Tyler slammed his door shut and began to pace back and forth. He sat down against the wall and stared at his room, which was still a mess from his previous freak-out. He pulled at his hair and squeezed his eyes shut, willing the pure dread and embarrassment that he was feeling to go away. How could he have done that? He wasn't even gay, and even if he was, he wouldn't like Josh. He couldn't like Josh.

Tyler wasn't sure why he did it. He just felt like he had to. They were so close, and it was like the world was telling them to kiss. Tyler didn't actually want to, though, so why did he?

Usually, Tyler's split-second decisions like that only happened when he really wanted to do something. He always knew he wanted to do it, though. He was always thinking or fantasising about it. He wasn't thinking about anything when he kissed Josh.

Tyler had been through a lot, but the feeling of pure self-hatred that was engulfing him in that moment hurt more than any punch. It was physically hurting his stomach, like his emotions was twisting his insides; taunting him for his bad decisions. Tyler clutched his stomach and pulled his knees to his chest. He let his head fall onto his knees and bit his lip to hold back a sob as a cascade of tears fell down his face.

The worse part was that Josh was right outside. He was probably fuming. Things were just starting to improve between them, they were just starting to create a relationship, and then Tyler fucked it up. Josh probably hated him.

Tyler clenched his fist, and before he knew it, he was punching the wall. He stared at his hand in shock, watching as blood began to form around his knuckles. He looked at the wall, which fortunately wasn't damaged too much. He exhaled shakily and flexed his hand, wincing as it throbbed.

The door opened and Tyler closed his eyes. He could feel Josh's presence behind him; feel his eyes on the back of his head, but he refused to turn around.

"You don't have to be sorry."

Tyler shook his head and wiped his eyes, which were watering beyond control. He wanted to say something, but he knew his voice would break if he even tried.

Tyler flinched when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Josh gently turn him around, his eyes slightly widening when he saw Tyler's inured hand. He stepped forward and gingerly look it in his own, studying the wounds on Tyler's knuckles.

Josh gingerly lead Tyler out of his room and into the kitchen. He sat Tyler down on a kitchen stool and pulled out a medical kit. He began treating Tyler's hand, offering warm smiles whenever Tyler winced.

Tyler looked up and studied Josh, who was concentrating on Tyler's hand. A stand of hair had fallen in front of his face, and Tyler wanted nothing more in the world than to fix it. He didn't, though; he held back. He couldn't fuck up again.

When Josh was done, he continued holding Tyler's hand. Tyler wanted to pull it away, but he didn't.

Josh looked up. "Why'd you do it?"

Tyler averted his eyes. "I don't know. I'm a fucking idiot. I don't even know why I did it, Josh. I'm really sorry."

Josh sighed. "You're shaking."

Tyler finally pulled his hand away. "Sorry."

"This always happens," Josh said. "You- you always shake when you're scared, and as soon as you stop, as soon as you're comfortable around me, something happens."

Tyler shoved his trembling hands into his hoodie pocket. "Sorry. I hadn't noticed."

"You don't have to be sorry," Josh said.

Tyler began to pick at the fabric of his shirt. "You already said that."

"That's because I meant it."

Tyler didn't reply. They both sat in silence, drowning in the awkward tension. Neither of them knew what to say, so neither of them said anything.

Finally, after what felt like years, Josh spoke. "Can I kiss you again?"

Tyler looked up. "What?"

Josh chuckled quietly. "Not gonna lie, I kind of liked it."

For once, Tyler took some time to think. His eyes flicked to Josh's lips. He gulped, an unknown feeling filling his lungs and threatening to drown him. He pushed past it and leant forward, his lips meeting Josh's for the second time. Unlike the first, it was blissful and slow; it meant something.

Tyler didn't regret doing it that time.