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you-get-to-exhale-now-cyrus · 6 years

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Cyrus’ Dictionary

1 || 2

Summary: Cyrus has always been good with words; there’s a reason English is his favorite subject. But with TJ, he seems to be at a loss for words. When they get paired up for a summer assignment, Cyrus slowly starts to build a new dictionary. One that involves TJ and everything they do together. Along the way, maybe he’ll find the words to tell him how he feels.

Chapter 2: Duende

Word Count: 3191

Read on AO3

TJ woke up the next morning to the sound of Amber’s voice drifting into his room from down the hall. Given her volume and the sheer amount of giggling he heard, she was definitely talking to Andi. Those two were almost attached at the hip, and when they weren’t, they were connected by a headphone cord.

“Amber, talk to your girlfriend quieter,” TJ groaned, and the giggling immediately ceased. After a few seconds of silence, which he found quite enjoyable, angry footsteps made their way down the hall and into his room.

“You are going to pay for that,” Amber hissed, loops of her blonde hair sticking out from her bun, “you can’t just go calling her my girlfriend,” she muttered, grabbing a pillow and lightly hitting TJ with it.

“Wow, I feel wounded,” he joked, rubbing his eyes and sitting up on his bed, “are you coming to the art show today?”

Amber shrugged, taking a seat on the foot of her brother’s bed. “Maybe. I was going to talk to Andi about going, and then you interrupted me,”

TJ gave her a playful nudge with his foot. “Then what are you doing talking to me? Go talk to her! Text her! Whatever you have to do,” he insisted, shooing her out of his room. She tried to protest, but he pushed her out of his room, and closed the door with a final thud. He threw on a robe that was hanging off the edge of his bed, and grabbed his phone before making his way downstairs.

[Me: we’re still on for the art show right?]

He lingered a moment on his phone, seeing if he was going to get a response, but ultimately decided to just let it be. Slipping it into his pocket, he wandered into the kitchen to fix himself a bowl of cereal.

“Morning honey,” his mom greeted, walking down the stairs in a button down shirt and slacks, “I have a meeting today with the neighborhood leaders, so I won’t be back till late. Leftovers are in the fridge,” she said quickly, pecking him on the head and grabbing a granola bar, “oh, tell Amber I love her,” she added, before slipping on her flats and heading out the door.

“Amber! Mom says she hates you!” he yelled up the stairs, chuckling to himself as he grabbed a spoon and plopped himself in front of the TV. His phone buzzed a few times, prompting him to immediately put down his bowl and check his text messages.

[Underdog <3: duh dkdjdjsd of course we are]

[Underdog <3: meet u at noon]

[Underdog <3: and don’t point out jonah’s smittenness this time sksjdfh]

TJ smiled, rereading those three texts a few more times before he was snapped out of his thoughts by a certain blonde.

“TJ!” Amber repeated, “I asked if you could give me and Andi a ride to the art show. She’ll come here first,”

“Oh, uh, yeah, I can, I can do that,” he fumbled, quickly turning his phone off and putting it in the pocket of his robe. He tried to go back to eating his cereal, but Amber kept her gaze firmly on him, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Who’s texting you?” she smirked, taking a seat by him and reaching for his pocket, but TJ swatted her way.

“Nobody,” he grumbled, setting his bowl down and standing up, “just go get ready for the art show.” He started up the stairs, hoping Amber didn’t notice how loudly his heart was beating or how fast the blood rushed to his cheeks. He stopped once he reached his room, taking a breath in to try and calm his nerves. Checking his phone once more, he decided to send a quick text to Cyrus; TJ was the kind of person who hated not being the last one to send a text.

[Me: no promises. see you there ;)]

And before he had enough time to read and reread his text, he hit send. Was the winky face too flirty? Did it sound like he was going to do something that he shouldn’t? What was Cyrus thinking about it? What if he didn’t read his texts? What if-

“TJ!” Amber knocked on his door, “what’s taking so long? We’re going to be late!” she crooned, harshly tapping her foot.

Forgetting about the texts, TJ smirked, throwing his robe on the bed, and grabbing a red t-shirt and khakis. “Are you so worried that your girlfriend is going to freak out that you’re not there holding her hand?” he teased, chuckling when he heard her exhale loudly through her nose.

“I swear that if you call her my girlfriend one more fucking time, I will break down this door,” she threatened, the volume of her foot tapping increasing.

TJ swung open the door and leaned against the wall. “It’s a good thing I’m ready then, huh,” he joked, grabbing his phone from off of his nightstand and heading downstairs. As he went to go grab his keys, the doorbell rang.

“I’ve got it!” Amber yelled, half-running half-skipping to answer the door while slipping on her socks. One breath later, she opened the door to reveal Andi, who sported a flowery crop top and high-waisted yellow shorts. Her hair was pushed back by a black headband, and each of her fingers were adorned by rings. She kept her journal in between her arm and her torso, the spine adorned with sequins.

“Wow,” Amber muttered under her breath, before clearing her throat, “I-I mean, I, uh, I really like your outfit,”

“Thanks,” Andi replied, seemingly unfazed, “I like yours too,” she added, stepping inside and peering at the photos by the door. There were a few of Amber and TJ’s parents at their wedding, but the one that Andi liked the most was one of Amber and TJ when they were young and, evidently, covered in cake.

“You’re so cute in this one!” Andi gushed, and before Amber even had time to try and hide her blush, TJ shuffled towards the door, keys, phone, and journal in hand.

“Sorry it took so long, I got. . .distracted,” he mumbled, slipping on his pair of sneakers and trying to avoid Amber’s inevitable gaze, “ready to go?”

The trio headed out towards TJ’s car; a gently used truck, with a basketball sticker near the license plate. Amber and Andi sat in the back while TJ drove, and he couldn’t help but wink at Amber while Andi was adjusting her seatbelt. He turned on the radio as he backed out of the driveway, the gentle hum of Owl City filling the car.

“You like this?” Andi asked, giving a look of confusion.

“TJ’s a sap for nostalgic tunes,” she supplied, tossing her hair over the headrest, “whenever he drives, it’s a playlist filled with nothing but songs you screeched in elementary school,”

TJ scoffed, glancing up at his mirror. “Haven’t outgrown my seven-year old phase, gonna ride this one out,” he retorted playfully, turning up the radio.

The rest of the ride was mostly the same. The song would switch, Amber would tell Andi why TJ liked the song so much, and Andi would laugh so hard that it hurt. TJ couldn’t help but smile as he pulled into the parking lot of the art show. It took a little while for them to find parking (who knew Shadyside was the place to seek out local artists?), but after TJ circled around and cursed one too many times not so under his breath, they parked.

Amber and Andi quickly left, grabbing their belongings and leaving a trail of giggles behind. Shaking his head, TJ collected his things, locked the car, and went to find Cyrus, which didn’t take long. Only one high schooler would parade around an art show with their face painted like a puppy.

“Underdog,” TJ called, tearing Cyrus’ attention away from whatever photograph he was looking at, “what’s up?”

“TJ!” Cyrus cheered, saying a few words to who appeared to be the photographer before squeezing through a throng of bodies, and making his way towards TJ, “ready to explore the deep and mysterious realm of Shadyside’s art?”

TJ laughed heartily, tossing his head back. “Oh, I think I’m looking at the biggest mystery here,” he joked, studying Cyrus’ face, “who did that for you?”

“Walker did! Do you like it?” Cyrus asked, batting his lashes and sticking out his tongue.

I like so much more than the face paint, he thought, before nodding his head and pulling out his phone. “A true Underdog,” he mumbled, snapping a photo and showing the other boy.

“Boo, some of it is smudged,” Cyrus frowned, “take another one, please?”

“Nope,” TJ stated, pocketing his phone, “it looks fine. Besides, aren’t we here to see the real art?”

Cyrus put his hand over his chest, melodramatically. “How you wound me. Here I was thinking I was the real art,” he proclaimed, breaking into a fit of giggles, “c’mon, let’s go see some real art,” he added, grabbing TJ’s wrist and pulling him through a crowd of people.

Don’t blush, don’t blush, don’t blush, TJ repeated to himself, instead choosing to blame his tinted cheeks on the heat.

They met up with Walker, and coincidentally Jonah, who were both hanging out by the face painting booth. Cyrus chatted with them for a little, while TJ glanced around the booth, taking in the details. He nearly choked on his own spit when he saw a small yellow heart on Jonah’s hand, with a faint blue ‘W’ inside of it. Call it fate or blame it on the universe, but the two boys made eye contact, and TJ glanced from Jonah’s hand to his eyes. The other boy ducked his head, putting his hand behind his back and mouthing ‘you saw nothing’.

“Do you wanna go check out the sculptures?” TJ asked, tapping Cyrus lightly on the shoulder.

“Oh, yeah totally! I’ll check in with you guys later,” he said with a wave, pivoting on his heel and turning to TJ with a confident smile.

TJ rolled his eyes. “You let Walker fix your face paint?”

Cyrus looked down at his feet, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Maybe. . .look a sculpture!” he cut in, rushing past a group of people before TJ could comment anything more on his face paint.

“It’s. . .interesting,” Cyrus noted, narrowing his eyes at the sculpture in front of them, “what am I looking at exactly?”

“It’s a tree made of makeup brushes,” TJ pointed out, “and the leaves are mirrors,” he added, mesmerized by all the different textures and colors.

“You really like it, huh,” Cyrus concluded, his black and white lips curling into a smile, “I’m not a big sculpture person. I prefer photography, myself,”

“But sculptures are just so. . .amazing. They’re all multidimensional and there’s so many sides to them that every angle is different. Maybe one isn’t as good as the other, but they all have value,” TJ gushed, practically in a daze.

Cyrus blinked. “Who knew you were such a passionate person about sculptures?” he mumbled, earning TJ’s attention.

He shrugged in response, kicking at a pebble on the ground. “I’d like they think they’re a little like me. Depends on which angle you view it at, dimensions, layers, and so on,”

There’s a word for that, Cyrus thought to himself. “Huh. Never thought I’d take you for someone who’s really passionate about the arts. Sculpture, I guess,” he hummed, his lips quirking into a smile.

TJ bit his lip to try and refrain from smiling like an idiot. “I can turn that back to you. Why do you like photography so much?”

Taken aback, Cyrus’ brows nearly shot up to his hairline. “. . .How did you know that?”

TJ shrugged, wandering around a couple of the paintings. “I saw the way you looked at the photographs when I walked in,” the boy supplied. It’s the same way I look at you, he thought to himself.

Seemingly content with his answer, Cyrus walked beside him. “I’ve never been good at ‘living in the moment’,” he explained with air quotes, “like, I’m the kind of person who will worry about what I’m going to have for breakfast when I’m seventy. Photography is kind of an escape from that. It’s nothing but the moment,”

TJ nodded, squinting to see a figure in the distance. “Is that Buffy?”

Cyrus followed his gaze, his face brightening when he saw his curly-haired friend, and someone else by her side, who could only be Marty. “Let’s go say hi!” he insisted, grabbing TJ’s wrist again and yelling the girl’s name over and over.

“Hey Cyrus,” she greeted warmly, pulling him into a hug, “hi TJ,” she added nodding her head in acknowledgement.

“Driscoll. Mr. The Party,” TJ greeted, giving Marty a fistbump, “where were you guys yesterday?”

“Basketball tournament,” they replied in unison, before Buffy took over, “I made a girls summer basketball team, and yesterday was the first day. You’re looking at the newest point guard,” she stated confidently.

A few cheers and clapping ensued, Cyrus being the loudest of them all. “And I’m assuming Marty was there for support?” he added, wiggling his brows.

“Actually I was there as her supportive boyfriend,” he chuckled, interlacing Buffy’s hand with his. TJ and Cyrus looked like they’d just seen a car accident. “We’re gonna go check out some art,”

“Text me later,” Cyrus deadpanned, his attention all on Buffy. The couple walked away, and Cyrus lingered a moment longer on them, “I can’t believe she didn’t tell me about her and Marty. I mean, I always suspected something, but,” Cyrus shook his head, unable to form proper sentences.

“They look happy,” TJ noted, the two absentmindedly making their way to the entrance. After a beat, he spoke again. “That was really fun,”

Cyrus nodded in agreement. “This is going to be one hell of a journal entry,” he commented, pulling his out of his pocket, along with a pen, “I’m gonna sit on that bench and write my entry, before I forget what happened. Do you wanna join me?”

And as badly as TJ wanted to do that, he knew he’d have a heart attack trying to write about Cyrus and what he did with him. He’d definitely make it sound a lot more than a date than it actually was. Plus, he had to take Amber home right about now.

“Wish I could, but I think I have to take Amber home. Next time?” he offered, to which Cyrus smiled in response, “I’ll text you later if I have any ideas about what we should do next,”

“Okay,” he responded, his gaze switching to his sneakers, “I had a lot of fun today, too,” he added, saying goodbye to TJ with a quick wave. He turned and walked over to the bench, sat down, and started scribbling in his journal.

TJ started walking towards his car, pulling out his phone to send Amber a quick text.

[Me: do you need a ride home?]

The response was almost immediate, a text along with a photo.

[andi’s girlfriend: nah, i’ll walk. andi and i are at the spoon. be home later]

[andi’s girlfriend send a photo]

TJ beamed: Amber and Andi were splitting a smoothie and a basket of baby taters. He could barely see his sister’s journal in the corner of the photo. Quickly, he saved it to his camera roll, and headed to his car. Leaning back against the leather, he recounted the events of the day. Cyrus’ texts. His adorable face paint. Cyrus grabbing his wrist. Cyrus grabbing his wrist. That was all he could think about. Not wanting to forget what happened, he pulled out his journal and fished for a pen, which was hidden at the bottom of his cup holder.

6/2

Today I went to an art fair with Cyrus. We saw a sculpture of a tree made of makeup brushes and mirrors. I thought it was really beautifully made. Cyrus really liked the photography. His eyes lit up when he talked about why photography was important to him. We ran into Walker and Jonah, who helped touch up Cyrus’ face paint. Oh, yeah. Cyrus had his face painted like an adorable puppy. We also saw Buffy and Marty at the art show. It was a really fun day.

There was still some room left at the bottom of the page, to TJ decided that he was going to print out the picture of Cyrus that he’d snapped earlier and paste it there. Satisfied with his work, he turned his car on and started driving home. He passed the bench that Cyrus was on, slowing down for a brief second and smiling before he continued to drive.

I wonder what Cyrus is writing, he thought to himself all the way home. And even when he unlocked the door to his house and flopped on the couch to watch TV, he still found himself wondering the same thing.

Cyrus tapped his chin with his pen. Think, think, think, he instructed himself. There was a word that perfectly described how TJ felt about art, that sculpture in particular. He was fairly certain that it started with a ‘D’, but he couldn’t place it. Sighing in frustration, he pulled his phone out so look it up.

art moving a person deeply

Cyrus smacked his forehead, grunting in frustration. He knew that word; he’s used it in an essay before. Flipping to the back of his journal, he copied down the words on his screen.

duende: the mysterious power of art to deeply move a person

He closed his journal with a content snap, and put it under his arm. He hadn’t expected to write so much about the day, since not too much happened, but since he apparently couldn’t find the words to describe his adventures with TJ when he was around him, the words seemed to have come to him all of a sudden. TJ had that effect on him. Funny.

Pocketing his phone and journal, he started to walk home, passing by a small table full of flyers and business cards from all the local artists. He picked up a flyer and beamed, quickly pulling out his phone and snapping a picture.

[Me: tj i found our next activity!!]

[you sent a photo]

And TJ replied barely a few seconds later.

[Teej: staring at the stars? sure let’s just exhaust the movie cliches]

[Teej: kidding ofc that sounds dope. tmrw @ 7 be there or be square]

Cyrus broke out into a grin, folding the flyer and putting it in his pocket, heading home. It’d been a pretty good day. He got to hang out with his friends, get his face painting (which at this point was starting to smudge quite a lot), check out some cool art, and tomorrow he was going to gaze at the stars with TJ. It all felt like a movie; one where he was finally going to be a main character.

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