Chapter Text
The last time Tyler had talked to Josh was January 14th.
It was late May.
The months had flown by. Tyler had attended meetings, press conferences, and had sat through a guilty plea from ex-Doctor Bourbaki, as “Anonymous Player 1”. It turned out, Tyler wasn’t the only one, even without including Nathan; once news had broken, three former and one other current player had agreed to testify against him. Nathan was the only person who didn’t remain anonymous. Tyler had to applaud him for that.
They hadn’t texted in ages, either, but their earlier correspondences had been polite, professional. Tyler felt awkward about Josh hounding him. Nathan finished up the season. The Blackhawks didn’t make it to playoffs. His contract wasn’t extended, and Nathan quietly retired from hockey.
So many things happened so quietly that Tyler wasn’t sure they had happened at all. Jay’s graduation was coming up; he’d be moving on to high school soon. Tyler still wasn’t looking for a job, still living comfortably in his childhood bedroom, enjoying the payoff from the hockey scandal and his three-year contract’s paycheque. He moped around his house like a ghost on good days, and hid away from everyone on his bad ones.
Josh had tried contacting him on different apps, but Tyler just ignored him. The last attempt had been in March. It was far too late for Tyler to apologize.
This was just another one of his failed relationships. It was fine. He’d cried enough. Though he wasn’t working toward improving his life, he wasn’t really in crisis anymore. He existed in a strange dimension; not up, not down, but more… sideways. He just let the current take him wherever instead of trying to fight it, but at least he wasn’t drowning.
He missed Josh. All the time.
He wasn’t trying to stop anything. He still abused his sleeping meds, though his parents were catching on. He still wasn’t ever more than three days clean at a time. He didn’t attend therapy, even though he told his parents he was, lying through smiles that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He stalked Josh’s Instagram like an ex who hadn’t gotten over him. Maybe he was. His parents still had no idea what their fight was about, and Jay still thought they were together, God bless him.
Seattle hadn’t made playoffs either. Their season had been over for more than a month. Tyler followed their social media accounts, over-analyzing Josh’s stats, all without turning on the TV and seeing his face.
He’d gotten better, though. He used to have cripplingly severe anxiety attacks every time he came downstairs to see that his father was watching a game on TV; now, he just freaked out whenever he saw Chicago play. His parents still didn’t know. He knew they knew about Bourbaki, but that was just because it was in the news. Josh had just told them he was having another mental health crisis and needed to be home immediately, and not let out of their sight.
Tyler was alive. Barely. But he was.
It was one of the rare days in which Tyler decided to be a functioning member of society. He’d picked up his brother from school, but was only met with a cold shoulder and one-word answers to his usual questions.
“How was your day?”
“Fine.”
“Learn anything cool?”
“No.”
“Who are your teachers?”
“You wouldn’t know them. They’re new.”
Jay brushed past Tyler in their foyer, kicking off his shoes and storming up the stairs to his bedroom. The door slammed a few moments later.
Tyler locked eyes with his mother, who watched this interaction. Tyler scoffed, throwing the car keys back in the basket by the front door. “What’s his problem?”
His mom sighed, in the heavy way that Tyler was so used to hearing whenever he did something vaguely annoying. “He’s thirteen.”
Tyler rolled his eyes. He knew that age too well. Sure, he was ten years younger, but if there was one thing they could both relate to, it was teenage angst.
Jay had been having a rough time at school, too. His mom tried to coax Tyler into giving Jay math tutoring, but that had rapidly escalated into Tyler throwing in the towel and roping in his father, who also had some choice words to say about the wording of Jay’s math homework. Tyler was relieved it wasn’t his stupid brain that had melted onto the floor– it was mutual. It was kind of reassuring to know that, even with two traumatic brain injuries, math was hard.
His mom was a math teacher. Tyler didn’t know why she didn’t just teach him herself, brotherly bonding be damned.
Still, Tyler tried. He tried.
“How’re your friends?” Tyler asked, stabbing a piece of steamed broccoli with his fork. His mom insisted on family dinners each night. The conversation was plateauing.
“Fine,” Jay answered monotonously. He glared at his plate.
“You gotta give me more than that, dude,” Tyler scoffed.
“Don’t pretend you’re suddenly interested in my life,” Jay spat out suddenly.
Tyler blinked twice, taken aback by the hostility. He opened his mouth to speak, but his father beat him to it.
“Don’t talk to each other like that,” he demanded, pointing his fork at Jay, then at Tyler.
“What the hell is your issue, man?” Tyler asked, miffed.
“Tyler,” his mother warned, “language.”
“Don’t expect me to be nice to you just because you tried to kill yourself,” Jay sneered, standing up and shoving his chair back under the table.
“Hey!” Tyler stood up as well, offended, anger simmering at the surface.
“Jay!” his dad scolded, appalled.
“He’s been mean to me my entire life!” Jay protested, arms out, trying to prove his point.
“You’re thirteen!” Tyler pointed out, equally angry.
“So were you!”
“Boys!” his father roared, standing up at the head of the table.
“I’m going!” Jay yelled over his shoulder, already storming out of the kitchen. He stomped up the stairs, and a second later, his bedroom door slammed for the second time that day.
Tyler stood in the aftermath of the yelling, seething. His dad and he were still standing, his mother looking at Jay’s empty spot at the table like he’d died, and less than a minute later, loud, angsty music filtered through the cracks of Jay’s bedroom door.
“Since when did he listen to Blink-182?” Tyler asked, the opening notes of Stay Together for the Kids filling his ears.
“He’s… going through a phase,” his dad said with a defeated sigh. He sat back down and looked at his plate, going back to eating like nothing had happened. “Sorry. I’ll talk to him once he cools down.”
Tyler slowly sat down, pushing around his food with his fork, his face bright red. He chewed on his lower lip.
You’re thirteen!
So were you!
That… was annoyingly accurate. And a little bit of too great a point to ignore.
When Tyler was thirteen, things had gone to hell. Heck, he’d been eleven when he was first wondering why he was so sad, and thirteen when he was slitting his wrists and listening to Adam’s Song on repeat each night. And he was so… angry.
Angry at everyone. At his brothers. At his sister. At his parents. At his friends. Now that he was older, and recognized what he’d been going through, he looked back with resentment at the fact that no one had taken him seriously; they’d all brushed it off as him being a difficult child. He’d skipped school, got into disagreements over the smallest things, never did his schoolwork. He’d refused to eat dinner for a month straight because he didn’t want to be in the same room as everyone else, knowing it would just turn into a fight. That whole time, he’d shut himself in his bedroom, or in the bathroom, doing irreparable harm to his body.
Fuck.
Tyler swallowed nervously. He pushed his plate away. “I’m… gonna go to bed. Thanks for dinner.”
“You okay?” his mom asked, suddenly worried.
All the anger had been replaced with anxiety so deep it made Tyler’s stomach twist. He bounced his leg under the table, wondering how he should voice this realization. His mom had tried her best, and Tyler was still… Tyler.
His father was looking at him too. Things had changed, a couple of mental breakdowns ago. They walked on eggshells around him.
“Where was this concern when I needed it?” Tyler accused, glancing at them both briefly before returning his gaze to his plate. “When I was thirteen? And doing the same shit?”
His mom hesitated. “We’re not perfect.”
His dad didn’t say anything.
Tyler stood up and brought his plate to the sink. He wordlessly slipped upstairs to his bedroom and fell on his bed, wondering when his little brother had gotten so old.
–
Tyler was attempting to clean his room when Jay walked in, about two hours later. Tyler tried to take advantage of his good days to get his life together, but it always fell apart soon after.
“What’s up?” Tyler asked, trying to keep his tone as light as possible, taking out his earbuds. He’s been listening to a podcast to try to keep himself from thinking too hard– reading hurt his head too much.
Jay closed the door behind him, leaning against it like he wanted to leave. “I need to talk to you.”
Tyler feigned nonchalance. His palms were sweating. “Sure.”
His brother hesitated. “Uh…”
Tyler’s heart pounded in his throat. He had no idea why he was so scared.
“Sorry. For saying that thing, at dinner,” Jay began, head low and ashamed. “That wasn’t nice.”
Tyler sighed, abandoning the corner of his fitted bedsheet that would just not tuck under his mattress. “It’s kinda true, though.”
Jay squinted at him. “No?”
“What do you mean?” Tyler asked. He grabbed his pillowcase from the stack of clean laundry he’d and wrestled it onto his pillow. He was still not used to the tiny twin bed of his childhood bedroom, but he did admit that it was much easier to do laundry when the sheets and blankets were half the size.
“I think I should be nice to you, just because you tried to… uh… yeah,” Jay explained awkwardly.
“I meant more of the, you’ve been mean to me my entire life bit, but nah.” Tyler threw the pillow on the bed. “Don’t be nice to me just because I’m suicidal. Shit happens.”
Jay picked at his thumbnail, clearly uncomfortable.
“Sorry,” Tyler backtracked. “Didn’t mean to, like, say it like that.”
“Uh, anyway…” Jay trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck, staring at the floor. “I need you to do me a favour.”
Tyler raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”
“Josh got hurt– uh, Josh F., not your Josh– and he’s done, so his dad retired coaching,” Jay said quickly, obviously nervous. “And I don’t have a coach.”
A crease formed between Tyler’s brows. “Jay…”
“I know it’s a big ask,” he interjected. “But please? It’s stressing me out. Dad has me going to a billion different associations to try out for their teams, and I don’t know anyone, and– God– my muscles hurt so much. I have hockey every night.”
Tyler winced. He knew the feeling of sore muscles and burnout from tryouts all too well. “Look, man–”
“If you coach, my team stays together,” Jay begged. “Please? Please? I’ll never ask for anything ever again. Please.”
“Jay, I’m busy.” Busy lying in bed. Busy sleeping. Busy being a waste of space.
“Doing what?” Jay asked, desperate. “You spend all day in your room. Please, Tyler. Please. I promise.”
Tyler sucked on the inside of his cheek. “I don’t know.”
“I’ll do anything you want,” Jay pleaded, “I swear.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll think about it,” Tyler gave in.
“Promise?” Jay asked.
Tyler bit back a grin at the enthusiasm. “Promise. I’ll do some research.”
“Thank you,” Jay exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “Thank God. Thank you!”
“This isn’t yes,” Tyler reminded him, careful to keep his brother in check. “I’ll think about it.”
“Still, thank you. I’ll be nice to you for the rest of your life,” Jay negotiated. “I’ll do your dishes. I’ll do your laundry. I’ll–”
“Can you start with making my bed?” Tyler interrupted, gesturing to the corner of the fitted bedsheet he’d yet to tame.
“You’re gonna love us, I promise,” Jay continued speaking, finally getting comfortable in Tyler’s presence. He grabbed the corner while Tyler held the other sides of the sheet down. “There’s Luke, he’s such a good D, and he and Perry are like, the dream duo, left and right defence, I swear there’s never ever any goals on the ice with them. And Jeremiah and Ryan are our goalies, they’re so funny, they have all sorts of inside jokes, and Jeremiah was once mic’d up for a YouTube video, and…”
Jay kept talking, but Tyler stopped listening. The way his little brother was talking so animatedly about his team made Tyler feel like a pre-emptive asshole for saying no.
But… what the hell had he just almost agreed to?
There were names to remember. Faces. Tyler couldn’t remember these things for the life of him. And, being Tyler, he was bound to fall into another depressive episode and ruin everything for these kids. The last thing he wanted to do was have other people depend on him. He needed to be able to kill himself when things got too much. He couldn’t do that and have a team of fifteen or so kids on his back.
Jay looked so happy. He was willing to do Tyler’s chores for this team. That wasn’t nothing, especially to a thirteen-year-old.
Tyler had never fit in like that. He’d die for his team, right, but he’d die for anything. His life was worthless. There was no way he would ever ever do his brother’s chores to keep his team together; he simply didn’t care that much. That thought made a strange sadness pull on his heart from his stomach. He’d never have the same passion that his brother felt for those who surrounded him.
But who was he to take that away?
So, that was why he found himself, three weeks later, sitting at his desk in his bedroom, attending a Zoom workshop for Youth Sports Coaching.
The computer screen hurt his head. He wore blue-light glasses underneath his sunglasses, but the headache was pressing on his temples. Instead of staring at the lights, Tyler raised the sunglasses onto the top of his head and grabbed the framed photo that was sitting just out of view from his camera. It was Jay’s, covered in little sticky note tabs, the arrows pointing to various faces.
Jay’s team photo from last year. Jay had annotated it himself, colour-coding based on position, his handwriting so deliberately neat that it was almost laughable. He’d never put in this much effort into his schoolwork.
Tyler read over the names again.
Jeremiah, blond hair, goalie.
Ryan, dark hair, dark skin, goalie.
Evan, dark braids, defence.
Pierre, tall, brown hair, left wing.
Luke, short, dreads, defence.
Tony, tall, brown hair–
Wait. There was already one who was tall with brown hair. Tyler screwed his eyes shut as he thought hard. Who was the other guy…?
Pierre, left wing.
Tyler opened his eyes, checking his answer. He smiled smugly to himself when he saw that he got it correct. But still, he needed an attribute to assign to Tony…
He looked vaguely Italian. Okay.
Tony, tall, brown hair, Italian, right wing.
He scanned all the faces again, sighing. Everyone looked the same. This was starting to feel impossible.
After the workshop, he had to move on to the next impossible task: texting Josh. He almost wished that the workshop had gone on longer. But still, if he didn’t get this one text out, then he knew the relationship was over, and maybe Tyler still wanted to hang on to a little bit.
It was so stupid. He was so stupid. He’d let this drag on for so long. Josh had tried to contact him after the Bourbaki investigation concluded, offering his support whenever Tyler was ready. The only thing holding Tyler back was his own pride. Everything else about him wanted to launch himself back into Josh’s arms, the one place he’d felt somewhat safe in while everything fell apart. The one relationship that mattered.
He should’ve sucked it up so long ago. He should have texted Josh. The longer he waited, the more daunting the task seemed.
The only reason he’d lasted so long without him was that he slept for so long, it was like he skipped every other day. He blamed it on his head injury. He took his pain meds five at a time. His doctor had prescribed him sleeping meds on top of that, ones that made his head spin for three days after just one dose. It gave him the worst dissociation episodes he’d ever experienced, but it knocked him right out, so he saved those for the particularly bad nights.
In a way, it was kind of keeping him alive. If he was sleeping, he wasn’t actively killing himself. It wasn’t like these meds would kill him, anyway; he’d tried, back when he first got them filled. He woke up two days later with a headache and his mouth as dry as the Sahara Desert.
Add that to the list of things wrong with him. God. It just kept growing.
Josh was just trying to help. Tyler took a deep breath and unblocked the contact, sitting on the floor beside his bed. He used his mattress as a backrest.
Tyler: happy birthday
Josh responded almost immediately, the three dots giving Tyler a heart attack.
Josh: Thank you. Nice hearing from you
Tyler chewed on his thumbnail before composing another message.
Tyler: how are you?
Josh: Alright. Golfing a lot
Tyler: cool
Josh: How are you?
Tyler: ok
Tyler: better
Josh: Good to hear
Tyler’s vision blurred with tears as he typed out a long message.
Tyler: i’m really sorry for saying those things. i really didn’t mean it. i shouldn’t have acted immature like that, and undermined your own experience, especially after what you went through. you didn’t deserve all that, and i hope you can forgive me, because i really really miss you and want to keep talking to you. you’ve been so great dealing with all the shit i throw at you and i’m going to try harder to be a better person. i miss having you as a best friend.
Josh: Thank you. I miss you too
Josh: I don’t really blame you for acting out. I wasn’t exactly giving you a choice, but I just needed you safe above everything. I knew you wouldn’t like what I was saying. Thank you for reaching out, because these few months have been the hardest ones yet
Josh: I forgive you if you forgive me
Tyler breathed shakily, wiping his face on his sweater sleeve as relief flooded his body. He laughed out loud to himself.
Tyler: there’s nothing to forgive
Josh: I went behind your back. I took away your autonomy. I’m sorry for that
Tyler: it was for the greater good. i forgive you even though you were never not forgiven in the first place
Tyler: i love you
Josh: I love you too
Tyler: can i call you?
Josh: Of course
“Hey.”
“Hey,” Tyler laughed, all teary and gross.
“Fuck, Ty,” Josh said, equally emotional, and Tyler had made him cry on his birthday. “I really miss you.”
“I’m sorry,” Tyler sobbed again.
“I’m sorry,” Josh repeated.
“Are you home?” Tyler asked miserably. “Can I come see you?”
“I’m in Seattle,” Josh said regrettably. “I’ll fly you out.”
Tyler hesitated. “Now?”
“You doing anything?” Josh asked.
“Not really,” Tyler admitted. “I’m, uh, I’m living at home right now. Not a lot going on.”
“Then come out,” Josh pressed, and Tyler had trouble finding a reason not to. “I’m tired of not seeing you.”
Tyler laughed self-deprecatingly. “I’m not sure.”
“Why not? I wanna see you,” Josh protested.
“Why?” Tyler asked.
“Because I love you,” Josh answered, so easily, so casually, that it just made Tyler cry harder.
“I love you,” he choked out. “I’m so sorry. I love you.”
“Let’s take a vacation, see the coast,” Josh listed, “relax on the beach, just take some time together. I’ve been thinking about taking you here a lot. My teammate has a house on the beach he rents out, he showed me photos, and I’ve been thinking of inviting you.”
Tyler could puke from guilt. “For how long?”
“Well, considering we didn’t make playoffs, as long as we want.”
“No, like, how long have you been thinking about this?” Tyler clarified.
Josh paused, almost ashamed at the answer. “Two months.”
Fuck. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t– don’t do this,” Josh scolded him. “Just come out.”
“I’m not okay,” Tyler reminded him, the heaviness settling in his chest again. “I’m not going to be very fun to be around.”
“Wouldn’t you rather be sad on a beach than sad in Ohio?”
Tyler laughed, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Okay. You have a point.”
“I’m checking flights,” Josh told him, and Tyler heard the clicking of his keyboard. “Three days from now? There’s one at eight in the morning. Is that too early?”
Tyler would leave at four in the morning if it meant seeing Josh again. “That’s fine.”
“Okay, I’ll get a one-way, email it to you.” Josh was moving so fast. “Do you–”
“It’s your birthday,” Tyler protested, “I should be paying.”
“Tyler. I play in the freaking NHL,” Josh deadpanned. “We’re not in college anymore.”
Tyler laughed. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”
“If you wanna make my birthday so special, you get your ass over here,” Josh instructed in a teasing voice.
“But–”
“I’m being selfish right now, Ty. Let me fly you out. I don’t care if we haven’t been talking. We’re talking now, and I’ve been planning this forever, just waiting on you,” Josh cut him off.
Another stab to the heart. “Sorry.”
“Then get over here.”
Tyler didn’t deserve Josh. Never. Never ever. He bit back a smile and wiped his eyes on his sleeve again. “Okay. I’ll go pack.”
“Put me on speaker,” Josh said, stopping him from hanging up. “You said you were going to try to be a better person. What have you been doing?”
If this was Josh’s way of holding Tyler accountable, he’d take it. Josh was right, as always; so many times, Tyler had been so mean to him, and Josh had begged him to seek help about it. The only way Tyler could sincerely apologize was by proving and showing he was sorry, but it was only with Josh did Tyler actually feel like changing himself for the better.
“Well, I’m coaching,” Tyler mentioned, and maybe that was proof of change enough. He put the phone on speaker and threw it somewhere on his bed.
“You’re coaching?”
Tyler smiled shyly, grabbing his usual carry-on luggage and unzipping it. “Yeah. Jay wouldn’t let up until I said yes.”
“That’s awesome,” Josh exclaimed, the excitement clear in his voice. “You’re going to be great.”
“I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“You’re getting out of the house. You’re giving back to the community. This is like, top-level Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. Altruism?”
“I know, I know. But what if they hate me?”
“They can’t hate you. You’re an NHL athlete. They respect you too much.”
“Jay doesn’t.”
“Well, he’s your brother. I don’t think any brother will respect their siblings.”
It was like nothing had ever happened. Six months of silence had passed after a series of texts and apologies. Tyler still felt a tiny bit– a lot– guilty about the whole thing, but Josh wanted him back.
The suddenness of it all was a bit concerning to his parents, though. They drilled him with question after question, even asking whether Josh was trafficking him(?), but Tyler was an adult with his own money. His mom still wasn’t over the whole let-me-ask-his-parents thing from grade school, but Tyler broke her down and convinced her to give Josh a call instead. Maybe the age gap between Tyler and Jay was lost on her, somehow.
Jay’s mood had improved significantly once Tyler was given the go-ahead by the association to start training. Tyler understood that. He’d stood on uncertainty for so long that it seemed almost normal, and to finally have the ground beneath his feet after so long felt like a breath of fresh air. Even if certainty came in the form of a recorded confession and a prison sentence.
The last time Tyler had talked to Josh, he was still so adverse to touch. It had been months since someone had hugged him. Sure, some days he still wanted to scrub his skin clean until it bled, but other days, he tolerated the hug his mother gave him whenever she looked at him a little too hard. It was hit-or-miss. He still hadn’t told anyone but Josh and Nathan what had happened on that Wednesday in January. It would just worry his parents more.
He ran every day. He was back to long-distance running after his injury, his lungs no longer so shitty. It was unhealthy. He was skin and bones, a far cry from the muscle he’d grown accustomed to his entire life, but it wasn’t necessarily a bad change. He looked like a long-distance runner. He ate the bare minimum. Sometimes his father threatened to force a feeding tube down his throat. It was fine, life moved on.
Long after the thrill of living was gone.
–
“Can I just lie down for a little?” Tyler asked, the floor spinning beneath his feet. “Sorry. I think the air pressure and my head–”
“All we have to do here is exist, Ty,” Josh said gently, leading Tyler to the bed; he had his eyes squeezed tight.
Tyler met Josh at the airport and was gathered into a bone-crushing hug, far too long for it to be platonic, but he didn’t care. His head was pounding, as it always did after flying, and he could barely hold himself up, so it was kind of necessary. Let everyone stare. Tyler couldn’t even remember the last time he’d hugged anyone like this, but he had a shitty memory, so maybe that wasn’t a great benchmark.
Josh’s teammate’s rental was a condo at an all-inclusive resort, with a balcony looking right onto the water. A set of white stairs went down to the beach; they had the upper unit. It consisted of two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, and laundry. The master bedroom was massive and basically had its own living room. The ensuite was the same size as the second bedroom.
The bed was the comfiest thing Tyler had ever fallen on. He didn’t bother getting under the covers and instead placed a pillow over his head to block out the little sunlight filtering into the room from the canvas curtains. The mattress pressed into his stomach, grounding, keeping his world steady as he breathed through the worst of the pain. Josh was right beside him. He rubbed circles on Tyler’s back until his hand faltered and stalled, instead becoming deadweight.
Tyler smirked when he heard light snoring, taking that as permission to drift off as well.
It was still day when Tyler woke up, his headache mostly gone, and the vertigo leaving him alone for the time being. He still had to take a second to himself when he stood up as his inner ear spun around in circles; he would never get used to the sudden nausea that accompanied it. Testing his eyesight, he turned around to find Josh still passed out with his head wedged between two pillows.
Tyler let a soft smile crawl onto his face before making his way over to the floor-to-ceiling windows. He realized with delight that they were actually sliding glass doors to a small balcony with a red loveseat. He quietly opened the door and stepped out, breathing in the fresh ocean air. It smelled salty and he could taste it on his tongue.
Wait.
He could smell?
He closed his eyes and let the breeze wash over him, but couldn’t make out anything anymore. He wondered if maybe his brain was tricking him into it, knowing how the air should smell from various trips his family had taken to the coast. Disappointed, he sat in the comfy cushions, head back and soaking up the sun on his face and neck. It was just about to set, and there was no way Tyler was going to miss the fall of the day against deep ocean water, colours painting the sky into a breathtaking masterpiece only nature could create.
A few minutes later, the door slid open. Josh stepped out onto the wooden floor in bare feet, his shirt off (as usual, not that Tyler was complaining), and his bedhead a magnificent bird’s nest on top of his head. He blinked slowly, sleepily, his brain taking a second to wake up, but his gaze fell on Tyler and he smiled.
“Sit,” Tyler instructed, pointing to the empty spot beside him.
Josh fell ungracefully into the cushions. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“It’s alright. I did, too,” Tyler reassured him, a hand coming up to smooth Josh’s messy hair.
“How’s your headache?” he asked, burying his face in the crook of Tyler’s neck. He was obviously still sleepy.
“Better.” Tyler kissed the top of Josh’s head. “Missed you.”
“Past tense,” Josh pointed out in a low mutter.
“True. I guess I’m no longer missing you.”
Tyler kicked out his feet in front of him, playing idly with Josh’s hair as he watched the sun go down. The colours went from light to dark, getting more dramatic as the minutes passed, the waves providing a relaxing beat as they crashed into the sand. The breeze was cool. Josh was beside him, all curled up into his side, half-asleep.
Josh’s words from earlier rang in Tyler’s head.
All we have to do here is exist.
They didn’t have to eat unless they wanted to. They didn’t have to move unless they wanted to. The months without Josh were catching up to Tyler, and he never wanted to leave his side. On the other side of the country were responsibilities, seminars he had to attend, food he had to force down his throat and workouts he had to do. But he’d gone for a run early morning, he’d figured things out with Josh, and for once in his life, he felt… okay.
Things were okay like this. They weren’t perfect, but they were okay.
He was okay.
At the beach the next day, Tyler and Josh sat on towels, sipping lazily on virgin mimosas. Tyler was adamant that it was just orange juice, but Jost swore he could taste hints of white wine. Tyler couldn’t taste much, but he could fool himself into tasting the tiniest bit of citrus if he closed his eyes.
“Think we’re gonna get attacked?” Tyler asked, staring at a fin pointing out of the ocean, barely visible against the sunny sky.
“That’s a dolphin, Tyler,” Josh laughed.
“Still.”
“No. I’d save you,” Josh said proudly, flexing his muscles.
“Mouth to mouth?” Tyler joked.
“I’d do that even if you weren’t drowning.”
The sun was so warm. Tyler was beginning to sunburn, his chest a light shade of pink; it had been too long since they applied sunscreen. But Tyler was too lazy to get up and get it. He was so comfy. He’d brought a PFG Columbia sunshirt, but Josh had convinced him that the beach was private enough and no one would be looking too hard at his arms. He probably should have just worn it for the sun protection, however.
Tyler’s head always hurt. But it was better, lying in the soft sand on a towel with Josh beside him, than alone on a tiled washroom floor, or in his bedroom at home. His sunglasses did a surprisingly good job at polarizing the light.
“Where do you wanna go for lunch?” Josh asked, rolling onto his stomach and resting his head on his folded arms. His skin was damp from taking a dunk in the water about ten minutes earlier.
“Dunno,” Tyler mumbled, flipping onto his stomach as well. “Doesn’t matter to me.”
“Could go to the clubhouse,” Josh offered, referring to the one at the centre of the resort.
“Cool,” Tyler agreed.
They packed up once Josh started to get concerned about skin cancer, but all the sun did was cause more freckles to explode on Josh’s chest. Tyler couldn’t wait to count them all.
At the clubhouse, while waiting to get their order taken, Tyler took a sip of the iced lemon water. He almost choked on it. He sputtered, spilling the drink on his lap.
Josh looked at him in a mixture of alarm and amusement. “You alright?”
Tyler held his breath, plucking the lemon wedge from the side of his glass and taking a bite like it was an orange slice. A sour, acidic taste flooded his mouth, the lemon juice spreading and stinging his taste buds. He swallowed, taking the crescent wedge out of his mouth.
“I can taste it,” he croaked, staring down at the fruit like it held the answers to the universe.
Josh’s face lit up with genuine joy, like Tyler had just won the lottery or something. “That’s– Tyler!”
Tyler dropped the lemon wedge into his glass of water, then reached for the napkins, grinning as he attempted to wipe down his clothes. He had tears in his eyes, emotion rising in his chest for no good reason, and he laughed and wiped them away. Josh stood up and pulled Tyler into him in a strange sort of embrace, Tyler’s head coming up to Josh’s ribcage as he was still seated.
“Does that mean it’s getting better?” Josh asked, pulling away, his expression bright and ecstatic.
“No idea,” Tyler said, brushing a hand over Josh’s shirt. “Sorry. I cried on you.”
“You’ve puked on me before, I couldn't care less,” Josh dismissed. “You’re lucky I’m not crying on you.”
Josh sat back down, replacing the napkin on his lap. He opened the menu, scanning the options, before pointing to something and setting it down on the table so Tyler could look at it.
“Lemon crusted salmon?” Tyler asked.
“Yes.”
“I’ll give it a shot.”
The food arrived about fifteen minutes after they ordered. Tyler anxiously stuck the fork in his mouth. If he couldn’t taste it, the texture was going to be way too gross for him; he usually stuck with dry foods and if he tried hard enough he could pretend he was just eating tasteless crackers.
But he could.
He dropped the fork onto his plate with a clatter and covered his face with his hands, his lower lip trembling as he struggled to contain the emotion. So long. It had been so long since he ate anything for its flavour and not just to live. He’d watched the weight fall off his body until he could see his ribs in the mirror without raising his arms or anything. Eating became a chore, even harder to do than when he was in college, and he didn’t realize how much he missed flavour until he had it taken away from him.
“Tyler?” Josh asked, a hand on Tyler’s forearm.
He nodded slowly.
“Yes!” Josh exclaimed, way too loudly for the setting of the outdoor patio. A couple of tables looked up in alarm. “Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh.”
Tyler still had his head in his hands, pressing hard into his eyes to keep himself from crying.
“Is everything alright, sirs?” a young waiter said, approaching them.
“Can I tell them?” Josh asked giddily, squeezing Tyler’s arm. Tyler nodded. “My partner was in an accident about a year ago and lost his sense of smell and taste, but– but– he can taste lemon!”
Josh sounded like a lunatic, over-excited, way too happy for someone sitting beside a crying grown man.
Tyler slowly looked up at the grinning waiter, peeking between his fingers. The waiter looked so proud, as if he knew Tyler personally. “I’m going to talk to the kitchen.”
“You don’t have to,” Tyler protested, taking his hands away from his face. He tried to compose himself the best he could, but his face was red and blotchy and a smile stretched his lips.
“I want to,” the waiter said, stepping away.
“Tyler,” Josh said, a hand on his shoulder, shaking it aggressively. “This is fantastic, man. Oh my gosh.”
When they finished their main course, the waiter returned with three small drinks and a small plate of various foods.
“Thank you,” Tyler said shyly, eyes still red.
“Enjoy.”
Tyler looked at the assortment. Orange juice, lemonade, a pina colada? A small lemon meringue tart, a lemon bar, a key lime bar, and some sliced fruit.
“This is too much,” Tyler whispered.
Josh scooched his chair closer. “You don’t have to try it if you don’t want to.”
Tyler shook his head and picked up a grapefruit segment. It brought the tears all over again.
He could taste all of it. Something about the citrus or acidity broke through to Tyler’s brain somehow, and yes, it wasn’t as pronounced as he remembered the flavour being, but it was something. It felt like being born again.
Tyler sat on the bed, unable to stop crying. It had been nonstop and he was starting to get a headache. Josh was doing ab exercises on the floor, part of his training plan, the TV playing Say Yes to the Dress on mute.
Tyler slid off the bed and fell next to where Josh was on his back, grimacing through sit-ups. Tyler lay on his back with his hands folded over his chest.
Josh let out a relieved groan as he fell back, letting his muscles relax. He paused to catch his breath and then rolled on his side to face Tyler.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
Tyler nodded.
“Overwhelmed?”
“Probably,” he whispered.
“Let’s just lie here for a little,” Josh said, rolling over onto his stomach and throwing a leg across Tyler’s middle. “We’re on vacation time. We don’t need to do anything.”
“On the floor?”
“Why not?”
Tyler didn’t have an argument. Josh’s breath was warm against his shoulder. The breeze was making the curtains move, blowing through the screen door.
Tyler could smell the saltwater.