There's this song that kills people if you sing it to them.

It's ridiculous magic fairytale-land lies, but I briefly wonder what would happen if I said it to Tyler.

It's called a culling song, I say, and it killed nine people.

"Cool," Tyler says.

Tonight we're sprawled out in the back of a VW van, the back of my head against his stomach, his breathing slow and even. A pizza box is dying in the front seat.

Hey, Tyler, I say. Tyler, if you could kill people with that song, who would you kill?

"Your boss," Tyler says, laughing. I say I hope he's joking.

"I'd want you to say it to me." Tyler says.

Oh, Tyler, why would you say that? That's not funny, I wouldn't kill you.

"You would. We always kill our fathers and marry our mothers." Tyler says.

Tyler, this isn't Greek tragedy. This is Delaware.

He laughs. "This is revolution! This is mayhem! Anarchy, mischief, nuclear Armageddon!"

Tyler says, Tyler says, Tyler says.

I wouldn't read you the culling song, Tyler. I like you.

Tyler says "Really?" and looks down at me, trying to make eye contact. I tilt my head back to connect to his gaze.

Yes, I like you. You're my best friend.

Tyler says "Thanks" and leans back again.

Hey Tyler, I say, what's my name?

Tyler says "Whoa, hey, I don't even know."

I wasn't expecting you to know, Tyler. I never told you.

"Are you going to tell me?" Tyler says.

I don't think I will. I smile. The hole in my cheek puckers.

I can finally keep a secret from Tyler Durden.

I'm using Tyler's stomach as my pillow. He uses his arms for his. Body heat provides blankets.

Hey, Tyler, I kind of love you.

"Cool," Tyler says.

Yeah. Cool.

Fuck. Fuck you. So you don't love me.

"I didn't say that." Tyler says.

I sit up. I want to hit him. But I remember the tears on his face after he poured lye and vinegar on my hand and made me piss myself. The great Tyler Durden can cry.

The great Tyler Durden has a heart.

"Hey," Tyler says, "get back down here, it's cold."

He makes me laugh. I lie down.

He grins crookedly and pats my good cheek. "Good boy," Tyler says. Good boy indeed.

We're partners, I say, right Tyler? You're not above me, I'm not above you?

Tyler says "Yeah," and lights a cigarette. I watch his lips wrap around the filter.

"Can I give you a lye-kiss, Tyler? Can my lips be on your hand?"

Tyler laughs and says "Yeah, cool."

Gee thanks. I wish he'd stop laughing at me.

I steal his cigarette. Put it in my own mouth. Can't taste his spit past the smoke.

Fuck you, Tyler Durden. Stop making me laugh.

Can we go dancing, I say? He doesn't look up.

Tyler? Hey, Tyler?

Tyler's asleep. Tyler snores. I give up and curl up next to him.

Tomorrow I'm taking you dancing, Tyler.