Chapter Text
Sometimes when Tyler blinks for too long, lights fly beneath his eyelids like headlights on the highway, the thumping of noise and static echoing in his ears. Sensory overload; too many people, sounds, hands, and being rushed from place to place. When the tour has been going on for too long, Tyler is a sponge that has every last molecule wrung out. A weekend off here and there, flying off to another country for a quick one-two-three festival spree, then back home, into a studio, everything is happening too fast.
Ninety-eight percent of the time, he loves it all, but anyone would need a stretch of time of silence. Tyler just needs to sit and do nothing so his bones can stop vibrating with the echoes of screams and resounding bass drums.
But even going home isn’t quiet. It’s a rush of activity; visiting family and friends, running errands, doctors’ appointments—trying to get everything done before he’s called back away to bleed his soul in front of cheering crowds. For the past three, maybe even four days (Tyler wasn’t sure), Jenna had been dragging him by the wrist, a balloon that only had a little air left, barely enough to stay afloat.
His phone was dead, and Tyler couldn’t find the stamina to just plug it in. He wasn’t home for long enough to find his charger, and somehow reaching to the car charger was outside the energy left in his fingertips. Besides, what is the point? There are too many people on the other end, and the beeps of notifications from the apps that tether him to humanity would be too much for right now. The simple act of not communicating with anyone outside his line of vision was cleansing; he was able to control these specific noises.
But enough days passed and he missed his friends. Tyler missed Josh most of all. Your soulmates—platonic, familial, romantic, or otherwise—are the ones that you can spend nearly every waking moment with, but when you’re apart, it feels like you’ve missed them for centuries. Plugging into the wall, Tyler sat on the ground just because he was too tired to drag a chair closer to the outlet. Gentle beeps continued for minutes and minutes. Tyler’s eyes blurred over and fell out of focus. Names and tweets flashed past—invitations for lunch, coffee, dinner, business meetings. Tyler debated taking a long nap that may just turn into eighteen hours of nonstop sleep. But first, he would check in with Josh.
2pm—so that means it’s 11am for Josh. Tyler guess he’d be awake, but it’s not certain as one recovers from the tour. He opened up their last messages, and was shocked to find that in over a day (or was it two?) that Josh hadn’t responded to his last text question. Josh always responded, no matter how stupid or inane. Josh was ever the encourager, wide smiles and eyes squinted through laughter. But Tyler saw the other side too—skittering eyes, chewed-up lips and knuckles, and scratches upon the forearm that were explained away, but not when one noticed patterns. Only one arm in particular, and the cuts never stopped appearing.
The crowd’s echoes faded away, and it was only a bass drum matching the beat of his hammering heart, as Tyler checked all of Josh’s accounts—Twitter, Instagram, etc to find there was no trace of Josh online in a week. “This is nothing,” he thought, “how many times have you jumped to conclusions before?”
At least three times Tyler was so anxious about his best friend that he was driven to desperate actions to make sure that what he always feared was not actually happening—once he broke into Josh’s apartment (back when he was still in Columbus, and not all the way across the country) at 3am to find Josh safe and asleep. Instead of freaking out to finding a half-sobbing Tyler crouched at the side of the bed, no explanation, Josh just opened his arms and rocked Tyler to sleep whispering that they were okay, and Tyler doesn’t have to worry about him. After that, Tyler got a key to every one of Josh’s apartments, but that didn’t make him trust his friend with those promises about Josh’s own life. Not when Tyler could see into empty eyes and torn up skin.
Just to ease the pounding rhythm of his heart, he let the phone ring. His hands shook a little, and sweat broke out as it rang one—two—three—four—fi—then stopped. Tyler could hear an intake of breath on the other side. Josh was still breathing and that’s enough to help the drum in his chest to subside.
“Josh?” Tyler said, and not stopping for an answer, he let the words tumble out of his mouth. “You didn't respond to my text. I'm so sorry, my phones been dead and I've had no time to charge it, Jenna's been dragging me everywhere.”
All Tyler could hear was ragged breathing, and the echo of his heart in his eardrums returned stronger than ever.
“Josh, are you okay?”
Josh’s voice was barely stronger than a whisper and cut off “Tyler, I…”
“Josh?” Tyler felt the words filling up his throat, strangling him.
“I did something stupid.”
The bottom fell out of Tyler’s heart and for a moment he was nothing. “Josh…”
“And I didn't even think to write anything, I just… You hate me. All I do is hurt you.”
Tyler’s body was on fire, and he was drowning at the same time. It was happening. This was it. “Josh! Josh is Dustin there? You have to go to the hospital right now.”
He could hear Josh begin to sob on the other line, breaths causing crackling in the connection. “I can't.” Tyler stopped drowning and it was time for him to act. We fantasize about dying for our loved ones, and Tyler spoke a lot lately about living for them. But what about when we have to save them?
“Josh, I'm going to give the phone to Jenna and I'm going to call 911 and tell them where you are.” Jenna’s footsteps pounded as Tyler screamed for her. Screamed because his best friend was dying on the other line, ragged breaths counting down mere moments before he didn’t exist.
“Josh—he’s—he’s. Jenna help me—him—” Tyler babbled, handing the phone to her. He could hear Jenna talking to Josh, softly, visibly shaken but calm nonetheless. Tyler was moving and he was acting the steps he had fantasized when the fear overtook him before. When Tyler was feeling low he’d often sit and imagine what he’d do in exactly this situation. His sick mind prepared when Josh and his scratched arm and bottled emotions moved thousands of miles away from Tyler.
Tyler recorded the phone numbers for the closest police department to Josh’s apartment. The numbers were saved on his phone (which was in Jenna’s hands now), but also on the side of the refrigerator. He grabbed Jenna’s phone to call the police, giving an address, begging them to hurry because Josh sounded bad.
While he talking to the police, he was vaguely aware of Jenna talking to Josh. Soothing him, “You're going to be alright, Josh.”
Tyler broke in, “Jenna, they want to know if the door is locked? Where is he?”
She shook her head as Josh responded, and added “He’s in the bathroom.”
The 911 operator was calm, telling him that they were mere minutes away, and Tyler only prayed that Josh had enough time left. Without a word, Jenna and Tyler exchanged phones and Tyler could hear the breaths, even more labored than before.
“Josh? Josh, are you still with me?” There was no sound, only rustling. If this was it—no don’t think like that—Tyler wanted to know that Josh was loved even as consciousness faded. “You'll be okay, Josh.”
There was a clatter on the other end when Josh dropped the phone and Tyler was screaming again, unaware of what he was saying besides a mix of prayers to a cruel God, and Josh’s name.
“Sir—sir,” a new voice was saying on Josh’s phone, “I am Anna, one of the paramedics taking care of your friend. Does he have any allergies? Medical conditions?”
“No…not that I know of…Please help him,” Tyler gasped.
“We’re trying our best, sir. We’re going to bring him to the hospital now. Does he have any family you can notify? Roommates?”
“Yes—yes okay thanks. Please tell him I love—” but the line was already dead. Ignoring the tidal waves in his heart, Tyler turned to Jenna and she grabbed his phone.
“We should call Dustin first,” she said.
“Why not his family?”
“Dustin is closest, he can go to the hospital and let us all know what’s happening. So we can at least give them more information,” Jenna’s voice cracked and Tyler could see she was holding back tears. He knew he was a mess right now, but that was not important.
Life turned into a strobe effect after that. In one minute, Tyler found himself yelling at Dustin to get back to the apartment, or no, to the hospital. Where was he even? Why wasn’t he there to stop Josh?
But no Dustin had been out at a brunch or something, and Tyler, he’s already on his way to the hospital, having just gotten a call since he was the emergency contact.
Jenna was the one to call the Dun’s house, and it was Josh’s dad that picked up the landline. Tyler could hear her hushed conversation (Tyler hadn’t heard from Josh in a couple days. He called him and Josh is hurt pretty bad. He’s at the hospital now, Dustin is on his way. We’ll come to your house) as he searched for a flight on his phone to take him to Los Angeles as soon as possible.
Tyler was only vaguely aware of being hustled into the car. He lifted his hood and leaned against the cold glass of the passenger seat window. Tyler tried to breathe, but each time he closed his eyes, he could see Josh covered in blood. Josh in a hospital, surrounded by strangers who poked and prodded. Breaths leaving his body, and finality, death. Jenna placed a hand on his shoulder, but neither could say anything. Tyler’s throat was raw, rawer than after any show.
Then they were in the driveway of Josh’s childhood home—the one from the video—and Jenna whispered “Tyler, babe I know it’s hard, but you’re going to have to hold it together for his family.”
“Why are we here?” Tyler took a shaky breath and wiped his eyes. A quick glance in the mirror showed they were reddened, his cheeks tearstained.
“Dustin texted saying he’ll call as soon as he gets any more information. We’ll wait here to see what to do.”
“No. Jenna, we need to go to the airport.”
“But—”
“Please”
“Later. We’ll go to the airport later. First they said they wanted to see us.”
Flash of lights and time again and Tyler found himself wrapped in Josh’s mother’s arms. Barely aware of the words she was saying, his whole body was numb. This was surreal. Josh couldn’t be dying right now, so far away from all the people that loved and lived for him. Tyler sat on the couch, saying nothing, staring at his hands twisting in his lap.
Josh’s father answered the call from Dustin when it came. “He’s okay for now. Critical condition, but stable” was the pronouncement and everyone sighed in slight relief. “Tyler, Dustin wants to talk to you.” The phone was shoved in his hands, and Tyler walked out of the room.
“Yeah?” he said in a ragged voice.
“Tyler, he’s—he’s really sick,” said Dustin, and Tyler could hear him lose control on the other end. He too knew the feeling of having to keep it together to answer questions, to even talk to Josh’s parents, and Dustin gasped, “Tyler, he cut his arm up really bad. He lost so much blood. I didn’t know he would do this—he’s just been in his room and I thought he was tired. Every time I asked him to hang out, he would just say he wasn’t feeling so well. I should’ve—”
“It’s okay Dustin,” Tyler didn’t really think it was okay, but he too was culpable. How could Tyler spend days without talking to his drummer?
“Are you coming?”
“Yeah,” Tyler glanced at the time on his phone, “I’ll come now.” He hung up. How can it only be 5pm? It feels like days have spent waiting.
It felt like another person that told the assembled Duns and Jenna that he couldn’t wait here anymore. He was going immediately to the airport. They can all come or go later. Everyone else made plans, and Tyler grabbed the keys, Jenna rushing after him because Tyler was not waiting for anyone else. He was steady now, and Jenna was pleading with him to stop a moment and think.
“I’m not thinking anymore. I’m doing. I’m going to the airport now, you can come with me or not.”
“Drop me off at home,” she said finally, “I’ll pack. You just go.”
Not too long later, he was at the airport, begging the first airline scheduled on the board to have a nonstop flight to LAX to please let me on that flight, it’s an emergency. Tyler knew he paid a lot of money—first class ticket was the only one left—and he was through security, and onto the plane in a few short breaths. The banging in his head was back, but hold on Josh, I’m coming.