Ghost Whispers |-/ Joshler

heath·en

/ˈhēT͟Hən/
noun
an irreligious, uncultured, or uncivilized person.

My edit :)

"I hate algebra." Tyler muttered. He turned to Josh. "Can you help me?"

"I'm just as bad at is as you are. Probably worse."

In the waiting room, Tyler forced himself to do his homework. His mother had reluctantly agreed to letting Tyler wait for his sessions and go to them alone.

Grunting in frustration, he snapped his Algebra ll book closed and shoved it in his backpack. He sat back in the chair, arms crossed stubbornly over his chest.

"Mood swing?" Josh asked cautiously.

"No." Tyler huffed.

That meant yes.

"If it makes you feel any better, I know you can do it. You just gotta focus." Josh assured him.

"That's real helpful, Josh."

The door to the therapist's office opened, and a woman in her mid-40's came out. She had her head low as she smiled quickly at Tyler, passing through the doors to leave.

"Welcome back, Tyler."

Inside the office, as he sat on the tan couch across from the therapist, Tyler was bouncing his leg.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. I just...need to do something."

"Why not basketball?"

"I have practice tonight. Truth is, I don't want to go back. Everyone's just gonna make fun of me. And Coach Mathis probably won't give me any playing time." Tyler admitted. He stopped bouncing his leg.

"We both know they're not going to do that. You'll be welcomed back. This irrational fear of yours is what I want to help you conquer."

Fear... There's my hard work paying off.

Bête's voice was coming from nowhere, just hanging in the air around both Josh and Tyler, who did his best to ignore it.

"How can I conquer my own fear?"

"Well, mainly addressing it. Facing it. Then, finally, killing it."

You can't kill me.

"Don't listen to him, Tyler. We can get rid of him." Josh moved closer to the boy, placing a hand on his knee.

"O-okay. How do we start?"

"So your therapist was right." Josh said, facing Tyler as he tromped up the stairs, shirtless and only in boxers. He had a towel draped over his head and hanging down.

Josh's mouth closed, fast. It was hard not to stare, but it was happening. Tyler's thin body could make Josh commit brutal crimes if he could touch him for just five minutes.

"Yeah, I guess. I still didn't like practice, though. Jay was more rough than usual."

Tyler carefully inched up his boxers, showing the fresh bruise on the inside of his right thigh. His pale skin was red, like someone has left a hickey there. Like Josh left a hickey there.

He pushed his boxers back down and sat on his bed next to Josh, rubbing his short hair dry.

"I need a haircut." Tyler said. It was random, but his mind didn't have anything permanent to settle on. It was nighttime, and he was unable to sleep.