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They sat on the floor, backs pressed against the couch, the soft flicker of Good Day, Columbus casting shifting shadows across the dim living room. The coffee table was cluttered with empty mugs and last night’s takeout boxes—proof of a night too long and a morning too early.
Tyler stared blankly at the screen, not really watching. His fingers tugged idly at a loose thread on his hoodie, unraveling it millimeter by millimeter, like he could tease out something deeper if he just kept pulling.
“We don’t believe what’s on TV,” he said finally, voice quiet, like the words had snuck out without permission.
Josh turned his head toward him. He didn’t speak, didn’t press. He just listened. That was Josh’s way—he left space for things to come out on their own time.
“Because it’s what we want to see,” Tyler continued, eyes still on the screen, “and what we want, we can’t believe. We’ve all learned to kill our dreams.”
Josh didn’t flinch. He just shifted a little closer, his shoulder brushing Tyler’s, grounding the moment with his quiet presence.
Tyler's voice dropped to almost a whisper. “I need to know... that when I fail… you’ll still be here.”
Josh’s reply came instantly, no hesitation. “Of course I will.”
Tyler finally looked at him, the corner of his mouth twitching with the ghost of a smile. “If you stick around, I’ll sing you pretty sounds.”
Josh grinned. “And we’ll make money selling your hair.”
That earned a real laugh, and Tyler ran a hand through his messy brown hair, fluffing it up. “No one’s buying this. But maybe one day… I’ll go pink.”
Josh raised a brow, intrigued. “Pink?”
Tyler gave a half-shrug. “Yeah. Pink hair, and maybe a dragon too.”
Josh blinked. “Wait, what?”
“A dragon,” Tyler repeated, like it was obvious. “I’ll name him Trash. After the vultures in Dema. He’ll come on tour with us, wreak havoc, burn stage pieces, steal snacks.”
Josh laughed, full and surprised. “So—pink hair and a pyro lizard named Trash. Got it.”
Tyler beamed, pleased with himself. “You’re welcome.”
Josh’s grin softened into something warmer. He leaned in just a little, his voice dropping. “But I don’t care what’s in your hair, Tyler. I just want to know what’s on your mind.”
Tyler’s smile wavered, something raw flickering behind his eyes. “I used to say, ‘I wanna die before I’m old,’” he said, turning his head slowly to meet Josh’s gaze. “But… because of you, I might think twice.”
Josh didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. He just looked at Tyler like he was seen—not just looked at, but really seen. And for a while, that was enough.
Tyler leaned into him, resting his head on Josh’s shoulder, the silence humming between them like a melody waiting for lyrics.
Eventually, Josh gave a small nudge and a crooked smile. “Alright. Second verse?”
Tyler let out a breath, steadied himself, then said, quieter, “What if my dream doesn’t happen, Josh?”
Josh looked at him, unsure if it was a rhetorical question. But Tyler continued before he could answer.
“Would I change what I’ve told my friends? Pretend it never mattered that much? Pretend it wasn’t everything?”
There was a crack in his voice now, thin and honest.
“I don’t want to know who I’d be… when I wake up from a dreamer’s sleep.”
Josh’s expression shifted, his usual playfulness sobered into something softer. He gave a small, understanding nod.
“I need to know…” he echoed gently, “that when I fail, you’ll still be here too.”
Tyler didn’t hesitate. He bumped Josh’s shoulder with his own. “Always, man. We’re best buds.”
Josh smirked, grateful for the easy shift. “So if you stick around, I’ll sing you pretty sounds.”
Tyler perked up. “And we’ll make money selling your hair.”
Josh gasped, dramatically offended. “Hey! This is a sacred mop.” He gestured to the mess of curls above his forehead.
Tyler nodded, mischievous. “Exactly why I said it. I think red would suit you. Just the sides.”
Josh tilted his head, giving it actual consideration. “Red, huh?”
“Oh yeah.” Tyler’s grin went lopsided, showing off the slight crook in his front teeth—endearing in a way that made you feel lucky just to witness it. “It would be SICK.”
Josh pulled out his phone, already scrolling. “You might’ve just created a monster.”
Tyler watched him for a moment, then asked, more thoughtful now, “Hey… would you ever actually sing? Like for real?”
Josh glanced up, surprised. “Me?”
Tyler nodded. “You’ve got this thing. You hold people with your presence—you don’t even try, but they pay attention. If you sang… people would listen.”
Josh looked down at his phone, then up again. “Yeah… maybe. Someday.”
Tyler smiled, leaning back against the couch with a contented sigh. “Someday’s good. Just don’t forget the dragon.”
Josh chuckled. “Trash, right?”
“Trash,” Tyler confirmed, eyes closing briefly. “Every dreamer needs a dragon.”
Josh didn’t say it out loud, but in that moment, he knew—he’d follow Tyler into any dream. Even failure.
Especially then.