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[Trigger Warning: Abuse/violence, drugs]

"I had nowhere else to go." Josh says. "That's why I was at the house that night. And thank God I was. You changed my life, Ty." He nuzzles into my neck, hoping I'll let the subject drop, but I won't.

    "Josh, why did you have nowhere else to go?" I ask.

    "I-um-I was hiding out for a while, and I couldn't do that at my place, because I was hiding out from my roommates."

    I wait, and when he doesn't say more, I give him the worried eyes.

    "I was playing a show with this band at this club. The other guys were stoned. I told them that I didn't think we'd play our best because I was the only sober one, and a couple of them got pretty mad at me critiquing their lifestyle choices. I mentioned how they were always high, and that we'd probably play a better show if we were all sober enough to know which songs we were playing. And then one of them started hitting me. I don't want to go into detail. But I was scared he would kill me. He's bigger than me, and on drugs, he's a million times meaner. I locked myself in the bathroom at the club while he slammed on the door and called 9-1-1 on my cell phone. I guess he knew what I was doing, and figured I was ratting him out for drugs. He knocked the door off the stall I was hiding in. Eventually, the cops came, and I fled the scene as the other guys tried to run. I had been waiting for things to fall apart for months, so I already had all my possessions in a backpack with me. I took it, and ran as far away as I could. I hitchhiked out of the city, knowing I couldn't go back to my apartment after that. I probably needed medical attention, but I didn't seek it. I got as far away as I could and tried to find a place to crash. I couldn't find a hotel, but I saw the abandoned house and figured I'd spend the night there. It was creepy inside, clearly a crime scene. As in, dried blood still on the floors and walls and even the curtains. But I needed to go somewhere. And the rest, you know."

     "Where do you live now?" I ask. I hate to think of someone hurting him. It makes me want to lash out at them, see how they like it. It just makes me so angry and so sad.

    "Well, I'm still kind of between places. The band was my only source of income, but even then, I'd been struggling for a while, because the guys often spent all the money, including my cut, on drugs. Mostly I've been living on the streets, auditioning to be in other bands. It's hard to get a decent audition though, because my drum set is still at my old friend's place."

    "He was never your friend." I say, shaking my head.

    "I know." He says. "But, yeah. I've mostly been homeless. Sometimes I stay at other abandoned buildings. I already had a bus pass, so I could afford to head out and see you at the hospital."

    "Josh, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

    "It's okay, buddy. That's nothing compared to what you lived though."

    "That doesn't matter." I tell him. "Here's the plan. You'll live with me, here. We'll make the place less depressing, and we'll live together. We'll start our own band, and it'll be awesome, and we'll make plenty of money, and we won't have to worry about that anymore. And no matter what, even if our band fails or something, I will never leave your side unless you tell me to leave you."

    "I never will."

    "Then you'll never have to be alone again. You have me. And I promise, I will never hurt you like those guys did." Now that I know his story, I'm so glad i didn't hit him back when he had angered me and I wanted to. I'm so glad that I don't have to be that person.

    "For a band, won't we need more than just us?" He asks.

    "We never need anything other than just us." I tell him.

    We sit in silence for a moment, and then I say, "I love you, Josh."

    "I love you too, Tyler." He says. And I know he means it, beyond the shadow of a doubt.

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