start song: high by young rising sons.

Josh gets laid.

Josh gets fucked against a wall in a bathroom. Legs propped up, toes curling, teeth biting his wrist.

Josh bottoms, he doesn't hate it but he tolerates it. He tolerates not being in charge, he tolerates that there's no condom involved. He should've asked for one. Should've asked for one, he always does but this time he doesn't and he can feel every thing. He feels full.

His eyes are shut tight, arms around this strangers shoulders, legs tight around his hips and Josh gets fucked. He doesn't know his name, he saw him first. He poured him two shots of raspberry vodka, he winked, he charmed and at the end of his shift, he got dragged towards the bathroom.

The bathroom of his own work place, the bathroom he constantly kicks adults out of because they're trying to have sex in the stalls. They're trying to fool around anywhere because bathrooms are convenient when home is too far away. Josh normally tells them to leave, he kicks them out and says he's not impressed and then he tells them that bathrooms aren't a place for sex.

Josh is hypocritical. Josh has had sex in the stalls, against the door, gripping the sinks.

His boss questioned him about it once, he pulled him aside and asked if he'd been fucking around with customers. Josh said no, he said he wouldn't jepertize his job like that. His boss had patted his head and called him a good boy. Josh felt sick.

He whimpers and groans and he trembles and the man thrusts into him good and hard against the wall. Josh doesn't beg, Josh is quiet but he's loud and this man's dick is much too big to be inside of him. His shirt rides up, his back rubs against the wall, it burns just a little bit.

Josh's fingers drag down his back, he's panting, he doesn't cry. He's good, the man tells him he's so good. Josh doesn't know him.

He thinks about the two guys that frequent the bar. The ones with the same jacket. Josh isn't sure why he does but he thinks about both of them as he grips the stranger tighter, stronger. He needs to be closer.

Josh comes first, the stranger right after. They pant against eachother, Josh's thighs trembling.

He doesn't feel satisfied.

*

Josh watches pretty boy for the second time that week. He's primal, his eyes search the bar just enough. He leans his weight against a wall, his arms cross, his lips purse. The bar is much fuller than last time he'd seen him, Josh is much busier this time but still he's intrigued enough to stop what he's doing to stare.

He's wearing that jean jacket again, somehow it looks worse than last time. There's a new hole, a new tear right by one of its pockets and Josh wonders if it's actually the same jacket the other man had worn. It looks bigger too, like the boy had shrunk down a size or the jacket had went up one.

Somehow he looks better though. Somehow his eyes are darker and his walk is more confident and he's already shuffling over to the far end of the bar. And he's smirking and Josh notices there's a streak of paint on the arm of the jacket. Red.

It's bright red, it's messy and Josh decides that it suits the jacket.

He still feels rude for staring so he looks away.

He minds his business. He tries to.

Josh gets back to work. Bartender charm turning on in seconds.

Josh pours twelve drinks, he pours them with knowing fingers and he's careful to not let a drop slip onto the counter. He wipes his hands on a rag, it's dry there's no alcohol on it. He throws it into the sink, he wets it and he leaves it in there and he picks up a new clean white hand towel and throws it over his shoulder.

he pours seven drinks and he's biting at his lip the whole time. he pulls at the same spot over and over, he counts each tinge. He draws blood and he pours four more drinks.

The bar is loud, there's talking and then it's quiet for a few seconds before conversation rises again and then it's quiet and people leave and new people replace them. Louder people, routier people, and Josh bites his lip some more.

He sets down a glass of water, extra ice. the girl wants to stay sober. she's a designated driver, her friends are drunk, she doesn't want to be. She reminds him of the blonde girl, the crying one but she's not blonde and her eyes are brown and not blue. She reminds him of her. She taps her fingers against the bar and he watches her pull out a sharpie and start writing on the wood. Her handwriting is quick, it's clean and Josh stares as she prints "You're all fucked." on the bar, right next to a phone number. It's upside down but he can still read it.

"Have a good night." He says, he smiles and he scratches his nails on his scruff. Just enough.

He taps his finger nervously, grips the bar edge. Josh is distracted, he's always distracted when pretty boy is in the same bar as him.

He sees the guy from last night, the one from the bathroom and he's with pretty boy. Josh is jealous? Josh is curious, that's a better word. He can't be jealous.

Pretty boy is touching his shoulder, he's suggestive. Josh can tell, Josh can see it from all the way across the bar. Does he not have standards?it's not like the man from the bathroom was unattractive. He was sleazy though. Too touchy for Josh's liking, a bit too cocky and maybe he was a bit drunk. Josh know's he's about to walk out the bar door with a lanky brunet in a worn jean jacket.

He watches it happen, eyes narrowed, still biting his lip. The brunet is fluttering his lashes, he looks at him though just like he did last time. It's nothing shy, it's subtle though. He turns his head just slightly to look back at Josh, fingers curling into the new strangers coat and he doesn't wink but he raises an eyebrow and then he's off, dragging a new person with him.

Josh groans, he sighs and he gets called over all the way to the opposite side of the bar. "6 shots of vodka please."

*

The shower runs over the radio silence of his apartment. It's always quiet. He's not a fan of silence, it's too much, it's not enough and he hates it.

Josh brings his knee's to his chest and he sits in the tub, pressured water spitting at him. he soaks and he watches red dye swirl down the drain and splash the water. He rests his head against the back of the tub, dye leaking all over.

The residue, it's just residue from when he'd dyed his hair. It's still not at all gone. every shower his hair fades and josh watches it happen. he stares at the red mixed in with the water and he pays attention to it. The water's too hot, it burns just a bit, his skin is just slightly irritated.

Still wet he gets dressed, he pulls on sweatpants. They're uncomfortable, they stick to his skin, everything is uncomfortable.

He takes them off and opts for boxer briefs and a big maroon sweater that reaches his thighs.  he shuffles around his appartement and finds Bear. Oscar's somewhere else. probably underneath the bed he figures. Oscar's more independent than Bear.

Bear is tiny, he's a pale dusty brown and he's got a black spot right over his right eyes. Josh loves him. He sets him on his lap, scratches behind his ear a few times and he hums as the cat curls and purrs against him.

He stretches in his lap and Josh holds him as he bares his tiny claws into his thighs. Josh flinches but keeps petting bear.

The tv is on, it's on low volume and it's still too loud. He scratches at the couch as he searches for the remote, other hand still petting his cat. his fingers wrap around the plastic and he tugs it over and turns it down more.

Ashley texts him to fill in for her at work, she says she's sick. Josh knows she's lying and for once, he really does not want to go to work. He doesn't reply.

Boredom sets in and Josh's mind is elsewhere and he's thinking of those two boys. He wants their names, he wants them to come to him in the bar and order something just so he can talk to them, both of them. Then he's thinking of threesomes and then he's  reaching for his phone.

Josh is quiet and curious as he types in pornhub, slick fingers tapping his phone screen. He's curious as to how they work. He understands the basics. everyone os included. it's nice, it seems simple but how do they divide who does what. is it natural, does it just happen or is someone ordering who does what. Josh is curious, he wants to know, Josh wants to know.

So he goes on Pornhub, he sets Bear aside. The cat trots away and perches himself on the arm of the couch, licks his paws and Josh moves onto the opposite end of the couch, pulling an embroidered couch pillow into his lap.

Josh plugs in earbuds for the sake of his pets and he fumbles with his thumbs and types in threesomes, not really knowing what he's looking for. it's innocent enough, he just wants to know.

The first one is three girls, he clicks on it, it loads for 4 seconds there's an ad that pops up and he turns up the brightness of his phone and taps continue to video. It's not an amateur video, it's professional. He turns his phone to the side and sets it on his knees and he leans just a bit.

he's not a huge fan but he watches the horrible acting and he sighs at the awful editing because one moment they're all talking and the next there's a blonde on her back, brunette between her legs and another blonde sitting on her face. The girls are loud and gentle and Josh watches the video for two minutes before he loses interest.

He goes to suggestions and scrolls, scrolls, scrolls until one of the cover pictures catches his eyes. He chooses a video, a new video with three guys.

This interests him, guys interest him more. They're grunting, there's what Josh would consider a twink taking a big cock up his ass and another one in his mouth and Josh gets the idea. As long as everyone gets off, it's good. He guesses it's important to not let anyone feel left out, porn is acting so of course everyone's included but Josh wants to know where he'd fit in.

He tilts his phone screen, getting rid of the glare from the lamp beside him while the boy on screen gets on his knees. The scene cuts, the moaning gets louder and Josh watches them cum all over each other.

He spends twenty minutes watching porn, just slightly aroused the whole time.

Positions switching out with every video. Variety.

He starts touching himself after the first 15 and after he comes he wipes his fingers off, cleans up the couch. A towel would've been good he decides and then he goes again, two more times.

*

Josh doesn't like running on trails. The one's beside forests, those ones with clean pavement and bikes everywhere. He despises them.

He doesn't really like exercising period. He does a lot of things he doesn't like though and although he doesn't like these things he tries to find away to hate them a little less. Make them more tolerable. Josh does this a lot, Josh is optimistic he tries to make the best out of every situation. He's a problem solver, that's what he tells himself.

So instead of running down a bike path, where there's the very real possibility of getting hit by a bike, or attacked by a squirrel. He's got a lot of irrational fears yet he declares this one as rational because he's sure they all hate him.

Josh is jogging down the streets of columbus before he goes in for work.

It's 12PM, it's warm out. Just warm enough to be jogging. It's fall, Josh says it is. Although really it's just the end of September and he's just a little too excited for halloween.

He's got loose shorts on and a looser shirt. His running shoes are old, they hurt his feet just a bit and when they untie themselves, due to his constant stepping on his shoe laces Josh doesn't bother to stop running and he's breathing hard.

His pace is good, his forehead is beading with sweat and he forgot a water bottle. He lets out a breath, its shallow and he turns a corner. He turns a few corners and then he's downtown.

There's people, they look at him. They look at his red hair, adults scoff because apparently having unnatural red hair is a crime in Columbus, Ohio. He likes his hair, it's a bit dead. He needs to save it, probably should stop dyeing it but he knows he'll dye it five more times before he buys an 'intensive care treatment' shampoo because that'll save his hair. It should.

He passes an apartment building, it's like his own. Just a bit nicer he decides. It's tall, he can't count all the floors from this close up. He's too close, he's running right beside it and his gaze is looking up just to see if he can count the balconies. He can't.

Josh pays attention to where he's going after that, distractions are everywhere though. He doesn't run into anyone, he's careful and he's mindful and Josh pays attention, good attention. Attention to the people rushing past him, attention to the couple that's making out against the side of a building, attention to the honking cars and attention to all the people that look at him when he passes by.

He knows none of them but they stare at him, it's weird. He's running and they're walking, there's not much of a difference.

He slows down, he starts walking just like everyone else when his knees start to hurt. It's just a small ache, he's always had bad knees. He has pain medication for them and joint reliever but he doesn't use either, he seems them as more of an option and less of a necessity.

Paintings are lined up against a brick wall, leaning, sitting, stacked and Josh is curious. He slows down just a bit as he walks by.

It's nude art, a bit more explicit and there's a lot of it. Josh can't look away, he stops and picks at his jaw and he stares. People walk by, no one else stops. Josh shivers and he leans against a bike rack, fingers curling around the metal. He squints. It's all very open, there's detail, it's sexual, the canvases aren't huge and there are more dick's and vaginas painted than he's willing to count.

There's no one sitting by them, they're  just there tilted against a ratty appartement building built with grey bricks and there's a black hat beside a painting of a person with their legs spread wide open.

Josh wonders who'd buy these and where'd they'd put them. On their walls? Its too explicit, Josh could see this painter getting kicked off the streets for indecency and displaying it. Although it's just the human body Josh knows how people are. It's basically pornography.

He takes a breath and he leans down, he ties his shoes, resting his shoulder against the bike rack. He ties his laces and he sees bare feet in front of him. Toe nails painted blue, cut off jeans ending right before their ankles.

"Oh, it's you."

Josh looks up, squints his eyes. He recognizes him, how couldn't he. There's a pause, his eyes widen, the brunet in front of him does this thing where he shakes his head and lets out a faint laugh and Josh is bewildered. Last person Josh was expecting to see, Josh wasn't expecting to see him for at least a few days.

"Are these yours?" Is the first thing he asks, too stunned to ask anything else. Pretty boy tilts his head and looks back at the collection of paintings.

"All fifteen of them." He says, arms crossed over his bare chest. He's wearing his jacket again and he smiles a small smile.

"Uh- they're nice." Josh gets up clumsily, grasping onto the bike rack, using it as a crutch.

"Maybe." Pretty boy says, he shrugs. he's not wearing shoes or a shirt. Josh doesn't stare, he doesn't have to, they're talking, he can just make normal eye contact and hope this boy hadn't seen him staring at the bar those two times.

"Do these- do they take you long to do?"

"Depends on how good I am to them."
His fingers twirl a piece of hair. "My models they're never good at keeping still." He says, he winks and licks his lips then he sighs and Josh breathes out.

"I-Ok." Josh stares at the paintings again, less subtle than last time and he can see the artist watching him in interest. He stares at them, then turns his head to look at one of the bigger pieces. It's a girl, bent over, hand gripping her ass. Nothing PG about it.

Pretty boy breaks Josh's silence and he changes subject quickly, moving away from Josh, hot pavement burning his feet, his hand waving at Josh to come follow him. Josh doesn't move.

"So Mr. Bartender, no work today?" He asks, his back is turned to Josh. The back of his jacket is distressed, there's more holes and Josh, he stares at them while the boy rearranges his paintings. He can see his skin through the holes.

"In an hour."

"And you're just." He searches for a word, glancing back at Josh. "Roaming?" He raises a brow.

"Was running, my knees started hurting. I took a break."

"To admire my work." He suggests. Two women speed walk by them. It's annoying, they're sweaty and they both have grey hair and Josh can't help but notice the way they look disgusted when they see the paintings. The brunet watches too and he smiles and waves and he looks cute.

"Guess so." Josh returns to Pretty boy and nods, he leans against the bike rack.

"Flattered. I really am." He pulls out a cigarette from his pockets and sets it between his lips. He fumbles with a black backpack, he digs inside of it and he sighs and comes up empty handed. He sets the bag beside another one of his paintings, its of a dick. There's semen, it's obvious and Josh blushes, ducks his head down.

Pretty boy follows his gaze, he pokes at the canvas and bites at the inside of his cheek and glances back at Josh.

"This is allowed?" He gestures to his work.

"Probably not, but I have a permit." He shrugs, nearly cutting Josh off. He flicks ash off his cigarette, it flies down onto the pavement, his gaze follows it. "When I applied for one, these are not the paintings I said i'd be selling."

"You're not scared of getting in trouble?"

"No." He shakes his head and shuts his eyes and he takes another drag, blowing the smoke away from Josh. His head leans back against the wall. They both fall into silence as Josh just watches Pretty boy as he smokes and when his eyes open Josh is awkward.

"Well i-"

"Really should be going." He finishes for him, tilts his head against the wall and he wraps his arms around his legs. Hair sticking to the bricks. He looks at Josh. It's not meant to be rude.

"Y-yeah, thats it." Josh says but he doesn't move.

"Are you coming to the bar tonight?" He asks, fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. He wants a name, he needs a stupid name but he can't bring himself to ask for one. He pulls on a strand.

"Eh, it's not my turn."

Josh furrows his brows, he doesn't question it. He nods and shrugs his hands into his pockets, curling his fingers into the material.

"Can i have your name?"

"I don't know." He sighs. He takes another drag. "Can you?"

Josh doesn't say anything, he's embarrassed. He adjusts his shirt and ruffles his hair. Pretty boy pouts and crushes his cigarette against the pavement before looking up at Josh with the slightest of smirks.

"I'm Tyler." Josh nods at that, his fingers scratch at his thighs and he pays close attention to the way Tyler's lips move. "And you are?"

"Josh." He says.

"Suits you." Tyler mumbles under his breath. He smiles from the ground, eyes glinting up at Josh. An arm around his backpack.

"Cool, cya."

"Bye."