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The first time they met was by complete accident. Josh had been driving along a back road, one where cops never camped and there weren’t any streetlamps. His music was so loud he could practically taste it in the way that the bass vibrated in every bone and buzzed in his blood. He was going over double the speed limit, but he wasn’t really paying attention to the speedometer. There wasn’t anyone out here anyways, just deer and the moon. Well, until there was.
Tyler liked to take walks to clear his mind. It was a normal enough pastime, one that many would agree was healthy. They didn’t know that these walks took place late into the night, on a road that had no lights, with no sidewalk for him to safely traverse. He walked on the right side of the road and tried to pretend that there wasn’t a reason he did. No one ever drove on the road anyways. Until someone did.
Josh only realized there was someone on the road with just enough time to slam on the brakes and turn the vehicle sideways, tires screeching as they surely left marks on the road, the smell of burning rubber assaulting his nose. Frenzied, he jumped out of the car, rushing to the person he barely avoided hitting. “I am so sorry, are you okay?”
With the little light he had from his headlights and the moon, he managed to make out a man around his age, close to his height, and with a startled, yet almost… disappointed expression. What drew him in the most, though, was his eyes, honeyed and wise, big doe eyes that held the weight of the world.
Tyler had to take a moment to collect himself. It wasn’t his first near death experience, but hopefully it would be his last (hopefully the next one wouldn’t be near death, but rather just death). It took him by surprise every time how much his heart always jackrabbited in moments like these, where adrenaline and the sharp tongue of fear coursed through him. Fear of what? Pain, perhaps, or failure. “Yeah, I’m fine. You just barely missed.”
He took in what he could of the driver: average height, curly hair, gauges in his ears. The kind of guy he’d see on campus and wish he could be friends with. He almost felt bad about being disappointed the guy missed; he’d have such a hard time getting his life back on track if he would’ve killed Tyler, even if Tyler had wanted it.
Josh’s knees buckled, relieved. He never wanted to hurt anyone, driving with his music was just the only way he could get the constant drone of “what ifs” to stop. The man held out his hand. “You’re freaking out, dude. Come on, we can sit on the side of the road while you calm down.”
Josh glanced back to his car, still running and over the line into the opposite lane. “My car,” he burst out. “It’s in the way.”
Tyler sighed. He didn’t know why this guy was so worried over the car when he had just almost committed manslaughter, but there was no way he was going to let him get behind the wheel when he was shaking like a stray dog. “Lemme move it. Where do you want it?”
He bit his lip, unsure, unable to make a decision. “I don’t… I don’t know.”
Tyler didn’t know what the dude’s deal was, but he figured if he just almost killed someone (besides himself), he’d be pretty shaken up too. “Wanna go get some Taco Bell?”
The nearest Taco Bell closed 15 minutes after they got there. After getting their last minute, probably spit in tacos, they parked and climbed on top of the car, feet dangling off the sides. At first, there was just silence with the occasional crunch. Then, “So, what were you doing out there?” Tyler cringed at the question.
Swallowing down the bite, he answered, “Just taking a walk. What about you? Driving so fast at this time of night.”
Josh felt his face flush. “It’s the only time my head feels clear,” he admitted. “Just music and going fast enough that my thoughts can’t keep up.”
Tyler felt oddly seen by the confession. “That’s how I feel when I walk. It’s like the noise just stops and my brain can breathe.” He laid down, legs hanging over the trunk. “The night, the quiet,” he paused before adding, “the danger of it all.”
Josh’s jaw dropped; this guy got it. Well, most of it. Josh much preferred blasting music over the silence. Silence left too much space in his head for his mind to start spiraling until he was on the verge of yet another panic attack. “I have anxiety,” he confessed, laying down the opposite way with his feet resting atop his windshield, head next to the stranger’s. “The music is the only thing that calms me, the driving is the only thing that keeps the music going. Sometimes the adrenaline helps remind me that I am alive and keeps me in the moment and not the future.”
Tyler chuckles. “I don’t have a future.” He sighed, staring up at the stars. “One day, I’m going to kill myself. It’s fate, I think, for me to take my own life. So I like to dream about what the future would hold for me if I made it.” The man next to him stilled. Tyler turned his head to see mocha eyes staring wide. “Sometimes, I wish that God would save me, or kill me himself so I don’t have to be Judged and sent to Hell. But, I’m unsaveable. It’s just in my nature.”
For a moment, he was scared he had overshared, unsure how or why he’d even spilled all of it to the stranger who’d almost killed him, almost granted him his wish. He had seen the light coming, illuminating the road before him. He had thought that maybe God was finally answering his prayers, but perhaps his God had a particularly twisted sense of humor and it was some sick joke, death narrowly avoiding him.
Then the stranger spoke, voice low, a murmur of admission. “I’m unlovable.” That surprised Tyler. Surely it wasn’t true. “I’m too clingy, too scared of being disliked. I need constant reassurance that things are okay, that I’m okay. If I don’t have that, I feel like a caged animal, and even if I do have it, I’m always prepared for the other shoe to drop.”
Tyler chuckled, startling the both of them. “Guess we’re just two fucked up guys, sitting in a Taco Bell parking lot, reveling in being kindred spirits, huh?”
“Guess so.” Josh reached his hand out to the poetic man. “I’m Josh.”
Tyler took his hand and shook it. “Tyler.”
Since meeting, Josh and Tyler had found themselves constantly in each other's orbit. They’d often hang out, grab food, and just revel in being in the presence of someone who understood. Who knew what it meant to be forever incapable of something so human. They often talked--really they never shut up--about life, their struggles, faith, even about nothing at all. They had almost the exact same music taste and similar dreams.
And while Josh wasn’t delusional, it felt like the closest he would ever get to being loved.
They were sitting on the couch at Josh’s cramped apartment, laughing their asses off while playing Mario Kart, music softly playing from Josh’s crappy old CD player. Tyler was in first place, Josh in second, when a blue shell hit Tyler, causing him to groan and slump dramatically as he fell behind and Josh secured the win.
“Dude, that’s so unfair,” he whined, pursing his bottom lip into a pout. Josh laughed and lightly shoved him, taunting him playfully. “Shut up,” he groaned, drawing out the last syllables. “Another cup?”
Josh thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Nah, I think I’m done for now. Starting to get hungry. Wanna grab some Chipotle?” And who was Tyler to deny the allure of sweet, greasy, almost definitely not authentic Mexican food? So off to the nearest Chipotle they went, music flowing out of the car speakers like always. This time, Tyler couldn’t help but sing along. When the song ended, he was startled by an affronted, “Dude!”
He was confused by the reaction, usually people didn’t dislike his singing that much. It couldn’t have been the song, they were listening to one of Josh’s CDs. He frowned. “What?”
Josh glanced over, not sure why the atmosphere had soured slightly. “You never told me you could sing!” He didn’t even try to fight the smile threatening to overtake his face. “That was, like, really good. You could get famous with that voice.” Tyler scoffed. “No, I’m serious! I can picture hearing you on the radio already.”
Tyler fought the urge to shake his head. “Thanks, but that would never happen. I’m a little too fucked up to be famous. I only know how to sing because of my church choir.” He paused before admitting with great agony, “I joined because I thought it could fix me. Thought if I could cleanse myself, maybe I’d learn how to be pure and holy. Didn’t work, unfortunately.”
Josh wanted to say something, to argue, but he held himself back. “Well, clearly you got something out of it. If you ever decide to go pro, let me know, I’ll be your first CD sale.”
Tyler bit his lip, contemplating. Hesitantly, he confessed, “I wrote a few songs, recorded them on my shitty laptop. I can send them to you?”
“That would be great!” Josh was grinning, wholeheartedly excited to listen to Tyler’s music. He had a gut feeling that he’d love it, he knew Tyler’s taste in music. “Now, what do you want to eat?”
Later, Tyler sent over the few songs he’d recorded over email and very calmly (aka anxiously) awaited a response. He paced around his room for what seemed like hours, just steps away from wearing a hole in the floorboards. Finally, he sat at his desk and decided to work on schoolwork, analyzing a play for class--All My Sons, about a planemaker who shipped faulty parts. He had to be done with act 1 by the following morning when they’d have a quiz in class.
He was too enamored with the play to realize that he’d received an email back from Josh until he had finished his analysis and saw the little number indicating an unread email on the tab. Heart racing, he clicked on it and saw Josh’s name in his inbox. Hands shaking, he clicked on the message and immediately saw an apology. Shit. He must’ve hated it. This is why he shouldn’t have even offered.
With a pit growing in his stomach, he continued to read.
Sorry, I couldn’t help myself, had to add some drums. It sounds great, though. You’re truly talented, Tyler. I’d love to listen to more if you ever recorded more.
-Josh
Josh… liked it? And added drums? He scrolled further and found a file attached. For all he knew, it could be some virus that would destroy his laptop. But considering it was an mp4, he figured it was probably fine. Also it was Josh, who cried when he saw the ASPCA commercials. It was probably safe. So he downloaded and clicked play.
Oh. That was really good. Josh was really good. And he felt the urge to add his talent to Tyler’s depressed screaming and overall angst. That made something in Tyler’s chest hitch. He didn’t know if it was good or not, but he felt the vague pricking of tears at his eyes, though they quickly faded.
He’d dialled Josh’s number without thinking, only realizing when he heard the dial tone. He panicked for a moment, but quickly decided that he wanted to talk to Josh. Wanted to talk music and drums and partially dance around Josh’s decision to add to his songs. But the phone continued to ring, and Tyler feared for a moment that Josh wouldn’t answer.
Then, “Hello?” Briefly, Tyler forgot how to breathe. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt nervous, as if something had shifted between them. “Tyler?”
Right. He should respond. Voice stricken, he choked out, “You added drums to my music.” Josh inhaled sharply over the line.
“Yeah, I know I should’ve asked for permission first, I’m sorry.”
Tyler didn’t like how Josh kept apologizing. Not for something as sweet as wanting to connect through music and playing instruments. “No, don’t be sorry. I like it a lot. I just don’t get why.”
There was a moment of silence before, “You inspired me.” And wasn’t that the devastating truth? So honest and vulnerable, an admittance that Tyler knew didn’t come easily to the man on the other end of the line.
“I didn’t even know you played the drums.” It was a lame response, Tyler knew that. But it was all he could think to say, because it was true. He didn’t know that Josh played the drums and he was glad to know now, because he wanted to know everything about Josh. And that thought scared him.
Josh chuckled. “Yeah, I started a couple years ago. It helps a lot with my anxiety. The adrenaline, the knowledge that I control the sounds coming from the set… It's comforting.” Neither spoke for a moment before Josh added, “I started playing when my anxiety was at its worst. I was always tapping my fingers on stuff to try and calm my mind and body down. It was my favorite teacher who advised me to try drumming. I begged my parents to get lessons and when they finally did, I think they finally felt relieved that I could be somewhat normal again.”
Tyler wasn’t sure if he liked the implications of that, as if Josh’s parents’ love was conditional on him being seen as “normal” but chose not to comment on it, it wasn’t his place. Instead, he remarked, “I’m glad that teacher said something. Now I have someone to jam out with.”
“Yeah,” Josh replied, palpable relief mixed with a vague tenderness in his voice. “I am too.”
The drum debacle had ended up causing them to get much closer, a new layer to their shared love of music. They were often over at each other’s houses, playing together, just letting the music speak for them. Whole conversations were had just with drum beats and piano keys alone and that was freeing. It wasn’t that there was a lack of anxiety or depression when they played, but it was much easier to express how they felt through melodies than words.
But music could only express so much.
Josh was pretty good at reading people, he’d picked it up with his anxiety, always frantically searching for signs of dislike towards him. It wasn’t what he’d been seeing with Tyler. But he was seeing something, a withdrawal, a deep sadness, one much worse than he’d ever seen before. He wasn’t sure how to approach it, if he should say something or just ignore it and keep acting how he had been. He ended up going with the latter, too scared to overstep an invisible boundary.
He later regretted that choice.
It wasn’t even a week after he first noticed the shift in Tyler that he got the call. It had been a relatively normal night, he was eating popcorn and watching some shitty comedy movie that he couldn’t find the motivation to turn off. He was halfway through the bowl when his phone began to ring. Tyler. He answered, “Hey, what’s up?” sure he was going to hear some dramatic story about college or be asked to go grab food. Instead, he heard sobbing. The moment it registered, he scrambled to pause the movie, popcorn spilling on his sheets. He didn’t care. “Tyler? What’s wrong? Do I need to come over?”
What could’ve happened? Was he in danger? Was this related to school? To his family? Did something bad happen to his parents or siblings? What-- His thoughts were cut off by “I’m sorry.” What? “I-- I tried so hard, but I couldn’t stop it.” The words came out in between hiccups and something about the way he said them made Josh’s blood run cold.
“Tyler,” he began, voice low, but not unkind. “What happened?”
A shaky exhale came through the speaker, then, “I--shit… I relapsed.” He paused, before adding, once more, “I’m sorry.”
All of the air left Josh’s lungs at the admission. He had seen the scars on his lower stomach once, when Tyler had to change because he spilled sauce all over his shirt. He had thought, naively, that it had stopped. And it seemed it had for a bit. But not forever.
“I’m coming over.” He hadn’t planned on saying it so resolutely, or even out loud, but for once, he didn’t overthink it, instead grabbing his keys and tossing on some shoes. “Do you need me to stay on the line?”
Tyler’s voice wobbled as he argued, “You really don’t need to…”
Josh had to stop himself from rolling his eyes, because he knew that one, Tyler couldn’t see him, and two, Tyler wasn’t in a right state of mind. Of course he was feeling vulnerable and scared to be seen like this. “Okay, well I am anyway. Do I need to stay on the line?”
Silence, then, “...No.”
“Okay, then I’ll be there in ten.” He hung up.
He got there in five, paying no mind to following any traffic law. When he knocked on the door, he was met with a red-rimmed and tired-eye Tyler in an oversized hoodie and raggedy sweats. “Hey…” he greeted, still clearly not in the best headspace. He moved back so Josh could come inside.
“Hey,” Josh returned, entering the home before Tyler could change his mind and shut the door in his face. “Roommates?”
Tyler shook his head. “Out at a party.” Josh nodded, before placing a hand on his shoulder and starting to nudge him away from the door. “What’re you doing?”
“Getting you to the bathroom,” he explained, trying to keep his panic under wraps and remain gentle. “I need to make sure your wounds are properly cleaned.”
Tyler protested but made no move to stop him. “It’s not my first time doing this, I know how to clean them.” He cringed as soon as he said it, realizing how it sounded. “Sorry, I know it’s not pleasant to hear about this.”
Josh pushed the bathroom door open and urged Tyler to sit down. “I don’t care how ‘pleasant’ it is. If it’s something you need or want to talk about, I will always listen.” Staring at the man on the closed toilet, he added, “Now, take off your shirt.”
Tyler spluttered for a second at the words, clearly thinking of something much dirtier. But he complied, gingerly shedding the hoodie and revealing poorly bandaged wounds on his lower stomach, cuts almost disappearing under the waistband. Sheepishly, he admitted, “Usually I clean them much better in the morning.”
Josh didn’t admonish him or belittle him, he just nodded, taking it in stride. “Where do you keep your first aid stuff?” Tyler directed him on navigating their drawers and Josh pulled out a kit with a silent, minute fist pump of triumph. “Okay, which ones are the worst, we’ll start there.”
With shaky hands, he pointed out the deepest cuts and watched with fascination and awe as Josh began to methodically, yet gently clean his broken, bloodied skin. He was efficient, yet somehow knew how to make it hurt as little as possible, and took great care in making sure Tyler was okay throughout the entire process. “You’re really good at this.”
Josh hummed. “I used to tear my fingers up when I was learning to drum. Still do, sometimes, if I go too hard. My callouses mostly protect me though.” He grabbed hydrogen peroxide to disinfect the wounds. “Sorry, this is gonna sting.”
Tyler sucked in a breath as the rag touched the damaged skin, gritting his teeth. Then, he let out a humorless chuckle. “Guess I deserve that.”
Josh paused in his ministrations. “What do you mean?”
“I fucked up, gave in, relapsed. I’m sure you’re mad about it, having to spend your Saturday night here, taking care of me because I did something stupid.”
Josh pulled his hand away completely from Tyler’s body, finally looking up at him and making eye contact from where he was kneeling, brow furrowed. “Tyler, I’m not mad at you. You relapsed, and that sucks, but I’m not mad at you for it.” A hand was placed on his knee, thumb mindlessly running just about the cap. “I wish I could’ve prevented it, because I hate to know that you’re hurt. But I know that you’re depressed and you’ve done this before. I’m not going to say it’s okay, because I don’t want you to think I condone this, but I always knew in the back of my mind it was a possibility.”
Tyler didn’t know how to respond. He opened his mouth, then closed it a few times, before finally choking out, “But what if I never get better?” The “because I won’t” went unsaid.
“Then I’ll be here to patch you up.” Tyler wanted to argue, but was startled when a rag, this one wet with water, began to wipe at the bloodied mess again. Josh’s voice was quiet, but resolute as he continued, “I know you think that you’re unsaveable and that your fate will always be suicide, but I don’t think that’s true. I’m going to prove it by staying by your side till we die of old age. Okay?”
Tyler swallowed thickly. “Okay.”
Tyler hadn’t relapsed since that night. He’d come close, sure, on multiple occasions at that. But he hadn’t gone through with it, despite knowing that if he did, Josh would be there in a heartbeat to help him. Maybe it was because he knew that Josh would be there that he didn’t, the knowledge that he wasn’t alone, that there was someone who cared enough about him to be there even at his most rotten moments stopping him from carving into his flesh.
By now, Tyler had come to terms with the fact that he was probably a little in love with Josh. He had been for a while, he suspected, likely long before the relapse. He had no plans on confessing, of course, Josh was straight and Tyler was respecting that fact. He had decided on just enjoying his crush while also maintaining the closest friend he’d had in years.
Once again, they were hanging out, listening to music in Josh’s room as they chatted, this time about some local concert coming up. Josh had also been complaining of a sore shoulder, figuring he’d slept on it wrong, but grimacing every time he rolled it in an effort to work whatever muscle was troubling him into compliance. It was one such shoulder roll that had him bumping his elbow into his glass of water, sending it careening to the floor and shattering.
Tyler was about to make some joke about it, the stupid comment already bubbling up to his lips, but he was stopped by the sight of Josh. His eyes were wide, pupils dilated, and his entire body stiff as he stared at the broken cup. “Josh?”
There was no response as his chest began to move more rapidly, shallow breaths being sucked in and shoved out much too quickly for him to have been getting enough oxygen. In second, he’d gone from excited to hyperventilating, hands coming up to grip at his chest. Some exhales came out as wheezes as he began to mutter, “I’m gonna die, help me, I can’t breathe.”
It only took a moment for Tyler to realize what was happening--Josh was having a panic attack. He only recognized it because it had happened to him once, during finals week his second semester of college. He had thought he was dying. He was lucky, another student had found him clawing at his chest on the concrete outside the school building and had helped him through it. He could only just barely remember it. “Hey, copy my breathing, okay?”
He took a very dramatic breath in, counting internally to four. Then he held it for four, before exhaling for four. He repeated it, this time counting aloud. This continued over and over, Tyler scooting a little closer to Josh in between each breath. Slowly, recognition returned to Josh’s eyes as he came out of whatever thoughts had held him captive. Hand shaking, he removed it from his chest and jerkily brought it to Tyler’s knee, leaning over slightly. “Shit… Thank you.” The words sounded like they’d been punched out of him, but his breathing was becoming much steadier.
Tyler lightly placed his hand over Josh’s. “No problem, dude. You feeling better?” Josh nodded, still out of breath. “Okay, good. Is this the first time you’ve had a panic attack?” This time, he shook his head. Tyler squeezed his hand. “Okay. I don’t have too much experience here, so you’ve gotta help me out, okay? What do I need to do to help?”
Josh shook his head again, but managed to breathe out, “Water…” Tyler nodded and rushed to grab him a glass, narrowly avoiding shards of glass and bringing it back in record time. Josh chugged it in half that time, setting the glass down in the same spot the now broken glass had been in. He noticed the broken pieces on the ground and started to stiffen again, but Tyler brought up a hand, shielding his eyes from the mess.
“Don’t, it’s just going to make you feel bad. Just lay down, I’m going to clean it up.” Josh tried to protest, but Tyler wouldn’t back down. “You just had a panic attack, you need to relax and let your body rest.” Eventually, Josh gave up.
When the glass was safely disposed of and water soaked up, Tyler sat back down on the bed with a sigh, glancing at where Josh had curled up. “I’m sorry,” the man mumbled, face turned towards the wall.
Tyler’s jaw dropped, surprised at the sudden, frankly unnecessary apology. “What for?”
“For making a mess, for freaking out, for making you clean up… For being me.”
Tyler didn’t know where to even begin to unpack that, but he knew he needed to try, for Josh’s sake. He laid down next to Josh so they were face-to-face. “It was an accident, dude, one that I insisted on cleaning up. You didn’t make me do a thing.” Josh didn’t say anything, just avoided his eyes. “Hey, look at me.” Their eyes finally met. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” Josh opened his mouth to protest, but Tyler cut him off. “Don’t. Seriously, you’re fine. Panic attacks suck, but you can’t control them. I’m not going to blame you for something like that.”
Josh exhaled shakily. “It was over something so stupid though…”
“Over the glass breaking?”
He shook his head. “Not just that. It happened and then I thought about how clumsy I am and how you must be catching on to the fact that I’m not that special, that I’m really just a mess, and how you’re going to eventually leave because I’m too much, and--”
Tyler put a hand on his shoulder. “Let me stop you right there. What happened to sticking together until we’re old and grey? I can’t terrorize the retirement home by myself!” The joke got a small chuckle out of Josh and Tyler internally cheered at the mission success. “Serioursly, though, Josh. You’re the most special person I know, the only one who truly gets me. Are you clumsy sometimes? Sure, but so am I. You’ve literally seen me trip on air. You’re not a ‘mess,’ you have anxiety. And just like I can’t just magically get rid of my depression, you can’t get rid of it either. I’m not leaving you, not until you tell me to.”
Josh’s eyes welled up with tears. “I’ve been waiting for someone to say that to me my entire life.” His lower lip trembled as he let out a wet laugh, “I always figured it would be a significant other but… well, as you’ve learned by now, love isn’t in the cards for me.”
Heart pounding, Tyler let out a groan. “Fuck, this probably is like the worst time to do this since you literally just had a panic attack but… Josh, I’m in love with you.”
Tears began slipping down his face as he frowned. “Please… You can’t joke about that, Tyler.”
“I’m not joking.”
“Fuck.” That was the only warning he got before Josh smashed his lips into his own. The kiss itself was horrible, salty and desperate, uncoordinated too. But the pure bliss and relief that bled through more than made up for it. “I love you too.”
A few months later, they sat in the basement of Josh’s place, warming up like usual. After a long discussion, they had decided to start a band, just the two of them. Neither were sure yet if it would actually become something or just be a small thing they did on the side, but they were hopeful.
While discussing names one night before bed, Tyler suddenly thought of the play he’d been reading when Josh first added drums to his music and suggested the name “twenty one pilots.” Josh readily agreed after he explained the meaning. Josh also got a very heated kiss for agreeing so easily.
Back in the present, as they wrapped up warm up, Tyler piped up, “Hey, I wrote a new song, I wanna play it for you.”
Josh looked at him, amused, and smiled. “Oh yeah? What’s it about?”
Tyler returned the smile with ease. “It’s about us and how far we’ve come.” Josh smiled even wider and motioned for him to get on with it. “1, 2, 3, 4…”
You say things with your mouth,
Cobwebs and flies come out…