Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The summer Jess turns sixteen is a weird one. In truth, it’s been simmering under the surface for well over a few years now, but the summer is when it all comes to a head.

Things aren’t quite right with her, and it’s plain to see to anyone - anyone who bothers to look at least.

It started small. The first morning she noticed, she stares at her reflection in the bathroom mirror and feels her stomach sink. Her chest was different now - rounder, pushing against the fabric of her T-shirt. 

Not boobs, never breasts. Just… chest. Wrong.

By the end of the week, she was walking with her shoulders caved forward, back bent like she’s carrying something too heavy. It’s almost instinctual, but the slouch makes them look smaller, almost gone if she tugs her hoodie tight. 

Each morning she checked again, hoping she imagined it. Each morning, they were still there.

Her mood takes the bigger hit though. Her once sunny disposition seems to cloud over overnight and even Jess doesn’t know why. It’s like one day, she just slowly begins to withdraw into herself.

She just knew that when she was with the other girls in her grade, they’d talk about boys and make up and the latest trends all the celebrities were wearing and she just felt so lost. 

It’s not that she wasn’t looking at boys, but she got the feeling she wasn’t looking at them in the same way as the others were. She envied the ease in their movements, the way they could take up space without a thought, and wondered if she could ever feel that too.

It was startling to realise how out of place she’d suddenly become, and she mourned for the days when they used to run outside and come home covered in grass stains and mud with wide grins on their faces. 

Her mom insists it’s a phase. She just isn’t ready to grow up yet, she tells anyone who’ll listen. Soon enough, Jess will be painting her nails, swooning over crushes, blending in with the others. But the change never comes. 

It gets harder and harder to pretend to be invested in the same things her friends are interested in, so eventually she just stops. It’s lonely, but at least she isn’t pretending anymore.

Jess’s interests do adapt, but instead of makeup and boys, she starts skateboarding and lets herself get lost in music. That’s fine, her mom says, relieved to have an explanation. She’s just a tomboy. There’s no wrong way to be a girl. As if that settles it. As if that makes it easier.

Her dad won’t care until it directly affects him. He doesn’t even notice.

She knows her mom worries, even if she doesn’t quite know what’s wrong - hell, Jess doesn’t either - but she can see that her oldest child has become isolated. One evening she comes home with a plastic shopping bag and a too-bright smile, pressing a folded scrap of lace into Jess’s hands.

“Thought this might look nice on you,” she says.

It’s a top, pale pink and frilly at the edges, so far from anything Jess would ever choose herself that she almost laughs.

Instead she forces the corners of her mouth up, mumbles a thank you, and balls the fabric in her fists so her mom won’t see her shaking. Later, upstairs in her room, she lays the top flat on her bed. It looks like it belongs to someone else entirely. Maybe to the daughter her mom thinks she has. Someone alien to Jess.

At night, when the house is quiet and the shadows stretch long across her bedroom walls, Jess stares at the ceiling and feels her chest tighten. 

Maybe her mom thinks she’s a lesbian. 

The thought comes uninvited, curling hot in her stomach. Wrong. It tastes sour, like bile rising in her throat, and she has to roll onto her side, pressing her face into the pillow until it passes.

Does that mean she’s homophobic? The question prickles, shameful, but it doesn’t fit either. She doesn’t care who other people love. She never has. It’s only herself that feels unbearable.

It’s only being this - this body, this name, this skin - that makes her want to crawl out of it entirely.

-

Really though, the first time alarm bells should’ve rung for Jess is December the previous year. She’d gone out by herself in a particularly cold snap. It’d been snowy and icy all week, so when it finally cleared enough for her to make it to the new Guitar Centre that’d opened nearby, she bundled herself into her coat, tucked her hair out of the way under a beanie, and went.

The warmth hit her as soon as she walked in, making her slip her coat off her shoulders so she could hold it in front of her instead.

The shop still smelt new, a mixture of fresh paint and wood. Sounds of laughter, chatting, and instruments echoed through the store.

It soothed her instantly. She’d been excited for school to finish so she’d finally have time to come down, and now she was there. She took her time looking around, unsure when she’d next get the chance to come back. 

The drum section was at the back, tucked away like something private. She half-expected the kit to be guarded, but it wasn’t. She ran a fingertip over a snare and tapped the head softly, listening to the hollow ping.

“Hey, man,” a voice said. He was leaning on the counter, a slightly older kid with an easy smile and a cap turned backwards. He kept talking - something about sticks, about tuning - but Jess didn’t hear the words. 

She only heard the syllable that landed on her like sunlight: man.

For a second her world tilted. Her heart picked up speed, a bright, electric thing that made her cheeks hot. He thinks I’m a boy. Something warm and dangerous unfurled in her chest.

Then the thought doubled back on itself: he thinks I’m a boy and he’ll find out I’m not. She felt suddenly tiny and ridiculous, a fraud waiting to be called out. Her mouth dried. 

“Sorry,” she heard herself say, and the apology sounded small. 

Her head was suddenly too full of thoughts and she needed air.

She clutched her coat closer and left the warmth of the shop like someone stepping out of the sun, lungs clawing for cold air.

She hasn’t been back since.

It scares her how good it felt, and the thought that if she goes back he might realise she’s a girl scares her even more.

She tries not to think about it. She can’t let herself. Because she isn’t like that, she just isn’t. 

Other people might be, but not her.

It’s a fluke.

But it isn’t. 

She starts wearing the beanie more, not caring that the other kids at school definitely think she’s weird now. Words like emo and loser and freak get thrown around, first behind her back and then to her face. It’s whatever. 

It’s not like she has friends to lose.

When some asshole rips the hat from her head in the corridor one day, she has to pretend it doesn’t give her a sense of panic.

-

The hot summer makes everything worse.
She can’t layer up like she wants to. She feels so exposed in her t-shirt that she starts doubling up on sports bras, even though it chokes the rise and fall of her chest and makes her breathing shallow.

She still feels exposed, sprawled across the couch, eating an ice pop with sticky drips beading on her fingers. School is finished now, so she doesn’t have to worry about her parents nagging her about staying up too late. 

Not that she would be able to sleep anyway.

It’s been six months of sleepless nights, of feeling hollow, of trying to stamp down the way her guts twist inside her whenever she thinks too hard about it. Six months of lying in bed, staring at the walls, clutching a pillow to her chest to stop it from accidentally touching anything. Of running her fingers through her hair, desperate to rip it all out because it’s too long.

Now she thinks about it constantly.

It followed her everywhere. In class her mind slid away from the teacher’s voice; on her board the skateboard rattled beneath her feet and all she could think about was the hollow in her belly.

She spent an entire end-of-year exam just sitting there, unable to read the paper or even hold the pen because she was shaking so hard.

It was consuming her. She needs to tell someone. 

She can’t tell anyone. 

She can’t let anyone know how wrong she is. They’d be so disappointed. They’d think she’s a freak.

Every time she teetered toward confession, something - a joke, a look, a sudden shame - snapped the thread and she shut back down. It felt safer that way. Better that no one knew. 

Keys jingle in the lock, and Jess closes her eyes and sighs, not ready for her peace to be shattered. She shifts, getting up to make her way back to her room.

The front door opens and shuts again.

“Hello!” Her mother’s voice calls through the house. She smiles at Jess in the hallway, but Jess doesn’t miss the way she falters as she scans her clothes.

“Hello, sweetheart! How was your day?”

“Alright.” She mumbles, letting herself be pulled into a loose hug, skin prickling under the contact. “How was work?”

“Quieter now,” Her Mom says brightly, “Everyone’s off for the summer. Just me and a couple of the others at the moment.”

“Oh. That’s good.” She doesn’t mean to sound so flat. She just can’t muster the will to say more.

Her mom tilts her head. “Have you been outside today?”

Jess shakes her head. “No.”

Her mother sighs, soft but pointed. “You haven’t been out all week. You’re not taking care of yourself. You could go skateboarding with your friends?”

Jess shakes her head again, avoiding her eyes, shifting one step towards the stairs. “It’s too hot. Just want to stay cool.”

Her mothers lips pressed tight in concern concerned. Jess inches onwards toward the staircase, desperate to flee.

“Okay.” Her mom nods. “I was thinking we could go shopping this weekend. Get you some nice summer clothes. Maybe a couple of dresses? Your stuff is so wintery, and I know you’ve had to borrow your brother’s clothes in this heat. We could make a day of it.”

Jess feels sick. She definitely doesn’t want to go dress shopping. She can’t think of anything worse.

“I think I’m meeting my friends this weekend.” She slips it out before she can stop herself.

Her mom frowns. “Alright. Maybe next weekend then?”

“Maybe.” Jess is already two steps up the staircase, her escape slow but steady.

She makes it another four steps before her mom calls after her.

“Jess! You might need to shave your legs before you go out this weekend.”

At least she makes it to the bathroom before she throws up, staying there until her stomach is empty and she can return to the sanctuary of her room.

-

The pan her dad holds clatters to the floor the next morning, drowning out her mom’s sharp gasp.

Then silence.

Every eye turns to her. Parents, siblings, all of them frozen mid-breakfast, staring like she’s grown another head.

Jess shifts under the weight of it, heat crawling up her neck. Her fingers go automatically to her hair - short now, uneven where she hacked it off herself.

“Jess! Your hair! What have you done?” Her mother is the first to speak. She doesn’t seem angry yet - just shocked, her words coming in short bursts.

“I… cut it?” Jess offers, avoiding eye contact.

“Well, yes. We can see that. What we want to know is why?” Her dad is not pleased. At all.

“…I just wanted a change. It’s been bothering me in this heat.”

It isn’t even as short as she wanted, but compared to yesterday it feels like a shed skin. The air moves easier on her scalp, her neck exposed, her ears cool.

The silence that follows is thick and awkward. Her siblings glance at each other, wide-eyed, waiting for the fallout.

Eventually, her mom makes a frustrated noise.

“You should’ve told us. I would’ve taken you to the hairdresser. It’s all uneven now. I don’t know when they’ll fit you in.”

Jess doesn’t care. She has no intention of going to the hairdresser and making idle small talk with some middle-aged woman who’s scissors undo the only thing she’s done that feels right.

“I’ll just wear my cap.” She says, snatching up her skateboard and walking out the back door for the first time in days, enjoying the sun on her face and cool air on the bare skin of her neck.

-

Jess starts leaving the house more, desperate to avoid her parents’ disapproving stares.

That’s how she ends up back at Guitar Centre. The same guy from before Christmas greets her but doesn’t approach. Instead, Jess has to speak to him, asking if she can try the drum kit, even though she doesn’t know what she’s doing.

It turns out the guy, Chris, is a drummer himself, and he’s happy to let Jess play whenever the shop’s quiet, even finding her resources so she can teach herself.

-

Before she knows it, she’s been at the music shop almost every day of the summer break. She’s actually good - the desire to lose herself in the movement and beat pushing her through any tiredness and frustration that came with learning a new skill.

She can’t play the drums all the time though, there’s actual customers that want to try them, apparently. 

But in between, she starts talking to Chris and is shocked to find that they actually get on. It’s been so long since she’s had a friend, and she’s so grateful that it almost doesn’t bother her that he thinks she’s a girl now. Almost.

They’ve been hanging out at the shop most of the summer when the air conditioning breaks.

“No big deal,” Chris says. “We’re staying open, it’s just annoying.”

Jess agrees, not bothered since it doesn’t stop her from playing the drums and seeing her friend. She can handle a little heat.

She makes it through maybe two songs before she concedes. It’s sweltering. Sweat drips from her nose and down her back in rivers.

The summer heat had been bearable before, masked by the hum of fans and the air conditioning - but now, the shop has become its own kind of furnace.

She caves in, stripping off her hoodie so she’s just in her t-shirt. Too hot to care that both her sports bras are visible beneath the fabric.

-

It takes Chris two days to bring it up, waiting until Jess is helping him put stock behind the counter while his coworkers finish closing up.

“So, uh… did I ever tell you about my cousin?” He pauses, holding a manuscript book.

“What? No, I don’t think so.” Jess doesn’t look up, stacking her own pile of books.

“He, uh, reminds me of you… a lot actually…”

“Okay?” Jess furrows her brows, stopping with her book halfway to the shelf, unsure where this is going. 

Hopefully, this isn’t Chris trying to set them up.

“Yeah.” He hesitates. “He, uh… he used to be a girl. He’s trans.”

The book thuds to the floor. Jess freezes and spins to face him, jaw dropping.

“What?”

Words struggle to come out. Jess feels like she’s been punched in the gut. All the air leaves her lungs, and she can’t get it back.

He knows. He knows something is wrong with her. Something off.

“He, like, used to dress a bit like you… you know, before? And acted really similar too. I just wanted to let you know it’s oka-“

“I’m not fucking transgender, Chris.” She spits it out. The words are sharp, cold, harsher than she meant. And Chris - kind, patient Chris - winces, eyes wide at her reaction.

They stand looking at each other for a moment, frozen in a silent standoff while fear twists in Jess’s chest.

“I’m sorry, Jess. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Save it.” She bites out, surprised at her own anger. Her eyes dart around for her bag. She snatches it up, holding it to her chest as if it were a shield. “I’ve got to go.”

Jess bolts out of the shop, ignoring Chris calling after her.

Her pulse thunders in her ears; she barely makes it a block before she has to stop, breath short and rapid, limbs too heavy to hold her up. She sinks against a wall and just starts bawling.

She’s so stupid. She never should’ve made friends with Chris. She should’ve known she wouldn’t be able to hide what’s wrong. Now he thinks she’s a freak. She can’t go back there.

And now she has a name for it. She’d already known it, but it was different before - unconnected, unassociated. A word she barely lets herself think, even in the deepest recesses of her head.

Now it’s permanently linked to her in Chris’s mind. If he can see it, surely others can too.

Oh god, does her family know? Could they tell? No. They’d have said something. Definitely. They’d be shouting, screaming, crying if they knew. She’s sure of it.

She’s spiralling and she knows it.

But Chris has been kind. He hasn’t judged her, only accepted her.

She rests her head in her hands, pushing her palms into her eyes until she can see shapes and colours behind her eyelids. God, she’s so lost.

She has to pull herself together. She can’t just sit on a wall sobbing. Someone will eventually come over, ask her what’s wrong. Then what would she say? 

Oh, just that my entire life feels built for someone else.

She needs to breathe. In. Then out.

Her chest heaves as she tries to regain some control over her breathing.

 -

Three days later, Josh marches into Guitar Centre, straight up to where Chris has his back to the counter.

“So. Tell me about your cousin.”

Chapter Text

The thing is, for a while Josh thinks Tyler knows. How could he not? 

He’d only been on hormones less than a year when they met. Things had gotten better. He’d made real progress, even though he didn’t ever really bring it up, he’s accepted it as part of himself. Perhaps not his favourite part of himself, but a part of himself all the same. 

Every interaction still has him painfully hyper-aware of how feminine he still is, how small he feels compared to other guys his age, how his voice cracks when he gets too excited.

And how could he not get excited?
He’s never clicked with someone the way he clicks with Tyler. He’s never found someone he feels so in sync with. 

At first, it just never comes up. Josh assumes Tyler is too polite to say anything. They’re just acquaintances, friends of friends, and that sort of thing isn’t something that comes up between acquaintances.

Then they become friends - friends friends. Best friends. Late-night games of Mario Kart turn into secrets whispered side by side in the dark, all of Tyler’s deepest thoughts laid bare between them. In return, Josh opens up about his anxiety and how alone he felt growing up.

The fact Josh used to be Jess doesn’t come up; it seems too obvious to mention compared to Tyler’s soul-crushing revelations - because Josh thinks he knows.

By the time he realises Tyler doesn’t know, he’s in far too deep. As in, joined his band and is on tour with him too deep.

He’s way, way over his head.

It happens in the van. They’re somewhere between Cincinnati and Columbus, all of them bouncing between eagerly anticipating getting to go home and sleep in a real bed, and waiting for the inevitable slump now that the tour is over.

Cars speed past in the dark when Josh drifts from half-asleep to painfully aware he needs the bathroom.

“Dude, when’s the next gas station? I gotta pee.” Josh calls from the backseat, his voice breaking through the chatter in the front, where Tyler’s talking Mark’s ear off, still riding the high from a great show.

“Not for an hour or so. Think you can hold it?” Mark replies.

Great. Not what Josh wants to hear.

“Uhhh, probably not?”

Tyler glances back from the front seat and lets out a little “Oh!” like he has an idea. He rummages around for something. 

“Hang on.”

Josh watches, feeling like he’s missing something as Tyler downs a mostly empty bottle of Gatorade and passes it back. 

“Here.”

Josh takes it and looks at it blankly, confusion not clearing up.

“What’s this for?” He shakes it like the answer will appear magic-eight-ball style.

Tyler twists around properly this time, giving him a look that suggests the answer is obvious.

“You know, to pee in?”

Josh blinks. His blood runs cold.
What.

“What?” Josh is so confused. Surely not, right? They’re not doing this?

“Yeah man, just pee in the bottle. We’re not gonna look, if you’re worried about us seeing your dick or something.”

Dick. The word detonates in his skull. His chest squeezes tight, and he almost drops the bottle. Apparently, they are doing this.

No, he’s not gonna panic. He’s not sixteen anymore. He’s a grown man. He can control this. It’s not a big deal.

“Ew, I definitely don’t wanna see Josh’s dick.” Mark chimes in.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. No one’s seeing my dick. I’m not peeing in a bottle. That’s gross.” Josh tosses the bottle back into the front seat, definitely not aiming at Tyler’s head. He needs to deflect. Fast.

“What’s the problem? We’re all bros here. It’s no big deal.”

The problem is the significant lack of dick on Josh’s behalf. But it’s not like Josh is going to volunteer that information right now.

“Nuh-uh, no way. You’re gonna have to pull over.” Josh shakes his head rapidly.

He ignores Tyler pulling a face and rolling his eyes, and Mark sighing.

“Okay, I’ll pull over at the next turn-off. You good peeing by the side of the road, or does his highness need a proper toilet?”

Josh bites his lip. “Side of the road’s fine.”

He can only hope there’s cover. It’s dark. No one will see anything. It’ll be fine.

It’s fine.

Well, Josh is jittery and does the fastest pee of his life, feeling like his heart is about to pound out of his chest the whole time. But it’s fine.

He zips up and sprints back, throat tight, pulse still hammering like he’s running from something.

It’s over. It’s fine. No one saw. But his hands still shake as he climbs into the van.

That doesn’t mean Josh doesn’t spend the rest of the way home in silence, busy with a million scenarios running through his head.

He’d spent years - years - being so obviously trans that he had no choice to be out. He had passed well enough sometimes, until he opened his mouth and people realised oh, this isn’t some twelve year old boy. And even if he didn’t pass, and people just assumed he was a butch lesbian, he might’ve well have had a sign over his head flashing “transgender” once he told people his name was Josh. 

He curls up on himself, tucking his feet onto the seat so he takes up as little space as possible.

He’s been so stupid. He just assumed they’d know straight away and it wouldn’t be something he needed to tell them.

If they don’t know already, that means they might not take it well.

Oh god. What would he do then? He’s given everything to this band. He quit his job for it. For Tyler. What if Tyler kicks him out? What if he wants nothing more to do with him?

He presses his fingernails into the fabric of his hoodie, staring hard at the blur of highway outside. His throat aches with the effort of holding everything in.

He can’t bear the thought of them treating him differently, seeing him differently.

He barely even registers when they pull up outside his house. It takes Mark leaning over and nudging him to pull him out of his stupor.

“Hey, wake up. This is your stop.”
Josh grunts, needing to clear his throat before speaking out of fear it’ll be obvious he’s been crying.

“Thanks, man.” He mumbles.

His body goes stiff from the combination of playing a show and then piling into the van and not moving. His joints crack and pop as he climbs out slowly, methodically, dragging his bag behind him.

The apartment is dark and empty when Josh gets in, footsteps echoing around. He dumps his bag at the door and trudges upstairs.

He’s exhausted, both emotionally and physically, but he doesn’t think he’ll get much sleep.

Josh sinks onto his bed without bothering to change, curling on his side, staring at the shadows on the wall. His chest is tight, his breaths shallow, and for a terrifying moment he feels sixteen again - trapped, unseen, suffocating under the weight of what he can’t say.

-

If Tyler notices that Josh has withdrawn from him a bit, he doesn’t say anything.

They still hang out and everything, but Josh finds himself putting up walls. It’s like a pane of glass has been placed between them - they’re still together, still present, but… separate.

Josh doesn’t do it on purpose; it’s just difficult. Guilt gnaws at him for not saying anything sooner. It’s like he’s purposely hiding it at this point. It’s eating him alive.

He knows he doesn’t owe it to Tyler to tell him, he doesn’t owe it to anyone. But their lives have become so intertwined that it feels strange Tyler doesn’t know this massive part of him.

Whenever he’s not sleeping or working, he’s with Tyler. Working on music with Tyler, doing shows with Tyler, touring with Tyler, hanging out with Tyler. All TylerTylerTyler.

It’s driving Josh insane.

Maybe that’s why he drives to a club after work that night. It’s nothing fancy, more of a dive bar than anything, but he’s heard from Chris that there’s a band on worth seeing, and he needs to clear his head.

The band is good enough that Josh finds himself drumming on his leg and dissecting the rhythms in his head. Chris is right - they’re decent. It’s not quite hitting the way Josh wants though. He needs a drink.

Soon enough, he feels a pleasant buzz thrumming through his veins like the bass line. The club is humid, sticky with the movement of a mass of dancing bodies. The air presses in, thick and heavy, but Josh feels like he can finally breathe for the first time in days. 

Halfway through ordering his fifth (maybe sixth?) rum and coke, some guy leans over him to ask about the show, brushing against Josh far too frequently for it to be mistaken for anything but flirtatious, even in Josh’s drunken state.

He doesn’t know why he starts flirting back. He’s never flirted with a man before, but maybe it’s the drink, the atmosphere, or maybe even the fact his crooked smile reminds him a little of his best friend.

Either way, Josh finds himself grinning back and resting a hand on the other man’s arm as they knock back drink after drink.

The man is solid beneath Josh’s grip, warm, firm. His hands leave a trail of fire where they wrap around his waist, heating skin while rum warms his insides.

He likes the way the man laughs, he decides. He can’t hear it over the club speakers, but he feels the rumble of it and how it reverberates between them.

It feels good, even though he can’t really hear what he’s saying. And Josh is here to have a good time, right?

He loses himself in dancing, in the rhythm, in the heat and hips pressed against him, lips grazing his jaw.

So lost that he doesn’t think anything of it when the man’s touch slips under his shirt and grazes across his lower ribs. Until fingers brush the stiff fabric of his binder and he goes rigid in the man’s grip as panic seizes him like a vice. His chest tightens. His stomach flips. His eyes snap to the man’s face.

No. No no no no no.

Confusion is written all over the man’s face, his mouth curves into a frown. He looks at Josh with furrowed brows, clearly trying to work out what he’s just found on Josh’s body - why Josh is reacting so strongly -  and coming up with nothing. His hands remain still frozen in place on Josh’s ribcage.

Josh steps back abruptly, stumbling on unsteady feet and nearly falling back into a group behind him.

The man is trying to speak to Josh, he can see his mouth moving, but he can’t hear him, doesn’t want to either. 

He wants to leave. He wants to cry. He suddenly feels far too drunk and out of it. 

The man reaches for Josh but Josh just steps back, and back again until the crowd absorbed him. 

Fear coils in his gut, sharp and unrelenting, like a wave he can barely hold back. His hands won’t stay still, won’t unclench, like they’re braced for something that isn’t coming.

He isn’t sure how he manages to find the exit, but when he hits the cool air of the outside it helps ground him. A little.

He finds himself leaning against the wall so he won’t sway. How drunk was he? He didn’t feel this unsteady inside, but he hadn’t exactly been supporting his own weight either. Now he feels like everything is spinning and he doesn’t know if it was from the drink or stress of what just happened. 

His breathing is coming really fast and shallow and horribly uneven actually, so maybe it was that? 

Josh lets his head fall back to the brick wall, perhaps a little more forceful than he intended. His eyes squeeze shut to try and ignore how wet they had suddenly become.

Not here. Not where anyone can see.

He needs to go home. Shit. How is he gonna get home? He can’t drive like this.

He checks his phone, 2:14 am. 

Groaning, he tries to come up with a mental list of people he can call to get him and only coming up with one name who would reliably be awake at this time and not have been drinking. 

Tyler. 

The very person he is trying to avoid.

He doesn’t want Tyler to see him like this, not drunk, broken and barely holding himself together. But now he’s thought about it, Tyler’s the only one he actually wants to call.

Ugh. Everything is just so complicated. 

The heavy feeling in Josh’s chest only seems to get denser as he hovers over Tyler’s contact. Still, he takes a deep breath and presses it anyway, pushing his phone to tight to his ear so he won’t drop it.

Tyler answers on the third ring, his voice tired but not in a way that’s scratchy from sleep.

“…Hello? Josh?” 

“Hey Tyler, hey.” Josh hates how small he sounded as the words tumble out, how shaky. 

“Hey, Josh what’s up? It’s late… are you- are you okay?” Tyler’s voice sharpens with urgency, the tinny speaker struggling to keep up with how fast he’s talking.

Josh scrunches his face up and tears leak out of his eyes. He hates himself for making Tyler worried. For putting this on him.

“…yeah, uh... Yeah. I’m okay?” Josh gets out, although it sounds more like a question.

“- are you sure? You sound funny. What happened? Where are you?” Tyler pushes, his words tumbling over each other too quickly for Josh to process right away. He has to pause for a second to process.

“I’m at a club… On North high street. Tyler I’m so sorr-“

“You want me to pick you up?” Tyler cuts him off instantly.

“Yes.” Josh breathes, relief flooding through him. “Please.” 

“Okay, dude. I’m getting my keys now, text me the address. I’ll be there in twenty. Do you need me to stay on the phone with you?” 

“I can’t, I’ve got low battery. It might die before you get here.”

“No worries. I’m in my car now. Did you send the address? Oh I’ve just got it.” 

Josh hears the ignition start on the other end of the line.

“Okay. I’ll be twenty minutes alright? You’ll be okay?”

“…Yeah, I’ll be okay. Promise.”

Josh takes a deep breath. Okay. Twenty minutes. He can do twenty minutes. 

He still feels like shit, but the night air is starting to help sober him up by the time that the headlights of Tyler’s car pulled up at the sad of the road, leaving him with just the heaviness and a sick, sinking feeling in his stomach.

He climbs in the passenger seat and looks over at Tyler, tucked behind the wheel in an oversized hoodie and flannel pyjamas pants. 

He looks cozy. He looks tired.

Josh suddenly feels the chill in the air that the alcohol had been staving off. He folds his arms, tucking up into himself in the passenger seat.

“Hey. I didn’t wake you, did I?” It was pathetic how sad he sounds, even to himself. Tyler shoots him a sympathetic look.

“No man, I was working on a song. Don’t worry. You good?” 

Josh sighs. “Yeah. Think so.” 

“You sure? I can turn the heat up for you?” 

Josh nods, mumbling out a soft “Please.” 

Tyler cranks the heat up, it kicks in straight away with a jet of warm air. Tyler glances at him and pauses before shucking off his hoodie. 

“Here. You look freezing.”  

Josh accepts it gratefully, pulling it on and the hood up. He shrinks into it, breathing in the comfort of Tyler’s scent. 

They don’t talk much on the drive, but Josh can see Tyler constantly casting worried glances at him out of the corner of his eye, illuminated by all the street signs.

He grits his teeth. God, he feels like such a burden. 

They’re approaching his turn, only five minutes and then Josh would be in his house. He can shower, crawl into bed and just let the feelings rot.

His head turns, tracking the bend as they drive past it.

“Tyler?”

Tyler hums. “Yeah?” 

“You just - you just missed the turning.” 

Tyler pauses. 

“Yeah, no. I’m not taking you back to your house so you can just be miserable by yourself. I’m taking you back to mine.”

“You don’t need to do that…” Josh mumbles as they pull up to a red light. Tyler turns properly, fixing Josh in place with a hard, steely look.

“Dude, you just called me in the middle of the night absolutely shitfaced, all by yourself, asking me to come get you. I do need to do that.”

“I’m not that bad.” Josh protests. It’s weak, and Josh knows it. He hasn’t exactly got a decent excuse.

“You’ve been crying.” Tyler deadpans, his face illuminated by the now green light.

Josh frowns. So much for wallowing. 

“Sorry.”

Tyler sighs, but carries on with a softer tone. “I don’t mind. Really, I don’t. You do so much for me, I don’t mind helping you out when you need it. You wanna talk about it?”

Josh shifts unconsciously in his seat, trying to burrow down further into Tyler’s hoodie. 

“No.”

Guilt is eating him alive. Maybe he should just tell Tyler now? In fact, maybe it was the drink but that seems like a pretty good idea all of a sudden. He could just rip the bandaid off super quick and, if he was lucky, he wouldn’t even remember the conversation in the morning.

He watches Tyler’s face openly, not caring about being caught.

His mouth opens and closes a few times, trying to figure out the words to get out. His heart is lodged in his throat, his chest tightening with unease and nausea rolling in his stomach.

Tyler is pulling into his driveway. He needs to do it. Now.

He takes a deep breath.

“Tyler, I’m-“ His stomach gurgles. He stops, eyes widening as bile rises into his mouth. 

He’s going to be sick.

He twists round as quick as he can, fumbling with the door and managing to wrench it open right as he hurls the contents of his stomach out directly next to the car, again and again until it’s nothing but empty wretches.

He hears the drivers door open, then shut again. Then Tyler is there, manoeuvring around him to unplug Josh’s seatbelt and pull an arm over his shoulder to help guide him over the puddle of vomit. 

“You good, buddy?” Tyler murmurs, letting Josh rest his weight against him. “Got it all out?”

Josh nods weakly. Tonight is not his night.

“Good. Let’s get you inside, huh?” Tyler unlocks the door, leading him inside out of the cold.

“Yeah.” Josh croaks out. “Sounds good.”

Josh likes Tyler’s house. It’s small and shared with a roommate, it’s untidy a lot of the time too, but Josh has spent so much time there that it’s like a second home. 

Tyler leads him straight upstairs and into the bathroom, making Josh wince when he flicks on the light. 

He sits Josh on the toilet seat and gently places a hand on his shoulder. Josh isn’t sure if it’s to steady or comfort him. Probably to steady him. Josh is still swaying slightly, after all.

Josh finds himself being handed a glass of water, and knocks it back quickly, glad to be rid of the taste of vomit.

“Still good?” 

Josh nods. “Yeah.”

Tyler nods back and moves to grab the bottom of Josh’s hoodie.

“Okay, let’s get you in the shower then.” 

Josh’s eyes go wide, his body flinching hard. Clumsily, he pushes Tyler’s hands away, shaking his head rapidly and trying to move himself out of Tyler’s reach. 

“No. No no no.” 

Tyler’s brow furrowed. “Relax, man. I wasn’t gonna-” He sighed. “Dude, you stink. No way you’re sleeping in my bed like that.”

Josh blinks at him. That does seem reasonable enough.

“I can do it, don’t need help.”

“You sure?” Tyler certainly isn’t. 

“Yeah. I’m sure. I can do it.”

Tyler sighs, clearly not seeing any point in arguing with a drunk Josh.

“Fine, your call. Don’t lock the door though. I’ll get you some clothes wait outside in case you need me.”

“Okay. Thanks Ty.” 

“Just give me a shout if you need me, ‘kay?” Tyler fixes him with a small smile as he quietly clicks the door shut.

Okay. Next step. 

Josh needs to get in the shower. He strips his clothes off with unsteady hands while still sitting on the toilet, kicking them into a pile on the linoleum floor. It feels good to peel his binder off after having it on all day. His back and chest are clammy with sweat where it clung to him.

He moves slowly, stretching, then bracing himself as he climbs into the shower and turns it on. He leans against the tile, feeling its coolness as the water runs over him before sinking down to sit under its flow so he doesn’t have to stand on unsteady feet.

His head wobbles. His eyelids drag. The alcohol buzz is gone, replaced by heavy exhaustion.

The door creaks. Josh tenses, arms flying up to cover himself.

But it’s just Tyler, sticking an arm through the door to push in a towel and some clothes before shutting it again.

Josh takes another deep breath and fumbles around for Tyler’s shower gel, half-heartedly rubbing it over himself. He recoils when he washes his chest, but carries on anyway - moving quickly to get it over with.

When he’s done, he practically crawls out of the shower, leaving puddles on the bathroom floor, and sits on the bathmat as he halfheartedly dries himself with the towel Tyler brought.

He eyes his binder in the pile of discarded clothes, frowning at the offending garment. The sight of it made his stomach churn. Damp, sour-smelling, heavy with sweat. The thought of pulling it over his skin again was unbearable. He really doesn’t want to put it back on. At all. He weighs up if he’s willing to risk it.

He decides against it, He pulls on the soft cotton t-shirt, then Tyler’s hoodie and shorts. They don’t hide him the way he wants, not really, but they’re soft and loose enough. They’ll do.

As promised, Tyler is just outside the bathroom door when Josh drags himself through it. He smiles softly, and Josh trails after him to his room.

Josh all but falls onto Tyler’s bed, ready to sleep straight away. The mattress is soft, and Josh loves the way he sinks into it like a dead weight, closing his eyes and groaning in appreciation. The bed dips beside him with the weight of another body.

“Nuh uh. You need to drink this first.” Tyler shakes Josh’s shoulder, not letting him rest. Josh opens one weary eye to see him sitting next to him, holding a large glass of water expectantly.

Josh groans again.

“C’mon. I’m not leaving until you drink it.” Tyler stretches out his hand, and Josh takes it, letting Tyler pull him upright.

The glass presses into Josh’s hand, Tyler watching carefully as he gulps down the contents.

When he’s finished, Josh tucks himself back onto Tyler’s bed, curling into the fetal position around a pillow.

Tyler leans over him, and for a second Josh thinks he’s going to tuck him in, but he just grabs a pillow from the other side of the bed and heads for the door.

“I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

Judgment isn’t his thing tonight, but Josh doesn’t want him to leave. To leave him alone.

“No.” Josh mumbles, words muffled even more by the pillow.

“No?” Tyler cocks his head, turning back around.

“Stay. Please, don’t leave me.” He just wants Tyler close. They’ve shared a bed loads of times before, playing shows. This is no different, right?

Tyler sighs, stepping back into the room. “Okay.”

Josh watches as he circles back around the bed and settles under the covers beside him. The bedside lamp clicks off.

“Goodnight, Josh,” Tyler whispers.

“’Night, Tyler,” Josh mumbles back, already slipping into sleep.

-

Josh’s limbs are made of lead and his head is full of concrete.

Even before he opens his eyes, the light spilling into the room makes his head pound. He’s too hot, his skin wet with sweat beneath the blankets and hoodie and arm sprawled across his stomach.

Wait.

Arm across his stomach?

He cracks an eye open, wincing at the brightness of the morning light, and cranes his neck round to see.

Oh. Josh breathes a sigh of relief.

It’s only Tyler, lying haphazardly over the covers with his face buried in his pillow, snoring softly.

He closes his eyes again, letting his head sink back into the pillow and vaguely remembering getting picked up from the bar the night before.

He’s still too hot but can’t be bothered to move properly, instead opting to just clumsily kick the covers off from over him and pull his hood over his face to try and block out some light.

That’s better.

Now if he can just ignore the thundering in his skull and how dry his throat is, he can go back to sleep.

-

Waking up the second time is marginally worse than the first.

Josh is jostled from sleep by Tyler rolling over and his hand flailing out to reach for his phone and smacking Josh in the side of the head.

“Urghhh,” Josh groans, his arm coming up to swat Tyler away.

Tyler makes a startled noise next to him, lifting his head off the pillow in confusion.

“Oh.” He mumbles, flopping his head back down. “Hey.”

Josh grunts back. He isn’t quite ready to face the world yet. He wishes he could just lie there all day and marinate in self-pity.
But he isn’t in his house, he’s at Tyler’s. His breath tastes like sick and he needs to pee. He sighs in defeat and drags himself up out of bed.

The bathroom is exactly how Josh left it the night before, down to the puddles of water and pile of his clothes in the corner. Josh goes to the toilet before getting into the shower, this time taking the time to lather his hair up and wash it.

He normally tries to get in and out of the shower as quickly as possible. Less time spent in there means less time being left alone with his ill-fitting body. Less chance of him catching sight of his reflection in the mirror. But today he needs it. He needs to feel refreshed and renewed, he needs to push through the temporary discomfort.

He climbs out feeling a bit more human. Even if he can still taste his own rancid breath.

He doesn’t think Tyler will mind him stealing all his bath products, but his toothbrush is probably where he draws the line. He has to settle for washing his mouth out in the sink and rubbing toothpaste around it with his finger.

He nudges his pile of clothes with his toe - they don’t look appealing. It’s almost like they’re corrupted with the previous night’s misery. No, better to put back on the ones from Tyler.

He sighs. There’s one thing he can’t get from Tyler though.

He pulls his binder out of the pile and tugs it over his head. It doesn’t smell too bad, but it still feels like pulling on a punishment. He resents needing it so badly. Still, he yanks it over his head. At least it means he can forgo the hoodie now if he wants.

Upon reentering Tyler’s room, Josh finds the other man sat on his bed fiddling with his laptop.
He looks up when he notices Josh, smiling softly at him.

“Hey, how’re you feeling?”

“Rough,” Josh croaks out, stepping into the room to sit next to him.

“Not surprised, the state you were in.” Tyler nods to the bedside table. “There’s water and Advil on the side for you.”

Josh takes both gratefully, choking down the pills dry then downing the water in one go.

“Thanks.”

He pulls his feet onto the bed in front of him, moving to peer at Tyler’s screen.

“Whatcha working on?”

“The song from last night, wanna listen? It’s just the music at the moment.”

“Will it hurt my head?”

Tyler smiles and lets out a tiny snort. “Shouldn’t, haven’t got any drums on it yet.”

Josh smiles back. “Go on then.”

The song is good, maybe even one of the best that Tyler has written, even in its early stages.

The melody is catchy, even without words, and the driving synth chords give it a more dancey feel. He watches Tyler as he listens. He can practically hear the gears in his friend’s head as he listens to the song, clearly analysing what’s working and what isn’t.

He even catches him humming little notes that aren’t in the song yet, but are bound to be weaved in at some point. 

Not for the first time, Josh finds himself in awe of his best friend. Sometimes he can’t quite believe how incredible he is, how talented. How he can take his suffering and turn it into something purposeful and brilliant. Josh feels so lucky to have found him.

When the final notes die down, Tyler playfully bumps their shoulders together.

“Sooooo… what’d you think?”

“Ty, it’s incredible. Can’t wait to work out the drums for it. Do you have any thoughts so far for it?”

Tyler smiles coyly, forever the mastermind. “A few.”

Tyler plays through the song again a few times, making subtle little tweaks here and there. Josh just lies on the bed next to him with his eyes closed, soaking it all in while he waits for the Advil to kick in.

He must drift off, because the next thing he knows, Tyler is closing his laptop and speaking to him.

“You wanna go get some food?”

God, yes.

-

“So. Are we gonna talk about what happened last night?” 

Josh looks up at Tyler sharply, his mouth stuffed with Taco Bell and unable to form any real words. “…Uh?”

Oh no. Tyler is looking at him with big brown eyes full of concern again. Josh hates it. He looks down at his food to avoid meeting Tyler’s gaze.

“C’mon, man. It’s me. You know you can tell me anything.”

Do I? The thought comes bitter. He wants to believe it. God, he wants to. But Tyler doesn’t know the half of it. Not the bruises along his ribs. Not the way Josh’s reflection still sucker-punches him some mornings. Not the secret he’s been unknowingly swallowing for years.

If Tyler knew that, would he still look at him like this? Would he still sound so sure? Or would the word freak finally hang unspoken in the air?

He almost wishes he never called Tyler.

Tyler, who is still looking at him with expectant, pleading eyes.

“Josh, please… I just want to help.”

Josh swallows hard. No. Not that. Not yet. Maybe not ever. He can’t drop the whole weight of it, not here in a Taco Bell booth at noon. But maybe… maybe a piece. Something smaller. Test the water.

He takes a deep breath, places his burrito down in front of him, and starts talking before he can back out.

“There was a guy. At the bar last night, I mean -“ 

“- a guy?” Tyler’s stills, burrito forgotten midair. His eyes go wide as he scans over Josh, as if assessing for damage.

“Crap Josh, did he hit you?” 

Josh just rolls eyes.

“No. He didn’t hit me. Tyler, do you want me to tell you or not?”

Tyler nods quickly. “Sorry.”

“We errrrr… we were making out.”

Tyler doesn’t interrupt this time, but his eyes grow impossibly wider. His burrito sits untouched back on the table between them. Josh stares at it as he speaks, afraid that if he looks at Tyler, he’ll chicken out.

“I just wanted to try it,” Josh gets out. “And it was nice. Different, but nice. But then he started getting a little too handsy -”

Tyler inhales sharply.

“No! Not like that. Jeez. I just freaked out, that’s all. It was a lot. I was scared and I freaked out.”

Tyler leans forward, eyes searching. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Okay…” Tyler nods thoughtfully to himself, then shyly asks, “So… did you - are you? …You know?”

Josh blinks at him.

“Tyler, are you asking if I’m gay?”

“Uhh, yes?”

“Would it be a problem if I was?” Josh asks cautiously.

Tyler flinches back in his seat, scrambling to get words out.

“What? No! God, no. Not a problem. I just- I just didn’t see you like that. I always thought… never mind. It’s not a problem… You are then? Because you know you’re my best friend no matter what. Right?”

Josh pauses. No matter what.

Josh’s chest tightens. No matter what. If only Tyler knew what “what” really meant.

His tongue still feels thick in his throat when he answers, even though it’s the truth, it’s not the whole truth.

“I don’t… I don’t know. I was far too drunk last night. I don’t think it counts.”

“Oh.”

Tyler picks up his burrito again, taking a couple of mouthfuls before something seems to dawn on him. His face splits into a grin.

“Hey man, why didn’t you just ask me? I totally would’ve kissed you if you wanted to try it.”

Josh groans and balls up a napkin, tossing it at Tyler’s face.

“Dude.”

Tyler laughs. “No, seriously. I would’ve kissed you! It’s just helping a bro out.”

Josh scrunches his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. Tyler only grins wider.

“Josheeey.” Tyler sing-songs and makes little kissy faces at him. Every syllable makes Josh’s head pound. “What’s wrong? Do you not want to kiss meeeee?”

If Josh’s eyes roll any harder, they’ll roll right out of his skull.

“You’re unbelievable.”

He laughs anyway, though - the weight in his chest lifting.

Chapter Text

It becomes a thing after that. Tyler pretends to flirt with him and Josh just laughs along. It’s nothing heavy, just a bit of banter and the occasional peck on the cheek, so he isn’t shocked that the rest of their friends just brush it off.

It’s just something they do.

Josh doesn’t really think anything of it. Even when, maybe, he should.

The house party they’re at is packed with college kids. Josh is drunk on a couple of beers, but mostly riding the high from playing an amazing show. Tyler had been on top form all night - bouncing around the ‘stage’ and crowd without missing a single beat. It didn’t matter that only a few people were actually there to see them, the atmosphere was electric all the same and it was all Tyler’s doing.

At some point, though, they get separated. Josh isn’t entirely sure what happens - he thinks Tyler disappears into the kitchen to get another drink and simply vanishes for over an hour.

Which is how Josh ends up pleasantly buzzed, talking to some girl, pretty with pink hair, at the island countertop. They talk about her college major - literature - and she complains about being ditched by her roommate - but hey, it’s worked out, because it means she gets to talk to Josh instead.

She smiles at him, putting a hand on his shoulder, and Josh smiles back. He’s just asked her about dying her hair and leans a little closer to hear her better when he catches sight of Tyler across the room.

His friend is talking animatedly about something, maybe music, but probably Pokémon, judging by his gestures. Then Tyler’s gaze flicks over and latches onto Josh. A strange look crosses his face for a second before he bounds over like an excited Labrador, immediately wrapping both arms around Josh’s middle from behind.

“Hey Josh! Who’s this?” Tyler’s heat presses warm against Josh’s back, his breath hot and damp on the side of Josh’s neck.

Josh leans back, not fully resting his weight on Tyler, just enough for Tyler to press against him and keep them upright. His head lolls back so he can see his friend.

“Hi Tyler.” He smiles, going to nuzzle into Tyler’s neck for a second in greeting. “I made a friend. This is Katie. Katie, this is Tyler.”

“Hi Katie.” Tyler hums, tightening his grip for a second around Josh’s waist. Josh closes his eyes for a moment, enjoying the feeling of being held. He’s pretty sure Tyler is more drunk than he is - a lot more, judging by the way he’s hanging off him.

He’s missed Tyler tonight. He doesn’t mind these sorts of parties, but they’re always better when Tyler’s there. Having Tyler around keeps his anxiety in check, trading the gnawing feeling in his belly for something softer, something comforting.

“Hi Tyler! We were just talking about Josh dying his hair pink.”

Josh lifts his head, not trusting himself to follow the conversation with his head tucked against Tyler.

“Oh yeah?” He can practically hear the smirk in Tyler’s voice, shivering a little at the low tone. “You’d look good, Jish.”

Josh brushes the reaction off as a side effect of the alcohol and laughs lightly.

“Yeah, well you would say that.” He sticks his tongue out at Tyler, craning his neck to try and lick his cheek - nearly knocking them both off balance when Tyler tries to dodge without loosening his grip.

“Dude, gross. Not in public!” Tyler laughs, eyes crinkling.

Katie’s eyes flick between them, studying them with a slight frown before her expression softens into a knowing smile. “Oh! You guys are - Sorry Josh, I didn’t realise.”

Josh furrows his brow, confused. They’re what? The thought flickers across his mind fleetingly, forgotten again as Tyler sways behind him and Josh’s brainpower’s redirected to keeping them both upright.

He just doesn’t have the capacity to think too hard about it, especially since Katie spots her roommate and bolts across the house to follow her.

The arms around his middle loosen and loop around his shoulders instead.

“What was that about?” Josh asks.

“Beats me.” Tyler shrugs it off. “I think they’re playing beer pong in the basement. Wanna play?”

It’s not really a question. Tyler immediately links arms with him and starts dragging him through the house, giving him no choice but to follow. He’s happy to anyway, with Tyler back at his side, everything feels normal again.

Smoke makes the basement hazy as they head down the stairs. It’s definitely too big a room to hotbox, but the stoners who have taken up residence down there are certainly giving it their best shot.

About twelve people are crammed around the ping pong table in the back corner, the ball bouncing off the table with satisfying little pops just audible over the cheering and laughter.

Tyler immediately locks onto some guy - maybe he started the game? - to demand they join.

Beer pong isn’t really Tyler’s thing, as far as Josh knows, so he isn’t sure why Tyler is so adamant about playing.

Three games later, and Tyler is absolutely wasted - more than Josh has ever seen him - leaning all his weight on him and occasionally smushing his mouth against Josh’s cheek.

It turns out Josh was right: beer pong isn’t Tyler’s thing. But thankfully, Tyler’s a happy drunk, which makes it easier to endure the fifth “mwah” against his jaw and the loud, slurred declaration of: “I love you so so so much, man.”

Josh laughs weakly, patting his back. “Okay, Romeo. Time for water.”

Getting back upstairs with Tyler is a bit of a trauma. Tyler seems willing enough to cooperate, but his legs don’t get the memo, and they stumble more than once on the stairs.

It doesn’t help that almost as soon as they reach the top, Mr. Brightside starts playing, and Tyler perks right up, excitedly smacking Josh’s arm.

“Josh! JoshJoshJoshJosh! We should dance!”

Josh sighs. “Maybe later, Ty. We’re getting water now. C’mon.”

Josh preemptively tightens his arm around Tyler’s waist, just in case he decides to bolt, but Tyler seems content to cling instead.

When they reach the kitchen, it’s packed with people, far more than before, so moving through it - especially while supporting Tyler’s swaying form - isn’t an option.

Josh ignores Tyler’s protests, circles back, and tugs him to the downstairs bathroom instead, snagging a red plastic cup en route.

Tyler, who has mostly been going on about how much he loves The Killers, perks up again when he realises where they’re headed.

“Josheeeey, are you taking me to the bathroom?” He leers and waggles his eyebrows before erupting into laughter.

Josh rolls his eyes but lets out a short laugh at his friend’s ridiculousness.

“Just get inside and sit on the toilet before you face-plant.”

“Yessir!”

Relief floods Josh.

They’re lucky - the bathroom has definitely seen better days, but it’s empty and in decent shape considering the time. A few puddles on the floor are the worst of it. No sick, no horrors. Thank God.

Josh lets go of Tyler so he can lock the door. When he turns back, Tyler is sitting on the toilet, smiling up at him and attempting to swing his legs.

Alright, time to commence plan: try to sober Tyler up. 

Josh fills the cup at the sink and hands it to Tyler, taking his friend’s hands and wrapping his fingers around it when Tyler doesn’t grab it immediately.

“C’mon Ty. Drink up.” Josh guides it to Tyler’s lips, only removing his hands once Tyler starts drinking.

“Thanks, man.”

Josh glances at the sink and decides to have some water too. He dunks his head under the tap, slurping straight from it and splashing some on his face.

He makes Tyler drink three more cups of water and swigs two himself before sinking to the bathroom floor and closing his eyes.

Now that they’re out of the loud music and thrumming atmosphere, tiredness hits him. Maybe he can head back to the van once he makes sure Tyler is okay.

Movement next to him catches his attention. Tyler slides off the toilet and shuffles until their arms and knees press together in the cramped space. Josh closes his eyes again, leaning into it. The warmth feels good. Familiar.

“You were so good tonight, J.” Tyler whispers, slow and careful, as if trying not to slur. “Didn’t miss a beat.”

Josh hums, slinging an arm around Tyler’s shoulders and giving him an affectionate squeeze. They might as well glue themselves together after the last few hours. Tyler immediately melts into the touch, resting his head on Josh’s shoulder.

“I really think we could do this, J. You and me. I think it will work.”

It’s a conversation they’ve had before, in the van, in whispers before falling asleep, but it still makes Josh’s breath catch and his heart stutter.

Josh squeezes again. “Yeah? Me too, Ty. I can feel it. Wouldn’t wanna do it with anyone else.”

And he can. There was a time when he lived purely on survival mode, unable to see a future beyond getting by day to day. Anything more seemed impossible.

Now, he sees it - a future bright and within reach, where he can be who he’s meant to be and do what he’s meant to do. It feels surreal.

It’s scary to admit - except in quiet moments like this - but it makes him giddy, leaving a lightness in his chest he rarely feels.

He feels Tyler’s breath on his cheek and opens his eyes. Tyler’s face is inches from his own, eyes half-lidded, watching him intently.

“Ty?” He breathes, his face pinched with confusion. It almost looked like -

BANG BANG BANG.

Both Josh and Tyler startle, flinching away from each other and the door.

“TYLER! Are you in there?”

It’s Mark. Probably annoyed they’ve stayed so long at the party.

Tyler groans, letting his head fall back against the wall.

“We’re in here!” Josh calls, slowly pushing himself up. He glances at Tyler before unlocking the door, smiling slightly at the disgruntled look on his friend’s face.

As soon as the lock clicks, Mark squeezes in. It’s tight with all three of them, especially avoiding stepping on Tyler.

“Hey! I’ve been looking for you for the last hour… have you just been here the whole time?”

“Not the whole hour… maybe twenty minutes max?” Josh says, trying to stretch in the limited space. Sitting on the floor has made his ass go numb.

“Twenty minutes? People are definitely gonna think you’re either fucking or doing coke.” 

Tyler mumbles something from his spot on the floor.

Mark glances down, taking in Tyler properly for the first time. “Shit, man. How drunk are you?”

“Very.” Josh answers for him.

Mark looks between them suspiciously before settling on Josh.

“Right… Okay. Look, we’ve got to head out at midday tomorrow at the latest, or we’re not gonna get to Milwaukee on time. Are you ready?”

“Yeah.” Josh tries not to look too relieved and glances at Tyler. “Can you get up?”

Tyler nods and drags himself up the wall.

Getting Tyler out of the front door and to the van is easier than the bathroom, possibly because Josh is ever so slightly more sober than before, but probably because this time there are two of them helping.

Unseasonably cold March air hits them as soon as they’re outside the house; it isn’t much warmer in the van either.

Normally, Josh likes touring in the colder months best. Sure, it’s absolutely freezing sometimes, but it’s so much better than being baked alive in the summer, double-layered up while Tyler and Mark and sometimes even Michael wander around shirtless.

He starts to rethink that now, especially when he goes to change from his skinny jeans to some sweatpants and the cold sends a chill through him.

He glances at where the mattress is crammed between Tyler’s keyboard and Josh’s snare to find Tyler splayed out smack-bang in the center of it. Eyes shut and everything.

A short huff of air escapes Josh’s nose. He can’t help but be amused at how quickly the other man has nearly fallen asleep.

“Mark.” Josh calls quietly to the front seat, jerking his head toward Tyler’s half-sleeping form once Mark turns around where he’s lying in the front seat.

Mark lets out a light laugh. “Surprised it took him this long, the way he was dragging his feet.”

“Do you think we should wake him to get changed?”

“Nah, leave him.” Mark flops onto the seat properly, then pauses. “Maybe take his shoes off if you don’t want him kicking you in his sleep.”

“Great. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, man.”

Josh squats down and tugs Tyler’s shoes off, not even surprised when Tyler doesn’t stir at all from the jostling.

He lingers for minute, glancing at Mark in the front seat.

What he really wants to take his binder off too - he’s had it on for over eighteen hours at this point, and his ribs are killing him. His skin feels like it’s begging to breathe.

It’s too risky, though, even without the way Tyler curls against him in his sleep like a heat-seeking missile. He doesn’t like the thought of stripping out of it while the others are in the van, asleep or not. It’s too exposing.

No. Tomorrow, he promises himself. He’s better off waiting until then and layering a hoodie and coat while they travel.

He gently shoves Tyler over to the far side of the mattress, ignoring his sleepy grumbling protests and making sure his friend is lying on his side.

Then Josh tosses a blanket over him and crawls into his own sleeping bag, the cold air seeping in as the van settles into silence.

-

Josh stirs to the sound of car doors slamming somewhere nearby. He blinks blearily, taking in the van in the blue-tinged pre-dawn light.

As predicted, at some point in the night Tyler has found him and curled himself around Josh like a koala clings to a tree. Tyler’s nose is icy where it presses against the back of Josh’s neck. His soft snores seem loud in the otherwise quiet van.

It doesn’t really bother Josh - he’s used to it at this point and, to be quite honest, he enjoys the extra warmth it gives them. Sure, when he started touring, he didn’t think he’d end up spooning with (or rather being spooned by) his bandmate, but this is Tyler, not just anyone.

He’s his best friend.

Besides, it’s absolutely fucking freezing.

Seeking as much heat as he can get, Josh snuggles back against Tyler, chasing every scrap of warmth and comfort on offer.

Tyler’s arm flexes where it wraps around Josh’s waist over his sleeping bag, his grip tightening as he stirs but he doesn’t wake.

It’s easy to close his eyes again and drift back off - he’d never really drifted out of that warm, soft place somewhere between awake and asleep.

-

It’s daylight when he wakes again, and the other side of the mattress is cold. The front seat is empty too. They’ve probably gone to find somewhere to piss or get food or something. It’s a pleasant surprise that he doesn’t have too much of a headache, but he supposes it’s all that water he downed.

Josh groans and sits up. His ribs ache. Well, all of him aches after sleeping in the van - always does - but his ribs ache especially.

He scans outside the window for passersby, stripping off his hoodie and shirt when he sees there are none around.

Peeling off his binder feels like a religious experience. He sighs and breathes in deeply, letting the cool morning air caress his skin for a second, wanting longer but unable to risk being caught shirtless.

He hates wearing it, but he also needs it. It lets him go where he wants, do what he wants, without anyone noticing—but the price is always there, in his chest, his ribs, his back. He pushes himself too far already, but for now, the freedom feels worth it.

He pulls on a fresh t-shirt and hoodie, hoping the clean clothes will help him feel a bit less grubby. Tyler and Mark both had showers at the venue last night, but they were open ones with no individual cubicles, so Josh swerved it.

He’s paying the price now. His face and hair are far too oily, his body coated with stale sweat. He can only hope it’s a different story at the venue tonight.

There isn’t much he can do while he waits. His phone is dead, and he can’t charge it without the engine running. Sure, the key is probably around somewhere, but sometimes Mark gets moody if someone leaves it idling in case it runs out of gas. It never does.

Instead, he starts packing up whatever bits he can and rolls up his sleeping bag before curling up on the backseat under the blanket.

Clattering from outside the van catches Josh’s attention a split second before the back door slides open, letting in a gust of cold wind and revealing Tyler and Mark carrying three of the largest coffees Josh has ever seen.

“Oh, you’re up! Thought we’d have to wake you. How’re you feeling?” Mark says, holding a coffee out toward Josh.

“Alright. Cold, mostly. Not too hungover though. You?”

He accepts the coffee Mark offers gratefully, taking a deep sip before simply holding the cup in his hands, letting the heat seep into his fingers.

“Yeah. Didn’t really drink much last night. Tyler’s a bit rough though.”

He sidles up next to Josh on the seat and makes grabby hands at his blanket. Josh lifts it up without thinking to let Tyler under, tensing momentarily when the other man slumps against him and subtly shifting so Tyler doesn’t feel his chest.

“Hey, Ty. What’s up?”

“Drank too much.” Tyler mumbles back.

Josh smiles. “I know, bro. I was there too.”

“Ugh.” Tyler makes an exasperated noise and scrunches his eyes shut.

In the front, Josh can see Mark punching in directions on the sat nav. Looks like they’ll be heading out soon. He can’t help but feel excited at the prospect of being able to put the heating on once they start moving.

It really is all about the small things.

“Josh.” Tyler whispers after a few minutes, finding Josh’s hand under the blanket and giving it a squeeze.

Josh hums. “Yeah?”

“Thanks for looking out for me last night. ‘Preciate it.”

“No worries, man. You’d do the same for me.”

-

Really, Josh should’ve seen the warning signs. There were several of them, all glaring red and completely obvious looking back. 

The first one is easy enough to brush off. He’s tired. That’s nothing new - they’ve been on tour for three weeks now and have yet to sleep in a real bed. Really, it’d be more suspicious if he isn’t feeling it. He’s more tired than usual though, absolutely exhausted after the last couple of shows.

The second is also easily explainable - his back fucking aches. Again, he’s been sleeping on a mattress in the back of a van for two weeks.

Josh doesn’t even really pick up on the third until after the incident, but he’s been feeling off for a few days. Just… not quite right, mood wise. Looking back at it, he’d even say depressed - dark thoughts creeping in easier than the good ones, leaving him withdrawn and grumpy.

The forth red flag is what should’ve tipped him off though, really. 

He wakes in the night to the most horrendous cramping in his guts, like they’re twisting inside him. He lies there for a moment clutching his lower stomach, not knowing where he is or what’s going on - only that he’s in pain - until he wakes up properly.

But again, he brushes it off as a bad stomach. They had greasy gas station burritos the night before; it’s no surprise one didn’t sit right. They’re parked in a rest stop at least - he can get up, make the pilgrimage across the icy car park to the bathroom if he needs to.

When the pain doesn’t stop after another five minutes - if anything it becomes more urgent - Josh groans, drags himself up, shrugs into a coat, grabs his phone, and blearily makes his way to the bathroom.

It’s blessedly empty. Not a shock, since it’s about 3 a.m., meaning Josh gets to camp out in a cubicle undisturbed, tiredly swaying where he sits on the toilet and scrolling through Instagram while he does his business.

What is a shock, however, is when Josh wipes and the paper comes back bloody.

Any remaining tiredness evaporates from his body as he stares at the toilet paper in his hand. His mind frantically races, trying to work out when his next shot is due. It’s not for another month. Right? He’s sure it’s another month. He counts it out in his head. He’s sure. He’s sure. He’s -

Fuck.

Last time they changed the dosage. They told him to call back after a month for another appointment. He didn’t. He forgot.

“Shit!” Josh curses, the sound echoing out around the bathroom. He drops his head into his hands. “Shitshitshitshit.”

What the hell is he going to do now?

The sense of wrongness twists his stomach for a whole new reason, bile burning the back of his throat, frustrated tears pricking at his eyes. It’s like being a kid again - so afraid, so out of control of his own body.

He hasn’t had a period since he was seventeen and plucked up the courage to ask if he could start on birth control to stop them. Between that and being busy with touring, no wonder he’s missed all the signs. It couldn’t be worse timing.

A cold sweat breaks across his skin from the panic, and the combination of that and being absolutely exhausted makes him shiver in the frigid air of the bathroom.

Still, he stays sat there, eyes watering and stomach cramping, until he feels able to move again. And then he sits there a little longer, trying to work out what to do next.

-

Josh crawls back into bed a little under an hour after he left, freshly showered and carrying a bag of supplies from the gas station shop.

He still feels like shit - his stomach aches and his whole body is shivery - but it’s a relief to bury himself under the warmth of the blankets again and close his eyes. 

His head hasn’t been on the pillow for longer than a minute when a tired voice murmurs next to his head.

“Josh?”

Josh opens his eyes to find Tyler watching him, eyes glinting in the darkness.“Are you okay?” he whispers, so close that Josh can feel his breath fan across his face.

“Yeah… I’m okay… Sorry for waking you.” Josh murmurs back. His voice sounds small, sad, shaky - unconvincing enough that Tyler reaches out to rest a hesitant hand on his arm.

“Dude. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing… just sick, is all.” Josh sniffles, the cramps in his stomach tightening as if to betray him. He shuts his eyes, hoping Tyler can’t see the tears reforming.

“Oh, Josh…” Tyler sighs softly. “C’mere.”

Josh lets himself be manoeuvred into Tyler’s arms, relishing the contact as he burrows into his chest. He wraps his arms tight around his friend, fisting his hands in his t-shirt like he’s afraid Tyler might pull away. Once the little sobs start escaping him, he can’t stop.

“It’s okay. Let it out. I’ve got you.” Tyler hums, gently cradling Josh’s head with one hand and rubbing slow, soothing circles on his back. “I’ve got you.”

Josh presses his face into Tyler’s neck, nuzzling in and dampening his skin with tears. He doesn’t care that it makes it harder to get air into his gasping lungs. He just needs the contact. The feeling of another human grounding him while everything inside him feels wrong.

The warmth helps, the closeness even more so. Josh shifts to get closer, tangling their legs together. He feels lips graze the top of his head.

Tyler’s hold doesn’t slacken until Josh is all cried out, and even then it remains.

Chapter Text

The relationship Josh has with his family is… strained to say the least. His parents hadn’t taken him coming out well. They definitely could’ve taken it worse - he wasn’t kicked out or anything - but they weren’t supportive.

Yelling had come first. Then crying - that was all three of them. 

Then the denial seemed to kick in. His parents did their very best to ignore it was happening at all and to give them credit, it was almost believable. 

It drove Josh round the bend. 

He had three years of them looking at him and politely suggesting that Josh grow his hair out since he looked so much prettier with it long. 

Of them finding more and more excuses to push him towards lots of floral prints and pinks and dresses whenever they bought him new clothes.

Of them sighing and not so gently implying that this ‘masculine phase’ was embarrassing for them.

Of them eventually just asking that if he “was going to be a lesbian, can’t you at least be one of the girly ones?”

He wonders sometimes if they thought they were being subtle with the way they danced around the issue. Like if they ignored it long enough, the problem would go away. 

It’s all very surreal, it probably would’ve even been a little funny how ridiculous they were acting, that is, if it didn’t feel like every time they looked at Josh, they weren’t even seeing him at all. 

It wears him down. 

Things got better once he hit eighteen and moved out. Yeah, the flat he shared with two other people was tiny and grotty - possibly to the point of health code violations - but it was worth it. 

He didn’t have to wake up everyday and be treated like he was somebody else, somebody who may not have even really existed. Didn’t have to bite his tongue and wince every time he was called the wrong name.

It took three more years after moving out to be able to afford both rent and testosterone, and another six months after that to gather up the courage to start and risk being his parents kicking him off their insurance plan if they found out.

It was a bit of a shock for his mom though when he bumped into her in Walmart six months in and the changes were definitely noticeable. Before that, whenever they spoke on the phone, they’d been playing a fun game where they both pretended his voice sounded different because he had a cold. Denial’s a powerful thing, after all.

She’d invited him home for dinner two weeks later and, despite the uncomfortable glances periodically cast his way, it went mostly without incident. 

He wasn’t called Jess once.

He wasn’t called Josh either though.

This, however, is why, when Josh realises he finally is in a position to get top surgery, both financially and timing-wise, he also realises he doesn’t actually have anyone to help look after him whilst he recovers.

His first thought, unsurprisingly, is of Tyler, but duh - he can’t ask Tyler this. Because Tyler doesn’t know.

The mental list of people he knows comes up shockingly short of anyone who he’d actually want around him when he’d be so vulnerable and is already up to speed on the situation.

Then there are the added complications of being out of action for at least six weeks. No driving, no lifting and certainly no drumming.
Maybe it just isn’t the right time after all.

Frustration bubbles within him, overwhelming him. He just wants to scream. He wants to tear his own hair out by the fistfuls. He is so fucking close and it is just out of his grasp.

Instead, Josh forces himself to breathe, to move slowly. Measured steps take him to his fridge, grabbing a spoon, the pint of ice cream he bought the previous week and gets into bed to have a long hard cry.

-

The living room smells like greasy pizza and half-empty cans of Mountain Dew. Tyler’s beaten Mark for a third time in Mario Kart and is lording it over him, crowing and hooting so loud the neighbours can probably hear.

Josh sits cross-legged on the floor, controller in hand, but he isn’t really playing. His kart is somewhere in twelfth place, slamming into walls while his friends scream at each other over the game.

It should feel normal. Comfortable. It almost does.

Josh laughs when Mark throws his controller at the couch in mock despair, but the sound feels strange in his throat, hollow and thin. He wishes he could sink into it fully, let himself forget.

But every time Tyler bumps his shoulder against his, or shoves a slice of pizza in his face like, Eat, man, you’re too skinny, it presses at the edges of him.

When the night winds down and Mark heads home, Josh lingers in the doorway after Tyler leaves too. The house is too quiet without their noise. He presses his forehead to the door for a second, fighting the ache in his chest.

-

It’s three in the morning and Josh is flat on his back, staring at the ceiling fan. His phone screen glares against the dark, the blue light burning his tired eyes.

Top surgery recovery: week one. What to expect.
Tips for sleeping with drains.
When can I drum again after chest surgery?

He scrolls and scrolls, clicking through forums, Reddit posts, old blog entries. Some are reassuring. Others knot his stomach so tight he can’t breathe.

He flips to YouTube, half out of panic, half out of habit. A video of someone unboxing Pokémon cards plays while he tries not to think.

When that doesn’t work, he scrolls Instagram. Everyone’s smiling, drunk, living their lives like it’s nothing. Normal. He can’t help but think about how bitterly unfair it all is.

He shoves the phone under his pillow and rubs his eyes until they sting. The silence of the room feels suffocating. His heart races. His skin crawls.

Finally, he rolls onto his side and hugs his pillow tight to his chest. Pretends it’s a drum, grounding himself with the steady rhythm of his fingers tapping against it. 

He taps out the rhythm to almost a whole setlist.

If he closes his eyes tight enough, maybe he can trick himself into believing he’ll wake up tomorrow and everything will be fine.

-

Sweat drips off Josh’s nose.
It’s 102 degrees in Kentucky, they’ve travelled down to play a festival and the air con in the van is fucking broken.

Even with the windows down, it feels like they’re being baked alive. Mark is the first one to peel off his t-shirt. Tyler follows not long after, even going as far as to strip down to his boxers and lounge on the backseat.

That just leaves Josh, double layered and absolutely miserable about it.

Maybe he’s been on T long enough for him to try taping again. he didn’t get the best results the first and only time he’d tried, but he’s changed a lot since then. That way at least there’d be one less layer stuck to his skin. It isn’t like that was going to help him now though.

It’s hard to distract himself from the oppressive heat, but he does his best - switching between directing Mark and debating with him about which of the Fast and Furious movies is the most ridiculously stupid.

(Mark is set on Fast and Furious 2 and Josh is adamant it’s Tokyo Drift.)

The spanner in the works, however, is Tyler, sprawled out on the backseat whining about the heat.

“Dude, I think my eyeballs are sweating.”

“Isn’t that just called tears?” Mark quips back.
Josh snorts.

“It’s just too hot! It’s like the sun wants to bake us.” Tyler carries on. “No, scratch that. It’s like we’re on the sun.”

Josh turns around to face him, wincing at the way his arm sticks to the plastic console and audibly peels off.

In fairness, Tyler does look hot, his skin all flushed and shiny with sweat, his normally fluffy hair plastered down. Josh’s eyes glue to Tyler’s torso, taking in how his tanned skin stretches out and flushes a slight pink, free from any scars or blemishes apart from the occasional mole.

Whoa there, Josh thinks, that’s heading out of the realm of appropriate best friend thoughts.

He puts it down to the heat. It’s screwing with his brain functions. It’s unfair for him to be expected to think straight while roasting alive in a tin can of a van.

Besides, it’s just envy, curling in his gut like something dark. The ease with which Tyler can just exist like that, unselfconscious, free. Mark too. They don’t even have to think about it. Josh wants that too - wants to lounge shirtless in the backseat, wants to feel the sun on his skin. The wanting makes his stomach twist, his shoulders heavy.

He sighs, facing forward again in his seat and brushing a sweaty curl off his face.

“We can swap if you want?” Josh offers. He’s not entirely convinced his position is any better, but maybe it has a bit more circulation from the open windows?

“Nah man, no way. I’m enjoying spreading out… I think if my limbs touch each other, I’ll die.”

Josh wants to groan. Tyler’s so overdramatic. There’s no way Tyler is hotter than he is right now. It just isn’t possible. Josh is about to melt into a puddle of goo on the seat, he can feel it.

“Stop it, man,” Mark grumbles. “You’ve got it so easy just lying there in your boxers. I’ve been driving for hours.”

“Well yeah, I’ve got to save my energy for the show. Duh.”

“Dude, you’ve barely moved in the last two hours.”

Josh laughs lightly - it’s not like Mark is wrong.

“Josh is performing too and he’s still managing to function enough to read a map,” Mark continues.

“Barely,” Josh mutters to himself. He closes his eyes and lets his head fall back against the seat. Maybe he can get away with not moving at all for the rest of the drive.

“Yeah, well Josh is an absolute madman. Look at him.” Tyler gestures half-heartedly at where Josh sits in the front seat. “I feel like I’m getting heatstroke just being near him.”

“He’s got a point, man, you must be sweltering.” Mark glances from the road to Josh, eyeing him for a second before focusing back on the car in front. “Why don’t you just take your top off? You’ll feel better.”

“I’m good, actually.” Josh tries not to tense, to brush off the idea. “We should be there in about an hour.”

Tyler clearly has other ideas.

“You’re not good. You look like you’re about to pass out.” There’s no malice in Tyler’s voice, but it rubs Josh the wrong way anyway.

“Well, I’m not.” Josh bites his lip, really wanting the conversation to move on. Irritation rises quicker than usual with the added heat exhaustion. He’s going to snap at someone in a minute, he knows it.

Tyler laughs. “You’re joking, right? You’re bright red. Just take your shirt off. You’ll feel better.”

“Tyler - I said I’m good. It won’t make a difference at this point.” A bit of bite slips into Josh’s tone - a warning. His eyes remain closed, but he can feel the scowl painting his face.

Tyler ignores it.

“What, do you have weird nipples or something? Like a third one?”

“Tyler.” Mark warns lowly, clearly picking up on the annoyance radiating from Josh.
“Or like a weird birthmark. Or a sc-”

“For god’s sake, Tyler! Leave it.” Josh snaps, opening his eyes and whipping around to give his friend a scathing look. His pulse races and he’s not sure if it’s anxiety or anger or a cocktail of the two.

“What?” Tyler asks, confused. “I was just asking. We don’t mind, bro.”

“Then stop going on about it! I’m not taking my shirt off. So leave it.” Josh is about to get upset. Scratch that - he already is. His eyes prickle with frustrated tears.

He huffs and considers asking Mark to pull over for a bit. At least then he could have some space and maybe splash cold water on his face. Instead, he just slumps sulkily back into his seat.

Mark glances at him warily - Josh catching it in the corner of his eye. Tyler probably is as well from the backseat.

He doesn’t care. In the moment, he just wants to be left alone for a bit. If they want to look at him like he’s a caged animal then fine. They’ll get over it.

-

It’s an insane relief when they pull off the highway, Mark declaring they’re nearly there.

Then an even bigger one hits when they actually pull into the festival campground, excitement at finally being able to leave the van far outweighing the tension that’s been blanketing them.

Josh could actually kiss the ground. It’s not like it’s even much cooler outside, but there’s a bit of a breeze and his bare legs aren’t sticking to a vinyl seat anymore, so it’s something.

The relief doesn’t last long. The realisation that there’s absolutely no shade to pitch their tents hits them as they haul all their gear across the campsite to their spot.

Once everything sits in a pile on the grass, they stand around it, miserably surveying the scene.

“We could just pitch it up after the show? It’ll be cooler then?” Josh offers. 

They’re all borderline overheating, way sweatier than they were in the van. Josh almost misses it. At least he didn’t have to move in there.

Mark shakes his head sullenly. “No, it’ll get stolen if we leave it out.”

Putting up the tent takes longer than it should, everyone moving sluggishly in the mid-morning sun. It’s worth it though, once all their stuff is inside and they crack open a cold drink each.

Josh flops down onto the grass, rolling onto his front so the sun won’t be in his eyes. He probably has enough time for a nap before they have to go set up for soundcheck. At least he doesn’t have to worry about sunburn on his back.

-

The first thing Josh does after leaving the performers’ section is go for a shower. Festival showers are always notoriously grotty, but after an eighteen-hour day stewing in his own sweat - even the feeble stream of water is heaven. The fact that there’s no hot water is a bonus, though wherever they’re pumping the water from must be in the sun, because even that is only room temperature.

Not that Josh cares.

He should be quick, wary of the flimsy shower curtain standing between his privacy and the outside world. But it’s basically empty in the shower block - he’ll hear if anyone came in through the creaky door.

He tilts his head back, letting the water flow over his hair, his face, his body. For once, the high from the show and the water’s cool relief take the edge off, dulling the static in his head. It won’t last - he knows that - but for these minutes, it’s almost quiet inside him.

The crowd loved them tonight. An achievement really - they’re out of their home turf, so whilst some people knew them, most of them hadn’t a clue who they were and loved them anyway. 

It’s working. The constant touring and grinding away is paying off. He laughs to himself in disbelief. 

Tiredness sneaks up on him as soon as he gets away from the crowd and makes his way through the quieter areas. His limbs and bones are heavy even though his mind races.

He’d wanted to go see some of the other bands playing, to prolong the night as long as possible, but this was worth the trade off instead. He’d left Tyler and Mark back in the performer tent buzzing away about the show. Someone from another band had offered them beers and they’d got talking, making it easy for Josh to slip away. 

He can let them go and have fun while he goes back and claims the one-man tent for the night. There’s always tomorrow anyway. He grabs his towel and quickly redresses, feeling the call of sleep tug at him.

Grass sticks to his sneakers as he trudges across the dark campgrounds. The air is humid and filled with the overly sweet smell of festival food, making his stomach rumble. Distant melodies and music from the ongoing festival drift on the breeze. It all feels very atmospheric.

There were clusters of people milling around the campsite too, cooking on camp stoves and drinking round fires.

Clusters of people mill around the campsite too, cooking on camp stoves and drinking round fires.

He skirts around the nearby tents when he practically trips over someone.

“Whoa!” Tyler jolts back from where he’s squatting, rummaging through his rucksack. “Watch out, man!”

“Wha-?” Josh blinks at him for a second. “Sorry, I didn’t think you’d be back yet.”

He sidesteps around Tyler, looking around their setup.

“Where’s Mark?”

Tyler jabs a thumb at the one-man tent; it’s all zipped up and dark.

Oh. Well, that ruins that plan. Josh’s jaw tightens and he has to make a conscious effort to relax it. The thought of stretching out alone, peeling off his layers without anyone nearby - it was the closest he’d get to ease tonight. Now it’s gone, zipped up behind Mark’s snores.

“Has he gone to sleep already?” Josh lowers his voice. He’s not gonna be a dick and deliberately wake Mark. But maybe if he hasn’t gone to bed yet, Josh can talk him into swapping.

“Yeah. Soon as he noticed you were gone he wanted to come back. Said he’d been up since five am and needed his beauty sleep… I thought I’d better too. Wasn’t sure if I’d find the tent by myself.”

Josh rolls his eyes. Mostly frustration, though, to cover up the sigh when his heart sinks.

“You would’ve.”

Tyler just shrugs. He moves through the cool box now, cans and bottles clinking softly together as he searches.

“You want a beer?”

Josh hovers at the entrance to the two-man tent, watching him. He hesitates.

“Nah, man. I need to sleep.”

Tyler’s mouth curls down for a split second, then twists back up into something soft and hopeful. He holds up two bottles and waves them slightly.

“Just one?”

Josh eyes it. It’s tempting, but weariness weighs him down. One wouldn’t hurt though, right?

He sighs. He can drink it quick. He doesn’t have to finish it.

“Okay. Just one.”

The grass is crisp where he plonks down next to Tyler, scratching at his legs where his shorts leave them bare.

He’s cooled down a lot after his shower. The temperature has dropped to the low twenties since the sun went down; it’s mostly tolerable now. The beer bottle Tyler hands him is still sweating though.

He glances at his friend, catching his eye. Tyler still radiates the post-show high, his face plastered in a tired grin.

Josh tilts his bottle at him, letting Tyler clink them together softly.

“Cheers.”

They sit together in companionable silence, for which Josh is grateful. He can keep Tyler company, but his energy levels run on empty. He doesn’t want to talk.

He takes long, slow sips of his beer instead. It’s warm and far from refreshing. He should’ve had water instead, probably, to ward off dehydration.

Tyler finishes his beer and lies back in the scorched grass, looking up at the sky.

Josh watches him out of the corner of his eye, his gaze catching on his exposed skin. He’s too tired. Too hot. It makes it harder to stamp down the envy that constantly rears its head.

He forces himself to look away, instead swigging the last of his beer and letting it swish around in his mouth.

Summer strips him down, whether he wants it or not. Winter lets him hide, lets him drown it out in layers, but summer leaves nowhere to go - every day a new reminder, sharp and relentless. Tyler’s shirtless sprawl doesn’t help. Not at all.

Josh swallows thickly, trying unsuccessfully to ease the internal pressure.

“Shame about all the light.” Tyler’s voice breaks him out of his thoughts. It’s soft, gentle even - a contrast to the ugly feeling in Josh’s chest.

“Huh?”

“The sky’s pretty clear tonight. If it wasn’t for the lights, we’d probably be able to see the stars. What do you think they look like?”

“We’re only one state away, so probably the same as always.”

Tyler laughs, his head falling to the side to look at Josh. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Josh can’t stop the corners of his mouth from twisting up to mirror Tyler’s. Tyler’s hand snakes out between them, resting on Josh’s shoulder and gently pulling him to lie in the grass next to him.

“Did you ever do this as a kid?” Tyler asks. “Look up at the stars?”

“I was always more interested in what might be looking back.”

Tyler laughs again, under his breath this time. “You and your aliens.”

They’re quiet for a long moment, scanning the skies. Tyler’s right—the light pollution is ruining it, but the odd star peeks through. It’s hard to forget the campground around them, but in the moment, it seems distant… peaceful even. Like they’re in their own little bubble.

“Do you know what they’re called?” Josh asks.

“Yes. Absolutely.” Tyler answers quickly. A little too quickly. Josh gives him the side-eye through narrowed lids.

“…Go on.”

Tyler flashes a confident grin and immediately starts pointing up at them. There’s no real finesse to his pointing, just loose gestures to areas of open sky. Josh is pretty sure he’s about to start talking out of his ass.

“Okay… so that’s the Big Dipper.”

Josh hums in agreement, nodding his head and going along with it.

“And that’s… the… Little Dipper…”

“What about that one?” Josh points at a small cluster, twinkling away in the distance.

“Err… That’s the Medium Dipper?”

Josh’s face splits into a wide grin, his head dropping to the side to look at Tyler with his eyebrows raised.

“The Medium Dipper?”

Tyler turns his head to the side so they’re face to face, his expression deadly serious but his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Yeah. Haven’t you heard of that one?”

Josh snorts. “No, I can’t say I have.”

“Well, you’re missing out. It’s the most medium of all the dippers.” Josh shakes his head, still grinning, and goes to lightly elbow Tyler. When he misses, he just lets his arm fall in the space between them. It’s too hot to move; he’s used too much energy.

Now that they’ve stopped, Josh finds he doesn’t want to move again. He knows he has to, he needs to go to bed soon - but in the moment he really can’t be bothered.

It’s easier to stay here and let his eyelids fall shut, to let the ambient noise lull him. Maybe if he waits long enough, he can just fall asleep straight away, regardless of the heat.

He’s just starting to drift off when there’s a rustle next to him. Tyler shifts, and Josh feels his hand brush against his own. He waits a beat, expecting his friend to pull it back, but it remains lightly resting there.

“Josh?” Tyler breathes. His voice is low, barely audible.

Josh’s eyes flutter open to look at him. He isn’t surprised to see his friend already watching him.

“Yeah, Ty?” Josh murmurs back, subconsciously mirroring his gentle tone.

Tyler hesitates. There’s something in Tyler’s face Josh can’t quite place. No - that’s not true. He recognises it as uncertainty, he’s seen it a hundred times before. He just can’t figure out why it’s aimed at him.

“…Nothing. We should get some sleep.”

And with that, Tyler stands up suddenly, breaking the moment and making his way to the tent.

Josh frowns but sleepily follows him all the same.

-

The air inside the tent is stale, sweaty, and Josh feels like it’s suffocating him. He’s been tossing and turning on his and Tyler’s shared air mattress for what feels like hours. It doesn’t matter how bone-tired he is, how much his eyeballs ache in their sockets - sleep eludes him.

Neither of them bother to get into their sleeping bags, opting to lie on top of them instead. Tyler has quite literally stripped to his boxers, lies down and passes out. If only it were that easy for Josh.His T-shirt and shorts cling uncomfortably to him with sweat.

Josh huffs and rolls over for the third time in a row, hoping that by some miracle he’ll find a cool patch of mattress to lie in. He doesn’t.

Tyler groans next to him.

“Dude,” he says groggily, his eyes unopening. “Stop moving.”

Josh feels a pang of guilt in his chest. He hasn’t realised he’s been jostling the mattress enough to wake Tyler.

“‘m sorry. Too hot. Can’t sleep.”

“Sleep in your boxers then.” Tyler’s voice is thick with sleep. Clearly wanting to say as few words as possible to not lose his grasp on slumber.

Josh is quiet for a long moment. Obviously, that’s not going to happen.

“‘m okay,” he mumbles miserably.

Tyler breathes out a large sigh next to him, resigning himself to the fact he’s going to have to wake up and talk. Josh feels the mattress shift as Tyler rolls onto his side to face him.

He can feel Tyler’s gaze on him. He keeps his eyes shut, not wanting to know what’s coming next.

“Is this ‘cause I said you had weird nipples? You know I wouldn’t care, right?”

Josh lets out a frustrated huff. The joke’s meant to be light, but it makes his skin crawl anyway - like Tyler’s stumbled far too close to the truth without realising.

“No, it’s not that.”

“Well, I won’t look or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about. I can’t even see anyway.”

“Honestly, Tyler. I’m fine.”

“You’re not though! You just said yourself you’re too hot. You’ve been tossing and turning for ages.”

Josh sighs again. He does a lot of sighing these days.

“It’s just complicated, is all.” he words taste thin, useless. They don’t cover even half of it, but what else can he say?

Quiet falls in the tent - not an easy silence, but one that feels almost weighted.

“…Is it me? …Have I made you uncomfortable?”

“What? No. It’s not you.” Josh blurts, twisting to meet Tyler’s eyes and finding them filled with worry. In the low light of the tent, he can make out Tyler nervously chewing his lip between his bottom teeth.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m sure.” It is meant to come out reassuring, but his tone is just agitated and tinged with misery.

Josh’s body feels heavy. He wants to pretend it’s just tiredness, and in a way it is - just not from lack of sleep.

“…Okay.” 

Tyler’s voice is uncertain, but his hand reaches out, like it did when they’re outside, and this time he tangles it with Josh’s where it lays at his side, squeezing gently. Josh isn’t sure if the gesture is for his benefit or Tyler’s own. Maybe both. He wants it to be both.

It crosses Josh’s mind that Tyler would probably be hugging him if it weren’t so hot. Guilt twists in his stomach - yet another thing to keep him awake. He tries not to think about it too much.

Josh squeezes Tyler’s hand back.

“It really isn’t you,” he whispers softly.

He can see Tyler’s head nodding in the dark, and when Tyler starts rubbing soothing circles on the back of his hand with his thumb, Josh allows himself to be lulled by it.

Tyler’s thumb keeps moving, steady and patient, and Josh lets himself breathe with it. His chest loosens by degrees until sleep finally drags him under.

-

The first thing Josh does when he gets home is ring up and book his top surgery, consequences be damned.

Chapter Text

On the first day after surgery, Josh is high as a kite. It’s kinda great. He doesn’t feel a thing, spends most of the time sleeping, and when he’s awake, his head is too hazy to really think about anything.

He manages to bribe his roommate to semi-look after him - mainly just to satisfy the hospital requirements and prove he isn’t going to go home to an empty apartment and die in his sleep.

Dustin never had an issue with Josh being trans; Josh made sure before moving in, but it isn’t like has Josh done any particularly transgendery things before this. Ever since surgery, however, he has been eyeing him warily.

Still, when Josh asked him to pick him up from the hospital, he stepped up straight away, so maybe he’s just worried about Josh dying on his watch or something.

As long as it doesn’t become a problem, Josh is happy for Dustin to think whatever he wants.

Either way, it’s a relief that Dustin already planned to go out of state to stay with his parents for a few days.

Other than that though, he’s on his own. He hasn’t told anyone he’s having surgery - he’s too worried about rumours spreading to people he’d rather not know.

You know that Josh guy? Yeah, apparently he’s got tits.

Not what he wants, at all.

No, instead he tells Tyler and Mark he has gone down with glandular fever so they don’t call round and goes radio silent with everybody else. It’ll probably be fine.

Once he works his way through the strong painkillers, though, things are different. His chest aches like, well, like someone has cut him open and scooped him out.

Boredom seeps in after the second day.

There isn’t much he can do other than slob about and feel fragile. And boy, does Josh feel fragile. Like a light breeze could take him out. Yeah, he isn’t expecting to spring back like nothing happened, but this is torture.

He literally can’t do anything.

The only option is to laze in bed, surrounded by a nest of pillows, watch films, and eat takeout.

For four days straight. 

He can’t make food for himself, can’t shower, and when he goes to the bathroom, he’s so wobbly on his feet that he nearly falls backwards. He’s never felt so helpless.

On the fifth day, he cracks and rings Chris, telling him to come over and just let himself in.

He decides to treat himself today - after realising he’s getting far too familiar with the four walls of his room, he moves to the couch.

Some film is on the TV in the background, but Josh isn’t really focusing on it. He mostly just drifts in and out of sleep.

The couch dipping next to him wakes him up. He grumbles and looks around to see Chris slouching next to him.

Chris looks apprehensive, worried even. His eyes scan Josh curled up on the couch, taking in his greasy hair, eye bags, and scruffy beard.

For a fleeting moment, Josh’s anxiety spikes. Is he making Chris uncomfortable?

Surely not. Chris has been his first and biggest supporter. This won’t weird him out, right? A nervous feeling crawls up inside his ribcage, making him feel small and uncertain.

Then it dawns on him. He hasn’t told anyone.

Including Chris. 

In his sleepy, medicated haze, it’d completely slipped his mind. Relief washed over him.

“How’re you doing, man?” Chris asks eventually.

“I’ve been better. I won’t lie.” Josh sits up straight, letting his blanket fall off his chest and reveal his bandages. He clears his throat. “I, uh, did a thing.”

The look on Chris’s face is comical. His eyes go as wide as saucers as they drop to Josh’s torso, before breaking out into a wide grin.

“No way! Congrats, man!”

He reaches out to clap Josh on the shoulder, then quickly withdraws his hand when Josh recoils, pulling his hands into his hoodie pockets apologetically.

“Sorry. I’m so pleased for you! How does it feel?”

“Bruised mostly.” Josh grins weakly. “And I stink.”

“Yeah. You do smell like absolute shit.” Chris’s smile doesn’t leave his face though. “When’s the last time you showered?”

He loosely gestures at his chest. “Morning of.”

“Oh.” Chris pauses. “Are you not allowed?”

Josh shakes his head solemnly. It’s by far his least favourite part of post-surgery.

He longs for a good bath, where he can douse himself with lashings of soap and sit in it until all his limbs prune up. It’s the first thing he’s gonna do as soon as he can take the bandages off. It’s a good job the summer heat has broken into fall, otherwise it would be unbearable.

“I’m on the wet wipe regime until the bandages come off next week.”

“Oh man. That’s rough… You want me to wash your hair?”

“Dude. I might actually love you.”

-

Upon arrival the following day, Chris brings a big bag of groceries. Not just the junk food Josh has been living off either, but actual ingredients - fruit, vegetables, the works.

“I’m gonna cook you an actual meal,” Chris announces, tipping the bag out on the side and spreading it across the counter. “You need proper food to heal.”

“Okay, Dad.” Josh leans in the doorway, blanket draped around his shoulders, watching Chris cook.

“Feeling any better today then?” Chris asks, putting a pot of rice on the hob before getting started on cutting peppers.

“Yeah, I think so... Feels weird. Not bad, just weird.”

“Different?”

“Yeah. I thought it’d be this massive joyous thing. Like people cry and sob and stuff when they see how flat they are. But mostly I just feel exhausted.”

“You want me to get you a chair?” Chris glances over his shoulder to where Josh stands as he tips the chopped pepper into a pan.

“Nah, I’m good thanks, I need to stand for a bit.” Josh shakes his head.

“It’s probably normal though, the tiredness. You have just had major surgery, after all.”

Josh hums. “Yeah, you’re right. Can’t wait to get these bandages off though. Find out if my nipples survived.”

Chris stops cooking and turns around sharply, his face pale and his expression horrified.

“That’s not a given?”

Josh laughed lightly. 

“I’m only messing. But yeah, that’s a thing. They can fall off.”

“Gross man. That’s awful.”

“You’re awful.”

Chris shoots him a deadpan look. “Cooking you dinner. That’s what I am.”

The food doesn’t take long to cook. Josh watches as Chris dishes out two bowls and brings them into the other room to eat.

Josh pokes at his bowl apprehensively for a minute, but once he takes a mouthful, he practically inhales it. Appreciative, happy noises escape him.

He can’t remember the last time he’s had an actual prepared meal - probably the last time he went round to his parents. And it turns out Chris can cook. Josh is in heaven.

“Shit, Chris. I take it back. You’re the least awful person ever. This is great.”

Chris grins smugly.
“I know.”

Josh scrapes every last grain of rice from the bowl. He even considers licking it, it tastes that good. Instead, he carefully leans forward and places it on the coffee table.

He melts back into the couch, rubbing his stomach happily and feeling pleasantly warm and full. His head dips; he’s overdue for a nap and the food makes him sleepy. The combination of that and the gentle hum of the TV in the background ease him into a light doze.

He’s not sure how long it’s been - twenty minutes? An hour?

A sudden buzzing from the other side of the room rudely wakes him.

Josh groans groggily, reaching up to rub his face. He blearily looks around for the culprit: his phone, on the far side of the room.

“Grab that for me?” he mumbles at Chris, still half-asleep, eyes drooping shut again. He’s vaguely aware of Chris moving across the room to get his phone.

Josh blindly reaches an arm out of his blanket cocoon to receive it.

“Hey Tyler.”

Josh tenses, his eyes snapping open and locking on to where Chris stands on the other side of the room with Josh’s phone pressed to his ear.

Oh no. Not good.

Josh can hear Tyler’s tinny voice on the other end of the speaker but can’t make out any words. For a second he’s frozen, only staring at Chris in horror.

“Yeah it’s me… No, Josh is here.“

Josh sits up as quickly as he can, desperately trying to catch Chris’s eye, but his friend is looking out the window and still talking.

“No, he’s fine. Just sore. He’s napping right now.”

Josh certainly is not.

“Chris.” Josh hisses, not wanting the microphone to catch it. Unfortunately, Chris doesn’t either.

“Just sore from surgery, you know?”

Dread claws at Josh’s stomach, cold and sharp.

“Chris. Give me the phone.”

Josh looks around frantically, needing to put a stop to this fast. Maybe there’s something within reach he could throw at Chris’s head?

Chris frowns, confused.

“Wait, what? No, he doesn’t need the hospital. I just told you he’s fine - ”

“…Did you just say glandular fever?”

And finally, finally, Chris looks at him, eyes wide with just as much panic as Josh knows are in his own.

Tyler is still talking on the phone, but Chris isn’t listening. His hands fly up to grasp at his hair and he mouths something at Josh. Josh can’t make it out. He doesn’t care either.

“Give me the phone. Now.”

Chris nods, desperate.

“Tyler, here’s Josh now.” He cuts off whatever Tyler is saying down the other end and fumbles to pass the phone over.

“Hi Tyler.” Josh breathes into the receiver. His voice comes out cracked and squeaky, breaking with nerves.

Tyler sounds outright demented.

“Josh? What’s going on? What’s happened? Chris said you’d had surgery? What kind of surgery? Did you get hurt?”

Josh winces at the volume and onslaught of panicked words pouring down the line.
“Hey, calm down. I’m okay. I promise -”

“You’re okay? You just had surgery! Is this because of the glandular fever? Josh-”

“Tyler, I -”

“I’m getting in my car right now. I’ll be there in ten.”

“What? Tyler, no, you -”

“No. If you can see Chris, you can see me. I’m coming over.”

The line goes dead.

Josh stares at the phone in his hand in pure, unadulterated horror.

“Shit.”

He slowly looks up to meet Chris’s face. His friend clearly doesn’t have a clue what’s going on, but he’s picked up on Josh’s vibes and knows whatever it is, it isn’t good.

“Tyler’s coming here. Now.”

“What’s just happened? Didn’t you tell him you were having surgery?” 

Josh barks out a panicky laugh. God. He’s such an idiot.

“Chris. He doesn’t even know I’m trans.”

Chris goes pale.

“What do you mean? How? You’ve been touring with him practically non-stop for months. He must’ve noticed!”

Chris paces up and down the floor, unsure of what to do. Josh watches, bristling with nervous energy but feeling too weak to get up and do the same.

“I’ve been careful. I guess? I don’t know, Chris. I don’t know.”

“But how didn’t he notice? You pass great and all, man, but you were barely on hormones when you met him.”

“I don’t know! I thought he knew! But then he didn’t, and I was in too deep!”

Chris sits down heavily in Josh’s solitary armchair. He at least has the decency to look guilty for the amount of shit he’s just dropped on Josh’s lap.

“Chris, he’s so sheltered. I don’t think he even knows any gay people.” Josh’s head falls into his hands. Tears sting his eyes and he’s pretty sure he’s seconds away from panic crying.

Chris snorts. “He definitely does.” 

“What am I going to do? He’ll be here any minute!”

Chris hesitates for a second.

“… You could just tell him.”

Josh huffs and shoots him a dirty look. “Don’t be ridiculous.” 

“Look man, I don’t think you’ve got much choice.”

“But what if he freaks out and hates me?”

Chris sighs.

“He might be upset you’ve not told him, but I really don’t think he’d freak out. And if he does, that’s on him. Not you.” 

Josh just looks at Chris. He tugs his blanket tighter around himself, trying to ground himself.

“But what if he does?” 

“If he does, then he’s a dick. But he won’t. Josh, he adores you.”

-

Tyler doesn’t take ten minutes. Josh swears he takes seven, max.

Josh’s breathing finally calms down enough for him to think straight for a second when he hears Tyler’s car door slam. It picks right back up again.

When Chris gets up to let Tyler in, Josh doesn’t tell him not to bother, that Tyler has a key and absolutely no issues with using it. He half hopes Chris will manage to convince him to go away.

No such luck.

Tyler bursts into the room and stops dead, his eyes landing on Josh, still cocooned in his blanket like it can hide him.

Josh tries not to cringe as he watches his best friend scan him up and down, with a crazed expression no less, for what feels like the longest moment of his life. Waiting.

“You look terrible.” is what eventually comes out of Tyler’s mouth once he is apparently satisfied that Josh is alive and mostly well.

“So everyone keeps telling me.” Josh responds dryly, because hey, he thinks he looks a lot better now that he’s managed to (get someone else to) wash his hair. He still smells pretty bad, but he reasons that it’s the post-op binder, not really him. Mostly.

He can’t meet Tyler’s eyes though, looking anywhere but.

Tyler takes a step closer. Then another.

He hovers over Josh, his hand in the space halfway between them, like he wants to reach out and touch him but is afraid to.

Chris clears his throat from the doorway.
“I’m gonna go wash up.” He looks directly at Josh before adding, “Let me know if you need anything.”

Then Chris, the absolute traitor, vanishes into the kitchen.

Tyler cautiously sits down on the far end of the sofa and narrows his eyes, squinting at Josh suspiciously.

“…you don’t sound like you’ve got glandular fever.”

If Josh didn’t feel sick before, he certainly does now. There really is no getting out of this, is there?

Tyler continues to stare at him, waiting for… something. Answers, probably.

Josh closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. His body tenses like a bow about to snap. Chris is right, he isn’t getting out of this. He needs to just do it.

Words rush out of his mouth like vomit.

“I didn’t have surgery because of glandular fever. I had it because I’m transgender.”

Josh’s mouth snaps shut.

Stunned silence hangs over the room, then… Tyler winces.

Josh looks at him, alarmed. This is it. Tyler hates him. The band is over and he’s lost his best friend in one fell swoop.

The panic’s so overwhelming that Josh nearly misses the way Tyler’s hand twitches to cover - to protect? - his own crotch, whilst looking as horrified as could be.

Confusion morphs Josh’s features.

“Dude. You cut your dick off?” 

Then Josh has to laugh, clear but shaky with nerves, he forces himself to ignore the way his chest cries out from the movement. Because of course that’s where Tyler’s head would go. 

“No! God no… I cut my tits off.” 

Now it’s Tyler’s turn to look confused. He tries to smile, like Josh is being silly. When he speaks, it’s gentle, patient, like he’s speaking to a small child.

“Josh, I think I would’ve noticed if you’d had tits…”

Even as he speaks, Josh sees the gears start to turn in Tyler’s head. His eyes widen halfway through the sentence. The smile drops off his face as he trails off.

Tyler’s mouth hangs open in a silent oh.

Josh doesn’t say anything. He just waits as it clicks into place in Tyler’s head.

“…you never take your shirt off… oh. No, that makes sense now… I’m so stupid.” Tyler says quietly to himself, looking down at his hands, then back up at Josh.

Then, even quieter: “Why didn’t you tell me? I’m your best friend.”

Tyler’s eyes search Josh’s face. The hurt in his voice hits Josh harder than the anger he expected.

Josh shrugs. He isn’t sure what to say, if there even is anything to make this better. He gnaws the inside of his lip, trying to stop the tears from stinging his eyes.

“I don’t know…”

“Oh, Josh.” The soft tone Tyler uses suggests he at least has an idea why Josh hasn’t brought it up, especially with the way his shoulders droop.

He scoots across the couch and carefully wraps an arm around Josh’s shoulders. Josh tenses briefly, mindful of being jostled, before letting himself be tugged into a gentle half-hug. He tucks his head against Tyler, breathing in his scent.

Relief blossoms as the tension breaks around them. Then Josh cries. Fat, ugly tears soak Tyler’s shoulder where he burrows into it.

He feels Tyler’s fingers card through his hair, just like they do when he’s anxious. Fuck. He can’t believe he thought Tyler would hate him. He’s such an idiot. Tyler’s way too sweet to hate him.

“I thought you knew, at least at first. I thought it was obvious. Then you didn’t and I didn’t know what to do.” Josh hiccups, words muffled into Tyler’s hoodie.

Tyler withdraws briefly, shooting an incredulous look. It’s clear he thinks Josh is being stupid.

“But - look at you!” Tyler gestures loosely up and down at Josh. “You’re way more manly than I am!”

Josh snorts, laughing through the tears. A grin creeps up on Tyler’s face when snot bubbles out of Josh’s nose. To Tyler’s credit, he doesn’t flinch.

“No! You are, you’re all… manly and shit!”

And then they’re laughing. Despite Josh’s wound aching, it feels like everything is going to be okay.

“I mean it! You’ve got a better beard than I have!” Tyler chokes out between giggles.

“Not when we first met! I had like, six scraggly hairs!”

“So did I!”

-

Josh isn’t expecting Tyler to go, per se. But he isn’t exactly expecting him to stay either.

Once Josh stops crying, Tyler remains next to him on the sofa with Josh tucked into his side. His arm stays resting on Josh’s shoulder, rubbing reassuring circles just above Josh’s collarbone with his thumb.

Chris eventually comes in from the kitchen, and the three of them half-watch some film until Chris gets up to leave - he needs to meet up with his girlfriend or something. Josh isn’t sure, and he doesn’t really care either.

He hasn’t realised how much emotional energy he’s using up worrying about Tyler, but now his secret is out, he feels drained.

It’s all he can do not to drift off where he slumps against Tyler.

He’s grateful for the comfort of the other man next to him, for how careful Tyler is being. The little glances at Josh every time Tyler moves involuntarily or forgets to stay still don’t go unnoticed.

It’s overkill, if Josh is being honest. The thought of something brushing or knocking against his incisions still makes him jumpy, but he isn’t nearly as fragile as he was even a few days ago. Still, it’s sweet. Tyler’s sweet.

Josh is even more grateful that Tyler hasn’t asked any questions, even though he’s sure Tyler is bursting with them. Josh just doesn’t have it in him to answer any right now. 

Sleep must catch Josh eventually, because he shuts his eyes and, when he opens them again, it’s dark - both outside and in.

“Ty?” he mumbles groggily.

“Hey. You’re awake.”

Josh hums, closing his eyes again. He doesn’t want to be. He wants to stay in his cozy sleep world.

“Josh.”

Josh grunts.

“Josh, hey,” Tyler persists. “Don’t go back to sleep. C’mon. Let’s get you to bed.”

Ugh. Okay, they’re doing this.

Josh lets himself be led to his room and hovers as Tyler fluffs up the pillows, arranging them into a U-shape.

“What… exactly are you doing?” Josh asks.

“I watched a YouTube video.” Tyler doesn’t look up.

Josh blinks at him. “What, on how to be my nurse?”

“Basically.” Tyler adjusts one last pillow with a surgeon’s precision, then glances over his shoulder.

“Oh,” Josh blinks. “Why?”

“Chris said you’re here by yourself and he can’t come tomorrow. Hey, where’s your painkillers?”

Josh frowns, missing the question tacked on the end. Yeah, he remembers Chris saying that, but he isn’t sure why it matters.

Tyler spots the meds on the dresser, shakes a couple out, and hands them to Josh.

“Here.”

Josh knocks them back immediately.

Tyler watches him for a moment, face pinched with concern, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“You’re not hurting or anything, right?”

Josh shakes his head. “No. Just a bit achey.”

Tyler nods, not moving. “You need help with anything?”

Josh shakes his head again. “I think I’m good, man. Thanks.”

“Okay. I’ll let you sleep then.”

Tyler moves to the door, and Josh, in his vulnerability, realises he wishes Tyler would stay.

It’s only natural, right? He’s so used to being able to reach for Tyler when either of them needs comfort or support that now, when he can’t have it, he needs it all the more.

But they’d both be miserable if Josh asked him to stay. There just isn’t enough room in the bed with Josh’s new pillow nest, and it’s not like they could properly cuddle with him still healing.

Instead, he just mumbles a “Thank you” and watches as Tyler disappears through the door. 

Josh settles back into the pillow nest, the quiet hum of the apartment feels warmer somehow, less empty.

He closes his eyes again, letting the comfort of the moment cradle him. Sleep tugs at his eyelids, and he drifts off feeling a little safer, a little less alone.

-

The sun is halfway through the sky when Josh actually gets up the next day. He’s woken a couple of times already, but doesn’t see much point in getting up, so he doesn’t.

He eventually emerges from his room in just some sweatpants and his surgical binder and makes his way straight to the kitchen to rummage for some sort of food. Cereal maybe? He thinks he can manage that by himself, probably.

He stands in front of the fridge and brings a carton of milk to his nose for a sniff. Maybe it’s still good? He wrinkles his nose. Eh, probably fine.

“Need me to do anything?”

Josh nearly shoots out of his skin, his hand clenching the carton and causing milk to splash into his nose.

When he spins around, Tyler is there, wearing the same clothes as yesterday and trying to suppress a laugh.

“Tyler!”

“Sorry. Here, let me - ” Tyler moves to grab a cloth and gently wipe Josh’s face off.

“I didn’t know you were still here.” Josh grumbles, letting his friend swipe at his face.

Tyler ends up fixing them both a bowl of cereal, opting to save Chris’s leftovers for later.

As they eat, Josh notices Tyler’s gaze flicking downward a couple of times. He follows it in his head and realises… oh. Yeah. He had the blanket wrapped around himself yesterday.

“Does it hurt?” Tyler asks eventually.

Josh shakes his head, letting his own gaze drop to his chest too for a second.

“Not now. It did at first, but not so much now.”

Tyler nods, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth thoughtfully.

“And you feel… better? More you?”

“Yeah. I do.” Josh nods. “I didn’t realise how bad it was before. Well, I did. Obviously. But, I don’t know… now it just feels normal? I guess? Right?”

Tyler smiles softly.

“Good. I’m glad.” Then, after a beat, he adds gently. “Can I see?”

“What?”

“Can I see? Your chest?” Tyler repeats, sounding uncertain now, almost scared of rejection.

Oh.

“Um. There’s nothing to see right now. I can’t take the binder off yet.”

“The binder? You mean the vest thingy?” Tyler’s brows furrow.

“Yeah. I’ve got to keep it on until Thursday. I’m getting the bandages off then.”

“Okay. How’re you getting there? Do you need me to drive you?”

It hits Josh then that Tyler is taking this all remarkably well. The thought makes his chest ache, not with pain, but with relief. It’s one thing not immediately lashing out, but it’s been a confusing twenty-four hours for him. Tyler’s taken all of it in stride.

“That’s a thing, right? You can’t drive for a while?” Tyler continues.

There must be a completely baffled look on Josh’s face because Tyler continues, looking equal parts sheepish and pleased with himself.

“I’ve been researching. Most of the night, actually.” Tyler actually flushes a little pink.

And then Josh is on the brink of tears again because Tyler is just the best. He doesn’t deserve this, not after how little faith he had in him.

“You’ve been researching?”

“Um, yeah. I have… I have a few questions, actually,” he carries on, adding quickly, “but only if you’re comfortable. You don’t have to answer them. Or tell me anything if you don’t want to.”

Josh sets his spoon into his empty bowl with a clatter. He swallows hard, feeling the familiar tightness in his chest - half nerves, half gratitude. Whatever it is, he can take it.

“No, I want to. It’s nothing weird, right?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I don’t think so?”

“Okay. Let’s go in the living room first though, yeah?”

They settle on the sofa, Josh pulling his blanket around his shoulders as a form of protection. He suspects he’s about to feel very exposed, so the added security won’t hurt.

He takes a deep breath.

“Okay. Hit me.”

“So… you used to be a girl? Wait - no, shit. I’m not meant to say that, am I?”

Josh snorts.

“You’re not, but I’m not bothered. Yeah, I was born a girl. I came out when I was sixteen.”

“And your parents?”

“Didn’t take it well.”

“Fuck them, then. Is that why you don’t really speak to them?”

Josh nods. “Yeah… they’ve got better. But they’re still not great.”

“That’s stupid.”

“I know.”

“…Who knows? Obviously Chris does. Does Mark? Michael?” The unasked question sits there between them. Tyler wants to know if he’s the only one who didn’t know.

“No. I don’t think so. I’ve not told them anyway. It’s not really something I bring up, even though I don’t usually care if people know - or I didn’t used to.”

Josh pauses, biting his lip nervously.

“It used to be obvious, you know? So I never had to tell people. But then I guess at some point it wasn’t obvious anymore.”

“You don’t have to tell them if you don’t want to. I won’t say anything.” Tyler assures him softly.

Josh hesitates, then blurts out, “Are you mad that I didn’t tell you?”

Tyler pauses, weighing his words.

“No. I was kinda hurt though. But mostly relieved you weren’t about to die on me.”

“Would’ve been a pain for you to find a new drummer, I guess.”

Tyler tenses, an alarmed look shooting across his face. “That’s not what I meant. You’re my best friend, Josh. I care about you. You come first.”

The band is important to Tyler, to both of them, but it’s reassuring to hear the words all the same. Josh feels the last weight in his chest lift, a warmth blooming where worry had been.

“I know.” Josh smiles. “I’m just messing. You’re my best friend too.”

Tyler sticks his tongue out at him. “Well, duh.”

By the end of the conversation, they’re both slouched on the couch, tired but content. Tyler glances at Josh, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

“You know,” Tyler says, “next time you’re planning a secret surgery, maybe give me a heads-up?”

Josh chuckles, shaking his head. “Deal.”

-

Tyler’s not stopped fussing around him all morning. It’d be endearing if it wasn’t driving Josh up the wall. 

“Do you need to bring any snacks?” Tyler asks, opening and shutting Josh’s cupboards for the third time in a row. They went through the last of Chris’ leftovers the night before, so the kitchen’s pretty barren - Josh isn’t sure what Tyler’s expecting to find in them. 

“Nope, we’re good.”

“What about drinks? We could stop by the store on the way?” 

Josh shakes his head. “Nah Tyler, it’s fine stop stressing. Just sit down.”

Tyler turns to look at him, frowning. “Are you sure? I just don’t want to forget anything for you - what about a jacket?”

Josh tracks Tyler as he flits around the apartment. It’s making him antsy, his own nervous energy is being reflected and amplified by Tyler’s. 

“Tyler, I’m already wearing a hoodie.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

He’s not sure why Tyler’s even this stressed. It’s not like he’s the one about to see if his surgery’s been successful. Though, it’s not like Josh has any reason to think it won’t have been anyway. He feels fine, great even. 

Well, maybe great’s a stretch, but he’s excited all the same. He’s gonna see himself today. He’s going to see himself. For the first time in years. 

He has to stop himself from grinning constantly.

“Maybe we should leave now? So we’re giving it enough time?” Tyler says, loitering by the door and fidgeting with his car keys.

“Okay Mom.” 

-

Tyler’s stressing continues in the car, it’s possibly the safest, most cautious car journey that Josh has ever been on. He’s actually glad Tyler wanted to head out early because he’s pretty confident that they didn’t go faster than twenty five miles an hour the whole journey.

At every red light, every stop sign, Tyler glances over and assesses him. If he’s asked Josh once about the air con, he’s asked him a thousand times. 

Other questions include being asked if the seat is upright enough (“I guess?”), if the seatbelts okay across his body (if Josh’s being honest, it’s weirding him out but there’s not much he can do about it) and the classic - is he hurting at all? (No, he’s all good. Fully dosed up on painkillers and hasn’t felt a thing in about two whole days.)

-

The waiting room feels weird. 

There’s a few other surgeons that work out of the same office - all breast specialists. This means that, aside from some other guy that Josh vaguely remembers seeing on the day of the surgery, all the other people in the room are women of varying ages. At first, he’s thinks nothing of it, but then he sees a poster on the wall about the importance of checking for lumps and suddenly he feels incredibly guilty for how happy he was to be there.

All these women here desperate to save their breasts - and he couldn’t wait to be rid of his.

It all leaves Josh anxious to get this done and get out of there as quickly as possible.

Tyler tries chattering away to him with no luck for a few minutes before he follows Josh’s gaze to the poster and takes in how he’s biting his nails right down.

He reaches over and squeezes Josh’s hand once.

“Hey. That’s not you. It’s completely different.” Tyler says, his voice low but carrying weight.

Josh nods back without looking at him, mumbling a soft. “Thanks for coming with me.”

In the car, Josh had asked Tyler not to come into the actual appointment with him, but when the nurse calls his name, Josh suddenly feels a sense of panic.

He stands up, still holding Tyler’s hand in his own, and tugs his friend to get up too, leading him in with him.

Josh shakes as he sits on the chair in the surgeons office. It’s not actually his surgeon who’s dealing with him today, but it’s the same friendly woman, Linda, who did his initial consultation which calms him a little. 

Tyler sitting on the spare chair and shooting him reassuring smiles helps a lot too.

The surgical binder’s the first thing that comes off. 

Good riddance. Josh actually wants to have a ceremonial burning of the damn thing.

Then the bandages along his incisions and, finally, the gauze over his nipples. 

He has to force himself not to look down as they’re removed, but he can still feel every second of it. He doesn’t look at Tyler either, afraid that he’ll be able to read any issues purely by his friends reaction. Instead he focuses on the very boring, very beige wall.

Linda’s trying to talk him through what she’s doing, but it’s just going in one ear and out the other. He’s too in his own head to take anything in.

What if he freaks out? What if he hates it? What if the surgeon’s completely fucked it up? Fucked him up?

A soft gasp from Tyler pulls him out of it though. He immediately snaps his gaze to Tylers face, surprised to find him looking at Josh full of… pride? 

“Dude. You look good.” Tyler says with a quiet sense of awe. He shakes his head a little, like he can’t believe it either.

That’s all Josh needs to look down.

He feels almost dizzy with relief.

He‘s flat. Not completely - there’s some muscle definition there still, but flatter than he’d ever been in a binder. He’s flat in a way that’s real.

The scars, although they’re not quite scars yet, are straight and even and definitely not fucked up. He’s even still got both nipples. 

He sways slightly where he’s sat, forcing Linda to have to put a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

“Whoa there. Are you okay, dear?” She says. 

“Yeah.” Josh breathes, not looking up. “Sorry. Got a bit overwhelmed for a second. Can I look in the mirror?” 

Both Linda and Tyler stand on either side to help him to the up and across the room. 

When Josh finally sees himself, he nearly sobs with relief. It’s finally him looking back.

-

By the time they leave the clinic and get in the car, Josh can’t stop grinning. He’s still shaky, still buzzing from nerves, but the relief is almost dizzying - like he’s walking on clouds after years under a heavy weight. Every glance down at his chest makes his heart twist in disbelief - it’s really him, finally.

Tyler’s driving is still absurdly cautious, every turn taken like Josh might break in the passenger seat - but now, instead of setting his teeth on edge, it makes Josh want to laugh. It’s more endearing than annoying.

They keep sharing little glances too, wearing matching grins every time their eyes meet.

“So. You want ice cream?”

“What?” 

“You’ve just had a massive life event. We need to celebrate. So, ice cream?”

Josh hesitates, but his stomach answers for him with a loud grumble. He hasn’t eaten today yet, his stomach too tight with nerves.

“Yeah, can we get waffles too? From that dessert place?” 

Tyler beams at him. 

“Yeah man, of course. It’s your big day. You can get the whole menu, if you want.”

“Just some waffles will be fine, I think.” Josh laughs, then adds. “We’ll have to get take out though, I’m desperate for a shower.” 

Twenty minutes later, they’re sitting in the parking lot with the windows cracked and two takeaway cartons of hot waffles and ice cream steaming up the car and filling it with a sweet sugary scent.

“These are way too good.” Josh groans, licking sauce from his fingers.

Tyler grins, “Enough of a treat, or do you think you need a party too?”

Josh scoffs, “No thanks, I’m good.”

Ice cream pools in the bottom of the cardboard  container, soaking into the sponge and forcing Josh to chase it with his plastic spoon.

He can’t believe how normal everything feels already. In himself, and in sitting here with Tyler, laughing and joking. 

It’s just what he needed.