Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The door of the minivan slides open beside Josh, stirring him from a surprisingly sound sleep. "First day of school, kids! Let's get going," his mother announces.

He rubs the sleep from his eyes, stretches his aching back, and gathers his things: a fresh T-shirt and jeans plus his trademark snapback, his toothbrush, toothpaste, and deodorant, and a cologne sample pulled from a magazine he found in the lobby of the Flamingo last month. As he jumps out of the car and slips his sneakers on, his sister breezes past him with her own pile of toiletries on the way across the parking lot to the 24-hour Walmart.

"Hey, wait up!" Josh calls after her, jogging to catch up. She turns around and flashes him a mischievous grin.

"Race ya," she challenges.

Josh bolts toward her, weaving through the few remaining cars in the lot. The unnaturally humid morning air sticks to his face as he struggles to keep a lead. As active as he is, Abby's been on the track team since middle school. She just barely beats him to the automatic doors.

He huffs out a laugh as she bounces around in a victory dance. "You win this time," he says, "but next time we're having a drum battle. No way you could beat me at that."

"Try me, big bro," Abby replies. They fall into step beside each other, walking the familiar path to the customer bathrooms.

"Oh, you're on," Josh scoffs, then heads into the men's room.

Walmart bathrooms are actually much nicer than they're made out to be. The floors are clean, most of the toilets work, and there's room for more than one tired teen at a time, cutting the family's morning routine in half on days like these. When you brush your teeth in gas station bathrooms most mornings, the occasional supermarket is a luxury. Josh is glad they had enough gas money to get here last night. He feels just a bit more like a normal kid.

Josh finishes freshening up to the best of his ability and reconvenes with Abby in front of the water fountains. He doesn't miss the slight glare the cashier throws their way as they walk out; they're really not supposed to use the facilities if they aren't shopping, but their parents came in for some canned vegetables when they arrived last night, so the employees can't really say anything against it. That doesn't mean Josh isn't ashamed anyway.

They pass Jordan and Ashley on the way, throwing up peace signs and hurrying them along so they won't be running late. When they arrive back, Josh takes his seat in the middle row and reaches for his backpack to check that he has all the supplies he needs. Dollar Store notebook: check. Handful of pencils "borrowed" from classmates over the years: check. Free lunch pass: check. He wishes he could have re-dyed his hair before the start of the year, but at least he's saved up almost enough to buy his favorite brand. Maybe next weekend.

As soon as the whole family has taken their turns getting ready, the Duns roll out of the parking lot and head to Kissimmee Central High School. Josh leans his head against the window. Colorful souvenir storefronts and neon motel signs zoom by as they drive, blurring together into a bright pastel rainbow.

“You working today, Dad?” Jordan asks.

“No,” their father answers. The normally cheerful mood in the car drops a little.

“But I’m in charge at Y-Time this afternoon,” their mother says. “The mothers are tipping me lately for “dealing with” their kids.”

“You’re still taking those? Laura, you know it’s just a pity donation. They just want to look like they care about all this,” their dad sighs.

"It's better than nothing."

The rest of the trip is quiet.

When the car pulls up to the high school, the older siblings hop out with one last wave to their parents and join the throng of students milling around the front entrance. Josh watches the minivan peal out of the drop-off circle toward the middle school, then steels himself and heads inside.

He wanders the halls in search of his homeroom, ignoring the familiar faces around him. Josh doesn't really have a big group of friends at school like everyone else. He doesn't have much time for friends anymore, now that his family is struggling just to get by. Most evenings, he's busy taking care of his siblings or visiting the local bakeries and farmer's markets to pick up free past-due bread and fruit. Sometimes he brings his homemade bucket drum set into town and busks in the park for a few extra bucks.

He's used to it, though. It's been this way for four years now.

When the loneliness gets to him, he likes to think of it as an adventure. In this fairy tale, Josh is a dashing knight traveling through the Kingdom of Kissimmee on a quest to find the grand treasure that will support his loving family back home in the village of Minivan. And adventurers don't have time to settle down in each village they pass through, no, they're too busy fighting dragons and following treasure maps. His mission is much more important than making nice with the locals.

Josh turns a corner and finally sees it at the end of the hall: Room 147, his homeroom this year. He makes his way forward, dodging more groups of friends and oblivious couples. He's almost there when a slim body suddenly crashes into him. He stumbles backward, barely catching himself, and the other kid blushes profusely as he bends to pick up his dropped books.

The boy looks as exhausted as he is flustered, with heavy grey bags under his eyes and his hair sticking out in all directions. Josh briefly wonders why that would be. It's only the first day of school, how stressed out could he be already?

Josh observes him more, searching for signs of trouble. He's wearing a wrinkled button-up and black jeans that are slightly too big on him. In fact, the boy is so lanky that all his clothes sort of just hang off of him. Is he eating enough?

As Josh stares for just a bit too long, the boy shoots his gaze around rapidly, refusing to make eye contact. “Um…” he begins shakily, “S-sorry about that.”

Then he's gone as soon as he appeared, slinking off past Josh like he was hiding from someone.

Strange.

Josh is drumming in the music room during his free period when he sees the boy again. A tuft of messy brown hair flies through the double doors and his body follows close behind as he heads straight for a practice room. He closes the door behind him as soon as he crosses the threshold, and doesn’t leave the tiny brick cell once.

Josh takes a detour towards the practice rooms on his way out at the end of the period. He glances through the small window in the door, trying his best to look inconspicuous, and sees that the boy is sitting in front of a piano. He isn't playing, though. He’s just holding his head in his hands.

Chapter Text

“We can’t pay the mortgage, Ty. The house is foreclosed. We just… we can’t do anything else.”

“I’ll… I’ll get a job. I’ll drop out of school and work full time and I’ll save up. I can help. I can fix this.”

“Tyler… I’m sorry, honey. You can’t fix it.”

“This isn’t happening. No. This isn’t real. I-I’m gonna pinch myself and then I’ll wake up like normal and g-go to school and everything will be okay. It’s just a dream, a horrible dream--”

“Tyler--”

“NO! THIS ISN’T REAL! IT CAN’T BE REAL!”

“Come back-- Tyler--”

Tyler wakes with a start, the mattress creaking beneath him as he sits up against the headboard. He wipes the sweat off of his forehead in relief. Just a dream.

As his eyes adjust to the darkness of the room, his stomach drops. He isn’t in his bedroom anymore. The walls distinctly lack their usual wallpaper of band posters. His keyboard is no longer pushed into the corner, a dozen “Learn Piano in 8 Easy Steps!” books absent from the floor next to it. Instead, he sees vomit-green walls and a tattered wholesale comforter spread across his legs. His parents are uncomfortably crammed on the other bed to his left.

This is not a dream.

Tyler checks the outdated alarm clock on the bedside table. It reads 5:40 AM in glaring red. He might as well stay up.

He’s had to relive that memory of his parents breaking the bad news to him four out of the five nights since they lost their house. The one night he didn’t, it was replaced by a nightmare where his friends laughed and spit at him and called him a dirty hobo. It wasn’t much better.

Tyler’s family was never rich, but that didn’t mean he ever expected this. Until now, the Josephs were just like every other family in their neighborhood. Tyler and Zack would cruise the streets on their bikes every afternoon, following the same path each time but always finding a new adventure. They would sit on the swings in the park for hours after school just to avoid their homework. Sometimes they would assemble uneven bouquets of buttercups and Queen Anne’s lace to bring home to little Maddie. Tyler would whine about his chores, and Zack would side with their parents so he would be given fewer tasks. All things considered, they were a spectacularly average family.

Tyler doesn’t want that to change.

He checks the time again. 6:15. He could probably get in a quick lukewarm shower before everyone else wakes up and hogs it.

Tyler shuffles into the cramped motel bathroom and catches his reflection in the toothpaste-speckled mirror. He looks awful. His hair is all over the place, his hands unable to tame it. The bags under his eyes grow larger and darker by the day. And although he’s naturally lanky, his face is slowly becoming more and more gaunt. They have enough food to get by, but Tyler doesn’t have much of an appetite anymore.

He jumps in the shower just as he hears the rest of the family starting to wake up. The water runs over his shoulder blades and he tries to let it relax his aching muscles. He’ll be seeing Jenna and Mark today, and he has to look as normal as possible. No one needs to know about this.

Tyler could have sworn he heard Jenna calling his name. He almost responds to it, too, his head jerking towards the source of the sound before remembering that he doesn’t want to see his friends.

Well, he does want to see his friends. But he’s scared that he’ll slip up and accidentally reveal how his family got kicked out of their own home, how they have to shack up in a crappy motel 20 minutes further from school until they can find a shelter that will take them in. He’s embarrassed, and terrified of how they’ll react.

He tries to blend in with the crowd, squeezing between two large groups of sporty-looking seniors. It works for a while, until both groups take a sudden turn in the opposite direction of Tyler’s homeroom. Now he’s stranded in the middle of the hallway. The only option is to just book it the rest of the way.

He takes off, and then promptly slams into a firm chest and drops his books everywhere. Great. He scrambles to retrieve his things as fast as possible. Tyler isn’t much for talking to strangers, and he definitely doesn’t enjoy discussing his embarrassing collisions with the victims themselves.

He sneaks a glance at the kid as he reaches for his notebook. The boy is hovering over him, his fading dyed-red hair just barely peeking out from under a black snapback. He looks vaguely concerned, though about what Tyler isn’t sure. He’s also staring at Tyler. Um.

“Um,” He begins after he’s standing up straight again, “S-sorry about that.”

The boy continues staring at him, making the encounter more awkward by the second. Tyler figures he’s spacing out and decides to leave him to it. He weaves around him and, still a bit flustered, slips into room 134.

“Hey, Earth to TyJo.” Mark waves his hand in front of Tyler’s eyes.

“Oh, um… sorry, what?”

“How was your summer, dude?”

“It was-- it was okay, I guess.”

“Are you okay, Tyler?” Jenna asks, shooting him a look of concern. “You seem a little off.”

“I’m fine.” He tries to say it reassuringly, but it comes out a bit too harshly. Jenna and Mark look even more worried now. “Sorry. Just… didn’t get much sleep last night.” They know about his occasional bouts of insomnia, so hopefully they’ll believe him and leave it at that.

They don’t look convinced.

“Are you going to eat your lunch anytime soon?” Jenna asks, gesturing at Tyler’s untouched sandwich. He spent the last of his lunch money on it. He’ll have to pick up a form later to sign up for the free lunch program. The thought makes his stomach turn.

“I’m actually not feeling too well. I-I think I’m gonna go to the nurse,” He mutters. “I’ll see you guys later.”

Tyler leaves the cafeteria, his friends undoubtedly watching him in concern as he escapes. He heads toward the nurse’s office at first, but then remembers that he was just lying about feeling sick and takes an abrupt detour to the music room. Guilt swirls in his mind as he ducks in and claims the practice room tucked in the corner.

He hates lying to Mark and Jenna. They’re his best friends-- his only friends, really. They don’t deserve to be lied to. He can’t bear losing them, though, and no one wants to be friends with the homeless kid.

They can’t find out.

But how is he supposed to act like nothing has changed? Jenna and Mark have known Tyler since he moved to Florida in 3rd grade. They know everything about him. They’ll find out eventually, or they’ll figure it out themselves. Is that better or worse than just telling them?

Tyler props his elbows on his knees and grips his head in his shaking hands, but he can’t keep his thoughts quiet. They pound against his forehead, the conflicting statements jerking him back and forth in a game of Tug of War.

Stop being a coward and just tell them. Why are you so afraid?

They’ll never talk to you again after they find out. You’ll lose the only friends you’ve ever had.

They deserve to know.

You’ll regret it.

He tries to pray, tries to ask God for guidance, but the words won’t form and he quickly gives up.

Prayer seems useless now, anyway. He prayed non-stop that first night at the motel. He begged for answers. Why did this happen to them? Why did He let this happen? What did his family do to deserve this? He never received any answers then, so why should he expect Him to help now?

Tyler is so absorbed that he doesn’t even hear the bell ringing.

Chapter Text

Josh can’t wipe the grin off his face.

The Duns had saved up just enough to spend a few nights at the Flamingo Motel. They haven’t been here since July, and Josh is absolutely buzzing to reunite with Debby. He’s supposed to be getting some ice from the ice machine, but he can’t resist taking a quick detour to find her.

He turns the corner into the lobby and catches a glimpse of silver-blonde hair disappearing into the staff room behind the front desk.

“Deb!” Josh shouts, throwing his arms into the air in excitement. The petite girl whirls around at the sound of her name, drops her jaw in disbelief, and dashes toward him.

“Oh my gosh, I haven’t seen you in forever!” Debby squeals as Josh picks her up and spins her in a circle.

“I know! I missed my favorite front desk clerk,” he says with a chuckle.

“And I missed my favorite colorful dork,” she replies, taking off his beanie and ruffling his hair.

“Hey!” Josh whines. He tries to snatch it back, but Debby quickly puts it on her own head before he can grab it. He pouts indignantly. “Why does it look better on you?”

“Oh, hush. Here.” She tosses it back to him and snorts when he barely catches it. “So when can we catch up? I have to tell you about this guy I met.”

“Is he cute?”

“Very.”

“Can’t wait. Are you free around 9 tonight?”

“Have you seen this place, Jish? I’m always free.”

“Does that mean I can sneak you out to the pool?”

“Yes, please do.”

Josh hugs her again. “Good, because I need a late-night swim, like, yesterday. See you then.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Debby says fondly, backing away reluctantly as Josh turns to leave.

Josh met Debby when they were twelve, the day after his home was foreclosed. The Ryans, the owners of the Flamingo, had brought their daughter to work that evening. The first thing the young girl saw when she walked in was a boy with dark curly hair sitting on the couch in the lobby, silently sobbing. She was by his side in an instant. She comforted Josh for ages, soothing him until the tears stopped and listening as he explained everything. Then she used her whole allowance to buy one of each of the candy bars in the vending machine for them to share. They’ve been inseparable ever since.

Debby is homeschooled, so they only see each other on special occasions like this, but Josh doesn’t mind. She’s the closest thing he has to a best friend.

He heads back the way he came and observes the dimly-lit corridors as he searches for the ice machine. The Flamingo was built in the 1950’s and hasn’t changed much since. The halogen lights still cast a stark yellow glow overhead and reflect off the pink-painted cement brick walls. Underfoot, the dark floral pattern of the carpet is scattered with stains and a few cigarette burns. It’s not exactly the fanciest place in town, but the Ryans do their best to keep it clean and safe, and the Duns are always grateful to spend some time there.

As Josh finally reaches the nook at the end of the hall, containing the ice machine and half-empty vending machine, the giddy grin still stuck on his face melts into a confused frown. He hears shouting through the wall, and then, in a flurry of lanky limbs, a boy storms out of the room to Josh’s left.

The boy seems ready to scream in frustration at first, but once the door slams behind him, his tight expression softens and then slumps despairingly. He falls back against the door, crumples down to the floor, and pulls at his hair with trembling hands. His shoulders shake as he sobs softly.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay?” Josh says, rushing to his side and kneeling down next to him. He hesitantly places his hand on the boy’s shoulder. He jumps and turns his head in surprise, seemingly just now noticing Josh’s presence.

He looks at Josh with downturned, hopeless eyes, tears threatening to fall. The sight leaves Josh heartbroken. Almost immediately, though, as if the boy suddenly recognizes him, the distress becomes recollection, and then embarrassment. His face flushes a deep red and he pulls away from Josh’s hand. He’s halfway down the hall before Josh can even react.

As Josh watches him dart toward the parking lot, he realizes he’s seen those tired eyes before.

That was the boy who ran into him on the first day of school.

Josh meets Debby one last time on Saturday before he has to leave.

“So he’s in my history class and I wasn’t really paying attention during attendance but his name definitely starts with a T. Like, Trevor or Todd or something. And I’ve seen him around school a few times but he’s always alone, and I’m kind of worried he has no friends because he looks too sad to not have anyone to support him. And I can’t figure out why he’s staying here. Like, did he run away from home? But I definitely heard him yelling at someone in his room that one day so that’s probably not it. I think--”

“Josh.” Debby shoots him a glare and flicks the pool water on her hand into his face. He’s startled out of his whizzing thoughts and promptly clamps his mouth closed.“You’re rambling again.”

“Sorry.” He takes a deep breath before making the point he was leading up to. “Deb, I… I think his family is homeless. Like mine.”

Debby doesn’t seem too shocked. “That’s probably true. We get a lot of newly-homeless families here. They stay for a couple of weeks until they run out of money in the bank... and then they move into their cars.” She pulls herself up and out of the pool, leaving her legs dangling off the edge and her toes just barely dragging through the surface of the water. She watches it ripple outward, her glossed lips stretched into a sad grimace.

“I wanna tell him it’s okay, like, let him know I’ve gone through the same stuff, but... I dunno, it seems like he’s hiding from me or something.” Josh crosses his arms on the edge of the pool and rests his head in them. “He always leaves history the second the bell rings, and whenever I see him getting ice from the machine he bolts before I can reach him.”

“Maybe he’s embarrassed. Or scared you’ll make fun of him.”

Josh’s face scrunches up in thought, or maybe confusion. “Maybe… but I’ve been here all week. He’s got to have realized why, right? So why would I make fun of him if I’m in the same situation?”

“He’s probably just really sensitive right now, Jish. Don’t overthink it.” Debby throws him a reassuring look, as if to say: Don’t worry, it’s not you.

Josh sighs and drops back into the water. “I’ll try.”

“Hey loser, come pack up!” Jordan shouts from the balcony in front of their room.

“Just a minute!” Josh hollers back. “One last race before I go?”

Debby dives in and positions herself at the deep end. “Only if you’re prepared to lose.”

The next morning, Josh sees him at church.

He stands up to receive communion and sees a familiar wrinkled button-up and soft brown hair in line ahead of him. Josh’s heart skips a beat. He’s scared to take his eyes off the boy, in case he runs away again. He squirms impatiently in his seat the whole rest of the service.

The second the mass ends, Josh is out of his seat and worming his way through groups of chatting parents and sleepy children. The boy is headed for the door, dragging behind who Josh assumes are his parents and three siblings.

Josh finally breaks through the thinning crowd and gives up on subtlety. He reaches for the boy’s wrist. “Hey, can I talk to you for a min--”

The boy whips around. His face blanches when he sees Josh.

“Sorry to startle you. I just wanted to…” Josh trails off when he notices the boy’s eyes darting around wildly, like an animal trapped in a cage. They finally land on Josh’s hand, still wrapped tightly around his wrist. “Oh. Um, sorry.” He lets go and nervously shoves his hands into his pockets.

“My name’s Josh. I-I noticed you were staying at the Flamingo this week, and I just wanted to let you know it’s okay. The first few weeks can be really tough, but it… it won’t always be bad.” He tries a soft smile, but the boy is still gazing at his wrist, his expression unreadable.

“Anyway, um… if you wanna talk, just let me know. I hang out in the music room 5th period every day, so I guess you can find me there.” The boy suddenly looks up and meets Josh’s eyes. He seems… intrigued?

“Tyler,” He blurts.

“Um. What?”

“My name is Tyler.”

His voice is soft and gravelly, like he could burst into tears at any moment, but it gains confidence with each word he speaks. His lips twitch at the corners and pull into an unsure smile.

His name is Tyler.

Chapter Text

Tyler is currently freaking out in the boys’ bathroom for the third day in a row. He can’t stop thinking about Josh and his offer.

He knows he should just suck it up and talk to him. He can tell the boy meant no harm, in fact he probably wants to help Tyler, but he’s still terrified. No one was supposed to know about this. He’s been working so hard to hide it. His classmates already thought he was strange; they didn’t need yet another reason to give him dirty looks.

Tyler’s hand finds its way into his hair, fingers frantically winding around the messy locks. His knees bounce up and down as he tries to calm his shallow breathing. He feels like he might throw up.

“No, nonono. I can do this. I need to do this,” he mutters to the stall door.

Four. Tyler pulls in a shaky breath. Seven. He struggles to hold it. Eight. The air rushes out of his pursed lips a little too quickly, and he immediately gasps in another lungful, but he can already feel his heart rate gradually steadying and the tension leaving his shoulders.

Four… seven… eight. His furrowed eyebrows relax.

Four… seven… eight. His bouncing legs slow and then stop.

Four… seven… eight. His hand falls out of his hair, and he wipes his sweaty palms on his thighs decisively.

Four… seven… eight. His writhing stomach finally settles to a low grumble.

Tyler leaves the stall on wobbly knees and gives himself a once-over in the mirror above the sink. He combs down his wild hair, then turns on the faucet and splashes cold water on his pink-tinted cheeks. As he dries them with a scratchy school-issue paper towel, he attempts to put on a brave face.

“Okay,” Tyler sighs. “Now or never.” He turns on his heel and heads for the music room.

When the door comes into view ahead, the butterflies fill Tyler’s stomach again. Four, seven, eight. He times his breaths to his steps.

A heavy drumbeat grows louder as he approaches the room, the muffled rhythm filtering through the space between the floor and the bottom of the door. Tyler can feel the beat in his chest by the time his trembling fingers are reaching for the doorknob. He takes one last deep breath, squeezes his eyes shut, and steps inside.

He opens his eyes and has to restrain himself from gasping. Josh is sitting behind the drum set in the corner, headphones on his ears and completely enveloped in the music. He bounces on the stool as he hits the drums with practiced perfection. His eyes are closed and he bites at his bottom lip, a serene smile peeking out from beneath his teeth. He plays like it’s as natural to him as breathing. Tyler can’t seem to move from his spot across the room; he just watches Josh in stunned silence.

Josh finishes with a flourish and sinks back down onto the stool, still grinning to himself. Tyler hears the song playing in his headphones fade out as he opens his eyes and huffs in satisfaction. Josh glances toward the door, nods passively at Tyler, and then performs an impossibly theatrical double-take.

“You came,” Josh mutters, stumbling out from behind the drumset. Tyler tries to nod, but it comes out as more of an awkward twitch. “How, uh... how long have you been standing there?”

“Like, a couple minutes,” Tyler responds, his voice still wavering and scratchy.

Josh rubs the back of his neck and chuckles toward the floor. “Awkward. Sorry for the racket.”

Tyler clears his throat. “No, no, it was good.”

At that, redness creeps over Josh’s cheeks and tints the tips of his ears. “Um… thanks.”

He meets Tyler’s eyes and smiles. Tyler smiles back, as well as he can manage. The world pauses for a long moment.

“Oh!” Josh exclaims with a shake of his head. “Talking! You came here to talk. Yeah. Um-- here.” He drags two folding chairs into the middle of the room and sets them at a comfortable angle next to each other, then sits down on one and pats the seat of the other. “Let’s talk.”

Tyler bumbles over and drops down into the chair, wincing when he hits the uncomfortable surface. He looks up at Josh and finds that he’s already watching him. There is a light sheen of sweat still on his forehead. The light streaming in through the window shifts, hitting his eyes and making them practically glow. Tyler forgets everything he wanted to say.

“I, uh…” Josh nods, encouraging him to continue. Tyler gapes. “I’m homeless.”

Okay, that was stupid. Tyler feels the heat of embarrassment in his cheeks and looks away, mortified. Josh chuckles softly next to him.

“I kinda figured that out, dude. Anything else? I know we’re practically strangers, but I’ve been through all this stuff too. You can talk to me.” A hand lands on Tyler’s shoulder. He looks back up, startled. Josh is leaning forward with a warm smile, and Tyler suddenly feels a little more confident.

“My family and I… we gotta leave the Flamingo soon,” he stutters, feeling his hands start to tremble again.

“First time living out of your car, right?” Josh’s expression turns sympathetic.

“Yeah.” He swallows hard past the lump in his throat. “I dunno what we’re gonna do. I have, like, no idea how any of this works. And no money. And...” Tyler can feel the tears pricking his eyes. He tries to blink them away, but all it does is make his vision blur. “I’m scared.”

Josh’s grip on Tyler’s shoulder tightens, and then he’s pulling him into a hug. Tyler wraps his arms around him, and suddenly all the emotions he’s been holding in explode to the surface.

He sobs into Josh’s neck for what feels like hours, Josh rubbing soothing circles into his back until the tears run out. The process is cathartic in a way Tyler would never have guessed. He had been bottling up so much anger, so much fear and hopelessness, and now it’s all leaving his mind, relief washing over him in waves as the emotions fall from his eyes. All of this, just because an impossibly nice boy is holding him and letting him open up to someone.

An impossibly nice, impossibly pretty boy.

Tyler stiffens. He’s not sure where that came from.

When he finally, reluctantly, pulls away, Josh connects their eyes with a surprising intensity, squeezing his shoulder once more. “It’s gonna be okay. I promise. You might feel really alone right now, but the homeless kids around here are a community. We support each other. If you ever need anything, ever , don’t be afraid to ask, okay?” When Tyler nods silently, he puts on another dazzling grin.

“Thanks,” Tyler mutters with a sniff. “You’re, um… you’re the first person I’ve told. So thanks for being nice about it.”

“Of course, dude. Can’t be mean about it if I’ve lived it.” Tyler chuckles at that, and Josh beams.

“So, um,” Tyler starts, itching to change the subject. “When did you start playing the drums?”

“It must have been around the same time we lost the house-- so, like, four years ago. I was so frustrated and stressed and confused, and all I wanted to do was hit something as hard as I could. When I got caught smashing all the clay vases in the art room, my counselor had me try out drums instead.” He huffs sheepishly. “Probably a more socially acceptable thing to hit.”

Tyler giggles. “Yeah, probably.”

Josh nods. “Since then, playing the drums is like daily therapy for me. I can let out all of the negative stuff so the positive can come in.”

“I feel the same about piano. There’s just something special about music.” Tyler struggles to find the right word, one that encompasses everything he feels. “Something... important.”

Josh hums an agreement, and then his eyebrows jump up in curiosity. “Wait, you play piano?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’m not that good, but I can play some stuff,” Tyler shrugs.

“That’s sick,” Josh declares. “You gotta show me some time.” Tyler grins giddily at his shoes.

The silence that lingers between them is so surprisingly comfortable that Tyler almost has a heart attack when the bell rings. “Oh, shoot. Class.” He scrambles to get up, wiping his puffy eyes one final time.

“Hey,” Josh mumbles. Tyler pauses. Josh looks down at his lap and fiddles with the hemline of his shirt. “I don’t really feel like going to history today. You wanna maybe… get out of here?” He glances up through his lashes at Tyler, then back down to his nervous hands. “I can show you some good places to find free food. Or something.”

“Like, ‘out of school’ out of here? You know a way past the hall monitors?”

Josh’s confidence returns at that. A mischievous glint shines in his eyes. “Even better-- I know a door with no hall monitors watching it. Check this out.”

He leads Tyler to the other side of the room. Sure enough, tucked in the corner and halfway behind a filing cabinet bursting at the seams with sheet music, a sturdy metal door looms. When Josh throws it open, a wall of thick, humid air hits Tyler’s face, and the hazy front yard of Kissimmee Central greets him. He kicks himself for never noticing the thing before.

“Wanna break some rules?” Josh asks, hand outstretched in a silent offer. Behind them, the jazz band kids filter into the room in chatty groups of two or three. They don’t seem to notice the boys’ flagrant rule-breaking, and if they do, they’re keeping it on the down-low from the band director. Tyler makes a mental note to thank them someday for saving his butt.

He grins and reaches for Josh’s hand, and they’re off.