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Tyler hadn’t left his bunk since the last show ended. His phone was forgotten in another room, probably long dead by now, and he didn’t care enough to plug it in or look at it. The screen was too bright, and even the thought of talking to anybody made him want to crawl into a corner and disappear.
Days like this happened sometimes. Truly, more than he would like to admit. At this rate, it was a couple times a week and it only got worse. He felt like he hit a new low every single time and his head pounded more with the weight of it all.
More than anything, he didn’t want to be a disappointment. He mentally cursed himself every time he got like this because he knew it would affect the show, and the show had to be perfect. Sunken eyes weren’t perfect. Racing, scary thoughts weren’t perfect. Taking an entire year away from any and all contact with the world wasn’t perfect.
Squeezing his eyes shut and willing the onslaught of thoughts to shut up already , Tyler drew the thin covers closer to his chest and curled in on himself more. He felt fucking pathetic.
It wasn’t always like this, of course. It always came and went in waves. Usually, when he saw the smiling, wide eyes of the kids around him in the pit, things started to make sense. He knew it was worth it when he saw their faces. There was this sense of community, this feeling that everything might actually end up turning out alright. A precious two hours of safety.
He wished his memory would retain all of those wonderful moments in times like these. God knows he needed them to stay.
Tunnel vision would eventually be the death of him, he swore it, because the cheers swirled around his mind and distorted until they were screams of anger, silent but so terribly loud, and he was fisting his hands in his hair and pulling. It felt like drowning, and no matter how many years he had to deal with it, the wound stung like it was the first time all over again.
He had a show that night.
He had a show that night, and he was too busy sinking through his thin mattress to do anything.
He wished he wasn’t so damn dramatic.
Tyler snapped out of the spiraling thoughts for a merciful moment as he heard the doors to the bus open, and the bliss of not thinking only lasted a moment before he was dreading the presence of another person. He didn’t want to think about other people right now. He didn’t want to think of thousands of disappointed faces.
He curled in on himself more, pretending to be asleep as the footsteps got closer to him.
They stopped right outside Tyler’s bunk, and suddenly there was too much light . He couldn’t stop himself from curling even further away from it, grumbling under his breath.
A soft voice broke the silence. “Tyler?”
Tyler didn’t respond.
Now, a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, Tyler, you okay?”
The light, the touch, the voice, all of it, was too much for him to take in at once. Before he knew it, his arm was flying up and shoving the hand away, and he was drawing the blanket up and over his eyes.
The other voice hesitated for a moment, but didn’t leave him be. Tyler fought off the urge to let a curse escape from under his breath.
He tried to steady his breathing as the person-- Josh-- stayed by his side, not moving. Tyler could hear him breathing softly, but there wasn’t much else for the next minute. He could almost feel his friend thinking.
But eventually, Josh did stand up, and a pang of something hit Tyler as the footsteps became more distant. He wanted to be alone, and Josh was granting him his wish. So, why did it hurt? Why did he simultaneously want him so close only to shut him out every time he attempted to achieve this closeness?
He tried not to cry until he heard a soft click, and darkness washed over him. Josh had turned off the lights, and the footsteps were growing closer to him yet again.
Josh’s next words were whispered. “Tyler, tell me what’s wrong. Please.”
He didn’t answer. Wanted to, just could not.
The darkness comforted him, and Josh’s presence was starting to comfort him as well. If it was anyone else, he would have snapped at them by now-- told them to leave him the hell alone, but something was different about Josh. Something was always different about Josh, but he didn’t have the energy to dissect it. Especially not now.
So Tyler focused on his breathing, and Josh’s breathing, trying to match his pace. He uncurled himself from the ball he had turned himself into, and eventually flipped himself over so he was facing Josh.
“Hey,” Josh breathed. He reached a hand out towards Tyler, but thought better of it, drawing it back. “I’m here.”
Tyler nodded, snaking a hand out from under the blanket to grab his wrist and bring it back. Josh exhaled shakily, bringing his palm lower so it aligned with Tyler’s. He gave his hand a small squeeze.
They sat like that for a while, Josh’s thumb tracing small, gentle circles onto the back of Tyler’s hand. Tyler’s breath wasn’t even yet, but it was getting there. He was getting used to the touch, Josh’s presence, all of it.
“Sorry, Josh. I’m sorry.” He managed to get the words out somehow. Josh held his hand tighter.
“Shh. You’re okay.” He smiled sadly.
Tyler breathed. Josh moved his other hand so it rested on Tyler’s forehead, stroking through his buzzed hair, and Tyler closed his eyes.
“Is this okay?” Josh asked.
“Yeah.”
They stayed like that for a long time, neither pushing the other to move, or to say anything. It was a halt to his storm. And he knew it was still going to rage on, whether Josh was there for the worst of it or not, but he let himself have this.
At one point, ten or a hundred minutes later, Tyler shifted further away, back to the wall on the inside of his bunk. His hand came to rest beside him; a silent question.
“You want me to…?”
“If it’s okay with you,” Tyler nodded, eyes cast downwards. He didn’t let himself look Josh in the eye. Maybe he was bashful. Maybe he was afraid of rejection.
Josh hesitated for a moment before he was climbing into Tyler’s bunk, having to squeeze close to his friend in order for them both to fit. His face was only a couple inches from Tyler’s, and he worried that the other man would become claustrophobic. He knew what it felt like when everything was too much. He didn’t want to be too much.
“Is this too…” Josh trailed off.
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Mhm.” Tyler made himself clear by throwing his arm around Josh’s middle, drawing him in even closer.
Josh mirrored him, bringing his arm up to the back of Tyler’s neck and scratching lightly. Tyler exhaled and bowed his forehead so it rested on Josh's chest, and they simply held each other.
This happened sometimes. Josh never asked questions, because he already knew. And Tyler never asked for help, because he didn’t want to be a burden. No matter how many times Josh told him otherwise, he always isolated, far away, subliminally trying to convince everyone that he wasn’t worth it and that they should stop trying.
Josh wasn’t gonna stop trying unless hell froze over.
He ran a soothing hand down Tyler’s back and up again, repeating the motion. There was commotion outside. People were looking for them, probably. Neither of them cared. Josh closed the curtains and sheltered the both of them from the rest of the world. Tyler drew him nearer.
Tyler didn’t realize he was crying until he felt a calloused finger gently move under his eye, brushing the tears away. He tried to stop, but it was all too much.
“Sorry,” he choked out as he fell underwater.
Josh held him tighter. “Don’t be sorry.”
He let out a sob. Tried to stop it, but then let out another. He hated it. He hated that Josh had to see him like this. Weak, afraid, and so unlike the Tyler he wanted to be. Anyone in their right mind would leave. Why hadn’t he? Tyler gripped onto the back of his shirt.
Josh didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to say anything. He just held him there, pressing a kiss to his temple. He was there. He was a constant. His warm arms, his soft lips, his steady breathing-- all constants.
Tyler eventually calmed down enough where he was no longer sobbing into Josh’s shirt. That was enough.
Josh didn’t let go of him. That was enough.
It was enough.
Josh gently tilted Tyler’s chin up with his thumb and index finger. “We’ve got a show in a few hours. Are you up for it?”
In another universe, he wouldn’t have even left the bunk. In this universe, he was standing in the tour bus bathroom, lights dim, and Josh by his side. He thought of faces. People leaving pieces of themselves in a room for Tyler to pick up. Crying. Laughter. Cheers. Signs.
And this time, the voices didn’t turn into screams of agony within his own mind. They stayed with him.
He looked up, making eye contact with his best friend. “Yeah. We can do it.”
And when it was all over, and the two of them were backstage, and the adrenaline was wearing off, Tyler realized he hadn’t failed at all. Josh beamed at him. So did everyone else. It sounded cheesy when he thought about it, but maybe he didn’t need to be alone.
Tyler reached for his phone, which he’d connected to the charging deck a few minutes before the show. Opened Twitter. Typed out two words, then turned it off and set it face down on the table.
Sahlo Folina .