Chapter Text
༄˖°.
There were two hours and sixteen minutes left until Josh had to go to work.
Two hours and sixteen minutes left of absolute boredom.
Josh hated being bored.
The problem was that he also hated leaving his apartment.
Most people would solve boredom by going somewhere. A coffee shop. A friend's house. The movies. Literally anywhere. Josh's solution was usually to stay exactly where he was and complain about being bored until it was time for work. He preferred being alone. Some people called him antisocial. Others called him a hermit. Josh preferred "selectively available." Whatever the label was, it didn't really matter. He'd just turned thirty a few weeks ago, and somewhere along the way he'd stopped caring what people thought.
The ceiling above his bed was covered in those ugly popcorn bumps every landlord seemed determined to keep forever. Josh lay flat on his back, hands folded across his stomach, staring up at them.
One hundred and forty-three.One hundred and forty-four. One hundred and—
No.
That one might have been the same bump he'd counted already. He sighed dramatically and rubbed a hand down his face.
Jesus.
He needed a hobby.
Or a life. Probably both.
His phone sat abandoned on his nightstand. No notifications. No texts. No missed calls. Not that he expected any. Josh wasn't exactly popular. He had friends, technically. A few old college acquaintances. Debby from work. A couple people he occasionally talked to online about music. But he wasn't the type of person people called randomly. He was the type of person who disappeared for three days and then responded to a text with "sorry I fell asleep.”
The clock on his wall ticked quietly. Two hours and sixteen minutes until work.
No.
Now it was two hours and fifteen minutes.
Time was moving painfully slow.
His curly hair was flattened on one side from lying in bed all morning. Dark curls spilled across his forehead and into his eyes. He hadn't showered yet. Hadn't bothered changing clothes either. A faded black hoodie hung loosely from his shoulders. The sleeves were stretched from years of wear, and little bleach stains dotted the front pocket. A few threads stuck out where the fabric had snagged.
It should've been thrown away years ago. But Josh loved it.
A silver chain necklace rested against his collarbone. Small red beads were woven into parts of it. It wasn't expensive, but he liked it. Josh liked jewelry. Both sides of his nose were pierced, silver rings glinting whenever sunlight caught them. He had a few earrings too, though most of them were hidden beneath his curls. His sweatpants were ancient. Gray. Faded. Frayed at the bottom where they dragged against the floor. Every time he walked, the fabric caught under his heel. It wasn't like anyone saw him outside of work anyway.
With a groan, Josh rolled onto his side and stared around his apartment.
Apartment 2B. Third floor. Home sweet home.
The apartment wasn't much to look at. The living room was cramped. The kitchen was tiny. The carpet was older than he was. But it was cheap. And it was his. The walls were covered with records, posters, and random music memorabilia he'd collected over the years. A drum set occupied one corner of the living room, taking up far more space than it reasonably should have.
If someone walked into the apartment for the first time, they'd immediately know two things.
One: Josh liked music.
Two: Josh really liked music.
The small town he lived in sat about an hour outside Columbus. Maybe seven thousand people lived there. Eight thousand if you counted everyone on the surrounding farms. Less if people started moving away.
The town had one grocery store, one gas station, three churches, and an alarming number of tractors. Josh hated the tractors. Every summer the farmers drove them straight through town like they owned the roads. Which, technically, maybe they did. Didn't mean Josh had to like it. Nothing tested his patience quite like getting stuck behind a tractor going twelve miles an hour.The memory alone made him roll his eyes.
Ohio summers were miserable. Hot. Humid. Sticky. The kind of heat that made you sweat just from existing. Josh hated that too.If it were up to him, the temperature would never go above sixty-five degrees. Maybe seventy on special occasions.
Instead it was mid-July, and stepping outside felt like walking directly into someone's mouth.
Another glance at the clock. Two hours and seven minutes. At least time was moving. Slowly.
Josh finally sat up.
The movement made several joints crack.
"Ow," he muttered to nobody.
Thirty.
Fantastic.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat there for a moment. Then another moment. Then another. Working up the motivation to stand. Eventually he pushed himself upright and shuffled into the hallway. The apartment was quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator.He passed the bathroom. Though about showering. Decided that sounded like a problem for Future josh. Present Josh had more important things to do. Like taking out the trash. Unfortunately.
The kitchen wasn't much bigger than a closet. A few dishes sat in the sink. An empty coffee mug rested beside them. The trash can near the counter was overflowing.
Josh stared at it. The trash stared back.
The trash won the staring contest,
With a dramatic sigh that suggested he was being forced into manual labor against his will, Josh grabbed the drawstrings and tied the bag shut. It was heavier than he expected. Not heavy enough to be difficult. Just annoying.
Josh was plenty strong. Years of hauling drum equipment around had made sure of that. The issue wasn't strength. The issue was that taking out the trash was annoying.
He tugged the bag free and dragged it across the kitchen floor.The plastic scraped loudly against the linoleum.
"Come on," he muttered.
The bag snagged on a chair leg. Of course it did. Josh stared at the chair. The chair remained unapologetic.
He yanked the bag loose and continued toward the front door. The hallway outside his apartment would be hot. The stairwell would be hot. The dumpster would definitely be hot. And then he'd have to walk all the way back upstairs.
Still grumbling under his breath, Josh unlocked the door and pulled it open. A wave of warm summer air immediately hit him in the face. Josh narrowed his eyes. The heat was already offending him.
Josh barely made it two steps into the hallway before his foot hit something. Plastic skidded loudly across the floor. He stopped immediately, looking down with a frown.
"What the..."
A brightly colored toy lay upside down in front of his apartment door. Josh nudged it with his sock-covered foot. It rolled over, revealing one of those little plastic toy phones toddlers carried around everywhere. The kind with oversized buttons, fake eyes, and obnoxious sounds that seemed specifically designed to annoy adults.
He bent down and picked it up. The thing was surprisingly light. Turning it over in his hands, he pressed one of the buttons experimentally. A distorted animal noise erupted from the tiny speaker. Josh nearly dropped it.
"Jesus Christ."
He quickly released the button. Silence returned. Thank God. He stared at the toy for a moment. How had this even gotten here? He knew for a fact there weren't any kids living near him. At least...
He paused. Wait. There was one family.
The apartment across the hall and one door down.
The Josephs.
Something like that.
Josh only knew the name because he'd seen it written on their mailbox dozens of times while checking his own mail. As for the people themselves? He'd never actually met them. Which honestly wasn't surprising. Josh had lived in this building for nearly three years and could barely identify half his neighbors. There was the old woman in 3A who always smelled like lavender. The guy downstairs who apparently enjoyed vacuuming at two in the morning. And the Josephs. That was about it.
He vaguely remembered hearing children occasionally. Little feet running through the hallway. High-pitched laughter. The occasional meltdown. From what he'd gathered, there was a single dad and two daughters living over there. That was the extent of his knowledge. Which meant this toy probably belonged to them.
Josh looked down at the phone again. Then at the trash bag sitting beside his apartment door. Then back at the toy. For a brief moment, he considered throwing it away. Kids lost stuff all the time, right? Would they even notice? The toy looked cheap. It probably cost five bucks. Ten, maybe. He could toss it in the trash right now and nobody would ever know.
The thought lasted exactly three seconds before his conscience decided to be annoying. Josh groaned.
"Seriously?"
Unfortunately, he was a decent person. Most of the time. With another sigh, he abandoned the trash bag beside his apartment door. The dumpster could wait. He'd do his good deed for the day first.
Crossing the hallway, Josh stopped in front of apartment 1B. The door looked exactly like every other door in the building. Same brown paint. Same brass numbers. Same cheap peephole. Nothing special. Yet suddenly he felt weirdly nervous. Which made absolutely no sense. He was returning a toy, not proposing marriage. Josh lifted his hand toward the door. Then paused.
He glanced down at himself. His hair was a disaster. His hoodie looked like it'd survived a small explosion. His sweatpants were practically falling apart. And he definitely hadn't showered.
Fantastic.
He looked like someone who'd been stranded in his apartment for three weeks. Maybe he should go get dressed first.
No. That would be weird.
It was just a toy. The dad probably looked worse. He had kids. Parents were always exhausted. Right? Right.
Before he could overthink himself into retreating, Josh knocked. Three soft taps. The sound echoed through the hallway. For a moment, nothing happened. Then he heard movement. Footsteps. A loud crash. Then a tiny voice yelling something unintelligible. Another voice answered.A second child immediately began screaming.
Josh blinked.
The screaming wasn't angry. It sounded excited. There was a huge difference. A moment later came another crash. Then laughter. Then more footsteps.
Josh had no idea what was happening behind that door.
The deadbolt clicked, the handle turned, and the door opened.
And Josh completely forgot how to think.
Oh.
Oh, fuck.
The man standing in the doorway was definitely not what he'd expected. For a split second, Josh wondered if he'd somehow knocked on the wrong apartment. Because there was no way this guy was real. The man looked to be older than Josh, but not by too much. His brown hair was short but slightly messy, as if he'd been running his hands through it all morning. Warm brown eyes looked back at him. Not just brown. Really brown. The kind that caught sunlight and seemed almost golden around the edges. Josh had never paid much attention to people's eyes before. Suddenly he was paying attention.
A faint layer of stubble shadowed the man's jaw. Not enough to be a beard. Just enough to make him look unfairly attractive. The white t-shirt he wore stretched across broad shoulders and strong arms. Josh quickly looked away before it became obvious he was staring. The guy wore black sweatpants and mismatched socks. One black. One gray.
Okay.
"Can I help you?"
The voice snapped Josh back to reality. It wasn't particularly deep. But there was a softness to it. And a slight southern accent. Just enough to make certain words drag pleasantly.
Josh blinked. Then remembered he was supposed to answer.
"Uh... yeah."
Smooth.
Real smooth.
He held up the toy phone. "You're the Josephs, right? I found this outside my apartment."
The man's eyes immediately dropped to the toy. Recognition flashed across his face. Then amusement. He laughed. The sound caught Josh off guard. It was warm. The kind of laugh that made other people want to laugh too.
"Well, would ya look at that." He shook his head. "I've been tearing the apartment apart looking for this thing." He reached forward and took the toy. Their fingers brushed briefly. Barely a second. Josh suddenly became very aware of the fact that they had touched.
"This belongs to my youngest," the man continued, turning the toy over. "She must've dropped it when I took them down to the pool yesterday." His smile widened. "Thank you, seriously. You've probably saved me another hour of searching."
Josh found himself smiling back.
"No problem."
The words came easier now. "I know how kids can be."
That was a complete lie. Josh knew absolutely nothing about children. His experience with kids consisted primarily of hearing them cry in grocery stores. Apparently his face didn't give him away, because the man nodded knowingly.
"They're tiny tornadoes."
Josh laughed. "That sounds about right."
The man leaned casually against the doorframe. For the first time, Josh noticed the apartment behind him. A blanket draped over the couch. Coloring books on the coffee table. Tiny shoes by the front door. A stuffed dinosaur lying upside down in the hallway. Evidence of children everywhere.
"I should probably introduce myself," the man said. He shifted the toy into one hand before offering the other.
"I'm Tyler."
Josh stared for half a second before realizing Tyler was waiting for him to shake his hand.
"Oh."
Idiot.
He quickly reached out. "Josh."
Tyler's grip was warm and Firm. Comfortable. The kind of handshake that somehow felt genuine.
"Nice to meet you, Josh."
"You too."
Josh reluctantly let go. Then immediately hated how aware he was of that fact. "I live down there." He pointed toward his apartment. "2B." Tyler followed his finger and nodded. A small smile pulled at his lips. "I thought so."
Josh froze."You did?"
"Yeah." Tyler shrugged."I've seen you a few times."
Oh. Great. Wonderful. Tyler had seen him. Meaning Tyler had probably witnessed him carrying groceries in stained sweatpants. Or collecting mail looking half asleep. Or standing outside at midnight staring at the sky for no reason.
Fantastic.
"Sorry I never introduced myself sooner," Tyler added. Josh shook his head quickly. "No, it's cool." He laughed awkwardly. "I'm not exactly social myself."
The second the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Way to advertise that you're a loser.
Shockingly, Tyler laughed. Not a fake laugh. A real one. His shoulders actually shook. "Gosh, I get that." The southern drawl slipped through a little stronger. "I really do."
Something about hearing that made Josh relax. Just a little. Tyler smiled again. And there it was. That smile. The one that should honestly be illegal. Josh’s stomach did six back handsprings.
"Anyway," Tyler said, lifting the toy phone. "Thanks again. I owe you one."
Josh shook his head.
"I don't mind."
But as he looked at Tyler standing there in the doorway, sunlight spilling through the apartment behind him, the sound of little kids laughing somewhere deeper inside the apartment, one thought immediately popped into his head.
Coffee would be nice.
Coffee with Tyler would be even nicer.
The realization hit him so suddenly that Josh nearly groaned.
Oh, this was going to be a problem.