These Days

JtheChosen1: I’m so glad you reviewed from the start ☺ I can see people are at least clicking on this story but having you review gives me a new boost to keep writing. Actually this story is going up ridiculously fast for me, so I hope I keep up my motivation!

kylee: I’m glad you like the story thus far. And yes, Smiths might have been smacked quite a bit as a child, he’s a little impetuous. I agree that he could bring some much needed sunlight into Tye life. Honestly, writing Tye right now is kinda depressing me, he’s such a downer – all that will turn soon though! A little angst makes everything that much brighter in the end, yeah?

Lisa: Yay! Thanks for reviewing! Ah, Tye wasn’t an alcoholic but he was a kind of party-boy so he drank a few times a week. Basically he just had a booze face after the first sip, haha. Hope you keep reading to see them meet! (BTW that meeting is in this chapter ;) I’m amazed at how long it took me to get here. I’m horrible about drawing everything out! Lol)

Ok, everyone! On with the show!

*

Smiths clanked his beer glass against his current table as they threw up a cheer then tossed back the pale, foamy drink. The mugs slammed back down with loud guffaws coming from the men. “Smiths! Where did you learn to driiiiiink like that?” One of lumberers slurred.

Smiths smiled and swiped a bit of beer from his chin with the corner of his sleeve, “Spend a few months on a boat with sailors intent on having whiskey for dinner and the five a.m. sun for breakfast and you’d learn to drink too. Let alone a few years with fellows like that.”

“We jus’ kneeeew you were gonna come back all - WOOOORDLY!” The drunk man fell against the table, suddenly taken by giggles and patting his hand against the sticky wood.

Smiths shook his head and slid the keys off the man’s belt loop to drop them in a large bucket at the bar. Learning over to shout at the harried bartender, Smiths spotted the man he had been stalking earlier resting against a wall, two empty beer bottles in front of him with a third cradled against his stomach.

One of his friends came over, looping his arms around Smiths neck and generally using his body as a support rod. Smiths laughed with him and waited for the bartender to take his order before getting the drunk focused enough for him to ask, “Who’s that guy against the wall there? He wasn’t here when I left.”

The guy turned his head to look, stumbled, and latched onto Smiths better before leaning forward as though to get a better look, “Hm, aw that’s just Tyler. He works with us, a lumberjack. Hm, totally tears trees down, he’s a MONSTER in the forest.” The guy burst into laughter again and Smiths waited until he had calmed down a bit.

“He’s a lumberjack? He looks so small.”

“Eh, he’s out there with us, same shift as everybody. Think I remember him first coming, couldn’t hardly do the work given to him. He’s tough now, though. But hardly talks to anyone. Never seen ‘im in the bar at all.” The guy scowled as though finding that he was sobering up slightly and choked back a long draft of beer. Staggering a bit with the alcohol in his blood, the man carried an armful of longnecks and mugs back to the table.

Smiths nursed his second bottle carefully, and alternating between talking with men at the bar and sneaking glances at the quiet Tyler. Finally he dismissed himself from his party and made his way down the crowded bar to stand next to Tyler. Now the man was sipping from his fourth bottle and a suspicious shot glass was turned upside down in the middle of his bottle collection on the bar.

Smiths cleared his throat but the man showed no sign of hearing him so Smiths took a seat on the empty barstool next to him, “Excuse me, but I was just with my friend and he said he works with you as a lumberjack.”

As pick-up lines went it was far from eloquent, but it had been so long since Smiths had needed to impress someone that he felt the straight-forward and honest approach would work suitably. Tyler turned his head until he could see Smiths clearly before clanking his bottle down on the counter with a hollow ring indicating that Tyler has already chugged it. A moment of silence hung between them before Tyler reeled forward and gripped the counter for support and slurring, “Look, I don need any trouble, yeah? So just take off your mancheroic self somewhere else and let me have my night out.”

“Ah, sorry. I’m Smitherson, but most people call me Smiths,” It was clear Tyler was too drunk to comprehend what was going on but it didn’t seem possible to be that drunk that quickly off of so little alcohol. Although, he was rather small.

“Look, I don’t care what your little fuck buddies name is, I’m SICK of it. Now get out, you perverted asshole!”

Smiths blinked and for a moment it occurred to him he could be angry but clearly Tyler was not responding him but rather to whoever had driven him to drink that night. That thought did bring a flare of anger but Smiths suppressed it before it could be mistaken for anger at Tyler.

As Smiths was getting control of his emotions Tyler had worked on standing and now had both feet on the floor with one hand braced on the bar and one on the stool. He pulled his wallet out but dropped it loosely on the counter instead of holding it to pull out a fifty and drop it on the bar. His unsteady steps passed Smiths recalled the man quick enough to turn and catch him beneath the arms as his knees gave out.

Smiths held up Tyler with one arm and collected his wallet with his free hand. The man was now incomprehensible so Smiths wrapped on arms tightly around his waist to lead him outside. A few people tried to talk with Smiths as he was leaving but they were quickly dismissed and Smiths made it safely outside to the street. His truck was parked just outside the bar in a slot jokingly “reserved” for him. Smiths lifted Tyler into his truck with one arm beneath his knees and the other sliding up his back. It took effort, but Smiths ignored the feel of the lithe body in his arms as he got Tyler settled and buckled up. Smiths climbed into his side of the truck and started the engine, cranking the heat slightly as Tyler shivered a bit.

He was driving down Main Street when he realized he had no idea where to take Tyler. He could take him back to the hotel, but likely waking up in a strange place was even more stressful than being driven home by a stranger so he pulled off the side and shook Tyler gently. The drunken man woke enough to protest the shaking so Smiths asked him, “Where do you live? What’s you’re address?”

Tyler mumbled something but Smiths couldn’t understand so he shook Tyler again and re-posed the question and was rewarded by a thick, “Eighteen nineteen Ridge.” Then Tyler was slumping against the window.

Smiths sighed and pulled back onto the road. He wasn’t sure what house 1819 Ridge Rd was but he knew Ridge Rd and there weren’t that many options to get wrong.

He arrived at the prime pseudo-Victorian half an hour later, the numbers clear and reflective on a post next to the driveway. Smiths pulled into the gravel drive and parked his clunking truck in a space next to the house.

Tyler was easily pulled from the truck and carted inside. Though the front door was locked, Smiths slipped the keys from Tyler’s trouser pocket and opened the heavy wood door. Inside it was dark and cool and smell faintly of cedar and soap. With such mundane smells and the dark shroud of night it hardly seemed possible for the house to be occupied. Smiths didn’t dwell on the thought though and focused instead on moving the sleeping man in his arms to the rooms in the back. It was easy enough to find the bedroom and Tyler was quickly tucked into the simple bed. His shoes were slipped off and left at he foot of the bed but Smiths didn’t brave removing his shirt or pants. Though eh might be uncomfortable upon waking it would be more disconcerting for him to be undressed by a stranger.

With Tyler settled and the night drawing later Smiths thought that he should make it to his own bed, but if his weariness and the alcohol did not make him tired enough a quick glance at the clock marking the hour at 2:43 am forced him to admit defeat. Quick searching turned up a spare bed in what appeared to be an office. Hoping that this would not come back to curse him, Smiths shrugged out of his shirt and shoes and sunk beneath the thin, slightly musty sheets.

*

Tye woke groggily; his stomach rolled and shook with a mixture of hunger and hangover. Ignoring for the moment the fact that he was home and the phone call he had tried to drown out was still fresh in his mind, Tye groped his way into the bathroom and stood for a good fifteen minutes under the hot pounding of water. Beads of water soaked his hair and slowly washed away the sweat and oil of the night. Soap and a rough hand towel finished the job and left him pink with the heat and rough treatment. But afterwards he felt well enough to dress in clean boxers, loose sweats that he rolled to his knees and a light t-shirt. For some reason, despite the clearly chill temperature of the air, he couldn’t dispel the slight sweaty hot feel on his skin. even the light cloth over his chest seemed heavy and too constricting.

He made it as far as the kitchen to start coffee before the night fully returned to him. Someone – he couldn’t remember clearly – had packed him into a truck like a swooning girl and he had given his address. A quick sweep of living room turned up no strangers but only a second in his office revealed a bulldozer of a man collapsed under a thin afghan. Tye stared for a moment, the stranger looking so innocuous under the paisley patterned throw, before skittering back out of the room and shutting the door silently behind him.

Holy shit, what was he gonna do? He could throw the brute out, but that seemed kind of harsh. A quick glance outside confirmed he would also need the ride back into town.

Tye paced his living room, twisting a pillow in his arms, and debating on his course of action. It seemed most prudent to call into town and see if a taxi were available. That way he could get out of the house, at least for the time being. Then maybe the man would leave on his own.

His cell phone was on the kitchen table where he had discarded it earlier. Tye turned it on, a sense of dread accompanying the familiar trill of the start-up. Immediately a window popped up alerting him to seven missed calls and thirteen text messages. The messages he only perused through his inbox and, seeing they were all from Jacq, he promptly deleted them. Only five of the missed calls were from Jacq, though. One was from Charlie and the other was just a number.

Putting all of it aside for later, Tye called the post office – the only number he knew by heart – and asked if there was a cab company in the town. The girl sounded confused at the question but informed him that there wasn’t, however it was possible to call a guy who would drive you around for a price. Tye decided if he was going to hire someone personally he might as well work with the one sleeping in his office.

There still wasn’t any sign of the other man waking so Tye settled on the couch and called back Charlie first.

“Tye? Why was your phone off last night?” She sounded shrill and panicked over the phone but Tye suspected it was equally due to the early hour as to any real concern for him.

“I was receiving unwanted phone calls and it was the only way to successfully avoid them.”

Charlie paused long enough for Tyler to know what she was going to say before the words tumbled unabashedly from her lips, “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t give him your number or address. You know I wouldn’t do that, he’s still a two-faced little bastard, but he got it somehow and he’s been lurking around the past few weeks. Look, I don’t like him, but you can’t keep running from him either. You need to cut it clean with him. I’m not gonna force you and I won’t give him your address but I can tell you he’s not going away.”

“Yeah, not until he finds his next fuck. Look Charlie, thanks for telling me, but I’m not coming back. I’m not talking to him. If you see him tell him I’m not answering his calls and I don’t want him bothering me. I’ve got my own life, he needs to get his.”

Charlie sighed a bit but acquiesced, “Yeah, I will. No problem. But be careful. I mean it. He doesn’t seem all together sometimes.”

“Thanks. I’ll talk to you soon.”

Tye moved to click the phone off but Charlie’s voice called out again and he reluctantly but the receiver to his ear, “Hun, can’t you come home for a bit? At least for your birthday? I’ll throw a wild bash, I promise.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Ok, we really miss you.”

“Alright, alright. Bye.”

Tye laid his head back on the couch trying to ignore Charlie’s voice in his head. He didn’t want to talk to Jacq ever again. And he didn’t want to go back to the city. It was tempting. Too tempting. He would get caught again and never break free. He liked it here. Liked his solitude, his new life, even with the loneliness.

The creaking of floor boards drew his head to the side where the sleeping man had woken and was now leaning against his doorframe in rumpled clothes and a sleepy look. Bucking up his courage and his balls Tye stood and approached him slowly, “Thank You for taking me home last night, I guess. And for not robbing me blind.”

The man nodded a bit and scrubbed a hand over his face. Tye was overtaken by a sort of motherly instinct that made him want to take care of the bigger man – though now that he was closer he saw that while the man was clearly taller and more muscular than himself he was not nearly as big as Tye had originally thought.

Laughing a bit, and trying not to, Tye gathered two large fluffy towels and motioned for the bigger man to follow him. Though leading him through the bedroom made him blush a bit, Tye got the man settled in his bathroom with instructions to use whatever soap or shampoo he needed and that there would be clean clothes on the bed when he finished. The man only barely seemed to comprehend what he was saying but Tye left with the confidence that the man could manage a simple shower.

With the ease of long practice, Tye made his bed and straightened the room a bit before digging out a set of large boxers – still wrapped – that he had bought accidentally as well as a t-shirt that was far too big on him. However he couldn’t find any jeans or sweats that might fit the man’s long thick legs. Hopefully he would be awake enough to work out he needed to use his own pair, dirty though they may be.

With the shower still going and his stomach becoming more insistent on food, Tye started the coffee maker and put four slices of bread in to toast while a creamy, cheesy, soup warmed on the stove. Tye also returned the call from the missed number, settling at the kitchen table to watch the food while the ringer echoed in his ear.