Colors // Joshler

// 72. Etched Into His Face Like Marble //

A/N: Let's never speak of Chapter 71 ever again okay? Okay

The red feeling fled from Tyler's body like rats from a sinking ship, only to be replaced by enormous purple waves. He tried to push Josh away, his lover apparently not having heard the sound, but it was too late.

Tyler's mom shrieked, dropping a plastic bag of groceries on the ground, causing the bag to split open and spill cans and bags of food onto the floor. It was unmistakably loud, and the two boys finally separated, scrambling to fix their clothes, wipe their mouths, try to erase what they'd been doing even though it was painfully obvious.

Where Mrs. Joseph was startled, perhaps even a bit afraid, Mr. Joseph was shocked. At first, anyway. His shock quickly turned to anger, and he pointed at his son. "Tyler, go to your room, now!" Then he turned to Josh. "And you, get out of here!"

Josh looked to Tyler helplessly, but he knew he couldn't stay. He quickly stood up from the couch and fled. As soon as Tyler heard the front door slam, he ran up the stairs to his room.

Once he got there, he didn't really know what to do with himself. Should he hide somewhere? Throw himself onto his bed and cry? Do his homework as if nothing had happened?

In the end, he just sat on the edge of his bed, hands folded in his lap, and tried to convince himself that it was all a bad dream.

Mr. Joseph didn't knock when he pushed open Tyler's door. He seemed less angry, but disappointment and distress were now etched into his face like marble. Closing the door behind him, he took a few steps into Tyler's room. "I can't believe you."

Tyler almost shrugged, but thought better of it, and he looked at the floor instead.

His father began to pace through the room as he grew more agitated, moving from one wall to the next, then back again. "Do you know why your mother and I didn't send you and your siblings to public school? We didn't want you exposed to this kind of thing. We just wanted normal kids, we didn't want you to be tainted by all this."

Still, Tyler said nothing.

"I don't understand." Mr. Joseph's voice cracked, then hardened again. "I don't understand. What made you this way, Tyler? Was it that boy? Because you're not seeing him again. When you get out of school, you're coming straight home. No more visits to see your 'friend'."

A tear fell down Tyler's cheek, but he still said nothing.

Mr. Joseph suddenly turned his attention to Tyler's easel. In all the haste to let his lover into the house that morning, Tyler had forgotten to cover it up. His perfect painting. The boy he loved--albeit, his image still incomplete--was on display for his father to see.

Without a word, Tyler's father picked up the fragile wood and canvas in his hands, and snapped it in two.

By the time he finally left, Tyler's masterpiece was in six different pieces on the floor.

Or, maybe those were his heart. He was no longer able to tell.