Chapter Text
"i tell you every single time to knock before you come up, tyler."
"sorry." tyler took a step back down the rung of the ladder. "i know."
the trapdoor had already been ajar, and the last time he'd knocked, josh had told tyler to "just come in like a fucking normal person", but let's try again. he pulled the hatch closed before giving it a theatrically rhythmic knock.
"yes?"
tyler cleared his throat. "can i come up?"
josh's chuckle echoed through the floorboards. "of course you can."
tyler smiled. he climbed up into the room and saw josh sitting cross-legged in front of the full-length mirror.
he patted the tyler-sized space on the floor to his left, and tyler skipped over.
"what are you up to?" he asked softly.
josh's eyebrows were a stark yellow-blonde, and in front of him was a small pot of deep red paste.
tyler's feet bounced in excitement, and he threw himself down to the floor beside him.
"you're dyeing your eyebrows again!"
-
god, tyler loved the red brows. they were so pretty and fun. they had so much fun, sometimes.
four years ago, tyler had told josh that he was the prettiest bad boy he'd ever seen. josh took the compliments, kindly.
josh had told tyler he had beautiful hair, and how pretty his curls would look gripped in his fist as he pulled it, forcing tyler to look up at him before cumming all over his "pretty face". tyler asked for a better explanation and said he was a practical learner.
and nine days later, he was kneeling in front of josh, wrists tied behind his back, mouth open wide and throat raw, being tugged by his hair as josh spilt his cum down his "pretty throat".
then, there was love. and now, they were them.
-
the sound of plastic scraping plastic caught tyler's attention. he focused on the bleach and the toner and the dye, and watched josh stir the pot with a smile.
a few minutes later, he pressed a kiss to josh’s cheek and admired the immaculately spread paste on his brows. it looked great.
"does it hurt yet?" he asked curiously.
josh shrugged. "it's tingly. i reckon it's time for the dye?"
"absolutely."
josh turned to face tyler so he could peel the clingfilm from his now platinum brows. tyler took the tub of red dye and used a spatula to apply it onto josh in a carefully skilled matter of minutes.
josh spawned a bottle of red wine from his right-hand side, followed by two large glasses. "you want a drink?" he asked.
tyler grinned. "yay! yes, please."
tyler loved this brand that josh had found. it was sweet, rich, and juicy— and that made it ten times easier for them both to drink. neither tyler nor josh had much interest in alcohol, bar some baileys on christmas eve or valentine's day, but the couple had recently discovered that an evening of monopoly, or poker, or scrabble, was much more enjoyable if they were a little bit tipsy.
so eight minutes later, josh's red brows matched his red hair. five minutes after that, the salon spot had been tidied up, and two minutes later, bananagrams was out and scattered across the carpet, ready to go.
"can we do a theme?" tyler asked, lining up his twenty-one lettered tiles.
they'd stayed sitting on the floor, the shared tiles placed between them, but both had their starter tiles closer, with easier access.
"if you want. do you have one?"
tyler nodded. "one-word song titles? by, like, anyone."
"sounds good, handsome," josh replied, and tyler’s skin blushed into a soft pink marshmallow.
josh grinned before taking a sip from his glass and rubbing his hands together. "are we racing?"
"of course we are, and i will win."
josh looked up at his boyfriend in feigned incredulity. "you think you'll win?" he raised an eyebrow.
"i do," tyler smirked. "ready?"
josh chuckled. "ready."
tyler's hands flew to his tiles. "threetwoonego."
josh scoffed playfully. "if you lose, don't be a dick about it."
tyler laughed— his wide grin hiding a slip of a grimace. he started on his words.
"deal."
and thus commenced a wonderful game of bananagrams for the third time that week.
-
don’t go overboard, tyler thought to himself as he got into the game. he swallowed thickly.
the last time they’d played, they’d had a kind of argument.
nothing major—just that josh had been annoyed that tyler ended up with all twelve of the letter ‘e’ tiles. josh really needed some e’s, so he’d asked tyler if he could take some.
“nope!” he’d said.
then josh asked again, “just one?”
still no. and josh had snapped,
“show me where it says i can’t take one.”
tyler had explained that it didn’t say it anywhere— you obviously just couldn’t take someone’s tile. it was just how the game worked. but josh said he was being annoying, stopped playing immediately, claimed disinterest and boredom, and told tyler he was “fucking shit at games anyway”.
tyler had packed everything away, apologised, and felt terrible— for the game, for the evening, for everything, ever.
so, this time, he wouldn’t take it too seriously. he hated when something stupid ruined everything - when he did something wrong and he should’ve just listened and then josh is angry at him and then he’s slammed into the wall. and then josh says he loves him.
tonight, he just wanted to have fun. no fights, no blame, no tears.
don’t ruin it. don’t ruin it.
he could do that. for sure.
-
josh had fourteen songs, and tyler had twelve. and josh had a song that was a whopping eight letters long (anathema) so he had, this time, beaten tyler fair and square.
tyler giggled, swaying in his spot. the wine swirled in his veins. "well done, joshie."
"why, thank you, handsome," josh said gleefully.
the two mocked an end-of-game handshake.
tyler absolutely loved seeing josh like this; carefree, and satisfied. he stood up and sauntered towards him, bending down to wrap his arms around his shoulders, but before he could, josh said, "wait, get my phone for me so i can take a picture of how good my words are? please?"
and tyler chuckled an "okay", spinning around behind him. josh's phone was charging on top of the snare drum on his drumkit.
he stepped over and grabbed it, and turned back around— but only god knows why, instead of walking back over to his boyfriend, he instead held the phone out to pass it over the drums.
so as soon as it happened, he knew it was his fault. he knew that he'd let go a moment too early, before the phone had made it to josh's hand. when he heard a clink and then a fuck!, when he went back around the drums to see that he'd dropped the phone right on top of his full (third) glass of wine, and the red was pooling on the carpet like blood ink on a shirt pocket, he knew it was over for everyone.
"for fuck’s sake, tyler."
his mind went into overdrive.
"i'm sorry, i'm sorry, josh!" tyler said, frantically looking around for a - anything - to try and save the bleeding carpet. the wine glass was full, goddamnit, he shouldn't have poured it until he was ready to drink it— i mean, i was ready to drink it, i just shouldn't have reached over the drums on my tiptoes, he thought, or stretched to pass the phone, i should have just gone back around it, the fucking, the drum kit, fuck, i can't believe you've done this again, you're so stupid, you are so fucking stupid, tyl—
"tyler?"
his heart skipped a beat. and then another. tyler was ripped from his thoughts. he opened his eyes to see josh grabbing a charcoal grey t-shirt, before he laid it over the liquid and pressed it down with his palm. it began to saturate.
"should i get a proper—"
"no, thanks. it's fine."
tyler nodded slowly, to himself more so than to his boyfriend.
"i can find a—"
"no. thanks."
"okay."
don’t ruin it. don’t ruin it.
tyler stared at the soaking t-shirt for a moment, before taking in josh's wine-stained fingertips. he stood up, and tyler suddenly shrunk. josh gazed down at him and put a hand to his cheek.
"why do you always mess things up, tyler?"
tyler lowered his gaze.
"i am so sorry, josh."
josh leaned down to kiss his hair. it was soft, but his grip on tyler’s cheeks was hard. suddenly, warm lips and hot breath were tickling his ear, and his grip was very hard.
"you're always sorry."
tyler blinked.
he opened his mouth – in apology or protest, he wasn’t sure – but he didn’t get the chance for either.
he found himself being shoved backwards and thrown onto the bed in the corner of the room. all too quickly, tyler’s wrists were pinned above his head and josh was straddling him, pressing him into the mattress, leaving little kisses on his neck.
"i want you to be here," soft kiss, "and i love being with you," soft kiss, "but fucking christ, tyler," soft kiss, then bite - and tyler yelped - and then bite again, "i'm so fucking sick of you fucking shit up in this room every time you're up here."
"i—" tyler started, but it was futile. five ringed fingers were on his neck, and they wrapped around it, and he felt a squeeze, a tight squeeze, until everything was quiet and he felt like he was floating.
"i don't like it, tyler."