Tyler McGowan

McGowan. The name didn’t ring a bell and that was for the best. Anyone he remembered from around here he didn’t want to get within spitting distance of. Tyler and the one elderly lady who bagged his groceries at the store two days ago were the only folks who’d made it off Julian’s shit list. Thus far no one else had turned out to be a diamond in the rough not that Julian was panning for any treasures out here. 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Julian said giving his condolences. Despite working with the grieving on a regular basis he still was uncomfortable with loss when it came to the physical. Even though he barely had contact with his family he couldn’t imagine losing both his parents in such a short timeframe. He was sure the loss of his uncle had been hard on Tyler too so that didn’t help. Julian wasn’t even sure how to grapple with the loss of a man whom he’d hardly known who gave him the sole responsibility of getting his affairs in order and the beneficiary of his life’s work. 

None of that was conversation to have with Tyler however. He hadn’t accepted his invitation for dinner to leave this evening feeling down in the dumps. If that was his intention Julian could’ve just sat bored back at his place scrolling through TIk Toks while eating sad, gummy leftover chicken alfredo. He was glad that Tyler didn’t dwell on the subject and actually shifted it to something Julian cared about– anywhere but here. “Liberating. It costs you an arm and a leg and a wealthy benefactor to survive there but I wouldn’t trade it for the world,” he joked. Even if Julian did ever move back there wouldn’t even be a place for him. The only florist was 30 minutes away and dealt almost exclusively in funerals and weddings. “I”m definitely ready to go back but that’s not an itch I can scratch for a while,” he said refraining from sighing. The work getting everything order had only just begun. 

“You’ve got a nice smile,” Julian complimented having caught that dimple poking through his scruffy cheeks. Tyler was undoubtedly hot and the fact he wasn’t some country fried bigot actually made him attractive and not the equivalent of candy coated rat poison. “Why didn’t you follow me out for a smoke the other night?” One thing Julian didn’t lack was confidence and the boy was a catch in the city and he sure as hell was a prime cut of Waygu beef in these parts and it was almost insulting knowing what he knew now that the other man hadn’t decided to shoot his shot. Maybe he just didn’t know how to pick up a guy at the bar which he couldn’t fault him for. 

Tyler chuffed when he heard Julian say you needed to pay an arm, a leg, and have a benefactor. He couldn’t imagine having to depend on someone like that. Tyler lived so independently, that he held on to it, white-knuckled to the last. He wondered what it was that Julian did back home that he made so little money. It made selling the property sound all the imperative to his survival. Tyler didn’t presume too much, however, and decided not to think about it overmuch.

At the compliment, he snorted quietly and shook his head, smiling to himself. “Flatterer,” he murmured, trying to keep a poker face, but failing at it. “I ain’t follow you out for a smoke cause I didn’t wanna be a creep. I wasn’t desperate, y’know? I didn’t know you, you didn’t know me,” he explained. “It’s been a long time since I’ve... pursued anythin’, y’know? It ain’t that I wasn’t interested. I just... Wanted t’be respectful of your space. And again. I didn’t know ya’.” He chuckled to himself, beginning to wonder if maybe Julian had wanted him to come out.

Maybe he didn’t know. But if he was being honest with himself, he hadn’t cared too much. He was tired, hungry, and didn’t want to bother with the uncertainty of having his interest shot down. He had other things to worry about, which at the time, he didn’t know were all wrapped up in the strawberry-lipped blond package that stood in his kitchen right now.

"What would you’ve done if I had?” he asked.

“To being gay,” Julian cheered before knocking back the alcohol that slid down his throat with a shiver. The younger man couldn’t count the amount of times he’d drank to being gay in his life though it was different tonight. It was sad in all honesty and it was precisely why he was eager to get the alcohol in his system and hopefully loosen up his nerves. Downing a Jagerbomb with friends during pride in a gay club packed in like sardines was a far more joyous occasion. Julian wondered just how many miles Tyler’d had to travel to find men when Julian often times only had to travel mere feet to find a partner. It was a luxury he’d become accustom to and he couldn’t imagine the hoops Tyler was jumping through just to find pockets of his truth. 

What ifs had flooded Julian’s mind as he listened to Tyler. What if he hadn’t been cast out of his own podunk town when he did?  What if he’d stayed? Julian couldn’t think of a worst fate than working beneath his dad all this time. Life only began to flourish when he was thrown into the real world. It made him wonder what it was that made Tyler feel like he was living while he was here because frankly every hour Julian spent here felt like he was dying a slow and painful death. 

Not that Julian would do anything with the can of worms he had laid out before him. As much as he felt for the man he was no therapist and wasn’t looking to give advice to someone who seemed so set in his ways it’d probably wind up going through one ear and out the other. Besides, deep down this guy hated his guts even though they were both gay. He was selling “the old Falk farm” after all and his thoughts on the matter weren’t changed just because some handsome gay neighbor liked the place. No offense.  

“It’s Tyler, right?” Julian asked again as he turned his attention to the vegetables once more. “What’s your last name? Your family always lived around here?” Julian followed up wondering if he knew his family even though he actively worked on forgetting everyone who lived around these parts. 

Tyler felt bad for Julian, but at the same time had to admire the brass balls it took to come to a town like this by himself. It was hard for him to imagine himself in the blond’s shoes, but maybe it was time for him to let go of Old Falk and let Julian do what he will with the property instead of trying to convince him otherwise. He hated the thought of it, but swallowed it down with the whiskey, and he didn’t know which burned worse.

Mind your own biscuits and life will be gravy.

He had no choice but to mind his own. It’s not like he could do anything about it.

When Julian began asking questions, Tyler raised his brows. What did Julian care? After all, he was just some other country schmuck, and being gay didn’t change the way he’d been before, or the way he was period. “McGowan. They lived here, yeah. M’pops died two years ago, an’ my mother followed soon after. Siblings moved away an’ it was just me here. Could’a sold the farm but I ain’t had nowhere else to go. Not that I wanted to go anywhere,” he said with a shake of his head. “Didn’t wanna let go, I guess,” he said with a quiet laugh, looking away pushing off of the counter.

"What’s it like?” he asked, walking away from Julian and going to one of the cupboards to grab plates. “The big city, I mean. Or... wherever you call home. You must like it there.” He began setting the table, keeping his hands busy to keep himself from staring at Julian and becoming too enamored with him. He was good looking, and seemed to have a good head on his shoulders, but was also as fleeting as a rain shower in a drought, or a gust of cool air in the summer heat. Julian would be gone soon.

“I bet you’re itchin’ to get back,” he teased with a smile that pressed subtle dimples on his cheeks. He glanced up only briefly to catch a glimpse of the blond before looking away again and making sure the forks and knives were all on the correct sides.

This wasn’t the first time Julian hopped in the car with some guy he hardly knew and knowing his track record it wouldn’t be the last. Still, Julian was on edge as he road with the man in the car. The whiskey he bought sloshed around in the bottle between his thighs and he hoped that Woodford Reserve wouldn’t be the last beverage he’d have. 

Fortunately every detail Tyler promised had been accurate. He just as easily could’ve driven him down some country road and offed him with one of the numerous tools cluttering the man’s truck but as Tyler said they wound up at his homestead which didn’t look like a house of horrors Leatherface could reside in. Another good sign. In fact, he was surprised by how tidy the space was. “Do you have a girlfriend? Your place looks nice.” Julian asked trying to see if he spotted a feminine touch to the place. 

Julian was surprised he’d been invited into the kitchen. He still wasn’t entirely sure why he was being welcomed in here in the first place. He had his assumptions but he knew better than to assume anything in a place like this. This was only a stone’s throw away from where he grew up after all. All he knew was the guise of showing him some “southern hospitality” was bull. At least Tyler’s intentions weren’t malicious… yet. 

And frankly, Julian was lonely so he’d take what he could get as he took the liberty to pull himself a glass of whiskey before attending to the task at hand. Lettuce, a cucumber, and carrots at the ready. 

“You know that doesn’t have to be your job, right? Being like a farmhand,” Julian informed him as he began rinsing the vegetables. That comment had stuck with him. He’d been destined for his own “legacy” too and Julian wouldn’t even be caught dead following in his father’s footsteps now. 

Tyler had already hung his hat, rolled up his sleeves, washed his hands, and begun to pull out ingredients and cookware. He turned his head as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of Julian’s word. After a brief second, he had to consider that Julian wasn’t a part of this town, where most everyone knew of his particular persuasion.

"No,” he answered plainly. He didn’t elaborate for a moment, letting the silence hang between them in an almost awkward way until Tyler felt it, and felt an uncharacteristic desire to explain himself for once. As the oven began to bake a lovely roasted chicken, Tyler washed his hands and dried them, leaning into the counter and looking over to Julian.

“I was somethin’ of a black sheep, growin’ up. I ain’t bruised over it now or anything like that. Just happened. Siblings grew up, moved out, got married. I stayed helpin’ out. Tryin’ to...” He took a deep breath, pressing his lips together as if deliberating on how to phrase this. “Tryin’ to earn my place in the family. Bein’ there for my parents. They were gettin’ old, they needed help, an’ I wanted to prove I was every bit the man my older brother was, if not more,” he said quietly. “I couldn’t give ‘em the grandchildren an’ daughter in law they wanted. So... I dedicated myself to what I could give ‘em. They’re gone now, but that sense of duty don’t just go away overnight,” he said quietly.

“Much as I respect ‘em, ain’t ever had a desire for women,” he said with a nod. “And ain’t no man in town got the testicular fortitude to be seen with me.” He smirked at that, looking down at his hands as if it were an achievement of his, then he walked over to grab a couple of glasses to pour whiskey in. He finally slid one glass over to Julian before leaning into the counter near him. Then, he reached his glass over, clinking them together quietly in a toast. “To bein’ gay.”

Julian took a sip of the whiskey and tried not to wince. He never drank it neat or even on the rocks for that matter but he didn’t feel like drowning it in Coke. Something in him wanted to impress, to “be a man” and drink whiskey how it was intended and let it put some hair on his chest. He didn’t need anyone’s approval down here but he wanted Tyler not to make any more assumptions about him and in return Julian was attempting to extend the same courtesy.  

He was disappointed that Tyler declined his offer of food but he wasn’t given a beat to be crestfallen over his decision as Tyler seemed to warm up to him. The last thing he thought Tyler would do is apologize to him on behalf of this town. As nice as Tyler had been back at the bar Julian felt he was probably just as ready to have this “cityslicker” return to where he’d came from. Julian was taken back by the offer. He wanted to cook for him? It felt like his life was taking a turn towards some western romance novel and next thing he knew it he’d be boning him in some stable. It was too good to be true and Julian was waiting for some catch that didn’t come. “I do eat chicken,” Julian confirmed feeling at a loss for what else to say. 

“Let me just put on some actual clothes,” Julian said. Tyler was officially no longer just the handyman who came over to unclog his pipes…. literally. If Julian was going to be enjoying a dinner outside of this place, or frankly going anywhere he wasn’t going to do so in joggers and an old tee he brought just to sleep in. “I’ll be right back,” Julian said as he headed off in the direction of the spare room he was staying in to change into something more fitting for a chicken dinner. 

Tyler was going over it in his mind. He’d been so focused on where the blond had come form, that he didn’t even stop to think in what ways they were alike. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see why someone like him-- like them-- would want to leave a place like this. Hell, if it hadn’t been for Julian’s own uncle, Tyler didn’t know if he’d have stuck around here, either. He made a name for himself, but it was through blood, sweat, and tears, and it hadn’t been easy. In fact, it had been harder to establish than most. Why wouldn’t he want to make a difference and make it easier for someone like Julian to simply BE here. It was no wonder he was itching to sell.

He waited around quietly, taking a look around the familiar home. He had memories there of coming to Old Falk when he didn’t have the courage to go home and explain why he was nursing a bruised face and a bruised ego. It was a damn pity that Julian hadn’t had that experience, and in a way, he felt guilty of having robbed him of it-- even if it hadn’t been in his hands to begin with.

When Julian finally emerged, Tyler offered him a smile-- a genuine, close-lipped on. There was little preamble when he motioned towards his truck and headed out first. The drive to his place wasn’t far, just as promised, and he drove them there with the windows down so Julian could feel the breeze, and not smell the scent of old sweat and dirt from the back seat. That, and he could see the way the tall grasses of the neighboring fields billowing without the lowering sun’s glare off of the slightly smudged glass.

As they arrived, Tyler explained that the farm he lived in currently was being tended to mostly by himself, and occasionally two men he’d hire seasonally to help care for the limited amount of livestock. He was proud of his work, but there was something in his voice that betrayed a quiet sense of tiredness. “But this was my family’s farm. It’s my job to keep it goin’,” he said with a small nod as they walked into the homely kitchen. In contrast to his truck, it was clean, roomy, and it looked well taken care of.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’m gonna get started on this, but if you wanna help, you can help me make a salad with some of the veggies in the fridge. Just pick whatever you like, I ain’t too picky.”

Julian only shrugged a shoulder. “I guess it’s not just southerners who can be hospitable,” he commented. His smile tempting to break through a closed lip. He definitely hadn’t learned how to be a good host while living in the area. “It’s in the fridge, you’re welcome to rest of it if you’d like,” he said nodding his head towards the appliance. He was sure Tyler was already well aware of the house. He seemed far more confident in the place than Julian was despite he himself living there for a few days already. “Is whiskey okay? I’ve got sparkling water or coke if you prefer something else,” Julian offered letting Tyler help himself to the kitchen.

He felt like Tyler saw him as some creditor coming here to rob his friend of his home and legacy. He wish things were that simple. Had that actually been Julian’s character and his intention he never would’ve come down to even look at the estate and bulldozed it the moment the paperwork was finalized. Tyler couldn’t even begin to understand what Julian was going through alone. It was a bizarre circumstance he was in and one he was sure few could relate to and truthfully Julian had no one in his life he felt able to persuade to try to listen. Not that Julian was shocked. It seemed he was destined to just be seen as a bad guy around these parts.

“No one’s been looking at who’s interested in moving in,” Julian explained. The home wasn’t exactly in a price range anyone in town could really afford. So it was destined just to lay vacant and rot away while still ultimately getting demolished anyways. He speculated would be more painful for Tyler to watch it fall apart before his eyes. Julian had had his fair share of band aids ripped off himself and still stood proud before Tyler. “I am,” Julian admitted. There was no point in lying. “It’s a pretty lonely place out here for someone like me. I haven’t exactly been welcomed kindly.”

“Whiskey’ll do,” Tyler replied when Julian offered him a drink. He really didn’t want to impose on Julian, and when he learned the other had been referring to leftovers and not something fresh, it sounded a lot less appealing. Tyler had to remember that not everyone cooked their meals fresh every day, and for someone who thought the sink was a damn garbage disposal, it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Still, it was nice of him to offer. Still, he’d made good on his bet, and had offered him a drink when he could’ve just as easily ignored that whole thing, or simply let it go.

Tyler sauntered into the kitchen, running his fingers through the mess of sandy blonde hair as he went for one of the familiar cupboards where he knew the whiskey glasses were. It made him miss Falk and the nights they’d spent out on the porch talking about life, their personal philosophies, and superstitions that ran amuck in this town. Falk had been a mentor to him, and it was a damn shame that Julian hadn’t had the same experience. He found the whiskey easily enough and poured just a little into two glasses, passing one to Julian and eyeing him curiously. He expected nothing less than for Julian to be excited to go back to the city, but was struck with a little shame when he realized that maybe he’d been a part of that problem in which Julian hadn’t been welcomed kindly.

He felt bad. Not for Julian necessarily, because he seemed like a resilient guy. Tyler felt bad because he’d been raised to do better than that, and if Judith knew her son was out here being like all the rest of the salty assholes in this town, she’d have an earful for him. Despite their differences, he put himself in the other’s shoes, and it came as no surprise that he’d wanna leave this place as fast as possible. Tyler brought the whiskey to his lips and took a sip, feeling the burn trickling down his throat as he turned his idea over in his head. He finished the glass and set it down on the counter top.

“I changed my mind on that alfredo. You know, it’s a damn shame that ain’t nobody given you a proper welcome. I gotta admit, my manners are that of an ornery old crow sometimes, and I wanna ‘pologize ‘bout that. That ain’t on purpose,” he said, bringing his baby blue gaze up to the younger male. “But it ain’t that bad here, and I’d like to give you a proper welcome if you’ll allow me. If you wanna bring that whiskey bottle, there, I’d like to cook som’ for ya’,” he said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Might be good for you to get out of the house, too. If you’ve been cooped in here all day. I live just up the road. Ain’t a far drive-- or walk, for that matter. You eat chicken?” He ran his fingers through his hair again, bracing himself to be turned down. He wondered if the ship had sailed to make things a little better for the blonde, but it was worth the shot anyway.

Julian could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up when Tyler commented on Julian’s decision. He was well aware of the intentions and truthfully… Julian didn’t care. This was a home he’d been in maybe once growing up and had no attachment to and honestly  if he did that would only be more fuel to demolish the place. Any money Julian got for this place was money he hadn’t expected to receive in his life. If he was to get swindled out of this deal that was on some big wig’s karma not his. “What do expect me to do with it otherwise?” Julian asked. Certainly Tyler didn’t think he should pack up his whole life to live here.

No effort was made to follow Tyler outside or even observe what the other was doing. Instead Julian walked to the sink and ran the water just to make sure Tyler had actually fixed the problem. As the water flowed through the drain without any gurgling or standing water forming in the bottom of the sink Julian debated buying a drain cover so the sink could actually be usable but he pushed the thought away. He didn’t want to be here long enough for a comfort like that to be worth it to him.

Julian greeted Tyler by the porch. He was ready to thank the man and let him be on his way when he asked about some food. “I’ve got some chicken alfredo if you’d like some. Garlic bread too,” he added trying to make the meal more entiching. The stuff was going to end up down the drain sooysn anywa if the thing hadn’t been clogged. “I still owe you those drinks too,” Julian reminded Tyler. 

.

Tyler bit his tongue. This wasn’t his house, and as much as it annoyed him to know that Julian wasn’t even interested in getting to know it or getting to know the town, he didn’t entirely blame him. He was from the big city where he probably had loads of friends waiting for him. Tyler didn’t expect someone like that to pack it in and come plow the fields here the way he did. He realized Julian wasn’t going to follow him out to the compost, and he cursed quietly to himself, taking care of the quick errand and setting the bucket right back where it belonged.

He sauntered back towards the porch and looked up, catching a quick glimpse of the blonde when he replied that he had garlic alfredo and garlic bread. It wasn’t steak and potatoes, but Tyler hadn’t had pasta in a while, and honestly? It sounded good. A subtle smirk tugged on his lips when he was reminded of the drinks as well, and he nodded. “I didn’t think you’d make good on that, but if you’ve got somethin’ to drink, I’ll take it. And pasta sounds good, if I ain’t imposing, ofcourse. I know I invited myself, but I didn’t expect you to actually... you know, accommodate that,” he said, raising a brow and shrugging lightly. He brushed gently past Julian and headed back into the kitchen to wash his hands.

“It ain’t my house, and it ain’t my business, by the way,” he said, coming back around the the whole issue with Julian selling the house. “But I’d hate to see it get demolished. Lotta good memories here, I guess. Not that it does or should mean anything to you. Just... Forget it. Do you what you want. You’re probably itchin’ to get back to the city, ain’t you?” he asked, drying his hands and bringing his piercing blue gaze back to the younger man.

“It’s not nice to assume,” Julian teased. With Tyler’s back turned the chance to smirk to himself. This was a lesson he was reminding himself of too. Tyler wasn’t like everyone else in town and definitely wasn’t living up to his highly negative expectations. “I like whiskey well enough,” Julian added. It wasn’t his preferred alcohol by any stretch of the imagination but the tequila at the little ma and pa liquor store hadn’t called his name. 

Julian watched as Tyler made quick work of the problem. Truthfully Julian probably could’ve done it himself had he known where the tools were kept but much like his knowledge of how to change a tire and preform an oil change it was a skill Julian didn’t care to keep. He hadn’t driven since moving to New York so he suppressed most of the handiness taught by his father to the back of his mind. His father never had been a patient teacher. 

There was nothing Julian could say and he simply nodded his head. Julian didn’t really know the man and he felt guilty for not reaching out more retroactively. His dad had written his brother off when Julian had been just a kid the reason never fully being expressed to Julian and truthfully he never asked and until Julian received a call about the property he now possessed it’d been years since he last thought of the man. “He was,” Julian repeated unsure of what else to add. Clearly he had to have been for Tyler to have sprung into action like this. 

Julian shook his head when asked about the compost. He hadn’t signed up to be a farm hand and he didn’t see what the purpose of turning compost was. After all it was garbage anyways. He was fairly certain there wasn’t much harm he could do to something that’s end result was a pile of dirt anyways. “I haven’t no. I haven’t really gotten to tending to the house. I’ve been dealing mainly with relators and appraisers.”

Tyler smirked to himself at Julian’s little tease, not that the other could see. “Well I ain’t very nice,” he quipped back. There was a teasing hint in it, as though Tyler had assumed several things about Julian that he dared the other to deny. He didn’t see them having anything in common at first, but giving a second glance, there were a few commonalities that he didn’t believe Julian had picked up on. Not yet anyway. And it’s not like Tyler made it easy be read-- he wasn’t exactly an open book.

He hadn’t expected Julian to say anything about his uncle. In fact, Tyler ventured to guess they weren’t close at all. It’s not like he ever really came to visit, and Falk never really talked about his family much. There must’ve been a reason. Either way, Tyler felt like he’d known the man well enough to call him a friend, and that’s the reason he remained there, ready to come running when his nephew called about a clogged sink.

Tyler hadn’t expected Julian to have done anything on that to-do list, either, which is why he started towards the back door when Julian mentioned realtors and appraisers. He turned with furrowed brows, looking at Julian as if he’d sprung a second head on his shoulders. “You’re gonna sell it?! You know they’re tryin’ to knock this entire place down and build a shoppin’ center, right? This house’s been here almost a century, and you’re almost certainly gonna get ripped off in the name of corporate goddamn capitalism,” he said, turning again to head out before Julian really had a moment to respond. Tyler knew this wasn’t his house, and if Julian wanted to sell it, he was well within his rights to. But it almost hurt to see the man so brazenly throw it to the wind and not even give it a chance. Tyler took long strides towards the back of the house where it opened up into a large yard. There were flower beds to either side that needed tending, and at the far end was a compost tumbler. He reached it and opened its hatch, dumping the contents of the bucket into it, then closed it and cranked the lever on the side a few times. Despite its weight, Tyler somehow made it look so effortless. He rolled up his sleeves and found the garden hose, rinsing out the bucket before setting it back where it belonged.

He headed back towards the back porch where he looked up at Julian again. “You got somethin’ to eat around here?”

Julian had expected to be met with some resistance at the request, at the very least he thought he’d be chastised for his mistake.  There was a patient nature to Tyler Julian hadn’t been able to see through the layer of grime that coated him from the work day the last time they met.  When he’d stood up for him at the bar Julian had just assumed he had zero tolerance for any sort of bullshit but his opinion was shifting on that matter. He was lobbing him a big ball of bullshit right now that Tyler had no problem handling with no fuss. Maybe Tyler liked him or maybe he just really liked his uncle. His money was on the latter. 

“The Braves really won, huh?” Julian said a smile forming on his lips though he caught himself before his pearly whites could peek. There was a glimmer of something nestled in that flat delivery that hadn’t been lost on Julian. Was it flirtation? Julian wasn’t going to assume yet though he did note the smell of Tyler’s soap as he passed by him to grab his tools. The smell was rich and expensive, definitely not something he found in the toiletry section of the supermarket. The mix of cedar and musk cut with the freshness of citrus was without a doubt artisanal and smelt like something Julian might’ve sampled in a boutique or one of his friends medicine cabinets and that didn’t go unnoticed by Julian, neither had the cigarettes. 

The bucket was found exactly where Tyler’d directed him and it was clear he was going to have to have Tyler linger around the property a little longer after he was done with the sink to give him a tour of the place. Outside of Tyler’s number on the fridge no one else was jumping out to make their connection to his late uncle known to Julian. 

Julian opened the single paned window and turned on the fan in precaution before leaning against the opposite counter by the fridge to give Tyler space to work. “I don’t have any beer unfortunately but I’ve got Bulleit. Coke too,” he informed him as he watched him work. Julian wasn’t often a whiskey person but in the south it only seemed fitting. 

Tyler set the heavy toolbox down with a thud on the hardwood floor and grabbed the white bucket, pushing it underneath the sink’s pipes. He grabbed a drain wrench, pliers, and a flat head screwdriver, crouching down in font of the sink. As the manual labor began, he listened to Julian speaking to him in the background, and he smirked to himself.

“Bulleit, hm? I ain’t take you for a whiskey man,” he said, though his words were a little scrunched with a grunt as he applied a little extra force to loosen up the trap on the bottom curve of the sink’s drainage. With a final twist, it finally came loose, and the gunky splatter of noodles, stagnant water, and whatever else Julian had pushed down into the sink came tumbling out like the a college student who’d drank a little too much. It wasn’t an exorbitant amount, but it had been enough to clog the pipes. He used the screwdriver to pull out more of the junk that remained on the pipes until he was satisfied that enough build up had been dislodged that the water would flow again.

It was strange being back in that house with its original owner long gone. Falk had been good to him, and had been one of the few people to understand Tyler and his rebelliousness growing up in a way his own family couldn’t. The man had felt like a sort of chosen family to him, and Tyler often wondered how it was that he lived so alone. But each person was an island, and he knew everyone had their own problems they never talked about.

“I’m sure they got fancy garbage disposals wherever you’re from, but ain’t none of those in this house. It’s old as dirt on a hill, so don’t shove anything where it ain’t supposed to go and you’ll be fine,” he said, scrunching his nose at the smell, which wasn’t nearly as bad as he was imagining it to have been. Tyler slipped the dirty screwdriver into the sink and began to seal up the pipes again, glad that it wasn’t quite as bad as he’d been imagining it. Hell, Julian could’ve easily done it himself, but if he was a betting man, he’d bet against the other knowing how to do it.

Once the quick repair had been made, he washed the screwdriver and cleaned the sink and the area under it, knowing exactly where to find the cleaning supplies.

“Your uncle was a good man,” he finally said, pulling the bucket out from under the sink and shutting the cabinet doors. He wanted to say more, but he didn’t know what the relationship was like between Julian and his uncle, and the last thing he wanted was to meddle where it wasn’t his business.

“Anyway, I’m gonna dump this on the compost out back. You turned it yet? Should be gettin’ turned every few days,” he mentioned, glancing at a to-do list on the refrigerator that looked like it hadn’t been moved an inch since he’d pinned it with a magnet.

Julian didn’t know who to expect when he opened his door. Honestly it could’ve been any one of the men who he encountered in town. Just about everyone looked like they were a jack of all trades in whatever was need ed to acquire their masculine merit badges. It was why Julian didn’t bother dressing up for the man. In fact it was probably best Julian was dressed down in a pair of basketball shorts and a undershirt. Julian instantly regretted that decision when he saw who was at his door. Though he greeted the man with a smile. The less people he had to meet here the better in his book. “I’m his nephew, yeah. You’re Tyler right?” Julian asked as though he actually could’ve forgotten his name. That was pretty impossible when the man had a face like his in a place like this. Wildcreek was full of more beer bellies than romance novel cowboys from his observations. 

Julian stepped aside and let Tyler into the home. “Well it’s not leaking or anything. I just think the garbage disposal is busted,” he explained as headed for the kitchen. “One of the sinks is all backed up.” Fortunately Julian had managed to get all the standing water out of it but it was still unusable and he couldn’t exactly have it all backed up if people would be checking out the house. 

"You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me...” he murmured under his breath. Tyler blinked a few times before following Julian into the familiar home he’d spent a lot of time in. Old Falk had been a mentor to Tyler, and a great friend, so his passing affected him deeply. He didn’t recall ever seeing Julian come out here, but he’d also never really paid too much attention to whenever Falk had family come over. It was too rare of an event, all told, and Tyler knew that the man wasn’t exactly beloved with his family. This was his nephew!?

Tyler took a deep breath, bracing himself for what awaited him as he walked in. He stomped off any dirt from his boots on the welcome mat at the door, then continued in towards the kitchen, his boots heavy on the hardwood floor.

“Y’first problem’s that you ain’t got a garbage disposal,” Tyler clarified, raising his baseball cap and flipping it backwards as he approached the sink. That backwards hat meant business as he glanced down and already anticipated the putrid smell of whatever Julian had been packing into those pipes for the past few days. “Second problem’s that these pipes are old as hell and ain’t gonna pass all that. Luckily for you, I installed this sink, so I’m gonna take it apart and manually pull all that gunk out,” he explained, putting his hands on his hips, his gaze still fixed on the sink.

“Your third problem’s not actually a problem. It’s just that the Braves won, and you owe me a beer. You’re gonna owe me at least two after this,” he said, glancing up at Julian with a deadpanned glance, betrayed only by the hinted tease in his voice and twinkle in his eye, but it was short lived when he looked away.

“I’m gonna grab my tools. There should be a white plastic bucket out in the back porch. Wanna fetch that for me?” he asked, not waiting for a reply before his boots were clicking back out towards the back of his truck parked outside. Tyler felt his stomach grumbling, but decided to ignore it for now. He reached for a bottle of water that sat in the passenger seat, taking a few hearty gulps before crunching the empty bottle, putting the lid on it, and tossing it back into the seat. He grabbed the red tin metal toolbox, then headed back into the kitchen. Kneeling down at the sink, he opened the cupboard and cleared out any cleaning supplies that might’ve been put under there. “This ain’t gonna smell too good, so you might wanna open up the kitchen windows,” he said, wrinkling his nose a bit.

Julian was counting the days until he’d be able to return home and leave Woodcreek behind. What he assumed would be a relatively straightforward process of handing over the deed to the highest bidder wasn’t as cut and dry as Julian was hoping and despite not wanting to live at his late Uncle’s home it was becoming too much of a hassle getting himself to and from the hotel when he had miles of country roads to traverse and no car of his own. 

There was nothing in Woodcreek proper that appealed to him anyways. Most glances in his direction made it very clear to him that the others around him knew he wasn’t from around there and in a place where everyone knew each other’s name it was an uncomfortable feeling. Even Tyler who knew his name seemed hot and cold when he bumped into him. Half the time Julian’s half smile of acknowledgement went ignored.

So most of Julian’s time was spent going through the belongings of a man he never really knew and deciding what might be salvageable for an estate sale and cooking which brought him to his current predicament. While the kitchen had a double sink neither side had a garbage disposal (as Julian had assumed) and the couple of days worth of food backed up in it made it unusable.  

“Fuck,” he cursed to himself after trying to wedge his hand in and scoop out gunk that made him want to gag. It wasn’t worth it putting himself through the disgusting torture and after scrubbing his hands clean he turned to the number of his late uncle’s handyman and shot him a text. Now was as good a time as ever to get their assistance. 

I was told to get ahold of you if there were any problems at the Falk home. 

It seems that the sink is broken. 

@tyler-mcg​

A typical day for Tyler McGowan began at 4:30 AM. Hours before the ass crack of dawn, he got up, shoveled a rather hearty breakfast down his gullet, washed the dishes, then headed out to feed the horses and take them out to the pasture. For the most part, he worked alone, but on occasion--usually around the time of a big sale-- he hired out some ranch hands to help him herd the horses and move them from pasture to pasture around the McGowan ranch. This was especially true during the spring and summer seasons due to calving and irrigation work that needed to get done around the fields that were impossible work for one man alone. By noon, the horses were finally wrangled into their pasture to graze for a while, and that’s when Tyler usually went to grab a quick lunch before getting back out into the field to herd the horses back.

Fourteen hours later, his day was finished and he could go home to eat a hearty meal, shower, and watch a movie, if he had the energy to do it. Sometimes, he’d eat and just go straight to bed. This was what Tyler preferred, though. Working himself to the bone made him forget the pit of loneliness, and the demons that lurked in the corners of his mind. But he wasn’t sure this was what he wanted to do for the rest of his life-- at least not like this.

Tyler was pulled from his thoughts as he headed towards his truck, when an unfamiliar number caused his phone to buzz with an incoming text message. The sandy blonde wrinkled his nose a little when he saw that whoever was taking over Falk’s place needed something fixed.

“Damn place starts fallin’ apart if I ain’t there twenty five seven,” he mumbled to himself, knowing that he’d JUST fixed one of the leaky pipes last week. How the hell was it broken already?! Regardless, he hopped into his old truck, texted a quick “omw”, then began to drive out towards the property he’d been taking care of for the last year or so. He knew a construction company had been looking over the property, and Tyler hoped to whatever god was out there that it didn’t get sold and turned into a damn parking lot.

He finally arrived at the place, just as the warm oranges and reds of the darkening evening were blanketing Woodcreek. He hopped out, adjusted his hat, then knocked on the door, ready to take a look at whatever needed fixing. When the door finally opened, his warm blue gaze fell on that familiar head of starlight hair and sky blue eyes. “Oh. Hey. You’re Falk’s family?” he asked, his manners as atrocious as ever. “I just fixed that sink last week, so what’d you do to it?”

Great.

Julian had no problem with Marlboros. More often than not he bummed his smokes and was at the mercy of another’s poison. Julian turned the box over in his hands when it was offered to him. These were fancy and he didn’t expect them to be pulled out of the dirt covered pocket. These seemed like something one of his friends back in New York would whip out and he looked at the sandy blonde through a slightly different lens before turning his attention back to the smokes. “Thanks, cloves are nice,” he said as he plucked a single cigarette from the pack before handing them back. “I prefer menthols though,” he admitted before scribbling his signature on his receipt. 

“I’m Julian by the way,” he added not that their riveting conversation warranted them being on a first name basis. “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime. I’m from out of town and this has been the only place recommended to me,” he said. Not that it was much of a recommendation and more so the only place open not slinging a combo meal at this hour. It did draw the likes of him and he wasn’t downright awful. 

Tyler grabbed the pack and shoved it back into his back pocket, giving Julian a shrug when he said he liked menthols. He didn’t mind those, either, but at the end of the day, he wasn’t a habitual smoker. Only occasionally.

Julian introduced himself, and Tyler didn’t say anything right away until the other mentioned this bar being the only recommendation he’d had. “Well now I just recommended Lyla’s,” he said, sliding off his bar stool once the commercial break hit. He began to walk away, leaving Julian so he could go take a leak, but stopped after a few steps, glancing back for a moment. “Tyler.” He continued on, disappearing behind a wall full of old photographs. Quietly, Tyler hoped Julian would be gone by the time he came back so he could finish watching his game in peace.