Chapter Text
Tyler doesn’t exactly have any friends.
It’s tragic, really. Tyler is just the pathetic shy kid that people smile at in the hallway but never actually talk to.
So here he is, out of theatre practice an hour early with no one to pick him up.
He tries calling both of his parents’ cell phones, but to no avail; they’re both still at work.
He sighs and looks around the school parking lot. All the other cars are gone, even the teachers’. He decides he only has one choice: walk the three miles home.
Oh, did he forget to mention that it’s pouring the rain down?
Tyler loves life.
He pulls his jacket over his head due to his lack of an umbrella and steps out into the rain. He is immediately enveloped by the freezing air around him; Januarys in Ohio are always brutal. If the temperature drops any more, the rain will likely turn to snow.
So, Tyler starts walking. And shivering. He tries to keep his mind off the cold.
He pops in his ear buds and turns on some Grouplove. He starts to whistle along to the music, but his lips are so cold he can hardly move them.
Tyler stares down at his bright red fingernails and starts to think. He has been thinking a lot recently, and it’s been a bit of a problem. He’s been so confined in his own mind that it’s started to affect his grades. He can’t help it, though. His mind wanders a lot.
About 20 minutes later, just as Tyler thinks the rain may be turning into sleet, he hears a loud honk next to him.
He jumps back a few feet, and when his heart rate slows back down a considerable amount he turns to face the car.
The boy on the passenger side of the car rolls down his window and the sound of the rain hitting the pavement suddenly becomes accompanied by loud conversation and piercing screams from the car radio.
The first thing he notices is, wow, the boy in the passenger seat has blue hair. Blue hair!
“Hey,” starts the boy, eyes locked on Tyler. He has to yell to allow Tyler to hear him over all the noise, “you need a ride?”
Tyler blinks in surprise. A ride? From these punks? The rain continues to pour, soaking him all the way to his socks. For a second he’s tempted to take the offer, but… “Oh, uh, it’s okay. I mean, I’m soaking wet so I wouldn’t wanna ruin your car. And, um, my house is only a couple miles away—”
“A couple miles?! Dude, come on, let us give you a ride. You’re gonna freeze to death.” The boy implores. Tyler looks uncomfortably at the other passengers in the car and adjusts the strap of his backpack. The boy notices this and smiles slyly, saying, “I promise we don’t bite.”
Tyler sighs, knowing he only has one choice. He nods his head at the boy and walks to the car, opening the door and climbing in the back seat. The heat of the car hits him like a breath of fresh air and he’s surprisingly relieved that he took a ride from complete strangers.
Maybe he should start rethinking how he makes important life decisions.
Tyler gets situated and takes in his surroundings as the car is put in drive and pulls away from the curb. The car is pretty small and beat-up on the inside, and not surprisingly, he can smell a faint hint of cigarette smoke.
He looks to his left where a boy with dark hair is staring at him with wide-open wild eyes, grinning.
“Hey, man!” He greets loudly. “What’s your name, bro?”
“Uh, Tyler.” Tyler replies.
“Hahaha. Skyler. What a chill name. Skyyyyyyyyleerr.” The boy stretches the name out and Tyler is one hundred percent sure he is stoned out of his mind.
“No, no it’s TYLER. With a T.” Tyler tries to explain.
“Ohhhh. Well Tyyyler with a T, my name is Brendon. Brendon fucking Urie. Don’t forget it.”
You don’t seem like a very forgettable person, Tyler thinks to himself.
“So, Tyler with a T, what will $20 get me? That’s all I got. That’s gotta at least be enough for a handjob right?”
Tyler’s heart stops. He freezes. “N-What? I-I n-no—”
“Oh piss off Brendon. Leave the poor kid alone.” The blue-haired boy scolds from the front of the car. He turns around in his seat and glares and Brendon before turning his gaze to Tyler. “He’s just joking. Don’t mind him.”
Tyler lets out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.
“Yo, Josh, why are you always ruining my fun?” Brendon pouts.
The blue-haired boy—Josh—rolls his eyes before turning back around.
Suddenly, the driver of the car speaks up.
“Hey kid, do you mind if I smoke?” He asks.
It takes Tyler a minute to realize he is talking to him. “Oh, uh, sure. I don’t care.” Tyler is honestly just surprised he asked for permission.
“Rad.” He ejects, reaching an open palm in Josh’s direction. Josh leans forward and opens the glove box, retrieving a pack of cigs. He hands one to the driver, who puts it between his teeth. “Light me up J-Man.”
“Only if you promise never to call me that again.” Josh retaliates, leaning over to light the guy’s cigarette. Afterwards, Josh reaches down into the box and grabs one for himself, lighting it promptly.
He takes a glance back at Tyler. “You smoke?” He asks.
Tyler shakes his head vigorously.
Josh pauses. “Do you want to?”
Tyler hesitates. After a few seconds he shakes his head again. “No. No, I’m fine.”
“Alright.” He replies. He takes a drag of his cigarette and blows smoke into the driver’s face, who begins coughing violently. Josh looks back at Tyler and smiles, “Your loss.”
A little voice in the back of his mind prompts him to throw his clothes in the wash as soon as he gets home; he doesn’t want his parents smelling smoke on his clothes.
The drive to Tyler’s house had never seemed so long before. Tyler feels way out of his comfort zone. If his comfort zone is heaven, he must be in hell right now.
But the trip to his house suddenly tripled in duration when Brendon spots an IHOP a block away.
“Oh, oh, hell yes. Pete we have to go to IHOP, dude.”
At the sound of the word “IHOP,” Josh’s ears perk up. He turns around excitedly in his seat and, blowing smoke out of his mouth, yells, “YES, IHOP is my favorite.”
The driver—Pete, respectively—glances in the rearview mirror. “If it’s all good with Tyler then sure whatever.”
Josh and Brendon look at Tyler expectantly, and his world collapsed in on itself a little. He was caught between a rock and a hard place: the rock was that he didn’t want to go to IHOP or, for that matter, anywhere with these guys. All Tyler wanted was to go home and curl up into a blanket cocoon and watch Netflix. But, the conflicting hard place was that if he said the previous sentence, these punk badass supernovas would probably: A. not listen to him or B. beat him to a pulp.
So, obviously, he had no choice but to respond, “Of course I don’t care. Uh. Yay pancakes.” This, Tyler would like to point out, is also probably one of the dumbest things that has ever come out of his mouth.
“Yay pancakes, indeed.” Snickered Brendon, and all at once they were pulling into the IHOP parking lot.
About an hour and a half later, Tyler watches as Brendon hungrily gulps down a fourth serving of pancakes. He’s a little uneasy because the entire time at IHOP, Josh has not said a word to him, but instead keeps giving him this piercing look that makes Tyler embarrassed and a little uncomfortable.
Pete, however, has been initiating normal human conversations with Tyler, and he is forever grateful.
“So,” Pete instigates, “you’re a junior, then?”
“Yeah, I’m actually one of the oldest in my class.” Tyler isn’t sure why he felt the need to add that last part on but Josh is giving him that look again and he’s not really thinking straight.
“Do you know Patrick?” Pete questions, smiling.
“Stump? Uh, yeah I have like three classes with him.” Pete nods, and looks at him as if expecting him to go on. “We don’t really talk much. He sits behind me in Trig and helps me with problems sometimes, though. He seems cool.”
“He is.” Confirms Pete, leaning back in his seat as if he had been satisfied.
Brendon peeks his head up from behind his mountain of pancakes to interject: “Pete and Patrick are dating!”
Pete blushes and hides his head in his shoulder. He blushed! How many times do you see a punk kid blush!? That’s basically an oxymoron.
Meanwhile, Tyler is insanely surprised that Pete is gay. For obvious reasons, he does not voice this. Instead he says, “Awwww that’s cute.” And Pete flips him off.
They all giggle and then the sound of Pete’s phone breaks the laughter.
“Speak of the devil.” Slurs Pete. “Hey guys, be right back, gotta take this.” He answers the call and slides out of the booth, walking away slowly.
In the awkward silence, Tyler decides to strike up a conversation with Brendon.
“So, Brendon—” He starts, but is promptly cut off by Brendon's face turning green him quickly jumping out of the booth and running toward the restroom.
He shouldn’t have eaten so many pancakes.
And, frick.
Now Tyler’s alone with Josh. How are you supposed to converse with someone who does nothing but stare at you? What do you even say? Tyler doesn’t even know if he’ll get a response. His mind was slingshotting thoughts around like crazy and Tyler was about to go mad when all of a sudden Josh breaks the silence with:
“I like your nail polish.”
Tyler immediately goes red. Like, tomato red. About the color of his fingernails, actually. He knows Josh is making fun of him and he wishes he could fall through the floor and be suffocated by the earth.
He pulls his hands off the table self-consciously and folds them in his lap. “You don’t have to mock me.” He mumbles.
Josh freezes and a look of panic spreads across his face. “Wha—no! Tyler, no, I didn’t. No. I really like them. They’re—” Josh looks down at his hands, wrapped around a coffee mug, shyly, “They’re pretty.”
Tyler loses his mind. They’re pretty? They’re pretty.
“Oh, uh.” Tyler blushes even harder, which he didn’t think was at all humanly possible. “Thanks. I do them myself.” He puts his hands back on the table to show Josh.
And, as soon as he does it, Josh gently takes one of Tyler’s hands and lifts it up. Tyler inhales sharply.
“You’re really good.” Josh comments, smiling. Then adds, “Gorgeous.” And he’s staring right at Tyler. Tyler isn’t sure if he’s talking about his nails anymore.
For a second Tyler thinks Josh is going to kiss his hand, but he just rubs his thumb over his palm before laying his hand back down on the table.
Tyler’s heart rate is still way too high as Pete comes back through the door, making his way to the booth where the two boys sit. “You guys ready? Where’s Brendon?”
Josh points to the bathroom as an answer and Pete swears under his breath.
“If that fucker pukes in my car again, he’s buying me a new one.”
It’s about seven o’clock when Tyler’s entourage pulls up to his house in the beat-up Drug Mobile. Tyler grabs his bag and thanks Pete for bringing him home, then Brendon for paying for IHOP.
“No problem. But I’m still waiting for that handjob, Tyler with a T.” He jokes.
Tyler laughs.
He climbs out of the car and Josh rolls down the window.
Clad with a fresh cigarette between his lips, he smiles at Tyler. “See you tomorrow?” He coaxes.
Tyler smiles back at him. “Uh, yeah. Yeah. See you tomorrow.”
Josh’s eyes brighten and he waves to Tyler as Pete puts the car back into drive. Before Tyler can count to ten, they’re out of sight.
Tyler scales the steps to his house.
He stops.
He turns around.
Did he just make friends?