thing he needs before entering Heaven. He’s too well-spoken. It doesn’t sound like a real prayer.

Josh’s breathing quickens.

“I was there in the dark when ya spilled your first blood. I was there in your heart when you wasted your seed for me. I’ll be there by your side when ya give your life to God.”

Josh squeezes his eyes shut. Is this real? Is he dreaming? Or did he pass out?

“You left the fruit of your labor inside me, Josh.” Tyler almost says it in mourning, his voice finally cracking. “I can’t get rid of it. There’s no room for hope in me anymore. Only for him. For you. ‘N when he finally comes out, he’ll be dead. But he’ll be yours. Together.”

His voice wobbles with emotion. Their lips brush wetly against each other. Not a kiss, but somehow more intimate than one.

“All I wanna be is yours. I’d be a sacrifice if it meant I’d be yours. I know it’s selfish, but I can’t help it, Josh. I can’t.”

Tyler smiles, but it’s not genuine. He cocks his head, eyes welling with tears. “I’ve been ripped apart and put back together so many times.” The tears slide down his cheeks, hot and thick. “I know change is comin’. It’s gotta be. I saw it in ya when you got here that first day.”

The light buzzes above them. Josh’s hands are pruned from the water.

“I’m here now. For you. And ya run from me still.”

He lets out a shaking breath, thumb rubbing over Josh’s jaw.

“I’m not running,” Josh says. Tyler shakes his head.

“Maybe not. But ya can't hide from me forever.”

Tyler gets out of the bathtub, leaving Josh in a lukewarm embrace of blood and water. Josh’s hands are shaking. He feels like crying, or throwing up. His mind reels, desperately trying to cling on to the words Tyler had just instilled into him. The water is cold now.

He gets out of the tub feeling dirtier than he was before he got in. Towels himself off, stares into the fogged up mirror like his reflection might wink at him if he looks hard enough.

It doesn’t.

Having a bed is nice. Josh almost cries when he crawls underneath the unused comforter just because of how soft the mattress is compared to what he’d been sleeping on in the hayloft. His body seems to finally relax for the first time in months.

It’s not a huge bed. A twin XL at best. But it fits him. He turns the lights off and the glow of the moon filters in through the window. It’s a beautiful atmosphere.

It doesn’t take long before Tyler’s crawling into bed with him. He closes the door softly behind him, sneaks across the carpet. It’s a tight fit, but once his frail body curls atop Josh’s it’s like the mattress was made to fit them.

“You’re freezing,” Josh says absentmindedly. Tyler burrows into his touch. His shoulders shake. He’s crying again, and there’s nothing either of them can do about it. Josh coddles him as best he can, because he can’t even imagine the waves of emotions Tyler’s feeling right now.

He’s never lost a pet besides Jim, let alone really anyone in his family before. He’s incredibly lucky for that. Jim died of natural causes. He was an old dog. The pain of grief still hits him sometimes, but the good memories outweigh the old.

This is nothing like that. Lola’s life was stolen from her. She had many more years to come. Josh is grateful that Jim lived as long as he did, and if he could’ve kept him alive longer, he would’ve.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. Tyler shakes his head.

“Stop sayin’ that.”

It seems like he finds peace for a moment. Glued to Josh’s chest, breathing in his warmth.

“You got no idea what this means. It ain’t about Lola. Never was.” He closes his eyes, breathing slowing as he gets more comfortable. “Never was.”

Josh lets him fall asleep on his chest because he doesn’t want to pry any further. Tyler shivers, jaw clenched like he’s never relaxed, even when unconscious. Holds onto him so tightly like he’d rather die than let him go.

But he’s not the only one who sleeps fitfully.

Josh hears that fucking owl screeching all night long. 

Chapter Text

Tyler’s been slipping up a lot lately. It’s not his fault. He’s trying his best.

(He’s not.)

He’s being punished for it regardless, so who cares? His flaws are unrelenting. He’ll never go to Heaven. He’s far beyond saving at this point.

The tipping point was Lola, he thinks. It can’t possibly get any worse than losing her. The closest thing would just be dying.

Lola didn’t go down easy. He knows she didn’t. She wouldn’t. She was strong. His girl. She would’ve fought until her last breath if it meant Tyler could’ve saved her.

And oh, how he wishes he could’ve. He had her since she was a calf. They’d bonded immediately. She was a birthday gift. Back before everything went to shit. When Zack and Maddy and Jay were still here.

She was all he had left of his childhood.

He tries not to be so hard on himself. But it’s difficult. It’s not his fault-never was. It’s Josh’s fault. But he won’t ever admit that to himself or Josh, ever.

Of course he wishes it was different. He wishes he didn’t have to sacrifice anything for this. He wishes Josh never took the job offer that his father put in the newspaper. Everything could’ve been just the same as it was.

But he can’t turn back. He can’t change anything. The message was clear:

This is what happens when you disobey.

It was never about liking boys, or lusting after men. It’s about the task he’s been avoiding ever since Josh first got a little too close to figuring out something he shouldn’t have.

…

Today is Friday. Tyler has to go to the farmer’s market.

His father insists upon it. He doesn’t complain, because it could be worse. He can’t get smacked around if he’s going to the market. It ruins the goods. So he shuts up and climbs into his father’s pickup before sunrise.

It feels like forever since he’s done this. He watches the sun rise, chews the skin off his bottom lip until he tastes blood. Is this performance anxiety?

His father pulls over onto the side of the gravel road, near the ditch. He gets out, pops the hood up, and makes his way out back. Tyler feels his hands shake as he lets himself out of the truck and shivers in the morning cold. He’s barely dressed. He slips his baggy t-shirt off and it leaves him in just his shorts and stockings.

Chris makes a grunt of approval and Tyler steps up onto the side of the road to wait.

It shouldn’t be long. It’s not a busy road, but they know they’ll get someone eventually.

Then he sees it. A pickup, bumbling down just like they had been minutes ago.

He waves his t-shirt, helpless. Needy. Alone.

He can see the guy through the windshield, see the cogs turning in his head as he makes the quick decision to pull over. How can he not? Tyler’s perfect. Pretty eyes squinting as the truck kicks up gravel dust. He cocks his hip out, too.

It’s some guy who introduces himself as Mike. Big guy. Tall. Makes Tyler look and feel incredibly small. He should be scared, or at the very least, intimidated, but he just bats his eyes and sticks his t-shirt into his back pocket.

“Looks like you got yourself a bit of a problem,” Mike says.

“Oh, yeah,” Tyler croons, “my truck just broke down on the way to town, could ya give me a lift by chance?”

Mike eyes him. Perfect. Going exactly according to plan. “Broke down, huh?” He asks, stepping towards the truck. “Ain’t that a shame.”

Tyler nods. “I’m so far out from my farm, and I don’t got a phone on me,” he continues, really buttering this guy up. “I’d be willin’ to pay ya for your time or somethin’…”

He turns towards Tyler. “I think I could do with a little somethin’.”

He comes on strong. Stronger than most. It makes Tyler’s job easier. He doesn’t complain. Because he was made for this. Zack and Jay, hell, even Maddy could never do it like him.

“A little somethin’?” Tyler echoes, “what d’you think that’d be?” He plays dumb because men like that. They like it when he’s submissive and stupid. He’s trained to do this.

Mike shakes his head, almost laughing to himself. “Well, you’re a damn pretty thing, ain’t ya? I’m sure you ain’t a stranger to…certain needs.” He gets closer, slides a hand up Tyler’s waist onto his bare skin.

Maybe Tyler likes the attention. Maybe he just wishes it were Josh.

“Yeah?” He says under his breath. Every touch makes him shiver even though it’s already hot out. It’s just not the same.

“Yeah,” Mike replies, nodding. “Real pretty. Lucky you didn’t get picked up by someone else.”

It makes him grin almost bashfully. He feels his cheeks heat up and he chews at his bottom lip. He knows guys like that. He bats his eyelashes too. Like a girl.

“Your daddy know you dress like this?” Mike asks. He gestures to the shorts, the stockings. “Just a little whore, ain’t ya?”

Tyler shakes his head. “Don’t have a daddy,” he whispers. “Left when I was a baby. It’s just me and Mama.” He can almost instantly feel the mood change.

Mike’s hand slides farther up, around his neck, cupping his jaw. Thumb rubbing over his bottom lip. “That’s quite alright,” he says, voice dropping. “I can be your daddy, sweetheart.”

Tyler feels his heart skip a beat. How far is this going to go? Usually they’re done by now. He’s being punished again. He’s definitely being punished. His breathing starts to quicken when Mike keeps touching him.

Finally. There he is. Tyler sees his father. Silent, gun raised and already cocked. He gives him a panicked look over Mike’s shoulder. A quiet, unsuspecting plea.

Please.

Tears well in his eyes. Mike squeezes his ass hard. He meets his father’s gaze.

Daddy.

The shot is sudden. Tyler flinches as the gun goes off again, splattering him with gore. His eyes glaze over as Mike falls into a heap on the ground. Two shots to the head always does it. It ruins almost everything up there, but they’ve never had any use for brains anyway.

He’s dead weight almost immediately, and Tyler almost collapses with him. He stumbles back, heart racing. Thank God his father’s never been a bad shot.

It’s just never something he’ll get used to.

He stands there, shaking, the blood on him already starting to congeal and dry in the afternoon sun. He feels his vision blur. It’s been a while since he’s been here for this. The face that was eyeing up Tyler is now nothing but gore. Crushed bone and exploded facial features. He feels like this was so close-range on purpose to cover him as much as possible.

“That’s what ya get.”

Chris clears his throat and puts the safety back on before tossing the gun into the backseat of the pickup.

Tyler starts to hyperventilate slightly, the adrenaline from everything wearing off and turning into primal fear. He chokes down a whimper, wiping at the blood on his face.

“Don’t you dare start cryin’, boy,” Chris snaps. “Put your clothes on ‘n help me get him in the back.”

Tyler scrambles to redress, sniffling as he tries to wipe as much blood from himself as he can. He throws his t-shirt back on and his stockings rip on the gravel. His feet ache. His shirt sticks to him. He feels dirty. Dirtier than usual.

They wrap the body in plastic tarp and lift it into the back of the truck. Chris takes out a recently deceased deer and tosses it into the spot where Mike’s body was. Easing any suspicion. Any blood surrounding it will easily be seen as the deer’s. Just roadkill.

Tyler’s tossed the keys to the pickup. His father will take care of Mike’s. He shuffles into the driver’s seat, sticky with blood, and drives behind Chris with white knuckles on the wheel and a month’s worth of meat in the back.

Mike’s pickup is dropped off at a scrap yard run by a single man who doesn’t ask questions as long as you have enough money. It’s right outside of town. Shady enough that normal folks don’t even attempt to drive through the chain link gate.

Tyler shrinks down, crawls into the passenger seat while his father drops off Mike’s truck and places a wad of cash into the owner’s wrinkly palm.

Hands in his lap, head down. Chris gets into the driver’s seat and they bump along the gravel in silence. Because there’s nothing to say. Tyler would never speak up about it. He knows what happens to people who do.

It’s a family business. It’s their way of living. Everything’s the same once it goes down your throat, right?

The ride back to the farm is silent, as if there’s ever been a loud one. Chris backs the truck up to where the slaughterhouse is.

The slaughterhouse.

The last time Tyler was in here his shorts were around his ankles and Josh was crossing a line he’d never be able to come back from.

Where is Josh now? Oblivious to everything? His mother surely has him off somewhere, busy and out of the way. Blissfully unaware. Dumb and happy. What a way to live.

Mike’s body is placed on the butcher’s block. No. It’s just a body now. Another piece of meat. It has no identity anymore. It’s a source of food and that’s it.

Tyler turns to try and leave but is yanked back by his arm.

“But-“ he starts to protest, “Daddy, I’ve never-“

“Well, you’re gonna learn, dammit,” Chris tells him. He shoves the handle of the knife into his hand and pushes him towards the body. “Now carve it up just like a hog. I know you ain’t that stupid, boy.”

It’s a heavy knife. Made for this stuff. Tyler’s been watching his father do this ever since he could toddle. But he hates it. Makes him sick. Whether it’s a man or a cow, he hates it. All of it.

He knows how to butcher meat. Hogs, cows. Loins, ribs, thighs. Keep everything they can. The bones are sharpened into knives and tools. The fat is turned to lard. Teeth and nails and hair are thrown to the hogs. It’s the only way to rid the evidence fully.

They have to do it fresh. Rigor-mortis is their enemy. Hot, fresh blood drained into mason jars for sausage and puddings. His mother taught herself how to tan leather and makes trinkets out of the skin to sell at the farmer’s markets. Pouches and purses.

Tyler checks himself out. He’s numb. It doesn’t feel good. It doesn’t feel like anything. It’s just an animal below him. Crunching through bone, through sinew, through muscle. Cracking off ribs, dropping cartilage into the waste bucket. He’s too weak for some of it.

His hands shake, they’re numb from the force of pushing the knife through meat. He drops it onto the floor.

“I don’t feel good,” he tries.

Chris watches him for a second. “Git.” He points to the entrance. “You’ve done enough.”

Tyler lets out a trembling sigh of relief.

“Wouldn’t have to do all this if you’d learned your lesson the first time.” Chris mutters to himself. “Dunno what I gotta do to teach you how to act right. Lost your cow, lost your brother. Dammit, boy, one of these days I’m gonna shoot you dead just to get ya to stop misbehavin’!”

He’s smacked upside the head, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s too happy to be out of there. He doesn’t like killing. He loves meat. Loves the act of eating, of indulging. But killing is scary. Too scary. He’ll do it if he has to, but it’s not in him to take life away. Not his job.

He thinks about Mike. About all the men before Mike who have touched him there and more.

But never the way Josh did. Not like what Josh did in the cornfield. Even if it was the worst experience of his life, he wouldn’t trade it for anything. It was awful, because it was nothing like he wanted.

It should’ve been special. He wanted it to be special. He’s heartbroken about it. He wanted Josh to make love to him like the girls in the movies on their VHS tapes in the living room. He wanted to be laid down and taken apart, put back together and kissed softly.

He’s no longer a virgin, no longer eligible for Heaven anymore. He had only one chance and kept it sacred for so many years until he met Josh.

Now it’s gone. And it’s all his fault.

It is his punishment. He is punished by his love, his dedication. He got too close. Josh was inches away from the body laying between the corn stalks when they fucked that night. Inches. It’s a pure miracle from God he didn’t hear the flies or smell rotting flesh.

It wasn’t exactly fresh meat. Tyler slacked off too much. Tried to conceal his chores but God dammit, Josh kept too close of an eye on him.

Some sick, idiotic thought inside of him wanted Josh to find it and to see how disgusting he is. What he’s done. The blood on his hands, and how he’s destroyed so much for the sake of his family.

He almost wishes that Josh would understand and love him even more for it.

Chris tells him he’s not good enough to stay at the market for the weekend, and takes his mother instead.

He’s not mad about it. He pads back to the house alone. Watches the pickup back out of the driveway.

Tyler holes himself away in his bedroom and prays. Rosary in hand, head bowed, he kneels against his bed.

“I am that I am, and I am nothin’,” he starts, softly. “I wanna know what God knows, and I will be with Him. I have…sinned in that I’ve betrayed innocent blood.” His eyes close. He’s desperately trying to keep the thudding of his heartbeat slow.

“Perversion is no good. Bearing false witness is no good. I am no good.” He takes a shuddering breath.

“I am sure that Hell is cold.”

He swallows down a cry, beads digging into his palms.

“I am that I was as I no longer am, for I am nothin’. For I am nothin’.”

Tyler keeps the stockings on despite the holes in the heels and blood flecked into the cotton. Slips on something he stole from his mother’s drawers years ago. Worn, vintage lace. Lingerie she would’ve worn on her wedding night or something similar. An off-white color, hugging him tightly. Now sticky with crusted old blood, but he doesn’t mind. It smells good. If he concentrates hard enough, he can imagine its deer blood, or Josh’s blood, even.

Because he just wants to look good. He wants to be pretty. He wants Josh to know he’s trying. He wants to present himself nicely. Like a package waiting to be torn apart. He’s prayed, he’s repented, he’s ready to be cleansed.

So he just has to wait now. Patient in the living room. Time doesn’t even matter. He’s got the entire weekend, and he’d wait right here if he had to.

He hears the screen door open and slam itself shut. His heart is racing. He’s perfect. He knows he’s perfect. He just waits for the sound of Josh toeing off his boots, walking into the dining room, then living room, and-

“Tyler.” Josh stops in the doorway, and it’s a feeling of accomplishment when Tyler feels his eyes absolutely devour him. He knows he looks good. He can’t tell if it’s fear or lust. They’re the same to him. He feels his heartbeat quicken. This has to be perfect.

“What did you do?”

Tyler stretches out, back arching. “Helped Daddy butcher some meat,” he says.

“In that outfit?”

Tyler doesn’t respond, and instead rolls over to lay on his back, sprawled out, inviting. “No one’s home,” he says casually. “Won’t be home all weekend.” The vintage tv behind him plays nothing but static. No volume. Just an endless void, as if he wasn’t even trying to do anything but be a tease to Josh. Wrapped up and presented himself like a sick Christmas gift.

He’s silently praying, hoping it’s enough. He watches Josh deliberate in his head. Watches him weigh out the pros and cons. No one’s home.

Tyler trails a hand down his chest, his stomach. Stops at the garters holding his pantyhose up. “S’all for you, Josh,” he says, almost pouting. “If ya want it.”

I know you want it.

“If I want it?” Josh echoes, almost under his breath. He takes a step forward. Tyler’s heart skips a beat. Being left alone all weekend was a terrible decision on his father’s part.

Tyler crawls to Josh. To the only one who could force such behavior from him. He sits before him, gazes locked on each other. He knows what the answer is already. Josh has made up his mind. It’s all just a matter of when he’ll act.

A shaking hand brings Tyler back up to his feet. Their foreheads bump against each other. Lips brushing, breath hot. Josh is the one who breaks the seal and it’s beautiful. More than anything Tyler could have ever wished for.

So, Tyler takes him up to the attic. It’s more special than his bedroom. His bedroom isn’t holy enough for this. The attic isn’t a stranger to this type of attention.

He holds Josh’s hand and pulls him like he’s in a trance. The attic is warm. Dusty. There’s boxes with random labels scribbled in marker, cobwebs. An iron-rung bed against the wall that feels too out of place for somewhere like this. Chained to the floor to keep it grounded.

But Tyler knows exactly what this bed’s for, and Josh seems to realize it as soon as he’s pulled onto the mattress.

Josh fucks him like he deserves. Exactly how he deserves. Makes him hold his legs up like a girl, then spreads them back open to make him fall apart over and over again.

He fucks like a starving man. Tyler loves it. Rakes his nails down Josh’s back and cries out as loud as he can because when no one’s home, this is their house. The bed screams beneath them, rickety frame clanging against the wall. They’re christening this fucking house. It’s theirs, Tyler thinks, in his fucked-up fantasy. They’re newlyweds celebrating a gorgeous marriage.

It doesn’t feel real. If this could’ve been their first time, it would’ve been all worth it. Even God wouldn’t be able to look down on them. It’s raw. Primal, needy, hungry and real.

Josh collapses upon him with soft, nuzzling kisses, wandering hands, calloused gestures. Tyler feels like his heart could burst. It’s perfect. Everything he could’ve ever wanted. Perfect, perfect, perfect. He could cry. But he shouldn’t. He’s cried too much because of Josh, shed too many tears over the boy who’s changing everything for him.

Instead he lets Josh hold him through the night. Smiles to himself and relishes in the feeling of being protected. Smiles at what’s to come in the morning hours.

Josh can’t protect him from what really matters, but he can be a shield for the monsters under the bed.

Chapter Text

There’s something wrong when Josh wakes up.

The morning comes quicker than he expects it to. It feels like hours ago he was with Tyler-fuckingTyler. In an empty house where they could be as loud as they wanted with no repercussions.

He tries to think of it as a blessing, but something about being in this house with Tyler, alone, for the weekend unnerves him.

He moves to stretch, or rather, tries to, but it’s not possible. There’s no warm body next to him. He’s actually in the middle of the bed. Tyler’s gone, and he’s already paranoid. Panicking. He’s naked from last night, clothes discarded God knows where.

Hands above his head. Something shackles them together, woven through the bars of the bedframe. Chains, Josh thinks, when he tries to move. Where the fuck did these even come from?. They dig into his wrists. Something smells foul.

Then he remembers. He’s seen them in the slaughterhouse. Holding the pigs up by their feet as their blood drains. Covered in dried gore, hair. Now cutting into him like he’s no better than the livestock they kill for food.

“Tyler,” he says to the empty attic. He knows he’s not alone. There’s no way. “Tyler!” How could he be so stupid? His fight or flight is kicking in immediately.

His arms ache, hands clenching and unclenching as he struggles. How long has he been like this? The bars of the bed frame tremble against his efforts.

Then Tyler’s there, slinking out from the corner, from the shadows. Timid. Naked, as well. He pads over to the bed and the frame creaks as he climbs onto it. He sits on Josh. Straddles his lap. Looks down at him with big eyes.

“Mornin’,” he rasps.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Josh snaps.

Tyler doesn’t answer. He swallows thickly, and the guilt on his face is incredibly evident.

“Tyler.”

“Nothin’,” he says quickly, “nothin’.”

“Why did you do this?”

Tyler shifts on his lap. “Didn’t want you to run away,” he mumbles. He fiddles with a loose string on the comforter. “Wanted to make sure you’d stay. With me.”

“I wouldn’t leave,” Josh says. “You don’t trust me to stay?” As manipulative as it sounds, it’s true. Horribly true. Maybe it’s a bad decision on Josh’s part. He just really wants these things off of him.

Tyler says nothing. Just keeps staring down at him like the question is almost asinine. His lips purse together. His throat is tight. His eyes are watery.

Josh stares back silently. There's a tension in the air that's thick enough to slice, or maybe even burn.

“You don't trust me,” he states.

“I can’t,” Tyler answers. His voice is flat. He doesn’t sound angry, or upset. Just…sad. That almost scares Josh more than anything. “I cant.”

It’s this dynamic between them, like a predator and its prey, but neither of them can figure out which is which.

“I love you,” Tyler warbles, like everything’s going wrong. “I love you, Josh.”

“But you don’t trust me.”

“I trust you,” he finally says, “I trust you with my life. And my death.”

“But not to stay.”

Josh’s voice is just as flat as Tyler’s was before, and maybe it’s a mistake to be this bold while locked up like this, but he feels desperate. It feels surreal. For the first time he’s not in full control and being at Tyler’s mercy is terrifying.

“Yes,” Tyler whispers, but it's almost more to himself than to Josh. “I’m sorry.” His eyes are panicked, but he doesn't cry. He swallows, and the lump in his throat hurts as he tries to blink back tears.

And that’s the end of that. Conversation over. Josh’s shoulders ache.

Tyler climbs off of him carefully, as if one wrong move would fuck everything up. The absence of his weight feels foreign. The attic is humid. Josh kicks the blankets off the bed.

Tyler comes back with something in his hands-something that Josh doesn’t register as a fucking dead crow until it’s inches from his face. Limp and fresh.

“You see this?” Tyler asks. “Found it this mornin’.” He sniffles, hurriedly wiping at his eyes with the back of his free hand. “In front of the barn.”

Josh grimaces, trying to move his face away from the corpse. Trying not to gag. “Tyler-“

Tyler pets the lolling head. Neck broken, eyes lifeless. “Beautiful creature. Killed by that-that…” he clenches his jaw. “Your owl.”

“My owl?”

He drags his gaze from the bird to Josh. “Your owl.” There’s just the tiniest bit of blood on his hands, drying quicker than it smears. Where it’s from on the bird he can’t tell. Its feathers are too dark to recognize any wounds.

His owl. The owl that’s been taunting him, following him for weeks. Maybe months. Probably the reason he hasn’t seen that poor black cat around anymore. Does it know he’s since moved into the house? He hasn’t pulled back the curtains in his bedroom. It probably perches there now. Precarious, waiting, watching.

Tyler starts to pluck them, the feathers, one by one and lets them flutter down onto Josh’s chest. “I’m gonna eat this bird, Josh,” he says under his breath. Eyes flicking between Josh’s disgusted expression and the body in his hands. “It’s the only way it can die meanin’ something to the world.”

“Don’t,” Josh tells him, feeling his stomach turn. Gross. Gross. Fuck. He believes him all the way.

“How’s it any different from beef? Or pork?” He asks, quietly. “We’re all the same goin’ down. Post-consumption, we’re nothin’. Nothin’ but waste.” He stares down at the bird, grief filling his eyes. “Dyin’ for nothin’. Livin’ for even less.”

A heavy, uncomfortable silence falls over them as he continues to preen the bird.

After a moment, he speaks again, his voice breaking.

"We're all the same,” he repeats.

“We’re not livestock,” Josh speaks up.

“Aren’t we?” Tyler argues. “Filthy, nasty things. Hellbent on fuckin’ and eatin’ and killin’ until we die ourselves.” He swallows thickly, shaking his head. “Not right. S’not right. God didn’t put us here to do that, Josh.”

He takes a shaking deep breath and holds the crow’s corpse close to his chest. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, tears in his eyes. He squeezes them shut, grimacing. “I’m sorry.”

Josh turns away at the first crunch of teeth through bone.

Blood around Tyler’s mouth, bits of feathers stuck to him. It drips down his chest and onto Josh’s.

There are feathers littered everywhere.

It's...repulsive. Josh grits his teeth as he hears those tiny bones split and crack between Tyler’s teeth. He can hear him sobbing, apologizing to the bird as he worships its body one last time. Josh isn’t even sure if he’s actually heard him chew and swallow yet.

He can’t watch it. He can’t. No matter how graceful Tyler thinks this ritual is for the bird, it’s not worth it. Nothing could make him open his eyes right now.

Josh hears him cough, gag, and what sounds like vomit hits the floor in a puddle. Can’t keep it down. Even trying to save it, he’s lost it.

The room fills with heaving, sobbing, hiccuping on bile. Josh dares to open his eyes and sees Tyler, covered in spit and blood and his own sick. Hands over his face in shame.

“I’m sorry,” he cries. “I’m sorry.”

Josh keeps his mouth shut. He tries not to mourn. It’s not his funeral to attend. This is Tyler’s scene that he’s unfortunately intruding on-not that he ever had much of a choice in the first place.

He clutches the bird so tightly the exposed flesh squelches between his fingers. So desperate to save it that he destroys it in the same breath. Its tiny organs fall onto Josh’s naked stomach and he gags. Unable to squirm away, unable to look away. Like the car crash he watched erupt into flames when he was a child. Parents trying to move past it on the freeway as fast as they could to shield him from death. But it didn’t work.

Tyler is that car crash, embodied within something far more beautiful than anything a man could make with his hands. Josh doesn’t ever think he’ll be able to figure it out or stop staring. He wants to, so badly wants to.

Stuck in his own thoughts, trying to distract himself from the mess atop of him, he feels Tyler shift in his lap.

“How careless I was, huh?” He asks, but he sounds weird. Muffled.

He’s…better. Kind of. In an instant, like the flip of a switch. The bird’s body is discarded. Laid down onto the floor next to the bed, next to the pile of vomit containing parts of its remains.

“Careless…” he murmurs again. “I coulda saved her. Coulda saved all of ‘em.” Josh can see the cogs in his head turning.

“D’you really think Abraham woulda killed his son, Josh?” He asks after a beat. “Would you do anything if God came down and told ya to?” It sounds like he’s asking himself the question rather than Josh. “Would you kill? For Him?”

He trails a sad finger down Josh’s stomach. “I’ve thought about tyin’ myself up here before,” he says, like it’s a secret. “With a dead deer. I’d catch one of the wolves that hang around and let it run loose up here. It’d eat the deer. And then it’d eat me. I’d lure it in. With death. With life.”

It’s wistful. A dream to him.

“I wouldn’t let Daddy kill me,” he says. “I wanna be the one to do it. I wanna…be in charge. Even if God said it had to be him. I’d…I’d figure it out. I wanna make myself somethin’ pretty. I wanna BE somethin’ for Him.”

He lets out a shaking breath. The thought obviously excites him.

“I’d be the perfect sacrifice, you know. I saved myself for you,” he puts his hand on Josh’s chest, “the perfect man. I gave everythin’ up for ya. My soul, my body. Everythin’. To be perfect for you. You’re Adam, and I’m Eve, and it’s only a matter of time before I tempt ya. And everythin’ goes to shit.”

He smiles, almost giddy. “Maybe I already have. What d’you think? Are you tempted?”

“You’re fucked up,” Josh tells him.

Tyler chews on his bottom lip. “But I don’t wanna die yet. I can’t. Not when I got you.” His voice begins to wobble. “I just want ya to understand how much ya mean to me, Josh.”

“You have a real funny way of showing it,” Josh says.

“I’ll be good to you,” Tyler tells him, and his voice sounds like he really means it, deep down. “I’ll be so good to you. Best you ever had. You’ll never feel pain, or sufferin’, or-or anythin’ ever again. I’d be the best wife you ever seen.”

The flies have started to congregate, sensing the smell of death and the humid air through cracked windows. Tyler looks deranged, the fluids on his naked body drying against his skin.

“I don’t need you to be good to me. You’re good enough,” Josh tries. It’s like trying to reason with a brick wall.

Tyler looks at him, those wide, watery eyes staring down with something akin to pity. “You don’t know what you need,” he mutters. “But I do. I know what ya need.” He leans down, breath smelling of blood. “Can’t I live inside you? And you inside me?” He whispers, face pressed against Josh’s. Body laid atop of his, crow scraps discarded but still so present. Feathers and blood stick their bare skin together. “Together?”

Josh is quiet. He stares up at the ceiling and refusing to look at Tyler because he’s scared he might fucking throw up if he does.

He’s scared. Of course he is. Tyler is terrifying, even if he’s whipped for him. He’s like a siren, and Josh is nothing but a rookie sailor.

“This is what we were meant to do, Josh,” Tyler tells him. “You and me. Just us. This’ll be our house one day.” It sounds not just hopeful, but incredibly sure. It’s not a wish, it’s a statement. It WILL happen. “That bed downstairs, it’ll be ours.”

Josh’s wrists feel like they’re bleeding. Is he bleeding? Are these things rusty? He can’t remember the last time he got a tetanus shot. Tyler’s going to fucking kill him. “Stop,” he grits out, “Tyler. Stop.”

Tyler just nuzzles at him. Nips at his neck. “I’m takin’ care of you. I’m lovin’ you. Like I’m supposed to. This is what we do. When you…love someone.”

His dry, blood-stained lips find their way onto Josh’s. Gentle. Careful. And still so violent. He can’t do anything about it but try to force his face from Tyler’s grip.

It tastes like death.

“You remember the first time we made love?” He whispers. “That night. I felt you inside me for the first time. It was beautiful, Josh.” He’s sighing, like it’s a distant memory. Like it didn’t just happen less than a month ago. Like they’re an old married couple reminiscing on all of their firsts.

“You left somethin’ inside me that I won’t ever be able to get out again,” he continues, staring down at Josh intensely. “like the Mark of Cain. Like when Mary took the blessing of God from Gabriel and gave birth to Jesus.”

“And now-“ he laughs, “I got you. Whenever I want.” His eyebrows knit together. “You’re mine. I bend over for ya and you can have whatever ya want.” His face falls, smile fading. “I’ve never had anyone like that.” His eyes seem to go out of focus. “They always leave, Josh. Always gone. From right out under me.”

Touching again. Begging to be closer. The blood is slowly oxidizing. How is that happening so fast? Color draining, turning a deep red as it flakes off of Tyler’s skin.

“You’re not leavin’ me, though.” Tyler’s fingers play in the mess on Josh’s stomach. “You can’t. Not after…what we did.” He clears his throat. “You mighta done it before, but that was my first time, y’know.”

“I know,” Josh grits out, eyes locked on the ceiling.

“So. You know how special it was, then.”

“Tyler,” he sounds so desperate now. There’s a twinge to his voice that makes Tyler perk up. “Please.” His voice breaks off into a whisper.

That’s what makes him stop.

“You…” his hands clench and unclench atop Josh’s stomach. They stick together. Fingers covered in drying blood. “You ain’t leavin’, right? You ain’t gonna leave me.”

“No,” Josh answers, “I’m not leaving.”

“You sure. You ain’t lyin’ to me?”

“I’d never lie to you.” Josh finally cranes his neck to look Tyler in the eyes.

“Never,” Tyler echoes, “that’s a lie. You lie.” He licks his lips.

“I’ve never lied to you,” Josh tries. “Name a time I have.”

He pauses. Body tense, jaw clenched, like he’s weighing his options. Slowly, his tender hands clasp around Josh’s throat. Not hard enough yet. He’s lost in the power. In the way Josh’s life sits in the palm of his hand right now.

“I could kill ya,” he whispers, “for bein’ a liar. No one would ever find you. Ever. I’d make sure of it.”

“Don’t.” Josh feels his hands squeeze. He swallows down a gasp.

“Lyin’s a sin.” Tyler shifts his weight. Presses down harder. Every breath becomes harder and harder to pull in, force out. Josh starts to scrabble beneath him.

“You’ll go to hell, Josh.” Every second feels like an eternity. He’s drowning. Eyes widening, vision blurring. Mouth agape with desperation as Tyler steals every last breath from him. “You’re goin’ to hell.”

This is it. This is how he dies. Strangled by someone so weak it’s almost laughable Josh hasn’t kicked him off of himself by now. He’ll die chained to an unfamiliar bed covered in animal gore and his family will never see him again.

Is this what it comes to? Is this all he has left to offer?

He can feel it. The cold. The way his limbs spasm and trying to lock up.

And then Tyler’s gone. His hands, at least. Body still heavy atop Josh, he’s decided to let him live for now.

Josh gulps for air, lips cold, heart racing, head pounding. Black spots in his vision dissipate. He’s never felt so close to death before. Never been so close.

One time, when he was young, his family went swimming out at a lake. Josh got lost. Fell in. Without a life jacket, screaming for his mother while doggy-paddling in circles trying to figure out what to do. Clothes sopping, stuck to his body, head barely above the water, he was scooped up by a fishing boat and carried to shore. Shivering and sniffling, he burrowed into his mother’s arms, vowing to never be out of her sight again.

Even that is tame compared to what just happened.

Carefully, watching closely, does Tyler finally decide to free him. He can’t even inspect his wrists. It’s not what he’s focused on right now.

Because Josh who, up until now has been holding in his own vomit, stumbles his way down the ladder and into the bathroom seconds before it fills his mouth. It’s fucked up. This is fucked up. This can’t be real right now. He feels filthy. Bits of feathers stuck to him, smeared blood-whether animal or human-staining his skin. He looks in the mirror and sees a face he doesn’t recognize.

He washes his mouth out in the sink, trying to recoup what’s just happened. Trying to regain the feeling of normalcy in his lungs. What has he gotten himself into? Panting, mind racing. Owls. Crows. Chains. Blood. He’s shot mangled deer and slaughtered hogs. Cared for Tyler’s cow and saw her become dinner within the same month. He can’t handle this? He knows Tyler’s worse. There’s more up his sleeve that he isn’t showing him.

“Josh?” Tyler’s voice calls for him from the attic.

It just…doesn’t…feel right. Doesn’t sound like him. At least, not all the way.

He’s staring down at his hands but can’t feel what they’re touching. What is he touching? The…sink? No. Porcelain isn’t warm. It’s not soft like this. Or pliable.

it’s not porcelain. It’s skin. It’s alive. He’s not in the bathroom.

He never even left the attic.

Good morning, sweetheart.

Josh wakes up with Tyler clinging to his chest. Nuzzled against his side. Warm. Quiet. Soft. They’re both half naked. It smells of mildew and dust and summer air. Not vomit. Not blood. Not death. He even looks around, just to be sure.

No chains. No feathers.

Tyler stirs next to him, humming softly in his sleep. There’s something red under his fingernails, but other than that, the evidence of what occurred mere minutes ago is gone. They’re both naked. Josh feels sick. He touches his neck, tries to poke the bruises that surely have to be there. That felt too real for it to have been fake. He can still taste the bile in my mouth. There’s no way he…this didn’t…

Tyler blinks slowly as he finally wakes due to Josh’s stirring. “Hi,” he says. Face squinty, voice raspy. Hair stuck in every which way. He rubs his eye with a fist, fighting back a yawn.

“Hey,” Josh replies, trying not to freak the fuck out. He’s being studied, and he knows he can’t look normal right now. Tyler doesn’t say anything else, though. But there’s something in his eyes that tells him he knows. He knows. He has to.

How does he know?

“You were sleepin’ hard last night,” he says. “Makin’ noises. Talkin’. I watched you.”

Josh runs a hand over his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Tyler lays back down on his side, faces him. “What were ya dreaming about?”

“You don’t wanna know.”

“Somethin’ bad?” He asks.

“Really bad,” Josh confirms. “Worse than a nightmare, I think.”

“I was in it, wasn’t I?”

He laughs. “No, actually,” he lies, keeping his eyes away from Tyler’s prying ones. “It was just me.”

Tyler makes a noise, and leaves it at that. He doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t need to. Josh fucking knows he can see right through him. It makes his skin crawl.

It’s this house. This fucking house. It’s the root of all this. It has to be. This house and-and Tyler. It’s not him. It can’t be him. It’s not his fault. He just needs to focus. He needs real sleep. He needs hard work and dedication and patience. That will fix him. He needs something to block out all of the outside distractions, all of the…guilt.

Yeah. He creeps down to the bathroom and leans against the sink again and it’s cold. Cold porcelain against his sweaty palms. Good. This is good. This is real. He can trust this.

Oh God, he thinks, staring into the tired reflection in the mirror.

I’m going fucking crazy.

Chapter Text

Things are…better. As best as they can be.

Which isn’t great. But Josh isn’t having anymore realistic nightmares about Tyler trying to kill him. So it’s a start. Instead he dreams about owls and crows and the pieces of bone he found in the fertilizer.

Harvest ends. Josh has been here…how many months now? At least half a year. With radio silence from his family, he feels closer to the Joseph’s than his own flesh and blood.

It’s starting to cool down a little. Still humid as hell, but at night it’s bearable. The sound of tractors and combines slowly starts to be replaced by cicadas and crows as the days progress.

Josh tries to stay outside as much as he can. It’s comforting, even if he’s sweating the second he steps foot out the door. It’s calming. He feeds the horses, checks on the cows. Tries to think about anything but Tyler laying out on the back deck with a popsicle in his mouth and his eyes locked on him.

Chris and Kelly are back. It means things need to be reeled in. They’re not dating. They’re not “married,” like Tyler wants them to be. It’s just…sex. Just sex. Josh isn’t going to live here forever. It’s just temporary. He’s gaining experience. He’ll go crawling back to the city, groveling to his parents about how right they were, and then curling up in his air conditioned bedroom with cable and internet.

The mere idea of it all makes him sick. But so does Tyler. Every day he doesn’t hear back from home makes him even more worried.

He finds himself wandering aimlessly. It helps sometimes. Maybe he sounds like a hippie, but he’s grown a lot closer to nature being here. More…appreciative for food, and where it comes from, and the labor it takes to harvest it.

He likes the way the chopped up cornstalks crush beneath his boot. There are a couple stray cows grazing. Josh knows there’s no way Tyler would allow Lola to join them. He’d kept such a close eye on everything she ate. Always making sure she had the best. The most.

Is Josh a bad person?

It’s lunch time. He should probably be heading back to the house. The sun is fucking hot, beating down directly on him. He can feel it through his hat, through his work shirt. Slowly sticking the fabric to him with sweat.

Something keeps him going though. Wandering. Searching. For what, he’s not sure.

He spies something across the fields. Standing very still. It’s not a human. It looks like a statue. So he stops, out of pure curiosity. Squinting through the unwavering heat.

What the hell?

Chris surely would’ve told him about scarecrows, right? He knows he’s never seen this one before. He’s actually never seen any scarecrows in the fields. Harvest is…nearly over, too. What would they even be protecting? It’s standing in nothing but churned up dirt and scraps of cornstalks.

Dressed like any normal scarecrow would be. Flannel, a straw hat, bits and pieces of hay poking through the clothes. There are crows perched on it, though. Unafraid. Almost mocking its existence. Josh tilts his head and sees something else.

Who would’ve thought that a scarecrow’s pose looks so similar to Jesus on the cross. Months ago he would’ve never made the connection. Does this make him devout now?

Something reeks the closer he gets. The slaughterhouse isn’t that close by, is it? God, it’s unbearable. Josh tugs his shirt over his nose. He should just leave it alone. Maybe it has meat on it to attract the crows or something. They’re omnivores, aren’t they?

Then he’s staring straight up at it and realizing that it’s not a scarecrow at all, and that his comparison to Jesus was a little too on the nose.

It’s a person strung up on this cross.

It takes Josh a good couple of seconds to realize who it is though. Through the initial shock, the disgust. The confusion. The blood rushing from his face.

That’s his fucking brother. That’s Jordan. Dead.

Josh sways where he stands. His head rushes. He can’t stop staring. Maybe he’s mistaken it for someone else. No. No. That’s him. He’d know his face anywhere, even decomposing in the Ohio heat. What the fuck?

Hung like a totem, arms nailed to boards and legs tied to the base. Rotting for God knows how long. Josh can barely even recognize the face. Where his eyes would’ve been are two gouged holes, oozing congealed blood that has since erupted itself from his mouth and nose as well. A knitted scarf lazily tries to cover up the gash in his throat. He’s too far into the stages of decomposition for this to have been fresh. Body bloated. Face swollen.

Josh vomits in the grass. The smell overwhelms him. He wants to cry, he wants to scream. The closer he gets, the louder the sound of buzzing flies becomes. Pieces of flesh and organs dripping down off the post and into the crops below. The wood is stained red. It’s an old body. Terribly old. How did he not see this? How the fuck did he not see this before?

Jordan. Jordan. He hadn’t seen him in so long. Now he’s dead. Do his parents know where he went? Did they send him here?

Josh gathers himself enough to stumble to the house, wiping bile off his chin. It’s sick. Fucking sick. And it sure as hell wasn’t an accident. This was targeted.
Chris is sitting at the dining room table, enjoying what looks like a bologna sandwich. Tyler is helping his mother with dishes and Josh is a fucking mess. He slams the back door open, doesn’t bother

“Josh, my goodness. You’re pale as a ghost, sweetheart. What’s happened?” Kelly doesn’t question his sudden appearance and instead rushes over, touching his forehead with the back of her hand.

Josh swallows, feeling woozy. “What the fuck is wrong with you people?” He blurts out, backing away from her.

There’s a wave of shock, of…distrust that ripples through the family.

“Josh,” Kelly soothes, “calm down, now. Tell us what happened.”

Tyler dries his hands off and slinks away, but not without catching Josh’s eye.

What do you know?

“There’s a fucking-my brother-is fucking dead, in YOUR field,” Josh chokes out. “You-you did this. You…” he’s ushered into a chair.

“Settle down, boy. Nothin’ good comes from all this overreactin’.”

He feels tears prick his eyes and really, really tries to keep it together. He still can’t believe it. His brother. Jordan. The last time he saw him was through his rearview window as he pulled out in his truck.

“In the fields,” he starts, running a hand over his face, “there’s a scarecrow. But it’s not a scarecrow. It’s a person-it’s my fucking brother.” He takes a shaking deep breath. “He’s dead. He’s dead.”

“I know there’s been some real troublemakers runnin’ around lately,” Kelly says with a huff, “they always do this, ‘specially ‘round Halloween. Could it be them?”

Is she stupid?

“I need to call the police.” Josh stands, ignoring her. “I’m-“ he remembers the lack of service. “I’m going to the police. I’ll just go, and-and tell them what happened and bring them here.”

Chris finally stands, wiping his hands on his work trousers. “Take me to where ya found him first.” He nods, and Josh gets up, leading him outside. He feels like he’s walking himself into a trap. A fucking trap.

It’s suffocating outside. Humid. Hotter than hell. Perfect weather for decomposition and bloat. Josh tries not to think about the flies that have already laid eggs inside of Jordan’s corpse.

This is the field that him and Tyler fucked in, he realizes. It’s too familiar.

It’s the corn maze.

Stalks chewed up by the tractor, it’s almost unrecognizable. If not for the stark circle of dirt in the middle where Jordan’s body stands tall. The crows stare down at them defiantly. Waiting. Daring them to touch what they’ve already claimed as theirs.

Chris stands and stares, hard-faced. “Been here a while,” he notes, wrinkling his nose at the flies.

Josh clenches his jaw. “I don’t even know how he found this place. Or how this…” he shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

“Your guess’s as good as mine.” Chris adjusts the hat on his head. “Best if we don’t cause a stir, though.”

“What?” Josh almost laughs. “No. We need to call the police. I need to-to go home, God, I-“

“Listen, Josh.” Suddenly he’s very, very scared. “I’ve seen this sorta thing before. It leads to nothin’ but trouble. Evidence gets ruined, those damn cops tramp around like they own the place. Nothin’ ever gets solved. Buncha pigs.”

“This has happened before?” What the fuck?

Chris sighs. “Couple miles down. Family found their son like this.” He purses his lips. “Cops came in, arrested the father. Anyone coulda seen it wasn’t him. They just like havin’ someone responsible, even if it’s not true.”

Josh is swallowing down bile and just manages to choke out, “So. What are we going to do then?”

There’s a flash of pity in Chris’ eyes. It’s weird. To see him so…empathetic.

“I’m askin’ you, man-to-man.” He claps Josh on the shoulder. “I know it’s rough. I’m real sorry this even happened to ya. But for the sake of us, for yourself, we gotta take this into our own hands.”

Josh stares at the ground. “What about my family? My mom? Jesus…I don’t even know if she knows he’s gone.”

“You can call her, if ya need.”

Huh?

“I thought your landline was broken,” he says.

Chris shakes his head. “I fixed it a while ago. Guess I just forgot to tell you. That’s my bad.”

There’s a phone. A working phone. He can call the cops. Get the fuck out of here. Get Jordan out of here.

“Don’t do anythin’ rash,” Chris tells him last minute. Catches him by the arm HARD and squeezes.

He just nods. Maybe they didn’t do this, but there’s no way he’s going to argue when he’s seen Chris’ butchering skills. A man fiercely protective over his land. Maybe Jordan was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But to erect such a gruesome pillar of death? To turn him into something like this?

Focus, Josh. You’re not a detective.

He has to mourn within the five minutes it takes to get back to the house. Every emotion possible courses through him. He has to suck it up and seem normal, because if his mom thinks something’s wrong, what’s stopping her from coming over here and meeting the same fate?

Tyler’s gone. Kelly’s wringing the dish towel in her hands. “Oh, Josh,” she says, her voice thick with emotion for him. “I’m so sorry, honey.”

He’s wordless as he walks to the landline. His hands shake as he punches in the landline number. The phone rings once, twice. Three times.

“Hello?”

“Hey. Hi. Hi, mom,” Josh says, almost breathless.

“Oh my God! Hi Josh!” His mom says. God, he missed the sound of her voice. “It’s been so long since we’ve heard from you, hon. You haven’t replied to any of our letters.”

Letters?

Josh fakes a laugh. “Oh. They might’ve gotten lost in the mail,” he says, “I haven’t gotten anything out here.”

His mom sighs. “Well. Your brother just left for a road trip to see his girlfriend in Minnesota. Said he might swing by the farm and say hi to you. I don’t know if he had the right address though.”

Josh feels himself pale. “I haven’t see him. Must’ve been too excited to see her and skipped me.” He’s lying. Jordan is dead and he’s lying to his mom about it to protect a family he’s known less than a year. “It’s kind of hard to find us out here anyway.”

“Really? Hm. I haven’t heard from him in a bit. Maybe I should come out and visit you then,” she jokes.

“No, no, you don’t need to do that.” Josh laughs along with her but feels his fucking heart drop. “Don’t want you to get lost or anything.”

“All right, all right. I’ll call Jess anyway and see if he made it to her place, then. How are you doing otherwise? Having fun? Working hard?” Why did he ever leave?

“Yeah,” he says, “working hard. We just got done with harvest a little bit ago.” Somehow it feels like leaving his family was more of a mistake than a blessing.

“Oh wow. What did you harvest?”

“Just corn. Some beans. They get turned to feed for pigs and stuff. And the Joseph’s have a small sweet corn patch.”

“Fun. Is it just you and them there? No other farmhands?”

“Nah,” Josh lets out a breathless laugh. “Just me. Kelly and Chris, and their son Tyler.”

“Oh! They have a son? Do you two get along?”

You could say that. “Yeah. We’re pretty close now. He’s my age, so…”

“That’s nice. I’m glad you’ve got someone. Any girls?”

“Ha. No. No girls…” how the fuck am I supposed to tell you your son is dead? He clears his throat. “Okay, uh, sorry, mom, I have to go-“

“Oh, okay, okay. I’ll let you go, hon. I love you. Hopefully I’ll see you soon?”

Josh swallows thickly. “I love you too.”

The line goes dead. Kelly isn’t behind him anymore. Where she went, or when she left, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t really care. Why did it have to be something like this that finally allowed him to speak to his mom?

His fingers go back to the buttons. They hover over 911. He’s punching them in before he realizes what’s happening. He has to. He needs to do this.

The line rings once, twice. Then falls silent. Josh frowns. Dials it again. No rings. Nothing but silence. He tries a third time. Nothing. Was the phone call with his mom even real?

He slams the phone back onto the receiver. Fuck this.

He’s leaving.

Josh walks back to the barn numbly. Everything about the morning has been ruined. Every blade of grass knows something. Every fucking tree and clump of dirt saw what happened. He knows it. He’s going to get in his truck, speed out of the driveway and never fucking come back. That’s that. He can’t do this.

Until he actually approaches his truck.

“No fucking way,” he says out loud, eyes glazing over. He freezes where he stands. “There’s no fucking way.”

Josh’s tires have been slashed. His feels his vision blur. God knows when this could’ve happened. Maybe they deflated on their own. He kneels down, praying for the best, but the gashes in the rubber only confirm what he’s afraid of. All four. Clearly the work of a knife, or something similar.

Too suspicious. Too connected. This doesn’t feel real. Is he dreaming again? He’s going to wake up in that fucking attic, isn’t he?

He straightens up and Chris is behind him. Is everyone in this family just an expert at sneaking around? It makes him jump out of surprise.

“Shit,” Chris says.

“Shit,” Josh echoes hollowly.

“Figures they’d get you too.” Chris shakes his head. “Someone put sugar in my gas tank,” he grumbles. “Been trying to get it out all mornin’. Thought it was just me. Happens every once in a while when teenagers come to visit their grandparents for the summer.“

“So, what, I’m just supposed to…” he swallows thickly. “What? Leave my brother? I can’t even go home?”

“No. No. We’ll figure somethin’ out. Just…we’ll figure somethin’ out.”

Stranded. Stuck here. He’s trying not to freak out. He’s trying not to think of how all of this is way too intertwined. How convenient, huh?

He walks back to the house with Chris, and his ears are ringing too much to hear what he’s saying. Something about new tires. Something about his truck. He doesn’t even care. What’s the point anymore? He’s never getting out of here, is he?

Everyone tiptoes around him. Kelly dotes on him like he’s her own, like she’s always done. It feels weirder now, though.

“We’ll give him a good burial,” Kelly promises him gently, “somethin’ real special.”

“He shouldn’t be buried here,” Josh spits. Why is he so defensive? “This isn’t his home. He doesn’t…deserve this. Any of this.” He looks away because he’s about to start crying.

She just pulls him into a silent hug he can’t be bothered to return.

They bury him at the edge of the woods, next to the grazing field. Josh can’t even help. He can’t stop gagging. The flies, they don’t leave for the sanctity of this makeshift funeral. The heat doesn’t waver for him. He can’t stop time.

Pieces of him missing. The clothes he’s wearing aren’t even his own. Josh knows that. He knows. How long was he left to nature’s devices? How many animals are walking around with pieces of Jordan digesting in their stomachs?

Instead of dwelling on that, he watches his only brother get covered in dirt, next to the shrine Tyler had put together for Lola. Her pink bow is weathered now. Will Jordan get a cross? Would he have wanted that? Maybe in his final moments he cried out to God. To be saved by Jesus. Maybe taking his last breath he experienced what no living person will and was accepted into His loving arms.

Or maybe he just died a cruel and heartless fucking death.

“Do you wanna say anythin’?”

“No,” Josh chokes out. “I can’t.” He turns away, covers his mouth with his hand but it doesn’t stop the bile that seeps through his fingers.

There’s quiet. Then there’s the sound of shovels hitting dirt. Dirt hitting Jordan. Dirt hitting dirt. Being packed down. Worms will get him soon. Maybe even now. Maggots. Flies. Eggs. Rebirth. Nature will digest him. Josh will never see him again.

There’s a bundle of honeysuckle laid on the grave. A cross shoved into the dirt. Some Bible verses muttered by Chris because it’s the least he can do.

The Josephs leave Josh to grieve by himself, and he can’t even find the words to say. What was his last conversation with Jordan? He doesn’t even remember. It feels weird to try and talk to him now. There’s nothing to say.

“I’m sorry,” is all he can manage. Sorry for leaving. Sorry for never calling. Sorry for unintentionally leading him to his death. It’s his fault. He has to take accountability. He did this.

“…Josh.”

Tyler’s behind him. Of course he is. Josh is getting better at sensing his presence. He can’t sneak around for much longer.

“Hi,” Josh says. He doesn’t turn around. He keeps staring at the freshly churned dirt as if Jordan might crawl out and yell “surprise! You fell for the prank.”

“Let’s walk around,” Tyler offers. “Fresh air.”

It’s the first good idea he’s heard in months.

They’re silent. They walk in step down the driveway and it’s only when the house is out of sight that Tyler slips his hand into Josh’s. His eyes are trained on the ground.

“Sorry,” he says under his breath.

“Stop,” Josh mutters. Tyler squeezes his hand three times anyway. “I don’t wanna think about it right now.”

“It’s okay. He’s…he’s with God now. He’s gonna-gonna be saved. By Him.”

“He died a violent death that probably could’ve been avoided,” Josh snaps. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Tyler doesn’t say anything else.

The sun sets on them. They walk down the gravel until the house is hidden by trees. Josh has lost the concept of time. Has it been hours? Minutes? Tyler stops in front of a ditch. How the hell does he manage to walk on gravel barefoot? Josh is desperately trying to find anything to think about that isn’t Jordan.

“Your kitty’s here,” Tyler says.

Josh snaps out of his brain fog. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about until that fucking cat pops out of the brush, tail high. That cat who welcomed him here all those months ago. Snuggled up to him in the hayloft.

It chirps in greeting. He wants to cry. He lets out a shaking huff and drops to a squat. The cat trots over to him. Brushes up against him. Purrs. Josh could cry. He blinks back tears and picks the cat up. She nuzzles under his chin.

“Did you know?” He asks, “that she was here?”

Tyler shrugs and makes a face. “No.” He doesn’t like cats. Josh remembers. He watches him take a step back, rubbing his nose.

“…we should get going back,” Josh offers. He should name the cat.

“Oh. Yeah. ‘Kay.” Tyler hesitates like he wants to say more, but starts off towards the house instead.

Josh carries the cat back to the farm, but she wriggles free from his arms as a flock of disturbed crows take flight from the fields next to them. She sprints off into the grass, into the trees.

That’s normal, he tells himself. She’s a wild cat. She’s a stray, that’s what they do. They wander. He’s just glad she’s safe. That’s all he could ask for, really. She might be just another animal on this farm, but to him, she’s the closest thing he has to normalcy. Reminds him of the shelter cats he used to volunteer with in middle school. Eager to love, desperate for affection and maybe a few table scraps if they’re lucky.

Kind of like Tyler, the back of his mind says.

Shut up.

That night, he’s told to get some rest. To try and forget about today. Pray. Talk to God. He picks at the food on his plate. He wants to scoff and say that this was something that would be permanently etched in his mind for years to come, but instead he nods and slumps upstairs to bathe without touching his dinner.

Something about staying in Tyler’s brother’s old bedroom makes his heart ache. Everything comes rushing back. Memories. Childhood dreams, hopes for the future shared beneath pillow forts and firefly-filled night skies.

That’s gone now. You’re an adult and your brother isn’t ever coming back. Josh wants to crawl into a hole and never come back out.

What happened to Zack? Tyler said he…left? Josh doesn’t remember. Tyler loves to lie. Maybe Zack died in the same way. Maybe he’s buried somewhere on this farm and Josh would have to lose his mind churning through the earth to find out the truth.

But he finds Tyler instead. Slinking around like he’s carrying information that no one else knows. It’s instant. The anger. He’s either in deep sorrow or out for blood.

Josh catches him by the arm, yanks him close.

“I know you know what happened,” he hisses, grabbing Tyler by the shoulders. “I fucking know you do. Tell me. NOW. Tyler. Don’t-don’t fucking lie to me.”

Tyler’s eyes are wide, searching his, eyebrows furrowing. He’s in nothing but an oversized shirt and his boxers. He’s instantly afraid. Instantly submissive. Instantly…innocent.

“I dunno-what-what you’re sayin’,” he says, bottom lip trembling. His voice cracks. He searches Josh’s face like he hasn’t studied it a thousand times before. Like Josh is a predator. An outsider.

“You’re hurtin’ me,” he say softly.

…

You’re hurting me.

You’re hurting him.

Josh lets go. Steps back because he’s not…right. He’s not okay. Everything’s wrong. Everything’s going wrong. His brother is dead and he’s hurting Tyler. No, he already hurt Tyler. “I’m sorry,” he croaks, “fuck. I’m sorry.”

Tyler starts to sink to his knees. Timid. Maybe it’s all an act. “I can…um-“

“No.” Josh runs a hand over his face. “Jesus, no. Just-get up.”

Tyler hesitates.

“Get up!” He’s never yelled like this before. At anyone. Ever. Tyler flinches, scrambles to his feet. He shouldn’t have yelled. Chris and Kelly probably heard that.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, voice cracking.

“I wanna make you feel better,” Tyler tries. The only way he knows how. God. Josh is an asshole. Of course he’d want to…God.

“I know,” he croaks, “I’m sorry. I know.” Sighs, runs a hand over his face. He feels like he gained thirty years in one day.

Tyler watches him with those stupid fucking eyes. The same eyes of the deer he spies at the edges of the forest. The same eyes of the owl that watched him sleep in the barn. The same eyes as those fucking crows and their taunting caterwauls.

“Okay,” he says. “Come to my room.”

Josh swallows every little whimper Tyler has and hides his face in the crook of his neck while he fucks him to keep the tears rolling down his cheeks to himself. But he knows Tyler can feel it. The warmth, the wetness. He’s ignoring it, and for that, Josh is grateful. He needs this distraction. It’s the only thing keeping him grounded. A warm body. A beating heart. Something living around here that isn’t going to be strung up or die in some horrific way.

“If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be,” Tyler whispers against his mouth. “It ain’t pretty like the movies,” he continues, “it’s ugly, Josh. Ugly. Wicked.”

Life isn’t fair, is what Josh gets from that.

“I don’t care,” he says back, choking on the lump in his throat. Struggling to speak. Tyler caresses his face, wipes his tears. Kisses them away.

“God loves you,” he murmurs. “I love you.”

And Josh laughs at him.

Chapter Text

Harvest is nearly over. Winter will be coming. The time for canning goods and preserving meat for the harsh cold.

Josh wakes up every morning with tears in his eyes and a heart racing. Every dream is a nightmare. Filled with the same image.

Jordan.

A voice rings through his head so much it hurts, telling him that it’s his fault. He’s learned to tune it out.

Somehow it sounds just like Tyler.

“They did to me what I wouldn’t do to anybody,” Tyler whispers to him. “You know that?”

Sitting on Josh’s bed, in the dark. Dusk, actually. Slivers of light creeping in through the closed blinds. It’s never not dusty in here. After dinner, it’s like all restraints are lifted for the both of them.

“I think you’d do a lot to anybody,” Josh replies.

“You know me that good?”

“I know you’re a liar,” he says, leaning forward. Their foreheads touch, noses brushing. Tyler flushes in the dimness. He hums.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. Doesn’t deny it. “Easy to hate, easy to blame. Everythin’ I’ve loved, I’ve loved it straight to death, Josh.”

“You’ve loved before?” What? Is he jealous? Get it together, Josh.

Tyler laughs. “Not like you. Not like…how it is with you. I know you.” He reaches forward, trails his fingers down Josh’s bicep. “I know you from your footsteps on the floor. From how ya knock. I know you.” Smiling. He’s never been so happy with anyone the way he is with Josh.

“When I’m six feet under and the bugs start eatin’ my brain, they’ll know your name.” He licks his lips. “I’m a bad person, Josh.”

“No one’s perfect.”

“Don’t play dumb.” Tyler shakes his head. “You’re imperfect. I’m…ruined.”

Any other day and he’d agree. Tyler is ruined. Ruined by his past, his present, his future. Ruined by his parents, his siblings. But Josh cards his fingers through Tyler’s hair instead and kisses his head. Nothing’s felt real for the past week. Nothing. The only thing left for Josh that feels tangible is Tyler. Crazy, odd, ruined Tyler.

“You wanna fuck me?” Tyler asks, popping the bubble of thought.

“No,” Josh answers. His eyes still trail down Tyler’s throat anyway. He can hear both of their breathing. Soft and steady. It’s like Tyler’s trying to match his to Josh’s.

Tyler sticks his tongue through his teeth for a second. Hesitating. Processing. “Okay,” he finally says. He puts a tentative hand on Josh’s thigh. “Kiss me?” And looks up with those doe eyes.

Josh nods. Leans forward and lets Tyler devour him. He’s never kissed anyone like Tyler.

“I want you to be honest with me one day,” he says, soft against Tyler’s lips. He can’t bear to make eye contact. But he tries.

Tyler stiffens. “Why,” he deadpans. A nerve has been struck. He’s not dizzy in love. He’s pulling back. Just like in the hayloft.

“Why not?”

It takes him a long time to look up at Josh. “‘Cause. I’ve…been honest. You think I been lyin’ to you?” There’s something darker in his eyes. That same kind of darkness Josh saw when Lola died. Something he can’t even begin to understand.

“I don’t lie to you,” Tyler continues. He scratches at his face. “I know I…ain’t the most truthful most the time.” His voice quiets. “But I don’t lie to you.”

Why was that such a hard hit?

“Okay,” Josh tells him. “I believe you.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.” He moves Tyler’s hand from his face and replaces it with his own. “I do. Because I trust you.”

Tyler’s face falls. “You’re gonna regret that,” he says thickly. “I should stop talkin’. I’m sorry.” He shakes his head. “Sorry.”

He looks towards the window.

“Come outside with me.”

Josh watches him for a moment. A few moments. What is he supposed to do with that? How is he supposed to know anything about Tyler if every answer is different? Is there something he’s not realizing? He’s lost. It’s not effortless, loving him. It’s push and pull. Every day is a different fight he just can’t seem to figure out the right answers to.

Maybe it was wrong to pursue this. He should’ve kept it platonic.

Tyler takes him by the hand and leads him outside. Sunset is beautiful out here. The fields are bare. Ready to be grazed upon by the cows and in turn churned up and fertilized for planting in the spring. The weather hasn’t started to cool just yet. Josh thinks that Tyler would walk around barefoot regardless of rain or shine.

Faint cawing can be heard. The occasional pig’s squeal. A few moos. But they’re not normal. Tyler balks at them. Freezes in place, head whipping around to find the source. These aren’t cries of bored farm animals. They’re dying.

“Tyler?”

“No.” Tyler shakes his head. “Daddy…” he covers his ears at the sound of a gun.

“When he gets mad,” he mumbles, “mad at me. Takes it out on the animals.” His eyes glaze over. “Should be seen and not heard.” Jaw clenched anxiously, fingers rubbing over the cross around his neck. “We’re not so different from them, are we?” His free hand grabs onto Josh’s again.

The squealing starts back up, and he squeezes his eyes shut. “Ain’t even killin’ for food. Killin’ just to kill.”

“I thought-“

“Me and Daddy don’t share the same beliefs, Josh. You know I’d never kill for the sake of killin’.” But he doesn’t make eye contact when he says it.

They can hear the cawing of chickens being rounded up. He drags Josh into the barn. Nearly blind, free hand haphazardly covering his face. There’s no way Chris would just do this to punish Tyler. But…part of him can believe it. He’s most likely preparing for winter, and using it as punishment.

The smell of old hay and dirt is familiar. Josh hasn’t been in here in a while. No need to be.

Tyler slams the door behind them, forces them onto the ground. Knees digging into the earth and hay.

His voice shakes. He sounds like he’s scrambling for something to say. “Pray with me,” he says, grasping for Josh’s hands. “Pray. Let’s pray, Josh. Okay? For the animals.” He swallows thickly, hands shaking as he presses his rosary between their palms.

“Our Father, who art in heaven-“

Josh can hear the sounds of a gun going off, an axe cracking through sinew. Broken howls, rustling of bodies against bodies trying to escape imminent death. “-hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done. On earth as it is in heaven.”

Tyler flinches every time it comes down, and he holds Josh’s hands so hard the rosary beads dig into his skin. “Please. Josh,” he begs, “you’re not praying.”

“Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses-“ his voice cracks, “-as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.”

He looks up with tears in his eyes and finally meets Josh’s gaze. “Amen.”

“It’s okay,” Josh tries.

“It’s not okay,” Tyler snaps, eyes widening. “It’s never okay to kill like this, Josh.” He grabs Josh’s face, fingers in his hair, running over the stubble on his jaw. Feeling, touching, searching. “You understand?”

No, he’s doesn’t understand. Tyler’s morals will be something he doesn’t ever understand.

“Yeah,” he lies, “okay. I understand.”

Tyler deflates. “Good. I knew you would. You’re good. You’re a good man. You’re so good, Josh.” He lets out a breathless laugh. “I love ya.” He blinks back his tears and kisses him before he can say anything else.

Josh sits there with him for a little bit. Listening to his breathing. Once everything finally stops. It’s sort of…peaceful, actually. His fingers fiddling with the buttons on Josh’s flannel. Eyes closed. Breathing steadying.

He finally takes Josh by the hand again and leads him out of the barn. It’s quiet. Really, really quiet. Even the bugs seemed to have gone silent in mourning for the lives just taken. Weird, how nature does that. Knows that.

Tyler stops in front of the bushes on the side of the barn.

“Oh. They’re so scared,” he whispers shakily. “Poor things. I didn’t even think about ‘em seein’ that.”

“Who?” Josh looks around, frowning.

He crouches down into the gravel. “The crows.”

Oh. Right.

Josh can just barely see some of them, heads peeking out from underneath the shrubbery. Hopping about cautiously. A few timid chirps break the silence. Those fucking crows. He’d almost forgotten the weird relationship Tyler has with them. The back-and-forth nature of their habits.

“They’re sent down to me,” Tyler says. He inches closer, hand outstretched. “From God, y’know.”

“From God?”

“From…someone up there.” He seems to hesitate when questioned like this. He sticks a finger out, watches one of the crows hop towards him. It realizes he has nothing to offer and ruffles its feathers. “They know me.”

“How did you figure out they uh,” Josh watches one peck the ground. Looks dirty. “Liked you?”

Tyler runs a finger over one’s head. “They’re smart. Real smart. All animals are smart, Josh. Everyone just thinks ‘cause they can’t talk that they’re not smart.” He seems to harden. “They’re smart.”

He hands Josh a pebble. Perfectly smooth. “Just hold it out. They’ll come to ya.” He doesn’t really want it to come to him, but he holds the rock out anyway, in the middle of his hand.

He watches the bird cock its head as it notices what’s being offered. It approaches cautiously. Josh is different. Josh isn’t the one usually giving them gifts. He’s new. The crow leaves tiny footprints in the dirt. It hops to him, reaches forward slowly before snatching the pebble from his hand.

“Good,” Tyler whispers. There are stars in his eyes, like this is a test and Josh has just passed with flying colors. “Perfect. Look at ya. They love you.”

Josh chuckles. “They’re a lot friendlier than the owl I’ve seen around here.”

There’s a pregnant pause. He looks over to see Tyler’s face hardened.

“I don’t like that owl,” he mumbles.

Oh. That’s right. Again. Josh really has to start remembering things. It’s sort of hard when he wakes up in a cold sweat every night imagining his brother nailed to a cross.

Josh clears his throat. “I haven’t seen it for a bit, anyway,” he says hurriedly. “So. Probably flew off or something.”

“Oh.” Tyler nods. He stares at the crows hopping around. “Yeah. Probably.”

You fucked it up again, Josh.

Every step forward is proceeded by ten steps back. There’s no winning. Tyler is a tightrope Josh has been precariously balancing on for months now. One wrong move and he’s falling down and forgotten. Shut out. He’ll never figure out what makes Tyler tick at this rate, forever stuck in the dark and climbing back up to try again.

It’s a daunting, terrifying thought.

The next morning, Tyler comes downstairs into the kitchen looking like he’d broken into his sister’s makeup.

Everyone seems to stop what they’re doing to eye him.

“Josh,” he says. Timid and sweet and very…odd. “Would you like to come to the church with me?” His lashes are fuller. There’s something rubbed on his eyelids-glitter? Lip gloss on his mouth. What is this?

Josh looks between Kelly and Chris, mouth full of eggs. “Uh.”

“To pray,” Tyler adds. He smiles. Bats his eyelashes. Like a girl asking for a date.

To pray?

Kelly acts busy. Chris gives him a short nod of approval but doesn’t look up from the newspaper he’s reading. “Won’t need you today,” he says gruffly.

“Sure,” Josh finally says. “That’s…fine.” Why is no one perturbed by this? One glance and they decide that it’s normal? Whatever. He shovels the rest of the food into his mouth and pushes away from the breakfast nook without making further eye contact with Kelly or Chris.

They hold hands on the walk to the church. The abandoned church. Alone. Josh tries not to feel weird about it. He knows he can overpower Tyler, but why is his mind even entertaining the idea that he’s about to walk into his death? Tyler wouldn’t do anything like that.

…

Right?

Even overgrown, it’s still beautiful. Existing among nature, the church is now part of it. They have to shove the door to get it open. No one’s been here for months. A layer of dust sits on everything. Not a single thing has been touched. Every hymn book in the pews, the Bible on the altarpiece. The statue of Jesus carved into the marble still staring down at them as their feet creak on the wooden floor.

If there wasn’t a moldy, severed rope still hanging from the ceiling rafters, Josh would almost think it’s beautiful in here.

Tyler’s been awfully quiet ever since they stepped foot in here. Josh opens his mouth to speak, turning right as their bodies bumps into each other.

Wrong move.

Tyler’s mouth is on his. Hot, wet. Needy. He’s so good at that. Pouncing on what he wants and taking it with zero regard. Josh shoves him off, holds him by the arms. Keeps him at that length. Keeps the distance safe.

“Tyler,” he says between panting breaths, “no. No. What are you doing?”

Tyler swallows thick, hands on his chest. Ignoring the space, trying to destroy it. “Why not,” he breathes. He’s flushed. Eyes searching Josh’s.

“Because we’re-in a church,” Josh spits, “it’s not…right.” So it was a trap. He should’ve known.

“Is it a sin to worship someone you love?”

“Like this,” he watches Tyler, heart racing, “yes. Yeah. We-if you wanted to do this, you could’ve just, you know.” He feels his face heat up. “Asked.”

“I never said I was pure inside, Josh.” He says it like it’s a burden. He wasn’t made for this. Josh wonders if he’s just trying to drag him down on this sinking ship. “Never was good at askin’ for permission.” He looks to the ground, playing with the hem of his t-shirt. “Better at beggin’ for forgiveness.”

“You…said we were going to pray,” Josh mumbles. Tyler freezes.

“Yeah.” The sunlight through the cracked windows is almost stifling. Moldy. Covered in vines. The wood floor creak under their weight. They never got a new priest. This place is abandoned, left to the elements like so many other properties down this road. “Yeah. We are gonna pray.”

Tyler swallows thickly. “Get on your knees.”

It’s so fucking hot in here.

“Yeah.” He watches Josh sink to his knees. Almost amazed that he’s in control. He licks his lips. “Gimme your hands. We’ll do it again. You remember it, don’t ya?”

Josh lets his warm hands be enveloped by Tyler’s own cold ones. “Our Father,” he starts.

“Our Father,” Josh repeats, voice strained. Is this really happening right now? Surely this isn’t sexual. Tyler has a power complex. That’s what this is. He’s been taken advantage of his whole life, and now he’s finally able to be the one in charge of something. Of someone.

“Who art in Heaven.”

He swallows the lump in his throat. “Who art in Heaven.”

“Hallowed be thy name.” Tyler’s eyes flutter closed. He’s incredibly hard. Josh can feel it.

“Hallowed be thy name.”

“Thy kingdom come.”

Tyler mouths the words along with Josh as he repeats them, like he’s testing him. Making sure he’s saying every word right.

“Thy will be done. On Earth as it is in Heaven.” His voice keeps tapering off, like he wants to say something else at the end of each verse, but keeps it to himself. It’s hot. The whole church. Tyler. Tyler’s skin. His hands-for once-burn Josh’s.

“Give us this day, our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.”

“And lead us not into temptation,” Tyler sucks in a breath, letting it out as a shaking whimper. “But deliver us from evil…now…now and at the hour of our death.”

This is wrong.

He lets out a shuddering breath. The coldness of Tyler that once surrounded him is now burning hot. Like the church knows what they’re doing. Josh retracts his hands and places them atop his thighs. Tyler’s eyes are closed.

“This is good,” he breathes. “This is right. This is right, Josh.” He finally looks down, sinks down, onto his knees. “You felt it, didn’t ya?” His hand creeps up to Josh’s chest. “Inside.” There are tears in his eyes. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

What, getting horny in a church? Josh feels sick. He’s still not sure if he believes in God, but there’s something to be said about what’s just happened. It’s…dirty.

“Hey.” Tyler cups his face to regain eye contact. “Right?”

Josh stares at him. “Tyler-I don’t know if-“

“I just want to love you the only way I know how,” Tyler rasps. His makeup is melting. “You’re all I got, Josh.”

“I know.” He’ll never understand Tyler. This must be the moment that he finally realizes it. He’ll never truly know the rhyme or reason for Tyler’s actions. He’ll forever be catching up, always out of reach.

“You’ve stayed longer than anyone else ever has,” Tyler continues. “You been there. Always. For me.” He swallows thickly, wipes his eye and mascara streaks onto his face. “No one’s ever treated me like you do.” He smiles, but it’s not happy.

“You’re nice. And you…you look at me so sweet. You’re everythin’, Josh. You don’t pull my hair, either. Or hit me.” He blinks tears out of his clouded eyes. “I never met a man who didn’t fuckin’ hit me,” he whispers.

“We should go back home,” Josh says. This is bad. He places his hand over Tyler’s and it’s cold again. Home. Why is he calling it home?

The dust settles back around them the longer they sit. Josh doesn’t want to become a part of this history. He brings Tyler to his feet. “C’mon.”

Tyler follows him like a ghost. Feet shuffling along the dirt road. They hold hands-for Josh, mainly to keep track of Tyler. What shocks him the most is how…late it already is.

They couldn’t have been in there for more than an hour. Why does it feel so late? Josh looks at his watch. It’s almost four o’clock. Four o’clock? They left…this morning. Just a little after breakfast. Tyler doesn’t seem to notice. But why bother asking him. He’s lost in his own head right now.

Josh feels lost in his own right. Fucking lost. What day is it? What month? Has he been here longer than he once thought? Is this some sort of prank?

Just what the hell happened in that church?

Tyler isn’t at dinner. Josh doesn’t know where he’s been since they came back from church. He wandered off and for Josh, it was a good thing. He needed to take all of that in. Alone.

Maybe Tyler’s realized how fucked up that was and is trying to fix himself. That’s mean. That’s a mean thought, Josh. Tyler doesn’t need to be fixed.

Or is it that you just don’t want to admit you can’t fix him. And therefore he is unfixable?

He’s antsy. Chris and Kelly can surely tell because they don’t say anything when he eats quickly, excuses himself early, and leaves out the back door while muttering about something he forgot in his truck.

It’s already dark out by the time he finds Tyler. Dinner wasn’t at the usual time. Chris had come home later. Everything falls a little too into place here.

But Tyler. Tyler…is at the edge of the property, next to the trees. Josh finds him hunched over.

God. What is he doing. No. No.

“What are you doing?”

It startles him. Rightfully so.

Tyler looks at him like a captured animal. Dirt smeared on his face. Crumbling from his lips and dirtying his chin. It’s caked beneath his fingernails, hiding in the grooves of his palms. Packed down against his knees. He’s been digging into the soil.

“Nothin’,” he croaks. Even in the night his eyes are unmistakable. Wide and wild.

Not nothing.

Josh feels his vision blur. It takes absolutely everything in him not to fucking snap. “Let’s go back inside,” he coaxes as gently as possible. His jaw clenches. That’s his brother. That’s where his fucking brother is buried. The grass hasn’t even gotten to grow over the dirt and Tyler’s already trying to rip the stitches out of this gaping wound.

Tyler hesitates. “Okay.”

Josh holds his hand this time. Pulls him back to the house in the dead of night. He doesn’t even need the moon or the lampposts anymore. He knows this place. Better than his own home now. He doesn’t have a home anywhere else but here anymore. This is his home.

They stumble through the back door, Tyler tracking dirt onto the tile through the kitchen. Up the stairs. This poor bathroom has witnessed more than enough breakdowns since Josh arrived.

He wonders how many preceded him.

Josh peels the dirt-caked clothing off of Tyler and lets it pile onto the floor. Something feels so wrong about seeing him naked like this. He’s…vulnerable. Volatile.

He draws a bath with glassy eyes, replaying the scene in his mind. What the fuck. What the fuck.

Bubbles. Soap. Shampoo. Hot water. Don’t forget the bubbles.

Tyler was eating the dirt covering Jordan’s dead body. Tyler stares at him like a scolded child. Tyler slinks into the bathtub wordlessly.

Something’s wrong. Something’s been wrong. Josh needs to start paying attention.

He strips his own clothing off and eases into the bath, eyes on Tyler’s shaking form across from him. Shielded by bubbles he insisted upon. The water is brown in seconds from the dirt, now turning to mud at the bottom of the porcelain.

“I’m sorry,” Tyler mumbles.

“It’s okay.” It’s not okay. Why would you do that? Why would you do that? What the fuck is wrong with you? “I just…am a little confused.”

Tyler doesn’t answer.

“Do you know something you’re not telling me?”

“No,” Tyler snaps, dirty fists covering his eyes. “I don’t know. I didn’t-l. I didn’t.”

“Okay,” Josh feels bile rise in his throat. That’s a lie. “That’s okay. It’s okay. Stop. Stop. Tyler.” He has to reach forward and grab Tyler’s hands to pull them away from his face.

“I’m sorry,” Tyler hiccups, tears sliding through the mud on his cheeks.

“I know you are.” Josh feels sick. He’s gonna be sick. He washes Tyler’s palms. His arms. Brings him into his lap to wipe at the mess on his face with a washcloth.

“I can-“ there’s a brief rolling of the hips.

“No.” Josh clenches his jaw. His hands go to Tyler’s waist “Not tonight.”

He’s never seen him look so dejected.

“Okay,” he whispers hoarsely. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth like he’s trying not to cry again. He lets Josh wash him. Maneuver him like he’s a doll. Josh takes him out of the bath, wraps a towel around his shaking shoulders.

“Go…” Josh sucks in a breath. “Stay in your room. Tonight. Please.” He stands with his own towel wrapped around his waist and watches Tyler shuffle out of the bathroom like a kicked puppy. He feels awful doing it but he just can’t bear to fucking look at him right now. Not after that. He needs a little bit.

Fuck.

Josh towels himself off once he gets into his bedroom. Door shut. One light on-the lamp on his bedside table. Just dim enough. He needs to…deescalate what’s going on in his head right now.

He paces the strip of free space between the wall and the door. Caged in by an armoire. The bed. The closet. The boxes.

The boxes.

Yeah. Yeah, that’s…that’ll take his mind off things. He can do some snooping. Sure. He’s not sure what’s inside-if it’s all full of Zack’s belongings, or miscellaneous stuff.

He kneels in front of a stack and carefully pulls the top one down into his lap. A thick layer of dust covers the lid that he gingerly removes, grimacing. Something is scribbled on it in marker, but has been lost to time and the small holes chewed through the cardboard by mice.

Josh rifles through the box. He finds photo album after photo album. Dusty, brown-tinted photos of the Josephs. Zack and Tyler could be twins. Maddy looks so much like Kelly. There are pictures of Tyler as a baby. Something about it makes Josh sad.

Do you know what your fate is? He stares at the chubby-cheeked infant swaddled in white. True innocence. Not yet stolen.

Tiny, faded captions are scrawled on some of the Polaroids.

Christmas 1988.

Tyler and Lola. 1992.

Zack’s first shot. 1990.

It shows a young Zack holding up a dead buck’s head by its antlers. The very next picture is of Tyler feeding a doe out of his hand.

He’s always been this way.

The photos stop after 1997. Abruptly. No stray notes or scribbled memories in empty spots. Nothing. Like they just ceased to exist. Josh stares at the unfinished photo album in his hands. Why is it so intimidating? He knows what happened. Tyler’s still here. So is everyone else. And yet it’s heavier than it should be. Ominous in his grasp.

At the very bottom of the box, amongst crumbs and dirt and mouse droppings, lie a small pile of crumpled letters.

Josh has to squint, taking them under his bedside lamp to try and make out the writing, but they look like they’re written to…random people. Assorted names. Mike. Paul. Terry. Kyle. Josh frowns. Who are these men? Why are their letters stuck in the bottom of a family memento box? Most of them seem to be written by family members or wives. But he can’t make out anything else. The paper is worn, waterlogged and faded. Writing smeared into itself.

Maybe there’s something in the other boxes.

Josh gathers the letters, the photo albums, and tucks them away before reaching for the next box.

And then there’s a knock at his door.

Startled, he shoves everything back into place and tries to hastily wipe the dust from his pajama pants before opening the door.

It’s Chris. Josh swallows the lump in his throat.

“Hey,” he says.

Chris eyes him. “Gonna need you in the slaughterhouse tomorrow. Butcherin’ meat for the winter. Sure ya heard me today gettin’’em ready.”

Josh nods and lets out a sigh. That’s right. That’s all he was doing. Getting meat ready for winter. He was right. It’s fine. Everything’s fine. He’s relaxed. “Yeah,” he says, “okay. Cool. I’ll be there.”

There’s a pause between them. Absolutely no way Chris doesn’t suspect anything.

“Goodnight,” is all he says.

“‘Night,” Josh replies weakly, but Chris is already descending the stairs. He closes the door softly, the wood creaking as it clicks closed. He leans forward, head hitting the door. God, he’s stupid. As if he needed another reason to have Chris watching him more intently.

Bed. He should go to bed. That will fix it. Some sleep should level his head and soothe the anxious thoughts.

Lights off, under the covers, Josh listens to the sounds of the bugs and livestock. Just like normal. Nothing weird. Peaceful. He closes his eyes and focuses on anything else but the image of Tyler in the dirt. Tomorrow will be better. Crickets will sing him to sleep. He’ll have no dreams and wake up well rested in the morning. He’s sure of it.

Until he hears an owl’s screech in the distance.