Colors // Joshler

// 64. Slight Smudge //

As time went on, Tyler spent more and more time with Josh. It seemed as if the pair could hardly stand to be a moment apart, at least for longer than necessary. Tyler didn't want to admit it to himself, but he was, truthfully, falling for this boy. This must be what drug addicts felt like, he thought, curled into Josh's side on a Saturday afternoon, half watching a movie on Josh's TV. He was addicted to these lazy days. He was addicted to the smell of Josh's hair, the cloudy blue of his laugh. He loved his tough exterior, and his soft heart. There wasn't a thing about him that he didn't love.

Work on the perfect painting went slowly. This was to be expected--perfection cannot be rushed--and for once in his life, Tyler was truly patient. He took care in every stroke of the brush, every dip into the paint and every slight smudge with his finger.

Tyler was rather fond of using his hands in painting, as well as the brush. His fingerprints smoothly pressing into the paint were more of a signature than his own name could ever have been.

One afternoon, as he meticulously worked on his masterpiece, he got a surprise visitor.

It started simply, with a knock on his closed door. "Mind if I come in?" It was his father.

Tyler and his father weren't very close. His father was a wholly masculine person, while Tyler wasn't. They didn't always see eye-to-eye on things--Tyler's father thought Tyler should take up basketball, while Tyler steadfastly stuck to art. This was their main source of disagreement.

Usually, his father didn't come to his room unless something had happened, or if he needed to have a talk with his son. It wasn't a good sign that he was showing up.

Tyler carefully but quickly put a sheet over his perfect painting. "Yeah, come in."

His father stepped into the room, and sat on the window seat, which was empty. He patted the space next to him, and somewhat reluctantly, Tyler sat.

They sat in awkward silence for a bit, while Tyler speculated why his father was here.

"Are you here to give me the talk?" Tyler fiddled with his hands, which had blue paint flecked and smeared all over them. "I'm seventeen, I already learned in health class."

Tyler's father chuckled a bit, shook his head. "No, I'm sure your teachers have taught you." He paused. "I just wanted to check in with you. How's..." Another pause. "How's life?"

He never came here just to 'check in', so he likely had another reason for coming here that he wasn't mentioning. 

"Pretty good. How's life for you?"

"Good, it's good. This promotion, this move, has been good for our family, I think." Tyler's father nodded his head slightly, as if agreeing with his own statement. "Including you. I've noticed you've been spending a lot of time with that boy from your school."

So that's what this was about. Tyler swallowed. "Josh, yeah."

"Josh," he confirmed, still nodding his head a bit. "I'm glad, Tyler. It's good to have friends."