Work Text:
backstage is buzzing with movement and so is his eardrums as tyler somehow manages to hobble back there unscathed.
he opts to beeline straight for a dressing room, or any enclosed space, his body moving like it’s in jello. slow going and struggling with fluidity.
there’s an arm extended out in front of himself to make sure he’s not gonna full body crash into anybody running back and forth as the next band’s crew and their own start to intermingle amongst themselves.
(it’s more of a precautionary thing—tyler would rather he hurt his arm then the whole set. especially with how sore he is.)
and it works in his favor as his half opened palm hits somebody’s bicep as he continues to move forward—whatever forward is at this point.
josh’s head turning to look behind himself and feet pacing itself to a stop is what comes out of that.
“tyler?”
for josh, tyler just stand there with a blank expression. arm extended out loosely and eyes searching for nothing. his shirt is baggy on his frame, falling loosely off the shoulders.
..he looks little.
..and nonverbal, actually, wait.
tyler barely makes the required amount of eye contact before josh’s hand is on his back, guiding him to the side and away from the traffic.
and josh barely gets a word in before tyler’s hands are at josh’s back, fingers curling around the shirt’s fabric and his face making immediate contact with his chest. there’s no care if the angle he’s craning his neck at is making the aching worse.
josh quietly convinces him to move it up just a little. into the collarbones, at least.
“hey, i know.” is was he mumbles out to the long, throaty groan tyler makes to get his vocal chords to restart. the hands squeezing tighter before it all stops completely. “i know it hurts, honey.”
josh hums to soothe, the vibrations bringing pseudo-healing properties to tyler’s aching muscles as he’s readjusting the cord of tyler’s in-ears to lessen the digging feeling at the back of his neck; before bringing his hands to the side of tyler’s head. blocking out some noise and running his thumbs over the top and back and around again’s of tyler’s ears in circular motions.
(tyler’s been worrying about them ever since the chicago incident.)
josh’s voice is light and scratchy, head ducking down just so. creating that little bubble tyler craves.
“now, where were you going?”
tyler vaguely gestures outward, towards his left. palm open as he lets out a grumble into josh’s shirt. josh can’t tell if it’s frustration that he can’t read tyler’s mind.
he pieces it together anyway. there wouldn’t really be anywhere else to go until the bus gets here.
“was it the dressing room?”
the nod tyler gives is a little more enthusiastic, not exactly humming out a verbal confirmation, but not not doing that, either.
josh taps at the bottom of tyler’s chin to gently nudge his face up, bringing it around to push sweaty curls away before they stuck to the frontman’s forehead.
his eyelids are heavy drooping and his lips are in a semi-permanent pout, the edges of his eyes crinkling in a squint as josh chuckles out of endearment and leans down to kiss his head.
“you were going the wrong way, ty.”
his face scrunches at that, eyebrows furrowed as he points to where he gestured again with his thumb. he could’ve sworn it was over there
”that’s outside,” josh is patient, glancing to where tyler points anyway. “where the walkway goes up to the stage. the dressing rooms are the other way.”
“swore it’s that way.”
tyler croaks, surprised that he’s able to talk at all. he hasn’t said anything since they bowed—mouthing, maybe, but no audible words.
one of his hands unhooks itself from josh’s back to rub his palm against the column of his throat to relax it. dry paint rubbing on dry paint, flaking off in little bits and pieces.
josh just points to the neon colored laminated paper nearby them, ‘DRESSING ROOM / UMKLEIDEKABINE’ in bold. arrow pointing.. to the right. where josh was going.
tyler looks at the sign, then to josh. sign, then josh. sign. josh. squinting his eyes and pout deepening.
“smartass.”
“you love me, though.”
josh’s grin is dumb and tyler hates how it’s infectious, the corners of his mouth reluctantly peeking upwards by just a few degrees.
“do you want me to carry you?”
“i can walk.”
“..are you sure?”
tyler looks down at his legs, up to josh, then the sign. back to josh. they hurt. he can get why josh asks why.
he’s not a pussy, however. he can take it for 5 more minutes.
”yeah, i’m sure.”
tyler squints at the florescence.
the dressing room is still the same bright, yellow-green tinged space as the last one. and the one before that. and the ones back in london. and the ones back at home. with the same couch and the same table and the same crates of equipment.
the door clicks shut behind him and tyler takes a glance back to make sure it’s still josh before looking at the couch. it’s probably overly plush and the cushions are gonna bounce as he sits, but it’s better than anything else right now.
(the mattresses in the bunks have had their fair share of overuse anyway.)
he looks down at his shoes, scuffed up and seeing better days, before lifting his foot up to the nearest foldable chair to untie his laces. can’t toe them off like he would at home, these laces are too tight.
just how he wants them.
they’re left on the chair as he heads straight to the couch, leaving josh standing there, idling around for further instruction.
he sits as soon as the back of his legs make contact with the couch, folding forward and letting his elbows secure their spots on top of his thighs. the hill of the palm of his hands pressing into closed eyelids almost immediately.
josh just watches quietly from the door. sympathy is written all over his face
“lights off?”
“yeah.”
and almost instantaneously, there’s a cooling sensation that washes over tyler as he’s left in the darkness. where when he lifts his head, he’s barely able to make out shapes with the only help being the light leaking in from under the door.
there’s shuffling as tyler can hear josh toe off his sneakers and making the two foot long trek to the other side of the room, humming to acknowledge the little grunt josh makes as he crouches to tyler’s eye level. carding his fingers through the frontman’s hair in a repetitive pattern.
“i assume you don’t want much pressure right now.”
”really don’t.”
tyler leans into the touch, eyelids giving a light flutter at the sensation before closing entirely. slowly sucking in a deep breath to wind up, then down.
”body hurts too much.”
“and that’s why i’m here.”
josh huffs a soft c’mere under his breath, sitting down and sinking into the couch cushion on tyler’s left. arms looping around his waist and nudging him closer. acting more as a suggestion than a direction.
tyler’s hands found themselves on josh’s shoulders, crossing over the plane of his back and squeezing the fabric. wrinkling it in clenched fingers as his nose ducks into the junction where josh’s neck meets his shoulders.
“on your side or on your stomach?”
”stomach, please.”
tyler hears a hum from josh to confirm he heard, vaguely in the sound of a hold on, before one hand begins reaching lower to cue tyler to bring his legs up onto the couch, his own following.
the rest plays out coherently enough, giving a small verbal warning to reassure as he tips back before his spine makes contact with the cushions this time around.
josh let’s out a grunt as the rest of tyler’s weight settles over him, a soothing hand between the shoulder blades for reassurance—it’s not a grunt of pain, he’s fine.
“good?”
it takes tyler a second—arms fumbling around before deciding to lazily loop around josh’s neck and resting his cheek against his chest. his affirmative hum vibrating out from his throat into josh’s sternum.
“good, okay. your legs?”
tyler’s eyebrows knit together at the question before josh clarifies are they comfy?, pausing before moving his hips to angle up towards the left, bending a leg before giving another hum, higher this time.
josh has to strain his neck a little to kiss the top of tyler’s forehead again, but he doesn’t mind. nosing into his hair to plant another at the hairline.
“make sure to unclench y’muscles, ty.”
and josh’s hands smooth over tyler’s back, gently readjusting his shirt at the hem before slowly sliding back up.
bit by bit, though, tyler unwinds.
his arms are the first to give out. traveling up and seeping into the nerve clusters of his neck and upper back. his mind reverting back a mental state where all humans needed was warmth and shelter.
josh provided both.
calloused hands slides lower to where tyler’s shirt inevitably rides up to expose his skin; sun-kissed over these last few weeks in europe. warmth embodied.
josh’s right arm crossed over tyler’s waist like a seatbelt, where his thumb slowly drifted back and forth. right by where the skin curves over tyler’s side and starts to dip to his hipbones. exposing just the softest transitions to the start of a tan-line.
tyler’s back is the last to give out, josh feeling the notable shift from under his arm.
“there you go.”
josh’s voice is a little bit louder than a whisper, his left hand sliding back up to run their fingers through the hair on the nape of tyler’s neck. sliding up, against the directional growth.
silence blankets over them slowly, and josh is adjusting to how tyler blankets over him. his joints hurt, legs and back sore from exertion and bending at angles that probably aren’t great for his spine. he wouldn’t trade it for anything else.
noise only peeks through like a curtain when josh hums every once in a while, eyes starting to close before tyler taps his side for his attention.
“josh?”
”hm?”
he lifts his head, forcing his eyes to stay open for a few more minutes to answer whatever question tyler has.
“aren’t they gonna wonder where we are?”
ah, shit, right. they can’t hide out here forever.
josh takes a second to answer, glancing over to his phone as it lights up with an instagram notification, flashing the time as 00:34. they don’t have to leave until 2.
“don’t worry about the others,” it sounds final, coupled with another kiss to tyler’s temple. “i’ll deal with them when they ask. just rest.”
“you’re gonna start worryin’ bout the others when mark yells at you and keeps the guys up.”
“that’s a problem for 2am josh.”
”uhuh.”
tyler can feel the smile pressed into his forehead with a murmured go to sleep to accompany it. inevitably relaxing as one of josh’s hands returns to his hair.
and he does. eventually. breathing steadying and softening, the air brushing against josh’s shirt as the rest of the room around him fades out and pulls him under.
the next time tyler wakes up, he’s back in his bunk. swaddled up in some old sweatshirt of josh’s.
and josh’s arms.
with the way the light leaks in through the edges where the curtain can’t cover, he can only guess it’s the next morning. the windows are probably making the smallest sliver of a sunbeam down the small hall, only imperceptibly noticeable with the help of dust.
he looks to josh, the drummer’s head half covered by a pillow. curls spreading out and twisting in incomprehensible ways. surrounding his head like a halo disc only commonly found in paintings of old. the arm not draped over tyler’s waist, hooked under the pillow.
josh was always a cute sleeper.
tyler’s phone buzzes against his thigh as a way to break the silence, lifting his head as he pats around his pockets before fishing it out. the dimmed screen gives a polite reminder that it’s roughly 7 in the morning, maybe a little after.
he puts it away for now.
the only other sound to be heard is the slow rise and fall of josh’s chest, breathing only audible by a notch because of a stuffy nostril. the humidity probably got to him. tyler feels it too.
but he goes back into hiding, ducking his head to wiggle into the crevice he emerged from. nosing back to josh’s shoulder. catching the scent of his coffee breath and deodorant. it’s comforting nonetheless.
he can kill a few more hours.