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Josh is twenty-two and somehow he’s made it into one of the biggest poetry competitions in the world. He thinks he might faint.
It’s the second night of prelims and people are going crazy. These are the big leagues, really, and everyone is so good. He can remember being eighteen, going to local poetry slam nights and getting a rush from twenty or so people liking his work, but now here he is--hundreds, thousands, and not a single one lacks the talent to stand on that stage.
Most of his competitors are just genuinely great people, too. It doesn’t feel that much like a competition, even, because they’re all squished together in this huge room rooting for each poet that goes up, they’re all whistling and gasping and clenching their fists at every meaningful line, and they’re all feeling the same feelings and it’s beautiful.
Josh already performed for the day, but he’s in the audience still, anyway, sitting with Pete and Brendon and just listening. He tells Debby he wants to stick around just for the fun of it, which is partially true, but the truth is… Well. It’s been three and a half years, but he hasn’t forgotten Tyler Joseph.
Tyler Joseph, who delivered one of the most hard-hitting poems Josh has ever heard. Tyler Joseph, who disappeared after his performance. Tyler Joseph, who Josh never even got to speak to. Tyler Joseph, the gorgeous human being that Josh has been hoping to see at a poetry reading ever since that night.
He doesn’t even know if Tyler still does slam poetry, or Tyler’s sexual orientation, or what pronouns Tyler uses.
But he still can’t forget.
At the end of the night, Josh comes to terms with the fact that Tyler just isn’t here. There’s only one more contestant left and then that’s it, and not one of them has been Tyler. At least he got to hear some killer poetry, he thinks, and he starts to gather all his stuff so they can leave after this last performance. Pete and Brendon laugh about something beside him and then Brendon leans over, hands his phone to Josh.
It’s then, looking at a gif of a cat falling off a bed, that he hears the announcement of who’s on next.
“And finally, we have ‘A Letter to the Girl I Used to Be’ performed by Tyler Joseph.”
Josh freezes, straight up drops Brendon’s phone but barely even hears Brendon’s protests. He spent so long wishing for this moment that he genuinely doesn’t he believe it’s happening, doesn’t believe his ears, but then he sees who’s walking across the stage to the microphone and he knows it’s true.
The person standing there is skinnier, but all sharp angles and cheekbones and elbows. There are muscles where there hadn’t been before, a flatter chest, buzzed hair, but this. This is Tyler Joseph. This is Tyler Joseph and Josh’s heart threatens to stop beating right then and there.
“A letter to the girl I used to be,” Tyler begins, and Brendon falls silent respectfully, “Dear Emily, every time I watch basketball a voice I no longer recognize whispers, ‘Tyler, do you remember when you were going to be the first girl to play in the NBA, Cleveland Cavaliers?’. But to be honest, Emily, I don’t.
“Dad told me that like it was someone else’s bedtime story, but I do know that you had that drive, didn’t let anyone tell you to wear shorts above your knees, didn’t care if anyone thought your hair didn’t fall to your shoulders just right, but it wasn’t just with boys that sleepovers meant the space between your shoulder and theirs was this six inch fatal territory.”
Somewhere in the back of his head, Josh makes a mental note of the implication that Tyler is at least bisexual, but is too captivated to give it much thought, “The year you turned eleven was the first time you said out loud that you didn’t want to live anymore. In therapy you said you wouldn’t make it to twenty-one. On my twenty-first birthday, I thought of you. You were right.”
Josh hears Pete let out a low ‘ooh’, welcomes the pause given to let everyone react just so he can try to process that line. He obviously has no idea what Tyler went through, is going through, and still Tyler makes him feel more, feel harder than anyone has before.
“At nineteen, you started to fade. I tried to cross you out like a line in my memoir I wished I could erase completely, and maybe I’m misunderstanding the definition of death, but even though parts of you still exist, you are not here. Most of my friends have never heard your name until now. I’ve been trying to write this letter for six months. I’m still trying to decide if it should be an apology or not,” Tyler has been good at keeping calm so far, not loud and raw like he had been three years prior, but the soft intensity of his voice still holds just as much depth to it.
It makes Josh ache.
“But now you will never hear Emily Joseph announced at a college graduation, get married, give birth. When the prescribed testosterone started taking effect, my body stopped producing the potential for new life every month. I thought about your children, how I wanted them, too, and I let a doctor remove your breasts so I could stand up straighter. Now even if I somehow had those children I wouldn’t be able to nourish them.
“My body is obsolete, scarred cosmetic, but never c-section. I was four days late, there will never be grandparents. I was one week late, they will never hold their lover’s sleeping figure. I was eleven days late, they will never breathe in a sunset and a sunrise in the same night,” Tyler’s voice finally began to raise, words coming faster and hasher, “I was two weeks late, they will never learn to jump rope. I was three weeks late, they will never shout ‘watch, Mommy, watch me on the slide’.”
He pauses, lets the words settle, “I was two months late. A piece of us will never wrap their arms around our leg for comfort, just to keep them from falling down.”
Josh is close enough to see Tyler swallow, fingers bunched around the fabric of his jeans as if to keep them from moving, to keep them from shaking, “And I am sorry. This process is so slow, and all you can do is wonder if you ever had a place. You did. You still do. Don’t forget that. Yours, Tyler.”
This time, when Tyler pauses, Josh expects him to walk away, but he doesn’t, “P.S. I never hated you.”
When he walks off, the room is silent for a beat. And then, like before, everyone erupts, cheering on the man even as he disappears into the darkness.
And Josh--Josh wants to take a minute to let is soak in, wants to take a minute to fully appreciate every word of Tyler’s because he knows that’s what Tyler deserves, but he can’t let this opportunity slip through his fingers again. Maybe he’s crazy, maybe it won’t work out, maybe Tyler is taken or not interested in men or just not interested in dating, but Josh can’t let him walk out of his life again, not after three years.
That kind of dedication has to have earned him at least an introduction.
He pushes up from his seat, pushes through throngs of people, pushes and pushes and doesn’t care that Pete and Brendon are shouting after him because he is on a mission. He keeps going, to the edge of the room, through double doors, until he finds Tyler leaning against the wall of a back hallway with a water bottle in hand.
Their eyes meet and Josh tries not to let his mouth dry, tries to find words.
“Hi,” He manages spectacularly, and he turns to Tyler fully, smile sheepish and hands in his pockets.
“Hi,” Tyler seems slightly confused, but to his credit, just smiles back, all soft and small, “You… You performed earlier today, right? Josh something. You were great. I especially liked the line about how your father is growing and your mother is shrinking. It was awesome.”
“I, uh--...” Josh is momentarily taken aback, cheeks flushing, “Thanks. Thank you. That, uh, that actually means a lot to me, thank you.” He had no idea Tyler had even been around for his performance, and knowing he liked it, knowing he remembers his name, even, makes Josh very, very happy.
After a moment of just stupidly grinning, he remembers where he is and what he’s doing and hurries to speak, “You did amazing, too! I--I don’t know what you’ve been through and I won’t ever, but that was… It was beautiful. No one’s ever made me feel like that before.”
Tyler’s cheeks grow pink at that, and Josh feels like he could wax lyrical about his blush alone. God, Tyler Joseph is gorgeous. “Thank you,” He murmurs, suddenly bashful as he toys with the cap of his water bottle, “I’m really proud of that piece. It’s… Transitioning fully has been a long time coming.”
Josh nods, steps closer again, “I can tell. For what it’s worth since we don’t really know each other, I’m… I’m proud of you, too. It’s super admirable that you’re willing to put yourself out there, especially through this art form that’s so emotional and open. Or, y’know, whatever.”
“I really appreciate that,” Tyler says, gently, after a moment, so genuine that it almost hurts. He looks up and over at Josh through his lashes, tiny smile gracing his lips, and Josh can barely think with how fast his heart is beating.
Which--yeah, maybe he should get back on track.
“Look, uh, Tyler,” Josh clears his throat and tries to seem casual. He fails pretty miserably. “I really hope this doesn’t sound weird, but I kind of… I saw you. A few years ago. In Ohio? It was at some slam poetry night and you performed this piece back before you--before you transitioned,” He stumbles over his words, not fully confident in the words he’s using and not wanting to say the wrong thing, and finds he suddenly can’t even meet Tyler’s eyes, “And I’ve, um… It was amazing. You were amazing. And I know I already said it, but I really am proud of you. You’ve been through a lot and it’s just--I’m proud that you’ve made it this far. It must’ve been hard. And… I mean, I just… Do you want to go get, like, coffee or dinner or breakfast or something sometime before this competition is over? I don’t know much about you, so if you aren’t interested for whatever reason, that’s okay, I just. You know. Was wondering.”
He feels stupid, so goddamn stupid, but it seems worth it to at least try. It has to be, right? Right. He just has to keep telling himself that, that’s all. God, why hasn’t Tyler answered yet? It’s probably a no. Oh, fuck, this is so awkward. Why did he have to say the part about three years ago? Now he just seems fucking weird--
“Josh?”
Josh blinks, flushes a deep red, and clears his throat again, “Uh, sorry. What?”
Tyler laughs-- it’s the first time Josh has ever heard him laugh, and he decides he needs that beautiful sound in his life far more often, “I said that I would really like that. Maybe… Lunch tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” Josh agrees far too quickly, bouncing on his toes like an excited child, “Yeah, wow, that would be awesome, Tyler.”
“Alright. Phone swap!” Tyler’s grin is bright as he enters his number into Josh’s phone, and Josh thinks his own smile must look near idiotic as he does the same. Once they trade phones again, Tyler tentatively steps closer and holds his arms out for a hug.
Josh is so down.
In his pocket, Josh’s phone begins to buzz and he suddenly remembers his friends are somewhere back in the auditorium. He should feel worse than he does for ditching them like that. “That’s my cue,” He says, slowly beginning to walk backwards to the doors, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Tyler.”
He’s rewarded with another laugh that makes his heart flutter like a fucking teenager, and the last thing he sees as he turns around to leave is Tyler’s sweet smile lighting up the hallway like the sun, “See you tomorrow, Josh.”