Dislocated

Chris waits outside his apartment, dutifully watching the door for any movement. He waits because Josh asked him to. His hands are tucked into the pockets of the thick jacket he wears, pleased despite the drop in temperature.

He's pleased because he's finally managed to convince Josh to venture into society, er the mall but it's close enough. Plus Josh needs clothes that actually fit him. Josh fumbles out the door a second later, surgical mask in place, wearing one of Chris old sweatshirts. It hangs loosely on him, arms a bit too long. Chris puffs his cheeks, resisting all urges to take a picture. Josh eyes him miserably.

"Your clothes don't fit."

"Which is why we are going shopping." Chris supplies, edging Josh towards his car. Josh grumbles the whole way but allows himself to be ushered into the car. He buckles his seat belt as Chris rounds the car and steps inside.

"Are we going to the mall?" Josh inquires as Chris steers out of his parking space.

Chris nods. "Yeah. It'll be okay though. It's Monday and people are at work."

"No crowds."

"No crowds." Chris repeats, reaching out to take Josh's hand. He gives it a reassuring squeeze. "We can turn back if you want. Even if we're half way there or already parked and inside, we can go back."

Josh doesn't respond, just holds Chris' hand tighter as he stares out the window. A thin layer of snow has taken over the area, blinking pearl white sparkles every so often. Chris tires of it, of snow, sometimes it reminds him too much of a year ago, too much of the mountain but Josh is looking at it in wonder.

"You wanna play some of your bad music. My AUX cable is around here somewhere."

Josh rolls his eyes. "Right cause you're the epitome of good music."

"Abba? Really Josh?"

"Classic. Better than the fucking Beatles." Josh responds easily, hooking is phone up to the cord. He scrolls for a moment before playing a song Chris doesn't recognize. It's airy, light, the singers voice whispy as he sings in harmony with other voices and Chris feels as though they're taking a drive too far from home.

Josh hums softly in tune, tiny little rumblings that beat from his chest and it makes Chris hold his hand tighter. He sometimes thinks this is all a sick dream he's created for himself and Josh is lying dead and forgotten at the bottom of the mines or hunting down elk in the snow wearing red and bone and he's wild and screeching to the moon. This reality feels so temporary, it aches.

"You okay?" Josh touches his shoulder lightly.

Chris breathes out hard through his nose, his teeth grinding down against one another. He slows to a stop, the yellow light blinking red as they reach the intersection. Chris reaches over without thinking, tugging down the surgical mask and they're kissing, soft and easy and Josh is warm against him, warm and alive.

"You're alive. I'm so happy you're alive." Chris whispers kissing Josh again and again until the car behind them honks because the light is green.

Josh stares at him in awe, surgical mask bunched around his chin, sharp little teeth gleaming back at him. Chris continues driving, butterflies beating into his stomach as he watches Josh smile privately out of the corner of his eye, face a dark shade of red. Josh straightens out his mask, searching for another song.

It's fucking Abba. Specifically Mama Mia but Chris can't find it within himself to be upset because Josh is nudging him in the side, snickering. Chris sighs loudly, rolling his eyes dramatically as he begins to sing along.

"One more look and I forget everything, whooooooooh!" Chris shouts suddenly and Josh is laughing beside him.

"Mama Mia! Here I go again, my, my how could how I resist you?!" Chris makes his voice higher than the music, singing off tune.

Josh punches his arm. "You're ruining Abba!"

"Mama Mia! Does it show again?! My my just how much I've missed you?!"

Josh doesn't change the song, eyes crinkling in the corners and Chris wonders what kind of face he's making. He sings until they're in the mall parking lot, loudly and bad but Josh never stops playing Abba.

"You're awful. You've ruined Abba. How dare you." Josh jokes, taking off his seatbelt.

"It's how I pick up the ladies. Make fun of Abba." Chris parks near the front.

"No wonder you were single throughout high school."

Chris places a hand over his chest, faux look of betrayal on his face. "Bro!"

"Don't insult Abba. Maybe with your next girlfriend who will be lame."

Chris sends him a pointed look. "You're my next girlfriend."

"I'm not a girl, bro." Josh mumbles, stumbling out the car. Chris follows after him, smiling widely when Josh glares at him. Chris clears his throat.

"But seriously. Are you okay? Do you want to go back?"

Josh shifts from one foot to the other, body wound up tight and he's nervously eying the mall opening across the street. The surgical mask creases before smoothing out.

"Yeah, I'm okay."

"Wanna hold my hand?"

"Gay." Josh retorts but he still takes Chris' offered hand with little encouragement. He walks closely behind Chris, staring warily at every person they pass. Chris tries to remember clothing store Josh likes but all he can remember is going into places Hannah and Beth liked.

"Wanna go to H&M?"

Josh gives a noncommittal shrug but his eyes linger when they walk by American Apparel. Chris slows to a stop, noticing a couple of people staring when they pass. He can see them assessing Josh, how thin he is, the dark shadows that linger under his eyes, the surgical mask. Chris hovers over Josh, startling the other out of whatever stupor he'd fallen into. Chris blocks out the onlookers field of vision as he ushers Josh inside AA.

"Welcome! Let us know if you need anything." A girl stands at the counter, arms covered in sweaters. She sends them a curt smile as she begins restocking shelves.

Chris follows Josh to a rack of sweaters. They're plain, solid colors that are soft on the inside. Josh grabs three of them, each a dull shade darker than the last. He ignores all the plaid button ups he would've worn before, sticking to dark, unnoticeable colors.

"Want me to come with you?"

Chris stands beside him as the girl from the counter unlocks one of the dressing rooms. Josh shakes his head, eyes downcast as the girl moves past them.

"I'll be right outside then, alright."

"Okay" is all Josh says, closing the door behind him. In this moment Chris now understands how his mom must've felt when he dragged her to stores he likes, leaving her waiting outside the dressing room. This is his life. Designated dad. Chris smiles to himself.

The girl from the counter is eying him curiously, bent over a magazine.

"Not your style?" She asks.

Chris checks the store to see if she's speaking to anyone else before looking at her. She's pretty, eyebrows straight like her small bangs. Her hair reminds him of Emily, long and dark.

"Not really."

"Well you're a good boyfriend then. I'd love to drag Jacob around to stores I like but he'd have a cow."

Chris feels his face heat up. "Oh he's- we're-" he huffs and she giggles softly.

Technically they still hadn't talked about it, technically but they kissed a lot. Chris worries his bottom lip. He doesn't know how this shit works.

"I guess we are."

"Then you're a good boyfriend." She repeats, turning back to her magazine with a smile. The door cracks open and Chris walks up to the small open space. Josh is leaning against the door, surgical mask gone and he's letting the door rest on Chris' shoulder before he steps back.

Josh is in a navy shirt coupled with a slouchy cardigan that looks like it's comfortable but probably cost a lot. His jeans actually fit, legs wrapped in tight denim. Chris whistles.

Josh rolls his eyes. "So? Good?"

"Yeah, man. Looks good."

Josh turns on the balls of his feet, eying himself in the mirror. He assesses himself closely, dark eyes dragging along his small frame. Chris isn't sure what he finds but Josh's shoulders slump a bit and he's trying to push Chris out.

Chris grasps his wrists, grip light as he holds Josh still. He sneaks a glance at the girl at the counter, grateful to see she's pointedly ignoring them. Chris steps inside, crowding Josh into the small space.

"It doesn't look good." Josh's voice shakes. His hands squeeze tightly into fists, appearing defeated and small. "This is dumb."

"It's not dumb." Chris tells him, sitting him down on the small bench in the dressing room. "It's important, Josh. You're getting better, you look better."

"I look sick, Chris."

"No, Josh. You look tired. You look like someone who is trying. Someone who is picking up where he left off."

Josh refuses to look at him, staring intently at a spot on the floor. Chris bends down in front of him, hands coming to rest on the other's knees. He searches Josh's face for acknowledgement but he can only find rejection.

"Josh, you are sick. But you're trying and you've gotten so much better. You deserve to dress how you want and to buy whatever and to be happy. Josh, you deserve to live."

Josh's eyes glass over, bottom lip tugged into teeth and Josh is crying softly. He presses a hand into Chris' shoulder, hand twisting into the fabric of his jacket. Chris wipes the tears with his thumb, wishing he had something else to offer, anything else. Josh hiccups, shooing Chris' hands away. He gives a half heart laugh.

"Stop it, man."

"Shut up and let me love you." Chris wipes Josh's face with his sleeve ignoring the small muffled protests.

"Get out so I can change, bro."

"Fine but don't bitch when you buy the wrong shade for your eyes."

Josh face disappears behind his hands. "You are gay. Leave."

"Only for you, bro." Chris remarks, stepping out of the fitting room. He leans against the door, listening to the soft shuffling of clothes on the other side. The girl at the counter sends him a knowing look. Chris absolutely does not blush especially when they're checking out. Josh isn't looking at him.

"You find everything okay?" She's staring, staring at Josh.

He nods, shifting uncomfortably. "Yeah, thanks."

The girl rings up a couple of shirts, the slouchy cardigan, two more cardigans, two pairs of pants, eight sweaters, four more shirts and another ridiculously large white scarf and Josh is most certainly not looking at him.

"$ 267.92."

Chris blinks at the total. "Dude."

"Shut up, Chris." Josh hands her a card out his wallet, absolutely not looking at him.

"Oh my fucking God."

The girl behind the counter is watching them, amused as she slides Josh's card. A receipt prints and Josh is signing.

"You're expensive." Chris bitches and Josh punches his arm.

The girl hands Josh a large bag, pressing a finger to her lips when she looks at Chris. He effectively shuts up, trailing behind Josh as he leaves.

"So no H&M?" Chris asks when they're outside.

The look Josh gives him makes his skin crawl and he's honestly very scared. They go to H&M where Josh spends $100, then forever 21 where he spends $ 50 and eventually they end up in Hot Topic where Josh doesn't buy anything but seems to enjoy how uncomfortable Chris is.

It's not until they're back in the car that Chris feels like he can actually breathe. Josh is laughing at him. He shoves his bags in the backseat of Chris' car, looking all to amused.

"Spent nearly half a grand." Josh snorts.

"Shut up. How am I supposed to provide for you? You're expensive as shit. This prospect never occurred to me." Chris leans against the car.

"Good thing I have money right?"

Chris rolls his eyes, opening the driver's door.

"Your standards are low as shit, man."

Josh takes down his surgical mask, climbing into the car. He shoots Chris a sharp tooth smile.

"Good thing your personality is ok."

Chris gapes at him. "My personality is great, thank you. It'd be an honor to date me. I'm a pleasure."

"Sounds like a bad speech written by a teacher."

"Just vicious, man. Absolutely vicious." Chris starts the car, making small sobbing noises.

"Here play your shitty music and shut up." Josh hands him the AUX cable.

Chris plays the Beatles if only to be petty and childish but he can't help but laugh when Josh gives him a look of utter betrayal. He bitches the whole way home about how trash John Lennon is.

Chris listens to the rant the entire time, even when they're safely inside, bags of clothes in the living room and Josh is still going.

"Oh my god, I'll never do it again." Chris promises.

"Good because I have two months worth of shit to bitch about in regards to the Beatles."

Chris rubs his temples and sighs. He smirks at Josh, ignoring the curious look, before he backs him against the wall. Chris' hand curls under his chin, thumb lightly pressing against his scars. Josh's eyes flicker down to his lips, watching closely when a tongue flicks out.

"So," Chris starts, earning Josh's attention. "We should talk about us."

"What about us?"

"Ya know, If we're dating. Not dating. Brojobs?" Chris shrugs, pressing soft kisses along the other's jaw.

Josh chuckles softly, purring. "I like brojobs. Maybe we could try dating."

"Maybe?" Chris asks, nipping small bites along his neck.

"Go slow." Josh swallows hard, fingers coming to rest in Chris' hair.

"Mmhm." Chris hums, sucking a small bruise into Josh's exposed collar bone.

"Probably date." Josh gasps, arching into the touch. "Sex with lights off."

"Why? Nervous?" Chris has his hands up Josh's sweater, fingers tracing over scars.

"Yes," Josh's breath hitches and he's tensing up. Chris kisses him softly, coaxing his mouth open with his tongue. He smiles wordlessly, feeling Josh melt into him.

"Sex with the lights off." Chris agrees. "Will you show me?"

"Yeah." Josh promises. "Today?"

"Yeah, okay. If you want." Chris takes a step back.

Josh stands before him, lips swollen, and he reaches for the corners of his shirt. His hesitation is immediate, avoiding Chris' eye completely. Josh tugs the shirt up slowly, the sharp dip in his hips apparent, then a scar, more specifically the dark beginnings of a scar. There's four that line the expanse of Josh's torso like a kid's bad drawing. They're relatively old, gnarled and warped and healed into light silvery patches of skin.

"That's kinda bad ass." Chris states, reaching out to touch them.

Josh flinches, steadying himself. "No it's not."

Chris flattens a hand on Josh's tense stomach, unable to really see the small puckered wounds he felt before but he runs his hand along the scars, idly exploring where they stop and begin. He pulls Josh closer by his hips, pressing a soft kiss to the other's forehead.

Josh shrugs. "It's not. It's weird."

"No it's not, Josh." Chris assures him, running his hands along Josh's torso. He runs the pads of his thumbs along the new skin, mapping what lies underneath. Josh shudders, lips against his and moving.

"I'm sorry." He whispers, kissing the corner of Chris' mouth.

"It's okay. We're okay." Chris promises, holding him close.

They're okay. They're okay.