Chapter Text
The hallway looked like a war zone.
Clothes, cables, half-zipped bags, empty coffee mugs. A pair of tangled socks Tyler had just stepped on for the third time. He muttered a curse and kicked them aside, sweeping through the living room in search of the charger for his synth pads, only to circle back and find it already packed in the hallway. Just like it had been twenty minutes ago.
He stopped, blinked, and let out a breathless laugh.
“Okay,” he mumbled, tapping his palm against his thigh. “Okay, again from the top.”
The gear bag was zipped. His backpack sat open by the front door, waiting for one last inspection. He crouched and checked the side pocket... headphones, lyric notebook, still there. Main compartment... toothbrush, meds, razor, retaped travel bottle of shampoo, still there.
He pivoted to the next pile. Laptop bag? Check. Portable keyboard? Packed. Duffel with clothes? Probably overstuffed, but check.
Everything was there. Everything he needed and maybe even more. The checklist had no gaps, no missing pieces, no logical reason for the tight coil still wound inside his chest, and yet, his brain refused to cooperate.
His thoughts darted like startled birds, directionless and loud, flapping from one corner of his mind to the next, nowhere and everywhere all at once. He couldn't seem to land on the task right in front of him, couldn’t hold a thought long enough to finish it before another shoved its way in.
His breath was shallow and fast, it didn’t really feel like panic yet, but if he kept this up much longer, it could get there.
He checked the time. 11:52.
And still no one outside.
Tyler moved to the window for the sixth time that hour, tugging the curtain aside with two fingers. Outside, the autumn sky was thick and gray, light softened by a dense sheet of clouds. His street looked exactly the same as always... parked cars, rusted fences, that one crooked lamppost someone hit back in April.
But his ride still wasn't there.
He wiped a hand down his face and stepped back, he didn’t know why he was nervous.
No, wait... that was a lie.
He knew exactly why he was nervous.
Because Josh had said they'd be there “around noon,” which could mean anything between 11:50 and 12:20 if he was being generous. And Tyler usually wasn’t very generous when it came to things that made him feel this uncertain.
He scanned the room again.
The bags were lined up by the door like a ragged row of ducklings... too many, too heavy, and too full of gear he probably wouldn’t even use. He sat on the edge of the couch and tapped his knee, eyes darting back to the window.
Still nothing.
Tyler had to laugh at himself when he realized how he must’ve looked... pacing around the apartment, peeking out the window every two minutes like a kid waiting for the school bus on their first day. Except there were no parents holding his hand, no packed lunch, no little backpack with a name tag.
And this? This was no school trip.
He wasn’t going to the museum or some local sightseeing spot like a good little tourist, he was about to leave for something he hadn’t expected at all.
He was going on tour.
On tour.
He tried the words out again in his head like a phrase he didn’t know the taste of yet.
If you told twenty year old Tyler that he’d ever step foot on a tour bus again, he would’ve laughed in your face. Or maybe he wouldn’t have laughed at all, maybe he’d just stare blankly and shake his head because that version of Tyler didn’t believe in anything that far ahead.
Truth was, twenty year old Tyler didn’t even believe he’d live long enough to become the version standing here now.
And it didn’t matter that it wasn’t his tour. It didn't matter that the band, the music or the spotlight wasn’t his, because he was about to experience something he never thought he’d feel again. Not in this lifetime. Not on his own, and definitely not beside someone he could proudly call his boyfriend.
That’s right. His boyfriend.
Another thing twenty-year-old Tyler never would’ve believed. Hell, even twenty-seven-year-old Tyler wouldn’t have believed it at the start of this summer
And now.. somehow, he had both of those things driving towards him. A sweet, loving boyfriend, and the kind of whirlwind adventure he thought he’d left behind for good. Expected to arrive any minute now.
It all still sounded like a sci-fi plot in his head, implausible and strange.
And yet here he was, packed, waiting, in a relationship, and still alive.
He kept glancing between his bags, the window, and the phone he’d been checking every thirty seconds, even though it hadn’t buzzed once. At some point, without even meaning to, he started flipping the screen... lock, unlock, lock, unlock... like the motion itself could distract his nerves.
It didn’t.
But on one of those flips, the photo on his home screen caught his attention. Or maybe it hypnotized him. Maybe flip number seven hundred didn’t do much, but on seven hundred and one, he looked, and this time, he didn’t look away.
Just like that, everything else dropped away. The bags, the window, the silence.. He just stared, thumb hovering just above the glass.
It was the same picture that had greeted him for the past few weeks... him and Josh, faces smushed awkwardly together on his tiny couch, mid-laugh, both of them shirtless and a little sweaty from heat or cuddling, or maybe both. Tyler’s eyes were half-closed, his mouth open like he’d just said something dumb. Josh had his face pressed against Tyler’s temple, squinting at the camera and grinning so hard his cheekbones looked like they hurt.
It wasn’t a good photo, not technically. It was overexposed and weirdly cropped, but Tyler had never loved a picture more.
His nerves quieted as he stared at it longer than he meant to, thumb hovering over the screen like he could touch it and feel the warmth of Josh’s skin again. Like the digital version of Josh’s face could ground him the same way his actual presence always did.
It calmed him down, the way only Josh could. Like the photo had some kind of powers of its own.
It had been taken the very first day Josh came over after camp.
Ten days after camp ended, to be exact. Not that Tyler had counted... except he totally did.
The first couple of days after camp were fine, actually. He had things to do... laundry, groceries, sorting through mail that had built up while he was gone. It was easy to stay busy, to keep his head down and pretend like coming home didn’t feel like stepping off a rollercoaster he didn’t want to get off of yet.
It helped that Josh was texting pretty often. A couple memes a day, a “miss you” here, and a “thought of you when I saw this” there. It made Tyler feel a little more tethered.
But by day four, that tether started to fray.
It wasn’t anything dramatic, just little things. Like the silence in the apartment, or the absence of laughter or footsteps just outside his door. The fact that no one called “Ty!” from across the field or shoved a plate into his hand at breakfast or stole his seat at the campfire just to annoy him.
And even though he laid off the private music lessons, he had plenty of work to do. His inbox was a minefield of deadlines and inquiries, but even as he dug in, buried deep in his home studio, he kept catching himself staring off mid-render, fingers ghosting the piano keys, brain looping back to Josh.
It made him irrationally restless, irritated at the time itself, like it was deliberately stretching those days apart into something unbearable.
By day six, he was checking his phone hourly.
Josh had mentioned visiting family for “a few days,” and Tyler kept going over those words like he could squeeze a different meaning out of them. A few days had turned into six, then seven... And he didn’t want to be clingy, God, he didn’t want to be that guy, but every time his phone lit up with a selfie or a message, his chest loosened a little.
Still, by day eight, Tyler was wound so tight he could barely sleep, he stayed up too late finishing projects that didn’t need to be rushed, as if exhausting himself would somehow make the days pass faster.
He never told Josh how badly he missed him, but maybe he didn’t have to. The photos said it all... Tylers tired-eyed grins, his captions like “how many more sleeps now?” or “bet you forgot how good I look.”
Even when missing someone, he was his usual passive-aggressive self about it.
But he bet Josh loved it.
He must have... otherwise Tyler would never have gotten such treasures in return. Josh, sleepy and shirtless in a messy bedroom. Josh, out on a hiking trail with his cousin’s dog. Josh, squinting into the sun like a cute idiot.
Tyler saved every single one like they were proof the waiting was worth it.
And then, finally, the day came.
Josh had sent him a single text around noon.
"omw"
Tyler stared at it like it might rearrange itself into something else. He tried to come up with another interpretation... Otherworldly Mechanical Wizard? Only My Wish? ... anything to keep himself from assuming it meant exactly what he so desperately hoped it did.
He replied with two question marks, but he got nothing back.
The next few hours were a mess. Tyler couldn’t focus on anything, he hovered in his studio, half-finishing things, checking the window, checking his phone, pacing from one end of the apartment to the other. But still, he didn’t let himself get too excited. He couldn’t... because the idea of letting that hope bloom just to have it crushed felt worse than the waiting itself.
But then, sometime in the late afternoon, the doorbell rang.
Tyler froze, literally stopped mid-step in the kitchen and just stood there like his brain short-circuited.
The doorbell rang again.
He padded slowly to the front door, heart suddenly racing like he was about to do something dangerous. He peeked through the peephole and nearly choked on his own breath.
Because there he was...
Josh.
Backpack slung over one shoulder, shifting his weight from foot to foot in that slightly awkward way he always did when he didn’t know if he should just knock again or try to kick the damn door down.
He was really standing there.
Tyler was still frozen, his eye glued to the peephole, when Josh suddenly leaned in and smirked.
“Are you gonna let me in or keep staring at me through your tiny spyhole like a creep?”
Tyler jumped back like he’d been caught doing something indecent and his cheeks went ruby-red in an instant. He hadn’t realized Josh could tell he was standing behind the door. He muttered something under his breath and fumbled with the lock.
The door swung open and their eyes met. Tyler’s were still shining with mild embarrassment, but it vanished quickly.
“Sorry... It just... kinda felt like a dream.” Tyler mumbled, still kind of stunned that this was really happening.
Josh was already grinning though, and God... Tyler had missed that grin. The way it crinkled the corners of his eyes, and how it made his whole face light up like it had no idea how to hold back.
“Good dream or bad dream?” Josh asked.
Tyler just blinked at him, and then, like an idiot, answered with.. “You’re real.”
Josh laughed loudly and stepped over the threshold, already reaching for him. “Sure am.”
They didn’t even make it to the living room, the hug was instant... tight, long and clumsy with Josh's backpack and jacket still in the way. And when Josh finally pulled back, it was only a few inches... just enough to kiss him.
Softly, first, as if he was testing the waters. Then again, deeper, like the wait had been just as long for him, like he’d missed Tyler just as much.
Tyler melted instantly, right there in the hallway, dressed in a loose shirt, faded shorts, and socks pulled high enough to almost count as knee socks.
And just like that, it was real again.
...
When they finally parted, Tyler stepped aside to let Josh in, heart still thudding from that kiss. Josh dropped his bag by the door and looked around, whistling low.
“Looks different with the lights on.”
Tyler snorted. “You’ve never even seen it with the lights off.”
Josh grinned. “Guess I’m about to.”
Tyler showed him around properly then.
He led him to the narrow kitchen, where he did more thinking than cooking. To the too-small living room, with his battered couch and single armchair. Then to the studio tucked behind a sliding door, where cables snaked across the floor like vines in a forest.
Josh took it all in with the kind of open curiosity that made Tyler feel seen in a way that didn’t terrify him.
Then they sat for a while, catching up properly.
Tyler made tea, only for Josh to steal his mug the second he set it down on the table. They kept the conversation mostly shallow, Tyler couldn’t come up with anything too complicated anyway, not with the way Josh was looking at him with soft, undivided attention.
At some point, Tyler offered to reheat some leftover pasta, but Josh just licked his lips, leaned against the kitchen counter and said, “I’ve missed your stupid face too much to eat right now.”
Which, apparently, was the trigger.
Because one minute, Tyler was trying to decide if “stupid face” was a compliment or an insult, and the next, Josh was kissing him again. This time harder and hungrier, hands gripping Tyler’s waist as he walked him backward until his hips bumped the kitchen counter.
“Oh my god... you're really here,” Tyler murmured between kisses, like he still didn’t believe it, even after hours of proof.
Josh laughed softly into his mouth. “You gonna keep saying that, or are you gonna let me appreciate you properly?”
Tyler didn’t have an answer, he was too busy shoving Josh’s jacket off his shoulders and yanking his own shirt over his head. They didn’t even make it to the bedroom, not when the kitchen counter was right there, and Josh had him bent down, panting, writhing and gasping against the cold laminate in no time.
From the moment Josh pushed in, it was fast and messy, maybe even a little desperate... the kind of sex that came with too much pent up energy and too much time apart.
Josh gripped his hips like they were something precious, kissed the back of his neck like a prayer, and whispered all the filthy things he’d thought about during those ten long days. Tyler’s breath kept hitching with every thrust, body strung tight, every sound escaping him raw and unfiltered.
He came undone with a cry that was muffled by the crook of his own elbow, and Josh followed soon after, curling against his back and wrapping him in a sweat-slicked, breathless hug.
“Hi,” Josh whispered, forehead resting on Tyler’s shoulder.
Tyler huffed a laugh. “Hi.”
They eventually stumbled to the couch, still half-dressed, and collapsed in a heap. It was barely wide enough to fit one person properly, let alone two. Tyler’s shoulder hung off the edge. Josh’s hand was wedged somewhere under his ribcage.
It was only now, lying tangled together and laughing breathlessly, that Tyler realized just how wildly unaccommodating his apartment was for two people to stay in. There was always just one chair, one tiny couch, one bathroom shelf already overflowing with products. One sheet on the bed, one towel on the rack, one coffee mug he never offered to anyone else.
Jesus, he seriously needed to make some changes around here.
“Damn,” Tyler muttered, adjusting on the couch for the fifth time. “I need to refurnish.”
Josh shifted closer, threw an arm around him. “Nonsense, this is perfect.”
Tyler rolled his eyes but smiled. “Says the one who’s not hanging off the couch for dear life.”
“Oh, I’ll make sure you won’t fall off, baby,” Josh murmured, tightening his arms around him. “Now shut up and be the little spoon.”
That made them both laugh, their bodies tangled in an awkward, perfect mess of limbs. And somewhere in that moment, between the bad couch and the even worse posture, Tyler reached for his phone on the coffee table, tilted it toward them, and snapped a photo.
Their faces were flushed, their hair a disaster, but their grins were real. Goofy, and soft, the kind you couldn’t fake even if you tried.
...
Tyler was still staring at that photo now, thumb brushing mindlessly across the screen. It had become his wallpaper sometime in the last month, he didn’t even remember setting it. It kind of felt like it had infiltrated its way onto his home screen without him even realizing.
Just like Josh had infiltrated his everyday life.
It was funny how quickly Josh had become part of everything... Of this apartment, of his routines, his mornings and nights. How he crashed his workdays without meaning to, how Tyler would try to push himself to stay focused on work, and either fail spectacularly or end up glancing back to find Josh asleep on the studio couch, headphones askew and mouth slightly open.
He was everywhere. And Tyler had loved every goddamn second of it.
A loud honk shattered the silence.
Tyler flinched, nearly dropping his phone, and his head snapped toward the window. He stepped closer, pulled back the curtain a few inches... and froze.
A sleek, black and absurdly long tour bus was easing into the street like it owned the pavement it parked on. Like it wasn’t a completely ridiculous, surreal thing to see on this quiet block of rusted fences and uneven sidewalks.
The chrome gleamed in the dull autumn light, so polished it reflected the trees and houses back in watery distortion. It took up nearly the entire street, Tyler was pretty sure no other car would be able to pass.
“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, his heart skipping a strange beat as he stared. Not just at the bus, but at what it represented.
A moving home. For weeks. With strangers.
A loud, noisy vehicle full of late nights, interrupted sleep and a whole lot of unpredictability. A tiny space laced with memories waiting to be stirred in each city they stop in, with the ghosts of the life he once had... and the scars it left behind.
As he stood there, staring at the hulking machine, something cold began to settle in his chest. It wasn’t loud, it didn’t scream, it was the kind of fear that seeped in at the edges, the quiet kind that wrapped itself around your ribs and made it hard to breathe.
The bus was just a vehicle, just metal and rubber and paint, but to Tyler, it looked like a beast. A moving monument to everything he suddenly didn’t trust himself to handle.
God. What if this was a mistake?
The tour meant long days, late nights, shared air, constant motion. It meant no space to fall apart, no room to hide.
What if he wasn’t ready? What if everything that felt okay in theory turned out to be a slow slide into chaos in practice? What if he couldn’t sleep on a bus? What if he couldn’t work?
What if it brought back more than it gave?
His chest tightened even more.
It wasn’t just about logistics or comfort, it was about who he might become out there. He’d worked so hard to build a life that felt steady, predictable and safe. And this... this bus, this tour, this leap, felt like a demolition of all of that. It felt like standing on a cliff with no promise that there would be a net to catch him.
Tyler’s fingers clenched tighter around the curtain. His breath hitched, the panic wasn’t loud yet, but he felt it coming, one heartbeat at a time.
But then the bus door hissed open... and Josh stepped out.
He bounced down the steps like it was the easiest thing in the world, hoodie sleeves shoved to his elbows, curls tousled by the wind, cheeks pink from the cold. And his smile... God, that bright smile, broke the whole scene wide open.
It was absurd, almost laughable, how much lighter everything felt just from the sight of him. Like Josh had stepped out of the shadows Tyler just built for himself and brought the sun with him.
He wasn’t the tour bus. He wasn’t the noise, or the ghosts, or the pressure.
He was the reason Tyler was saying yes to all of it.
Josh looked up, eyes catching on the window like he knew Tyler was hiding behind it. He lifted a hand and waved, grinning like the sky had cracked open just for this moment, and the light behind his eyes was proof.
Tyler exhaled all at once, the tension in his shoulders dissolving as fast as it had come. And just like that, the spiral vanished.
The fear didn't win.
Because there, in the middle of his suburban street, stood the one person who made all of this feel possible and worthwhile and... safe, somehow.
Josh had become part of everything in the past few weeks, infiltrating himself into his home and his life,
And now Tyler was about to do the same.