Archive of Our Own ^beta

Tyler stared down at the city lights, reflecting beautifully against the damp streets below. He closed his eyes gently, letting the cool breeze drift through his hair, small pinpricks of rain dancing across his skin. He could hear the distant chatter from people below, going about their nights—probably much more decent people than him. People with friends, family to go home to. People with dreams, passions that they didn’t let slip through their fingers.

Tyler had been standing there for hours now, teetering between a quiet resignation and a desperate need to disappear. He soaked it all in, breathing deeply, letting the air fill his lungs. He had never felt so far away from everything—and yet never felt so close to letting it all go.

“If I just let go…” he muttered to the air, his voice barely audible over the wind. “Maybe the world will just… forget me. Maybe it would all stop. Maybe I wouldn’t have to keep pretending.”

The air shifted, almost as if it were listening. But Tyler didn’t notice the figure standing just behind him, close enough to reach out and touch him yet impossibly far away. Josh stood, invisible, a shadow lingering in the night.

A reaper whose job it was to usher him into the afterlife tonight, whether Tyler wanted it or not. But Tyler didn’t know he was there. The wind carried Josh’s quiet, ethereal presence, pressing gently against Tyler’s back, urging him toward the edge.

The wind hummed, leaves lifting off the cold, damp concrete of the rooftop and seeming almost to circle him gently.

Tyler extended his hand out, and one of the leaves floated to him, light as a whisper, landing softly in his palm. It was light, fragile—beautiful in its imperfection. He turned it over in his palm, running his thumb across the soft veins.

"Why can’t I just… disappear?" he murmured to the wind. "Why can’t I be free of all this? Why does it feel like I’m just holding on to a life that doesn’t even belong to me anymore?"

His eyes traced the contours of the leaf as if it might offer some kind of answer. It was dying, just like him. The decay had already started, creeping outward from the stem, overtaking the life that had once been vibrant, full of promise. Tyler could almost feel it—how the leaf surrendered to the pull of gravity, how it let go without a fight, as if it knew it had reached the end of its journey.

It hung there for a moment, trembling against the branch, its final act of defiance before it would fall.

There was no struggle, no desperate clinging to life—only a quiet resignation, as if it understood that it wasn’t meant to stay. It was part of a cycle, a fleeting moment of beauty, and when its time was up, it would simply drift away, leaving behind only a memory of what it once was. And in that moment, Tyler felt as if he, too, was hanging on the edge of something—a life slipping through his fingers, like the leaf teetering on the brink of its fall.

A bitter smile tugged at his lips, sad and resigned. He released the leaf, letting it fall, the way he’d always imagined he might—effortlessly, silently, without anyone noticing. Tyler let out a content sigh watching it float, a small relief flickering in his chest.

He stepped onto the ledge, his body swaying like the leaf, barely tethered to the world below. The sounds of the city grew quieter, softer, as if he were drifting already. His arms stretched out, the wind catching them, urging him forward like a lover pulling him into a comforting embrace.

Josh watched, his chest tightening in a way it never had before. He was a reaper—he didn’t feel. Not sadness, not pity, and definitely not… this. This twisting, aching urge to pull Tyler away from the ledge. To stop him. To save him.

But reapers didn’t save people. They collected souls. They guided them to the other side, ensuring that the balance remained intact.

Josh’s fingers twitched, a reflex he didn’t recognize. His eyes were fixed on Tyler’s back, on the way his shoulders drooped, on the way his head bowed as if the weight of the world were pressing down on him.

Why did he look so… alone? So utterly, devastatingly alone? Josh had seen this before, so many times. He’d watched people break, watched them fall apart at the seams, watched them make that final decision. But it had never felt like this.

It had never felt wrong.

Tyler shifted, about to lean into the fall, about to let the wind cradle him as he too drifted. Josh shouldn’t care. It wasn’t his job to care. He was supposed to wait. To let it happen. And yet…

His fingers moved before he could stop them, brushing the air just behind Tyler’s back. The world seemed to ripple, time itself bending to his will as the leaf floated back up, landing in Tyler’s palm once more.

Tyler’s eyes flew open. There, impossibly, was the same leaf, resting delicately against his fingers as if it had never fallen at all.

“What…?” Tyler whispered, his voice trembling. He turned the leaf over in his hand, his fingers brushing against the familiar veins. It was the same. Exactly the same. But how?

Tyler glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting to see someone standing there. But there was nothing. Just him and the empty rooftop and the cold wind swirling around him. He was alone.

Except… he wasn’t. Not really.

Josh stumbled back, his eyes wide with panic. He could feel it—the pull of Tyler’s life, fragile and delicate, teetering on the edge. It was his job to end that life, to guide it to the other side. But instead, he’d pulled it back. He’d saved it.

“What did I just do?” Josh whispered, his voice shaking. He looked down at his hands, turning them over, flexing his fingers. They looked the same as they always did—pale, unchanging, ghostly. But they felt different. They felt warm. Human. Alive.

Josh’s chest tightened again, that aching sensation growing stronger, more insistent. His gaze returned to Tyler, who was still staring at the leaf in his hand, his shoulders trembling, his breath hitching as if he’d just woken from a nightmare.

He looked… alive. Fragile and broken, but undeniably alive.

And Josh had saved him.

Why? Why had he done that? Why had he felt that crushing sense of urgency, that desperate need to keep Tyler here, in this world? It wasn’t his place. It wasn’t his purpose. But in that moment, it had felt like everything. It had felt like the only thing that mattered.

“I… I don’t understand,” Josh murmured. He felt the cold wind swirl around him, heard the distant echoes of souls he’d guided before, felt the pull of the afterlife beckoning him to do his duty. But he couldn’t. Not now. Not after this.

Now everything was different.

“I wasn’t supposed to do that,” Josh whispered.

Tyler took a step back from the ledge, his eyes wide, his hands shaking, the leaf still clutched between his fingers. He didn’t understand what had just happened, couldn’t make sense of it. But for some reason, his chest felt tight, his heart pounding like it was trying to remind him he was still alive.

Josh watched him curiously. He could still feel the sensation of the leaf against his palm, could still feel the way he’d pushed it back into Tyler’s hand. It had been so real, so tangible.

As he looked at Tyler, Josh felt his purpose shift.

He stood frozen for a moment as he watched Tyler stagger away, shoulders hunched and steps unsteady. Tyler didn’t look back, his form growing smaller as he moved down the street, swallowed by the shadows between pools of dim streetlight.

Josh wanted to follow him. Needed to. He felt drawn toward Tyler, as if an invisible thread wrapped around his bones, bound tight, pulling Josh toward him with every aching second. His fingers still tingled from where he had brushed Tyler’s hand, where he had defied every law of his existence to keep him from falling over that ledge.

Josh’s jaw clenched. He’d be punished for this—he knew it. Reapers didn’t get to make choices. Reapers didn’t get to care.

And yet, he lingered, a shadow in the night, watching the boy who should have died. Watching him stumble through the empty streets like a ghost wearing human skin, his movements mechanical, his breath uneven.

Tyler looked like he had already left this world. Like he was merely waiting for his body to catch up.

Josh’s chest ached. He shouldn’t feel this way. Shouldn’t feel anything at all. And yet, the hollowness in Tyler’s eyes carved itself into him like a wound that would never close.

When Tyler reached his apartment building, Josh watched him fumble with the key, hands shaking as he unlocked the door and slipped inside.

Tyler didn’t bother turning on the lights. It was easier to pretend the darkness wasn’t so consuming if he couldn’t see how empty everything really was.

Josh remained outside, standing in the shadows as the door clicked shut behind Tyler. He should leave. He should force himself to turn away, to forget the boy whose life he had stolen back from death. But his feet wouldn’t move, his body refusing to abandon the one person he was forbidden to protect.

A faint whisper echoed through his mind, colder than the night air. He’s yours now.

Josh shivered, his shoulders curling in as if to ward off the chill. He knew he should feel guilty, should feel dread for the consequences that would surely come. But all he felt was the unyielding pull to stay.

To make sure Tyler lived.

To make sure he kept living.

Tyler sank to the ground with his back against the wall, knees pulled to his chest. His fingers were still clutched around the leaf, delicate and fragile, a reminder of something he didn’t understand.

He turned it over in his palm, his throat burning, eyes stinging. He didn’t know why he was crying. Maybe it was because he’d come so close to falling. Maybe it was because something had stopped him. Or maybe it was because he was still here, still breathing, and he didn’t know why.

Tyler’s head dropped back against the wall, his eyes tracing the shadows on the ceiling.

“God… are you listening?” His voice was small, cracking as it broke the silence.

His laugh followed, brittle and hollow. “Do you even care?”

Josh wanted to answer. Wanted to tell him that someone was listening, that someone cared, even if it wasn’t God.

“I care.” The words left him, trembling and unheard. “I care more than you know.”

Tyler’s voice shook, barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to do this anymore,” he admitted. “I don’t know how to keep pretending. How to keep moving forward when everything feels like it’s pulling me back.” His eyes fluttered shut, lashes damp. “Why does it feel like I’m not even living my own life anymore? Like I’m just… watching someone else go through the motions? I feel so far away from everything. From everyone. From myself.”

Josh’s hands curled into fists.

“I feel like a ghost in my own skin,” Tyler whispered. “Like I’m watching my life from the outside, screaming at a version of myself that doesn’t even hear me.” His eyes traced the ceiling, distant, unfocused. “It’s like I’m already gone. Like I was never really here to begin with.”

Josh felt the words lodge themselves in his chest, sharp as glass.

Tyler’s fingers tightened around the leaf, his voice trembling. “Do you even know what it’s like? To feel like you don’t belong anywhere? To feel like something inside you is just…wrong? Like you’re broken in a way that can never be fixed?”

His breath hitched. He pressed a shaking hand over his mouth, trying to silence the sound, but it was too late—his pain had already slipped through the cracks.

“I did everything right. I followed every rule. I tried so hard to be good.” His voice was barely more than a breath. “But it didn’t matter. It was never enough. I was never enough.”

Josh had never wanted to touch someone so badly in his entire existence.

Tyler pressed the heel of his hand to his eyes, trying to stop the tears. “I just wanted someone to look at me and see me. Really see me. Not the person I pretend to be. Just… me. But no one ever did. No one ever does.” His voice broke, raw and vulnerable. “I’m so tired of being alone.”

Josh ached. He wanted to reach out, to touch him, to tell him he wasn’t alone. But he couldn’t, Tyler couldn’t see him. Josh shouldn’t care. And yet… he did. More than he ever thought possible.

Tyler’s head dropped back against the wall, his eyes staring up at the ceiling, empty and defeated. “Is that why you saved me tonight?” he whispered. “Was it out of pity? Did you think I was too pathetic to die?” He laughed, the sound broken, bitter. “Or are you just punishing me? Keeping me here to suffer a little longer?”

Josh’s throat tightened, his eyes burning. He wanted to tell him. Wanted to scream that it wasn’t pity, that it wasn’t punishment. That he had saved him because he mattered. Because his life meant something.

Tyler’s voice grew softer, more fragile. “I used to believe in you, you know? I used to think… maybe you were watching over me. Maybe you were protecting me. But if you were… then why did you let all those things happen? Why did you let them hurt me? Why did you let me lose everything?” His voice wavered, cracking under the weight of his pain. “Was I not good enough? Did I not pray hard enough? Did I not suffer enough?”

His head dropped, his shoulders shaking. “I just wanted to be loved. I just wanted someone to hold me and tell me it was going to be okay." His fingers loosened, the leaf slipping from his grasp. "But no one ever did. Not even you.”

The words felt like a punch to the gut. Tyler was right there, within reach, and yet, he had never felt so impossibly far away.

“I’m not God, far from it actually,” Josh whispered.

His fingers trembled, ghosting just above Tyler’s hair, so close he could almost feel its softness. “I don’t know why you’re so important to me. I don’t really know you… but I feel like I’m supposed to protect you. Like it’s my job… no, like it’s my purpose.” He laughed, the sound hollow, shaking his head. “It doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense. But I’m here. I’m not leaving you.”

Tyler didn’t acknowledge Josh’s words as his fingers brushed over the leaf. “I don’t know why you saved me tonight. But… thank you. I think.” He laughed, the sound hollow, empty. “I don’t even know who I’m talking to anymore.”

“You’re welcome.”

Tyler’s head jerked up, his eyes wide, searching the darkness. “Who’s there?” His voice was sharp, panicked. But there was no one there. Just shadows and silence. Just the echo of his own broken heart.

He shook his head, laughing at himself. “Great. Now I’m hearing voices. Guess I really am losing it.” He sank back against the wall, his shoulders slumping. “Maybe that’s what I deserve.”

Josh’s hand reached out, his fingers brushing against Tyler’s arm. He wanted to pull him close, to hold him, to take away his pain. But his hand passed right through him, like smoke, like mist, like he was nothing. Just a ghost. Just a shadow.

Tyler shivered, a chill running down his spine, his eyes fluttering open. He looked around, his brow furrowing. “Are you… are you still there?”

Josh instinctively moved closer, only inches away from Tyler. His hand trembled, ghosting just above Tyler’s form, so close he could feel the warmth radiating from his skin. Josh’s eyes traced the curve of Tyler’s face, the way his lashes clung together with tears, the way his brows pulled tight with pain, his body curling in as if trying to disappear.

Josh had seen countless souls pass, had watched them accept their end with peace, with fear, with resignation. But he had never experienced it like this. Never felt it so strongly.

The pull was there again, that invisible thread that tied him to Tyler, urging him closer, urging him to stay. It wasn’t his job to stay. It wasn’t his place to care. But he couldn’t leave. Not now. Not when Tyler was breaking right before his eyes.

“I’m here,” Josh whispered. He knew Tyler couldn’t hear him, knew his words would never reach him. But he said them anyway. “You’re not alone. I’m right here.”

He stayed there, kneeling beside Tyler, a shadow in the darkness, his presence silent and unseen. And for the first time since he’d become a reaper, Josh wished he could be more than that. Wished he could be someone who could save him.

“I’ll protect you,” Josh whispered, “Even if you never know I’m here… I’ll stay.”

Josh stayed by Tyler’s side that night, a silent guardian in the shadows, watching as exhaustion finally pulled Tyler into a restless sleep. He stayed until the first light of dawn crept through the window, washing Tyler’s tear-stained face in soft, golden light.

Josh watched him for a long time, his eyes tracing every curve, every scar. He memorized the way Tyler’s shoulders rose and fell, the way his fingers twitched against the leaf, the way his face softened in sleep, the pain momentarily slipping away.

And then, reluctantly, he faded away, his form dissolving into the morning air, his whispered promise lingering behind.

But he never truly left.

In between guiding the souls of others, Josh always returned to Tyler. He would slip away from the quiet rooms where bodies lay still and cold, away from the final moments of those who had breathed their last, and find himself back by Tyler’s side.

The lives he touched—those fragile, fleeting moments of departure—felt so distant in comparison. They were like whispers in the wind, fading away as quickly as they came. But Tyler was different. Tyler was the weight that anchored him to this world, a weight that had somehow become a part of Josh, a piece he couldn’t bear to let go of.

Weeks passed, each one blending into the next. He followed Tyler everywhere—through the empty streets, down dim alleyways, into the solitude of his small, cluttered apartment. He watched as Tyler moved through his days like a ghost, his eyes hollow, his shoulders slumped, his steps heavy. He was there for every sleepless night, every quiet sob, every whispered plea for the pain to end.

Sometimes Tyler would reach for a bottle of vodka, his fingers trembling, and Josh would make sure the bottle tipped just enough to spill, the liquid splashing over the counter, forcing Tyler to stop. Other times, Tyler would stand in front of a window, gazing out at the city below, as if contemplating the drop, and the wind would pick up, rattling the windowpane, pulling his focus away from the edge. Josh never spoke, never touched—he only nudged the world around Tyler, just enough to guide him, to redirect his thoughts, without leaving a trace of his presence.

And no matter how far Tyler wandered—whether he spiraled deeper into the void or stumbled through the days in a haze of numbness—Josh never let him fall too far.

Josh was always there. He was in the slight shift in the air when Tyler was about to make a decision he couldn’t come back from. He was in the flickering light of the streetlamp outside Tyler’s window, the soft hum of the refrigerator, the sound of a song drifting from a neighbors apartment at the perfect moment. The universe might have been indifferent, but Josh wasn’t.

The weight of the world may have felt like too much for Tyler to carry, but Josh was determined to help him bear it, even if it meant bending the rules of his existence.

***

Tyler sat hunched over the piano, his fingers resting lightly on the keys. His eyes traced the worn ivory, the black and white of the keys so stark, so final. They seemed to mock him now, as if they, too, knew the truth he couldn’t escape.

He closed his eyes, he could almost feel the music there, waiting, lingering just beyond his grasp, but it was like trying to catch smoke in his fingers. The melodies that once flowed from him now felt foreign, distant. He could no longer find his way back to them, and the more he tried, the more the pain of failure gnawed at his insides.

"I can't... I can't make it work anymore," he whispered, the words barely audible, as if speaking them too loudly would shatter what little was left of him. The music was gone, buried under a mountain of his own insecurities, drowned by a sea of self-doubt.

He’d spent so much of his life dreaming of creating something beautiful. He used to pour his soul into every note, each lyric a reflection of the words stuck in his chest, too heavy to speak in conversation but light enough to float on the melody.

Music became his language, the rhythm his heartbeat, the chords the echoes of emotions he couldn’t name. In music, he found his voice. But now it felt like a distant fantasy—something he was never meant to touch, something he didn’t deserve.

His hands shook as they hovered over the keys, and a bitter laugh escaped him, hollow and empty. How had he let it come to this? How had he gone from being someone who dreamed in melodies, who saw music as the very breath of life, to someone who couldn’t even coax a single note out of the piano without it sounding wrong?

"I’m not good enough," he muttered, the words tasting like ash. "I never was."

The crushing, unbearable weight of knowing that all his efforts, all his aspirations had amounted to nothing pressed down on him. His hands fell to his sides, limp and useless, and he turned away from the piano, the sound of its empty silence echoing in his ears. The absence of music felt like a gaping hole inside him, swallowing him whole.

It wasn’t just the music that had slipped through his fingers; it was everything. The dreams of being something more, of making a name for himself, of finding a place where he was enough. But now, none of it felt real. His hope had become a cruel joke, and he was the punchline. He thought he had the talent, the drive, the fire to make it happen—but now all he had was a pile of broken notes, fragments of melodies that never quite fit together.

“I thought I could do this,” he whispered to the empty room, “I thought I had something worth offering.” His voice cracked as the flood of emotion built, spilling out in broken sobs that felt like shards of glass in his chest. “But it’s all just noise. It’s all worthless.”

The tears slipped down his cheeks as the dam inside him broke. He wasn’t sure what hurt more—the suffocating silence of the room or the sound of his own despair, filling every corner of him until he couldn’t breathe.

He fell forward, his hands grasping at the edge of the piano, but it didn’t offer the comfort he so desperately needed. He was no longer the boy who could get lost in the music, who could feel the pulse of it in his veins.

Now, it felt like a distant echo of someone he once was, someone who mattered, someone who was capable. He wasn’t that person anymore. The silence had taken him. The failure had stolen everything from him, leaving only emptiness in its wake.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice cracking, as though he could apologize to the music itself, to the dream he had failed so miserably. “I’m sorry... I couldn’t be who you needed me to be.”

His head dropped into his hands, and the sobs came harder now, each one a quiet scream of regret, of longing for something that could never be.

“I know you feel lost,” Josh whispered, “I know it feels like everything you wanted has slipped through your fingers, but Tyler—you haven’t lost anything. You haven’t lost your worth, your heart, your talent. You’re so much more than the pain you’re feeling right now. Please, you’ve got to believe that.”

He stepped closer, despite the invisible barrier between them. “You are enough, Tyler. Please, believe that. The world may not see it, but I do. I see every part of you—the parts you hide from everyone else, the parts you think aren’t good enough. They’re more than enough for me. You are enough.”

Josh swallowed hard, feeling his heart break with each of Tyler’s shattered breaths. “You’re not a failure. You’re not worthless. You’ve got more strength inside of you than you realize. And no matter how much you want to believe that the music is gone, it’s not. It’s buried deep inside you, waiting for you to find it again. I know you can. You always could.”

As his words hung in the air, there was a sudden, deliberate shift in the atmosphere. A faint stirring of air, soft yet unmistakable, moved through the room.

Tyler, still lost in his emotions, didn’t notice at first. But then, with the sound of a gentle rustling, a few scattered pieces of paper—a forgotten note, an old lyric sheet—began to stir on the floor. They lifted, the edges curling in the current, as if pulled by unseen fingers, the breeze carrying them across the floor toward him.

Tyler blinked, wiping his eyes as he watched the paper dance, the movement so precise, so purposeful, that it couldn’t be by chance. It was a soft whisper of wind, but it felt like something more. The paper fluttered to a stop at his feet.

It lay before him, just out of reach, edges crinkled. Hesitantly, he bent down to pick it up, his hands still trembling. He glanced at the scribbled words—lyrics, messy, raw and unfinished. He had written them once, years ago. Back when the music still felt like a part of him.

The words on the paper seemed to call to him, an echo of the melody that once burned in his soul. ‘Hello, we haven't talked in quite some time. I know I haven't been the best of sons. Hello, I've been traveling in the deserts of my mind. And I haven't found a drop of life. I haven't found a drop of you. I haven't found a drop. I haven't found a drop of water.’

Tyler sighed a shuddering breath. He set the paper down and, with a hesitant glance at the piano, placed his fingers back on the keys. Slowly, gently, his hands began to find the notes—clumsy at first, unsure, as if the music itself were foreign to him now. But he couldn’t stop himself. The song—his song—was still there, buried deep inside him, and for a moment, he was able to grasp it.

The melody came slowly, carefully, like an old friend he hadn’t seen in years. He sang, the words barely above a whisper, as if afraid they would break apart if he spoke them too loudly.

He grabbed a pen hastily, hand trembling over the paper as he scribbled frantically, as if these words were the only thing that could tether him to anything real. As if by writing, by singing, he could pull himself back from the edge, if only for a moment.

‘I try desperately to run through the sand, as I hold the water in the palm of my hand... ‘cause it’s all that I have, all that I need, and the waves mean nothing to me. But I try my best, all that I can, to hold tightly onto what’s left in my hand, but no matter how tightly I... the sand slows me down, the water drains.

Being dramatic? Only at it again... addict with a pen, addicted to the wind as it blows me back and forth, bindless, spineless, pretend. Of course, I’ll be here again, see you tomorrow. End of today, end of my ways, walking denial.

Crazy, suicidal... head-case?

You specialize in dying, hear me screaming, “Father!” Lying here, just crying, wash me with your water…’

The tears fell freely now, a steady stream that blurred the ink beneath his fingertips, and yet he couldn’t stop himself. His heart ached with every line he wrote, but there was something cathartic in it too. Like he was finally releasing the pain, giving voice to the darkness that had settled deep within him.

Tyler’s voice trembled through the words, testing them out on his tongue. Josh stood there, still unseen, listening intently, each note filled with a longing so deep it almost felt like a wound.

Tyler’s voice cracked on the last line, and for a moment, the silence that followed felt like it belonged to Josh too. Josh couldn’t help it—he smiled.

It was a quiet thing, a soft curve of his lips, but it was there nonetheless. Tyler’s voice, even cracked, even broken—it was beautiful. It was more beautiful than Josh had imagined, more beautiful than any words he could ever say. The rawness, the unguarded hurt, it all added depth to the sound, like something pure was reaching out from deep within Tyler, something so real that Josh felt it wrap itself around his heart.

He couldn’t tell Tyler, couldn’t let him know just how much he mattered in this moment. He couldn’t speak the words that were desperate to escape him. But in his heart, Josh knew something Tyler didn’t. He knew that Tyler was enough. More than enough. Even in his moments of doubt, in his belief that he’d failed, Tyler was exactly what he was meant to be.

When Tyler reached the end of the song and his voice fell into silence, Josh’s smile faded. He felt an ache, too, an ache that mirrored Tyler’s. It was as if they were both standing on the edge of something—something too painful to speak about, something too delicate to touch, yet it was undeniable.

But for now, all Josh could do was watch, listen, and feel the emotions Tyler had laid bare for the first time in so long. He stayed there, in the shadows, watching as Tyler continued to write, the words pouring out like a lifeline, each one a whisper of the pain he couldn’t escape. And as Tyler’s hand shook, his eyes focused on the paper, Josh’s thoughts swirled with admiration.

But then, something shifted.

A sound—barely perceptible at first. Tyler’s pen stopped mid-sentence, his body going rigid. His heart skipped, and his breath hitched in his throat. He blinked rapidly, rubbed his eyes, trying to make sense of it. There was no way.

There was someone standing in his room.

He whipped around in a flash, his pulse spiking as panic shot through him. No one had come in. The door had been closed. There was no way. Yet, there he was.

The figure was tall, dressed in dark, almost otherworldly clothes. His hair was wavy, falling just enough to frame his face, brushing over his eyes in a way that seemed effortless but perfect. Those eyes—oh god, his eyes—were intense. There was something… strange about him, like he didn’t belong here. Tyler’s brain couldn’t process it, but in that moment, as he looked at the man, there was something undeniably beautiful about him.

Still, no amount of beauty could erase the fact that this was a stranger, standing in his apartment, in the middle of the night.

What the fuck?

His mind screamed for answers, but none came. He couldn’t make sense of the sight before him. Is this a hallucination? Am I losing my mind?

Tyler scrambled back, his heart hammering in his chest. He knocked over a lamp in the process, the sound of it clattering to the floor barely registering.

“Who the hell are you?” Tyler demanded, his voice coming out way more high-pitched than he wanted. “Why the fuck are you in my apartment?”

Instinct kicked in. He jumped up and swung his fist at the man. But the moment his knuckles made contact, there was no satisfying impact—just air. His fist phased right through him, like punching a mirage. Tyler froze, staring at his own hand in disbelief.

His eyes darted from his fist to the guy’s face and then back to his fist, mind struggling to catch up with what he was seeing.

Tyler blinked rapidly. "I’m gonna faint," he muttered, his voice strained. He couldn’t process what was happening. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real.

The man blinked, visibly startled. He took a step back, and Tyler noticed how his eyes widened, like he hadn’t expected to be noticed.

Tyler stared, confused, his heart still racing. “Are you—” He stopped, rubbed a hand down his face. “Am I losing my mind?”

The stranger exhaled, almost amused. “Not yet.”

Oh, great. Fantastic. Not only was he hallucinating, but his hallucination was smug.

Tyler narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck are you?”

The guy tilted his head, considering. “Josh.”

“Seriously? Just Josh?”

Josh’s lips twitched. “Would it make you feel better if I gave you a last name?”

“Okay, Josh, are you, like, here to haunt me or something? I mean, I’ve been feeling pretty shitty, but this is a little over the top, don’t you think?”

Josh’s face broke into a shocked, awkward smile. “Haunt you? No. I’m not a ghost.”

“Then what the hell are you doing?” Tyler narrowed his eyes, his hands still shaking.

“Well...” Josh hesitated, clearly not prepared for this. “I guess you could say... I’m... here to help.”

Tyler blinked again. “Help? Help me how?”

Josh shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t really know how to explain it, but, um, I’ve been watching over you.”

“Like some stalker?”

Josh’s face flushed slightly, and he shifted from foot to foot. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said quickly. “I’m not supposed to be visible to you. But now... now you can see me.”

Tyler took a deep breath, still trying to process what was happening. “Wait... so you can always see me, but I’m not supposed to see you?”

Josh chuckled lightly, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “Yeah, something like that. I’m not supposed to interfere like this. But now that you can see me, well...” He shrugged, the gesture almost playful. “I guess it’s a little too late to go back, huh?”

Tyler shook his head, still processing. “This is insane. What the hell does that even mean?”

Josh smiled again, this time more genuine, almost shy. “It means I’ve been trying to keep you safe. Trying to keep you from doing things that you might regret.”

Tyler felt something tighten in his chest, a sharp stab of emotion he wasn’t ready for. He laughed nervously, though it didn’t sound amused. “Oh yeah? How? You going to tell me not to do it? Not to—”

“Not to hurt yourself?” Josh’s voice was softer now, his eyes holding Tyler’s with an intensity that made Tyler pause. “Yeah. I’d do that.”

Tyler’s anger deflated as quickly as it had flared. He wanted to yell, to scream, to demand answers, but all he could manage was a choked whisper. “Are you even real?”

Josh’s eyes flickered, a shadow of something—regret, maybe—passing over his face. “Real enough,” he said, his voice low. “I mean, I’m standing here, right? Talking to you.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Tyler snapped, his hands shaking. “Are you... are you even human?”

Josh’s mouth twitched, his eyes glinting with a wry humor that shouldn’t have felt so familiar. “Not exactly.”

Tyler let out a breathless laugh, though it was laced with disbelief. “Great. So I’ve been walking around, thinking I’m losing my mind, and there’s just been some invisible dude watching me?”

Josh’s expression softened, the smile faltering. “Don't worry, I wasn't there all the time,” he said quietly, a little defensive. “I show up when I can sense you’re going through something. To make sure you don't do anything reckless.”

Tyler’s mind was reeling. This wasn’t normal. None of this was normal. But there was something about Josh’s presence—something almost comforting, even if it didn’t make sense—that made him hesitate. Made him want to listen.

“You don’t get it,” Tyler muttered, suddenly angry with himself. “You don’t know what it’s like. How it feels... to want out so badly that you don’t care about the consequences. To be... trapped in your own head.” He swallowed, voice cracking at the end. “I’m just tired of it.”

Josh looked at him with quiet understanding, his gaze never wavering. “I do get it somewhat,” he said softly, stepping closer, his tone gentle but firm. “I might not be you, but I understand what it feels like to be stuck.”

Tyler opened his mouth to argue, but Josh raised a hand, stopping him before he could speak. “I can’t fix everything. I can’t just make all the pain go away with a snap of my fingers. But... I’m here, okay? I’m here for you.”

“So, what?” Tyler finally asked, his voice still rough. “You’re here to... keep me from doing something stupid? Like some guardian angel or something?”

Josh’s lips twitched, like he was holding back a laugh. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far. I’m not exactly angelic.” His eyes flickered up and down Tyler’s body in a way that felt just a little too personal for Tyler’s comfort. Josh’s lips curved into a smirk, something playful, teasing. “I mean, do I look like an angel to you?”

Tyler’s eyes flickered over him—dark clothes, sharp features, something rebellious in his posture. He scoffed, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, okay. Maybe not.”

“Hey, if it makes you feel better,” Josh said, leaning in slightly, his tone light and teasing, “I’m here because I think you’re worth it. Even if you don’t see it right now.”

Tyler’s breath caught at that, the humor falling away as something deeper settled in. Worth it. He didn’t know if he believed that about himself. He wasn’t sure he ever had.

“Why?” Tyler found himself asking. His voice was almost desperate in its quiet vulnerability. “Why would you care?”

Josh’s gaze softened. “Because... it's not about being perfect. It’s not about always having it together or having all the answers. Sometimes it’s about showing up when it’s hard. When it feels impossible.”

Tyler didn’t know what to do with the feeling that was stirring in his chest, but somehow, the presence of this stranger—this not-angel—felt like the first real thing in a long time.

“Don’t,” Tyler said after a long pause, his voice rough again. “Don’t make me think I’m worth saving. I’m not.”

Josh’s face hardened for a moment. He took a step forward, closing the distance between them. Tyler flinched, but Josh didn’t stop.

“I think you are,” Josh said softly, his eyes unwavering. “And I’m not going anywhere until you believe that too.”

Josh stood there, feeling as real as anything Tyler had ever known, eyes searching his like he could see straight into his soul. And for a brief moment, Tyler wasn’t sure if he was going to shatter or find something worth holding on to.

But then Josh smiled, just a small, soft smile, and Tyler—despite everything—found himself hoping it was the latter.

Josh tilted his head. “You gonna be okay for tonight?”

Tyler hesitated. Then, quietly, “I don’t know.”

Josh nodded, accepting the answer for what it was. “That’s okay. I’ll be here.”

Tyler looked at him, something in his chest tightening. “For how long?”

Josh smiled, small and certain. “As long as you need me.”

***

A few weeks had passed since that moment, since Josh had told Tyler he wasn’t going anywhere. Since then, there had been tiny moments where Tyler felt a flicker of hope, a brief spark of something that could maybe resemble peace. But they were fleeting, like a breeze too soft to catch, slipping through his fingers just when he thought he could grasp them.

Tyler had tried. He really had. He had tried to believe Josh, to believe that there was something worth holding on to. But the darkness had a way of creeping in, silent and relentless, no matter how many times he pushed it away.

It happened after a long day of pretending to be fine, of forcing a smile when all he wanted to do was disappear. He’d met with an old friend, someone who used to mean everything to him, but now felt like a stranger. They had exchanged pleasantries, fake smiles, and words that didn’t touch anything real. But the part that stung the most was when the friend had looked at him with those eyes—eyes that didn’t see the brokenness inside. They just saw the shell, the facade Tyler had perfected over the years.

“Are you okay, Tyler? You look... distant,” the friend had said, voice laced with concern, but it wasn’t the kind that felt like it could reach him. Tyler had nodded, had said the right words, because that’s what he did now—he pretended. But inside, something snapped. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t hold on.

It wasn’t their fault, really. They didn’t know. No one did.

By the time Tyler got home, the echo of that conversation still rattled in his head. He walked through the door and just stood there, the emptiness of the apartment pressing in on him. The silence was deafening. No one to talk to, no one to ask how his day had been, no one who cared to check if he was still alive. He felt like a ghost, drifting from room to room without purpose, like the world had moved on without him.

Then, that night, as the darkness closed in, the quiet felt like a weight too heavy to carry. The guilt for everything he was feeling, the anger at himself for not being able to fight it, and the crushing loneliness—everything came crashing down on him all at once. He had no escape, no way out of the endless spiral.

Josh had tried, he had. But Tyler couldn’t escape the truth. He was broken beyond repair.

And that was when he made the decision. It would be the end. He couldn’t do it anymore.

Tyler had gone to the bathroom, pulled open the cabinet, and grabbed the bottle of pills. His hands were shaking as he spilled them out onto the cold tiles, staring at them like they were the only answer left to him. For a moment, it felt like the only peace he could find would be in letting go. He didn’t want to fight anymore. Didn’t want to keep pretending.

This was it. This was supposed to be the end. He was so tired. So unbearably tired. He just wanted it to stop.

"Tyler…" Josh’s voice broke. He stood there in the doorway.

Tyler couldn’t look at him. He couldn’t bear to see the concern, the worry, the heartbreak that was bound to be there. Because Tyler wasn’t sure if he was worth saving anymore.

Tyler sank to the cold bathroom floor, his back against the tub, knees drawn to his chest. His hands shook as he picked up a handful of pills, his eyes hollow, his heart heavy.

Tyler’s voice broke the silence, low and fragile. “I don’t know if you’re real…” He wiped his face, his fingers brushing over his eyes in exhaustion. “Or if I’m just... losing my mind. Everything feels like it’s slipping. Like I’m disappearing in my own skin.”

Josh’s eyes widened, his voice soft but firm, “Tyler, I’m real. I’m right here.” His gaze softened as he stepped closer, “I know it feels like everything’s slipping away, but you don’t have to face this alone. You don’t have to lose yourself. You’re not going anywhere.”

Tyler’s eyes flickered, the emptiness in his gaze swallowing Josh’s words. He continued in a broken whisper, “Maybe I’m better off gone. I’m so tired of being like this, so tired of carrying this weight. I don’t even know how to fix it anymore.”

Josh’s throat tightened, “You don’t have to fix everything right now, Tyler. You’re not meant to carry this all by yourself. You’re hurt but you don’t have to stay in that place forever.”

"I don’t even know what I’m waiting for," Tyler continued, his voice thick with self-loathing. "Maybe something will change. Maybe I’ll wake up and... feel like I’m worth it again. But I don’t even know if I believe that anymore."

Tyler continued to speak, his voice low, the words falling from his lips like shattered glass, each one more desperate than the last. "I used to think it would get better. That I would... find a way out of this fog. But it’s never ended. It never will." He paused, his chest tight, his breath uneven. "I don’t even know why I’m still fighting. There’s nothing left to fight for."

His voice cracked, and he let out a shaky breath, sinking deeper into the emptiness around him. His hand trembled as it clutched the pills, a final attempt at escape.

"Why am I still here? Why do I keep breathing if all it does is hurt?" Tyler shook his head, eyes shutting tight, a silent sob escaping him. “I don’t know how to do this anymore. I don’t know what I’m supposed to be. I can’t even remember who I was before all of this.”

“Tyler, listen to me.” Josh steadied his voice. “You don’t have to know who you are right now. Hell, I don’t even know who I am half the time.”

Tyler’s eyes scanned him again curiously, before letting out a small huff. "Maybe I’m just meant to be broken," he muttered, shaking his head as if to shake off the very thought. "Maybe I’m just not worth fixing." His voice wavered, a thread of hopelessness running through it. "People always leave. Always. I can’t even trust myself anymore."

"I’m not leaving. Nothing’s going to happen to you, just put down the pills." Josh whispered.

Tyler’s fingers curled around the pills, the weight of them in his hand seeming to anchor him to a decision he couldn’t escape. "I don’t even know what the point of any of this is," he whispered.

Josh’s breath hitched as he saw the hopelessness in Tyler’s eyes, the rawness of his pain like a wound that would never heal. "You don’t have to do this, Tyler."

Tyler met his eyes as his fingers trembled, the pills slipping through them, clattering against the tile. He cursed under his breath, his vision blurring as tears welled up in his eyes. “Can’t even do this right…” he whispered, his voice breaking. He gathered the pills again, his hands shaking, his chest heaving.

Josh’s eyes went wide with panic. He couldn’t touch Tyler, couldn’t grab his hands, couldn’t physically stop him. But he had to do something. Anything.

His eyes darted around the room, his mind racing. He focused on the pills in Tyler’s shaking hands, his fingers twitching as he reached out, his body trembling. The air grew colder, the shadows shifting as a strong gust of wind swept through the room.

The pills scattered, the remainder slipping through Tyler’s fingers, bouncing off the tiles, rolling across the floor. Tyler’s eyes widened, his heart pounding as he watched the pills skitter away.

“No… no, no, no…” Tyler scrambled forward, his hands hitting the tile, his fingers clawing at the floor as he tried to reach them. His shoulders shook, his chest heaving, his vision blurring. “Why…? Why won’t it just end…?” His voice broke, his body crumbling. “Why can’t I just go…?”

“Tyler stop, please.” Josh took a step closer, his voice shaking, his words firm but comforting. “You’re not meant to go yet.”

Tyler’s shoulders slumped, his head dropping, his body sagging against the tub. “I’m losing my mind…” he whispered, his voice hollow. “Seeing things now… great… I really am crazy…” But his hand moved to his chest, his fingers curling against his shirt, his heart still pounding, his body still trembling. The words lingered, echoing in his mind, wrapping around his heart like a thread of hope.

He closed his eyes, his body sinking to the floor, head resting against the cold tile. "How long will you keep doing this? How long until you realize that I’m just a lost cause?"

Josh leaned in, his forehead hovering gently against Tyler’s. "Until you stop feeling like you’re a lost cause. Until you see that you’re worth more than the darkness you’re holding onto."

Tyler didn’t respond. He just sat there, silent, as Josh stayed by his side, always there, always watching, always waiting. His fingers hovered above Tyler’s hair, his voice shaking. “I’m here… I’ll always be here…”

Tyler sighed gently, “I don’t know if you’re real… or if I’m just crazy. But… thank you.”

Josh smiled softly at him, but it quickly slipped from his face as Tyler’s fingers slowly reached down to the scattered pills. Tyler hesitated, like a painter with a brush too heavy in his hand, unsure whether to finish the masterpiece of his destruction or let it fade into nothing.

Josh’s breath caught in his throat as Tyler began to pick them up, one by one.

“Tyler–”

But Tyler held up his other hand with a sigh. The motion was sharp, a wordless plea for space, for a moment to himself. And in that space, in the stillness between their breaths, Tyler’s gaze flickered to Josh’s, something flickering behind the darkness in his eyes.

With an almost reverent slowness, Tyler stood up, crossed the room, and flushed the pills down the toilet, their descent into the water like the slow unraveling of his own tightly wound heart. The water swirled and spun them away, as if washing away everything Tyler had ever thought he needed.

As the last pill disappeared, for the first time in what felt like forever, there was no weight, no suffocating pressure. Just the quiet hum of the room, the soft thrum of life continuing.

Josh stood there, stunned, as Tyler let out a breath, half relief, half exhaustion. Tyler didn’t say anything more. He didn’t need to. The silence between them was heavy, but it felt like the first step toward something else. Something beyond the pills, beyond the darkness.

***

Tyler sat with his back against the cool brick wall, the sun sinking low on the horizon, painting the sky in shades of lavender and gold. His legs were sprawled out before him, his hands buried in his pockets as he gazed at the sky, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips. He couldn’t explain it, but there was something comforting about the silence, something grounding in the quiet presence beside him. Something... real.

Josh was beside him, leaning casually against the wall, his posture relaxed, his face lit with the same warmth Tyler had come to cherish. It was surreal, the way he existed so effortlessly, so clearly beside him—Tyler could almost the warmth of him settling in his chest, feel the way Josh’s presence seeped into him like sunlight breaking through clouds.

“You know,” Tyler murmured, breaking the comfortable quiet, his voice lighter than it had been in ages, “I forgot what it felt like… to just sit. To be okay with just sitting.” He glanced at Josh, his eyes a little brighter than usual, a little less weighed down by the world.

Josh grinned, his smile almost mischievous, “Well, that’s because you’re always running from something, right? Always fighting something. You forget that sometimes, you can just… be. You don’t have to have an answer for everything.”

Tyler chuckled, a soft, genuine laugh that felt foreign to his own ears. It sounded light, like he was shedding a skin he hadn’t realized he’d been trapped in for far too long. “I guess you’re right. Never thought I’d say this, but it feels nice. Not thinking.”

Josh leaned closer, his gaze warm, and Tyler could feel the subtle electricity in the air.

“It’s funny,” Josh said, his voice softer now, almost to himself, “I never really understood what it was like. To feel things the way you do.” He paused, as though considering his words. “Emotions, I mean. I used to think they were... strange, fleeting. But then I saw you. I watched you, Tyler. The way you felt everything so deeply. So... all at once. I never knew it could be so beautiful.”

Tyler turned his head slightly, his brow furrowing in curiosity, a smile still lingering on his lips. “You… you’ve never felt that? The whole damn whirlwind of it?”

Josh shook his head, his eyes distant for a moment, as if remembering something just beyond his reach. “No. Not really. I understood concepts, I guess. Duty. Purpose. But not this. Not this kind of connection. The kind that comes from feeling everything. The kind that makes your heart feel like it’s breaking and mending at the same time.” He leaned forward, his voice low, almost reverent. “And when I see you, I’m in awe of it. Of how much you can feel, how deeply you experience the world. It’s something I never really knew I needed. Until now.”

Tyler swallowed thickly, the warmth in his chest spreading outward. He wasn’t used to someone looking at him like that—like he was something worth being in awe of.

Like his pain, his joy, his confusion, were all real and worthy of attention.

He let out a laugh, shaky but genuine. “You’re making me feel like some kind of... walking tragedy.” His eyes sparkled with that playful edge again, but there was something deeper there now. Something real. “I don’t even know how you do it. You’ve got me laughing, Josh. That’s a damn miracle.”

Josh’s lips curled into a soft, crooked smile, and for a moment, Tyler thought he saw something flicker in Josh’s eyes—something faint, something almost too real. But before he could place it, Josh shrugged. “I just show up and be myself. I think that's enough sometimes.”

Tyler chuckled, shaking his head. “You're too modest.”

There was a quiet pause, an ease that neither of them wanted to disturb. But then, in the softest whisper, Josh let something slip. “I guess that’s the thing with me, I don’t always get to choose. I’m meant to do certain things. My purpose is... set. Can’t really change that.”

Tyler froze. The words hung in the air, heavy and strange. “What do you mean? Meant to do things?”

Josh seemed to catch himself, his eyes flickering to the side as if considering how much to reveal. “It’s complicated.”

Tyler’s heart skipped a beat. He shifted uncomfortably, the knot in his stomach growing tighter. “Wait—what do you mean by ‘meant’ to? You’re not saying you’re some... god or something, are you?”

Josh’s gaze faltered, but then he sighed, as though there were no more hiding. “No, I’m not a god. But I have a job. A duty, I guess. I guide people.”

Tyler’s chest tightened, a shiver running down his spine. “Guide people?” His voice cracked. “Guide them how?”

Josh hesitated before speaking again, and there was an unmistakable shift in the air. “I’m a reaper, Tyler. I guide souls to their afterlife.”

Tyler’s blood ran cold, and everything—everything he’d been feeling, everything he’d been holding onto—faded into a numb blur. The laughter, the warmth, the connection, it all felt like it belonged to someone else now. “Wait…” His breath hitched, "So I was meant to die?”

He stood up quickly, hands shaking at his sides, his voice sharp with anger. “You stopped me. You stopped me from—”

Josh reached out, his hand hovering in the air, but Tyler pulled back, his emotions spiraling out of control. “How is that even allowed?” His voice broke, the hurt evident now. “You were supposed to guide me, not... not interfere. You took away my choice.” He turned away, fists clenched at his sides, his whole body trembling with the weight of the truth. “I should’ve been gone. I shouldn’t be here right now.”

Josh stood too, his gaze soft but steady. “Tyler…”

“No,” Tyler snapped, his voice low and raw. “Don’t. Don’t try to justify this. You took my choice away. I never asked you to save me. I didn’t want your pity or your fucking rescue.”

He paced in front of Josh, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “I should’ve died. That was supposed to be my end. But now I’m here, and I don’t even know what the hell to do with myself. What is this? What am I supposed to be now?”

Josh’s eyes softened, the vulnerability in them so real it made Tyler’s chest ache. “Tyler… I never meant to take your choice. But you were meant to go. And I couldn’t just let that happen. I couldn’t let you leave without knowing that… that you matter. You always mattered.”

Tyler stopped dead in his tracks. His mind was spiraling, his thoughts colliding and breaking apart. But amidst the chaos, there was something—something warm—something undeniable. A sense of connection. A pull. He didn’t know what it was, but it was enough to keep him here, standing in front of Josh. Still breathing.

“Then what?” Tyler whispered, his voice weak. “What now?”

Josh stepped closer, his presence steady and comforting. “Now… we figure it out together.”

Months drifted by like the quiet sweep of a tide. Slowly, with the kind of careful patience that only time could grant, Tyler began to acclimate to Josh’s presence. It was an unexpected thing—an anchor that didn’t weigh him down, but held him steady, as if Josh had always been there, woven into the fabric of his existence. His presence became a quiet balm, the calm in the chaos, a reminder that there could be softness in the world, even for someone like him.

Tyler still had his dark days, of course. The shadows would stretch long, too long, curling around him in the silence of the night. His thoughts would turn sharp and heavy, like an endless pull into a depth he couldn’t escape. But in the midst of it all, Josh was there. Always showing up when he seemed to need him most. It was a comfort that wrapped around Tyler like a gentle breath, keeping him tethered to this world, to the space between one heartbeat and the next.

One afternoon, Tyler stood in his kitchen, staring blankly at the photo framed on the wall. It was crooked, barely hanging on by a corner. The image was of a lake, the water so still it looked like glass, reflecting the mountains that loomed in the distance. He remembered that lake. It was the last place he’d felt… peaceful. Years ago, when things were different. When he was different.

His fingers trembled as his eyes traced the photograph. He didn’t know why, but he felt pulled to that place, like it was calling to him. Maybe he just needed to get away. To breathe. To remember who he was before he became this hollow shell.

He didn’t notice Josh at first, his gaze distant, lost in his own thoughts.

“You should go.”

Tyler blinked, his head snapping up as his eyes landed on Josh, standing just a few feet away, his expression unreadable but his gaze intense.

Tyler’s heart skipped a beat. “Oh. Hey. What are you doing here?” His voice trembled.

Josh’s gaze softened, “I could feel you weren’t okay.”

Tyler sighed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I’m not... okay.” His voice faltered, words spilling out as if they had been waiting to escape. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. Everything’s just… falling apart.”

Josh took a step forward, his eyes locking with Tyler’s. “Maybe you don’t need to have all the answers right now. Maybe you just need to go.”

Tyler’s chest tightened at the words. There was something about the way Josh looked at him—like he truly saw him, even when Tyler didn’t want to be seen.

He let out a shaky breath. “And then what?”

Josh’s lips twitched, as if he was holding back some emotion, before he took a deep breath and nodded toward the door. “Then… you keep moving. Even if you don’t know where you’re going. Sometimes that’s enough.”

The drive to the lake was quiet, the road winding through the mountains, surrounded by trees that seemed to stretch up to the sky. The world felt bigger out there, open and infinite. But Tyler felt small, insignificant. Just another soul drifting through a world that didn’t need him.

When Tyler reached the lake, he stood at the water’s edge, the air crisp and cold, the wind whispering through the trees. The water was so still, so calm. It was beautiful. Peaceful. But it made him feel more restless as he stared at his reflection. He looked… lost. Like he didn’t recognize the person staring back at him.

He sank down onto the shore, his knees drawn to his chest, his arms wrapped around them. His voice was soft, trembling as he spoke. “I don’t know who I am anymore.” His words were swallowed by the wind, carried away across the water. “I don’t know who I’m supposed to be.”

His eyes were glassy, unfocused. “I’ve tried so hard to be good enough. To be the friend they deserve. To be the son my parents could be proud of. But I always fall short. I always disappoint them. It doesn’t matter how hard I try. It’s never enough.” His shoulders shook, his body curling in on itself. “I’m never enough.”

He picked up a pebble, turning it over in his hand, his fingers trembling. “I used to dream, you know? I used to think maybe I could do something that mattered. Maybe I could connect with people. Maybe I could be someone. But I’m not talented enough. I’m not good enough. Every song I write isn’t right. Every note feels wrong. It’s like I don’t have a voice. Like no one would listen anyway.”

He threw the pebble, watching it skip across the water before sinking beneath the surface. “Everything I do fails. Everything I touch falls apart. I’m just… a disappointment. I ruin everything.”

Josh sank to his knees beside Tyler, his hand hovering above his shoulder, wanting to touch him, to comfort him, but he couldn’t.

Tyler’s voice grew softer, more broken. “I don’t even know why I’m still here. Why I keep waking up every day, pretending that it’s okay. That I’m okay. I’m not. I’m tired. Tired of hurting. Tired of failing. Tired of being nothing.” His shoulders slumped, his head dropping forward. “I don’t even think they’d notice if I was gone. I don’t think they’d care. Maybe they’d be better off without me.”

Josh’s chest tightened, his heart aching at every word. He took a slow, steady breath, his eyes never leaving Tyler. “You think you’re a disappointment because you can’t see what they see. You’re so focused on every flaw, every failure, that you’re blind to everything else. You’re not just your mistakes, Tyler. You’re the way you listen when people need to talk, the way you care even when it hurts. You’re the laughter you bring, the comfort you give, even when you don’t feel it yourself.”

His voice wavered, but he pressed on, the words heavy and raw. “You’re not nothing. You’re everything you’ve ever written, every note that’s ever carried your pain, your hope, your dreams. Even if they’re imperfect, they’re yours. They matter because you created them. You matter because you exist. Because you breathe, and fight, and keep going even when it feels impossible.”

Josh paused for a moment, trying to choose the right words. “You don’t see your worth because it’s buried under all that pain. But that doesn’t mean it’s not there. And I promise you, Tyler, the world would feel the emptiness if you were gone. People would notice. People would care. You’re not as alone as you think you are. Your existence has impacted lives. It’s changed mine.”

He swallowed, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I don’t know how to fix your pain, but I know that the world is better with you in it. So stay. Even if you don’t believe it right now. Stay long enough to see what they see. Stay long enough to find your voice. You’re not a failure just because you’re hurting. You’re just human.”

"I don't feel human sometimes." Tyler’s fingers dug into the earth, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to keep going. I don’t know how to keep pretending. I feel so empty. Like I’m already gone.” He stared out at the water, his eyes hollow, his voice trembling. “I just want to stop hurting. I just… want to rest.”

Josh’s shoulders shook, his head dropping, his hands curling into fists. He couldn’t take it. He couldn’t just stand there and watch Tyler fall apart. His voice was raw, broken. “You’re not alone, Tyler. I’m here. I’m with you. I’m always with you.” His body trembled, his heart aching. “I know what it’s like to feel trapped. To feel like nothing. To feel like your existence is meaningless.” He took a shaky breath, his eyes burning. “I’ve watched so many people die. I’ve watched so many souls leave this world, and I… I didn’t save any of them. I couldn’t do anything but watch.” His voice cracked, his body trembling. “I hate it. I hate this… existence. This half-life. I hate being what I am. I hate being powerless.”

His shoulders slumped, his head dropping. “I’ve been alone for so long that I forgot what it was like to care. I forgot what it was like to feel. But then… then I met you. And you made me feel again. You made me remember what it was like to be alive.” His voice wavered, his heart breaking. “I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you.”

His hand hovered above Tyler’s shoulder, his fingers trembling. “Please don’t give up. Please don’t leave me.”

Tyler let out a shaky breath, his eyes fixed on the water, but not really seeing it. “I don’t want to disappear, not really. I just… don’t know how to keep going. It’s like I’m drowning in a version of myself I don’t even recognize anymore. Like I’m already lost in the dark, and I don’t know if I can find my way out. I feel like I’ve been standing still for so long, waiting for someone to pull me out, but I’m not sure anyone could even find me in the first place.”

“But you did,” Tyler finally turned his head, meeting Josh’s eyes with a softness that broke his heart. “I don’t know how to live anymore. But maybe… I can learn.”

Josh’s eyes burned, his heart breaking as he watched Tyler struggle, so lost, so broken. “You don’t have to do it alone. I’ll be here every step of the way. I’ll be here even when it hurts. Even when you feel like giving up. I’ll be here… because I don’t want to live in a world without you.”

Tyler’s shoulders trembled, his body curling in on itself. “I’m scared. I’m so scared.”

Josh’s chest tightened, his voice soft, raw. “I know. I know it’s scary. But you’re not alone. You’re never alone, not as long as I’m here.” His voice wavered, “I won’t let go, I promise.”

Tyler’s eyes lifted, his gaze locking with Josh’s, his lips trembling. “You… you promise?”

Josh’s breath hitched. “I promise. I won’t let you go, I won’t let you fall away. I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

Tyler’s fingers tightened in the dirt, his voice breaking. “Thank you. For staying. You make me feel… less alone.”

Josh exhaled, glancing toward the lake just beyond them. The water stretched wide, a perfect mirror of the sky, the surface smooth and inviting under the soft light. A thought stirred inside him—an escape, fleeting but real.

He stood, “Come with me.”

Tyler frowned. “Where?”

Josh gave him a small, lopsided grin. “Let’s go for a swim.”

Tyler blinked at him like he’d lost his mind. “What?”

Josh gestured toward the water. “It looks nice. And you could use something nice.”

Tyler stared at him, unsure, like the idea of something good, something as simple as swimming, didn’t belong to him anymore.

Josh softened. “You think too much. Just this once, don’t.”

Tyler exhaled, running a hand down his face. “You’re really a pain in the ass, you know that?”

Josh grinned wider. “And yet, here you are, still putting up with me.” He took a few steps back, then—without another word—ran straight for the water. His feet hit the shallows, and then he dove in, vanishing beneath the surface.

When he emerged, shaking wet hair out of his face, Tyler was still standing on the shore, watching him.

Tyler crossed his arms. “How the hell are you swimming?” His voice was suspicious, skeptical, but there was a flicker of something else—curiosity, maybe.

Josh smiled, floating easily on his back. “I can interact with the elements. The earth, the water, the wind—I can feel it, touch it, be a part of it. But not anything human. Not anything manmade.” He lifted a dripping arm, watching as water trailed down his fingers. “No cars, no buildings, no doors or phones. Just this.” He let his hand skim the surface, watching the ripples spread. “Just what’s real.”

Tyler’s gaze softened, the weight in his expression shifting into something quieter, something aching.

“C’mon,” Josh coaxed, voice light. “Water’s nice.”

Tyler hesitated, but something in Josh’s words—something in the way he moved so easily with the world, untouched by everything heavy and cruel—made him step forward. He pulled his shirt over his head, kicked off his shoes, and waded into the water. The warmth wrapped around him instantly, welcoming, holding. He let out a small, breathy laugh, disbelieving.

Josh swam closer, watching. “See? Not so bad.”

Tyler shook his head, wiping his wet bangs from his forehead. “You’re actually insane.”

Josh grinned. “Probably.” Then, without warning, he splashed Tyler in the face.

Tyler spluttered, inhaling sharply before narrowing his eyes. “Oh, you little—” He swiped a handful of water and flung it back, catching Josh square in the chest.

Josh let out an exaggerated gasp. “Betrayal.”

Tyler rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched, and then—then he was laughing. Small at first, hesitant, but real. The sound of it sent something warm curling in Josh’s chest.

They swam for what felt like forever, play fighting each other, racing to the shallows and back, floating under the vast open sky.

Eventually, Tyler waded to shore, water dripping down his skin as he collapsed onto the grass, breathless. Josh followed, plopping down beside him.

Tyler looked up, water-dark lashes framing his eyes, something unguarded in his expression. “I needed that,” he admitted. His voice was soft, almost like he didn’t want to say it out loud, but he did anyway.

Josh just smiled, lying back with his arms folded behind his head. “Yeah. I know.”

Tyler was still looking at him, still watching him like he was something impossible, something unreal. Then, slowly, he reached out, fingers phasing through Josh’s knuckles where they rested in the grass.

Josh went still.

The ghost of Tyler’s touch was light, tentative, just barely there. “You can feel the world,” he murmured, “but you can’t feel me.”

Josh swallowed, his throat tight. “No.”

Tyler's eyes went glassy, his gaze catching on Josh’s—on the way his eyes shimmered, dark and endless, like the night sky above them. His voice was barely more than a whisper.

“I wish I could touch you.”

Josh inhaled sharply, as if the words had reached inside him and pulled something loose. His hands twitched at his sides, aching with the same longing, the same impossible wish.

“Yeah. Me too.”

Tyler let out a breath, uneven, his lashes lowering. He looked down at his own hands, his fingers flexing as if trying to summon the ghost of a touch he would never feel. “If I could…” His voice wavered, but he forced himself to meet Josh’s gaze again, “I think I’d never let go.”

Josh’s lips curved, soft and sad. “Then I’d hold on forever.”

Tyler exhaled shakily, his gaze tracing over Josh’s face as if trying to memorize every detail. As if afraid that if he looked away, Josh might disappear. He shifted slightly, unconsciously leaning toward him, drawn in by something neither of them could fight.

“I think I love you,” Tyler whispered, the words slipping free like they had been waiting to be spoken all along.

A slow, trembling smile ghosted across Josh’s lips. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear that.”

Tyler’s gaze softened, his eyes lingering on Josh, his lips curving into the faintest, saddest smile. “You’ve saved me. More times than I can count.”

Josh’s voice came out hushed. “I think you saved me, too.”

Tyler’s shoulders relaxed, his eyes drifting shut, his voice soft, broken. “Then… let’s save each other.”

Josh’s eyes burned as he watched Tyler finally let himself rest, finally let himself be vulnerable. “Yeah… let’s save each other.”

Later that night, Josh sat beside Tyler as he slept. The moonlight poured through the window, soft and silvery, bathing Tyler’s face in a quiet, ethereal glow.

For once, Tyler's features weren’t twisted with worry or pain. His breath was steady, his expression peaceful, untouched by the darkness that raged within him. To Josh, he looked like something fragile, something to be protected, as though in this moment, he could simply exist—untethered, free from the weight of the world.

Josh could hardly breathe, his chest tight with the beauty of it. In this silence, this stillness, Tyler seemed distant from all the hurt, all the noise. He was simply here, whole and alive, and in that simple fact, Josh could find solace.

How long had it been since Tyler had allowed himself this peace? How long had it been since he’d been let go of the world’s cruel grip?

The thought tore at Josh's heart, filling him with a profound tenderness—a tenderness he had long forgotten how to feel.

I don’t want to lose you.

The words hovered in the space between them, unspoken, but louder than anything. They echoed in Josh’s chest, as though his still heart was calling out to Tyler’s beating one, willing him to stay, to never fade away.

But then, like an icy breath of winter, the air shifted. The warmth that had surrounded them seemed to flicker and die, leaving a coldness that crept in from the edges of the room.

The shadows grew darker, stretching across the floor, as though they were reaching for something—something that belonged to them.

The shadows shifted, swirling, forming shapes—faces, bodies. Three of them, their eyes dark, their forms cloaked in shadows that moved like smoke.

“No,” Josh growled. “You’re not taking him.”

The reapers halted, their eyes widening in shock. The tallest one’s voice wavered. “You would defy us? You would stand against your own kind… for a mortal?”

The tallest one’s eyes were sharp, his voice cold. “You’ve crossed a line, Joshua.”

Josh’s body went rigid, his fists clenching. “I did what I had to do.”

“You interfered,” the reaper hissed, his eyes narrowing. “You broke the most sacred law. Reapers do not change fate. We observe. We guide. We do not save.”

Josh’s jaw tightened. “He wasn’t ready. He was hurting. He didn’t deserve to die.”

The woman’s face was emotionless, her voice a cold whisper. “It is not our place to decide who lives or dies. We are merely instruments of fate.”

“Tyler Joseph was meant to die,” the third reaper spoke, his voice low, echoing in the cold air. “His soul was meant to pass on. But you stopped it.”

Josh knew what they were saying was true. He didn’t know what consequences changing fate could have—on Tyler, on the universe. It had never been done before. But that hadn’t stopped him.

“I was just doing what felt right,” he whispered. “I felt like he was meant to stay. There’s so much more he’s going to do with his life. I can feel it. He made me feel.”

“You were selfish,” the woman snapped, her eyes blazing. “You didn’t save him for him. You did it for yourself. You did it because you didn’t want to lose him.”

The words cut deep, the truth settling heavy in Josh’s chest. He opened his mouth to argue but found no words. He couldn’t deny it. He’d felt a pull towards Tyler, even when he first laid eyes on him, first heard him speak into the open air. It was a sensation he’d never felt before. A feeling he didn’t want to let go of.

“You think you saved him, but you’ve only cursed him. Every day he lives is borrowed time. Every breath he takes is stolen. And the universe will take back what you’ve stolen. It will correct the imbalance.”

Josh’s body went cold. “What… what do you mean?”

“You’ve created a ripple effect,” the woman explained, her tone grim. “By keeping Tyler alive, you’ve altered the lives of everyone he touches. People who were meant to grieve are now ignorant of his death. Lives that were meant to change are now stagnant. Futures are rewritten… and the universe will not allow that.”

The third reaper’s face darkened, his voice a hollow whisper. “Death will come for him, Joshua. Again and again. You can’t keep doing this.”

Josh’s breath caught, his chest tightening. “No. No, I can protect him. I can save him. Please, he's doing so much better.”

“You’re a fool,” the woman spat, her eyes cold. “You think you can fight fate? You think you can outsmart the universe?” She stepped closer, her face inches from his, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You are nothing but a servant. A reaper. A shadow. You do not get to decide who lives or dies. You do not get to love.”

Josh’s body went rigid. “I can’t let him die.”

The tallest reaper sighed, his eyes softening the smallest amount. “I know. But you must.” He looked at Josh, his gaze piercing, his words final. “If you do not… the universe will take him from you by force.”

Josh felt his knees buckle, his body trembling. “No, please.”

The reapers stood in silence, their faces cold, unmoved. The woman spoke, her voice echoing in the darkness. “You’ve already made your choice. Now you must live with the consequences.”

The shadows around them began to swirl, the darkness growing thicker, colder. The reapers’ forms began to fade, their bodies dissolving into smoke, their voices lingering in the air.

“Let him go, Joshua… before you destroy him and yourself.”

And then they were gone, leaving behind only silence… and the crushing weight of inevitability.

Josh sank to his knees, his body trembling, his eyes burning with tears. He looked at Tyler, watched him sleep peacefully, his chest rising and falling, his face serene. Josh reached out, his fingers brushing against his cheek, his voice a whisper. “I won’t let you go… I’ll find a way… I promise.”

***

Josh returned to the apartment, he felt heavy, sick to the stomach. The soul he had collected had fought until the end, begging for more time, pleading for one more chance to live. But it had been futile, as always. He had watched them slip away—watched the light fade from their eyes, watched their once-warm bodies grow cold and still.

It never got easier. No matter how many times he did it, no matter how many souls he ferried across. He had learned to shut off, to distance himself, to be cold, detached. It was the only way to survive.

But then, there was Tyler.

Tyler, whose broken smile had haunted him. Tyler, who spoke to the air like it was listening, who bared his soul unknowingly, trusting that Josh would be there, always. Tyler, who was so painfully alive, so beautifully flawed. Tyler, who had somehow, impossibly, reached into Josh’s frozen heart and made him feel again.

Josh stepped into the living room, his shoulders slumping, his head hanging low. “I’m back,” he called out, his voice soft, tired.

The air felt heavy, wrong. A cold chill ran down Josh’s spine as he moved further into the apartment, his eyes scanning the familiar space. Tyler’s shoes were by the door, his keys on the table. He was home.

There was no music playing, no low hum of the TV. Just silence.

The bathroom door was ajar, a faint light spilling out. Josh’s footsteps faltered as he approached, his chest tightening with a fear he couldn’t explain.

He entered the room and froze.

Tyler was lying on the bathroom floor, his body twisted awkwardly, his head resting against the edge of the bathtub. His face was pale, his eyes closed, his chest still. A shattered glass lay beside him, water pooling around it, soaking into his shirt.

“Tyler?” Josh’s voice broke, a whisper of disbelief. He dropped to his knees, his hands trembling as he reached out, as he touched Tyler’s face, cold and unresponsive. “Tyler… no… no, no, no…”

That’s when he saw it—a thick smearing of blood at the back of Tyler’s head, staining his hair, trailing down to the floor. Josh’s stomach twisted.

A fall. Just a stupid, meaningless accident.

He could see it so clearly—the glass slipping from Tyler’s hand, shattering on the floor, stepping on the shards. He must have lost his balance, stumbled backward, his head striking the edge of the bathtub. A single moment of bad luck, a slip, a fall, and everything was over.

Josh’s body trembled as he instinctively tried to cradle Tyler in his arms, tears falling, hot and wet, mingling with the cold water on the floor. He phased through him, it only broke Josh more.

“No… please… please wake up… Tyler, please… don’t do this… don’t leave me…” His voice cracked, shattered, his heart breaking. “You can’t… you can’t leave… not like this… not now…”

He lowered his forehead to hover against Tyler’s, his tears falling between them, cold and sharp. “I never left you… I was always here… I never gave up on you… I was always here…” His voice broke, shattered, his body shaking. “Why did you have to leave… why did you have to go… I was always here…”

The room was silent, cold, indifferent. There was no answer.

Josh looked up, his eyes red and swollen, his face streaked with tears. He looked at the broken glass on the floor, at the blood staining the tiles, at the cruel reality of it all. Just an accident. Just a fall. A twist of fate that took Tyler away. The universe was a bitch.

He choked on a sob, his body curling around Tyler’s, his heart breaking. “I was always here… I never left you… I never stopped caring…” His voice was soft, broken, a whisper. “I need you… please… please come back…”

Tyler blinked, confused, disoriented. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but something felt off, something felt different. The air around him was heavy, like he was moving through a thick fog that clung to his skin, to his bones. His body felt weightless, too light, like he was floating but couldn’t quite grasp what was wrong. He looked around, trying to piece everything together, trying to make sense of what was happening.

But nothing made sense.

He was standing in the same room, the same empty space that he’d left behind. The walls were as familiar as the ache in his chest, but they felt colder, somehow. His heart—was it still beating? Was he even breathing? His fingers twitched, but it was as if they weren’t really his anymore. He tried to speak, but no sound came from his mouth.

Then he saw him.

Josh was kneeling beside the bathtub, his shoulders slumped, his head bowed, his body trembling. His hands were hovering over Tyler, unsure of what to do with them, how to comfort someone he couldn’t touch. He looked broken, shattered, as if his entire world had collapsed around him.

"You were real all along, huh?" Tyler asked, his voice a fragile whisper. The words hung in the air between them, heavy with the weight of everything he couldn't understand.

Josh’s eyes widened as he whipped his head in his direction, his face crumpling with a grief so deep, so raw, Tyler could almost feel it himself. Josh opened his mouth, but it took him a moment to find the words, to choke through the pain.

"Yeah," Josh whispered, his voice thick with tears, his shoulders shaking. "I was real. It was real."

The words hit Tyler like a slap to the face, the truth of them sinking into him like a stone, dragging him down into the abyss of his own grief. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come. He just stood there, staring at Josh, his heart aching—aching for everything they never had, for everything that had been left unsaid, for everything that had been broken beyond repair.

Tyler took a step toward him, instinctively reaching out, but the moment his hand moved to touch Josh’s shoulder, his fingers met solid flesh. It wasn’t a dream, it wasn’t an illusion—he felt Josh. He could touch him. He could feel the warmth of Josh’s skin beneath his fingertips, the trembling of his body.

Tyler froze. His fingers lingered on Josh’s shoulder, but they trembled. He hadn’t expected this. His mind couldn’t catch up with his body. For a moment, it was as if the world stood still, and nothing else mattered—just this, just Josh, just the raw, painful truth of being seen, of being heard.

Josh’s breath caught, and his hand hovered near Tyler’s, but he didn’t move it. His face was an open book of pain, regret, and something else—something softer, something Tyler didn’t quite understand but longed for all the same.

"I…" Tyler started, but the words died in his throat. His hand fell away from Josh’s shoulder, as if he couldn’t bear to touch him, as if he were afraid that the warmth would slip away, that Josh would vanish like a dream.

"I can’t believe I’m here," Tyler whispered, voice small. Too small.

Josh’s eyes shone with unshed tears, and for the first time, Tyler saw the weight of everything Josh had carried—the burden of his job, the loneliness that had haunted him for as long as Tyler had been alive. And yet, here they were, together, standing in a place where nothing made sense, but somehow, it all felt real.

"You never should have had to leave," Josh murmured. "I never wanted you to go."

Tyler looked at him softly. "I didn’t think anyone cared," he said quietly. "I didn’t think anyone could hear me."

Josh’s fingers brushed the back of Tyler’s hand, soft, tentative, like he was afraid of breaking something fragile between them. "I heard you," he said, his voice breaking. "I heard you all along."

And for the first time, Tyler didn’t feel like he was floating in the void, waiting to disappear.

He felt seen.

He felt alive.

But just as quickly as the warmth flooded his chest, the realization of what had happened crept in—the finality of it all. Tyler’s chest tightened as he realized that, no matter how much he felt in this moment, it was too late. He reached out again, this time with more certainty, more desperation, and Josh’s hand found his, clasping it tightly, holding on as if he, too, were afraid that this moment would slip away.

"You’re not alone," Josh whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Not anymore. You’re never alone."

The reapers emerged from the shadows like towering giants, their presence filling the empty void. Their faces hidden beneath the dark, swirling hoods, they stood imposingly in front of Josh. Their voices cut through the silence like a storm’s roar.

“You know why we’re here,” one of them said, its voice filled with cold authority.

“His soul must pass on, and you Josh need to go back to being a reaper. No more pesky feelings.”

Josh shook his head, desperate. “No. I can’t— I can’t go back to being that. Not now that I’ve felt what it’s like to live… to love.” He paused, his gaze flicking to Tyler, his ghostly figure standing just behind him. “I can’t leave him again.”

The reapers moved as one, their attention fixed on Josh. The weight of their judgment pressed down on him, suffocating.

“You do not understand, Josh. A reaper who becomes attached to the living disturbs the balance.” The reaper’s voice was cold, detached. “You were never meant to be more than a shadow in the lives of mortals. Your time among them is finished.”

Josh’s chest tightened. “I don’t care. I won’t leave him. I can’t.” He looked at Tyler, his hand trembling as he reached for the faint, fading form of the man he loved.

The reapers didn’t budge, their silence deafening. One of them spoke again, voice final.

“You have two choices, Josh. You could continue as you were, immortal, with a purpose. Or you can choose to become human. But understand this—if you choose to give up eternity, you will no longer be a reaper. You will live, and you will die. Either way, we’ll make you forget all of this. Rules are rules. But we need your consent first.”

Josh’s breath hitched. He looked at the reapers, the reality of the decision sinking in. He could become human. He could experience life with Tyler in ways he never thought possible. But he would also have to give up everything—his immortality, his power, and all that he had ever known.

He swallowed, his voice steady despite the storm inside him. “Not without Tyler.”

The reapers’ eyes widened, the air growing colder as they exchanged uneasy glances. One of them, a tall figure with hollow eyes, crossed his arms. “That’s not how it works, Josh. The dead stay dead. Even we can’t change that.”

“But we can,” another interjected, her voice hesitant. She was shorter, her form flickering as if caught between worlds. “His soul hasn’t fully crossed yet. There’s... a window.”

The first reaper’s head snapped toward her, his expression sharp. “Are you insane? Bringing him back would shift the balance. Life and death aren’t games to be played.”

She held her ground, her voice firm. “I know the risks. But look at him.” She gestured toward Tyler, who stood there, his eyes wide with disbelief. “He wasn’t meant to die—not yet. It was... premature.”

The third reaper, an older man with weary eyes, sighed, rubbing his temples. “You’re talking about bending the rules. Maybe even breaking them.”

The first reaper scoffed, his arms tightening across his chest. “Stories end. It’s not our place to change that.”

“But what if this is how it was meant to be?” she challenged, her voice fierce. “What if Josh was meant to find him? To save him?”

Silence fell, heavy and charged. The third reaper looked at Josh, his expression unreadable. “You’re asking for something that’s never been done. If we bring him back, the consequences could be... catastrophic.”

“Or they could be nothing at all,” the second reaper argued, “Tyler’s life is a thread in a vast web. Bringing him back might cause ripples... but it could also heal the break his death caused.”

The first reaper shook his head, his face contorted with frustration. “We’re reapers. We guide souls, not revive them. This... this is unnatural.”

“Maybe,” the second reaper conceded, her gaze shifting to Josh. “But maybe it’s also necessary. Maybe Tyler’s life impacts more than we realize.” Her eyes softened. “Maybe Josh’s humanity hinges on it.”

The third reaper’s shoulders sagged, his face etched with indecision. He looked at Tyler, whose form flickered faintly, the light within him dimming. “If we do this... there’s no going back. If we return him, it could... disrupt the order. Other souls could be affected. But... leaving him here, unfinished...”

He trailed off, his eyes distant. Then he looked at Josh, his voice low. “Why are you willing to risk everything for him?”

Josh’s voice wavered, raw and unguarded. “Because I love him. Because he deserves more than this. More than fading away, forgotten. I’d give up eternity just to see him smile again... to hold him... to love him in a way that matters.”

The reapers fell silent, the weight of his words hanging in the air. The second reaper’s eyes shone with a quiet understanding. “Love,” she whispered, almost reverently. “That’s what makes humans so... infuriatingly resilient.”

The first reaper ran a hand through his hair, his resistance crumbling. “If we do this, we’ll be defying the natural order. There’s no telling what it’ll cost us.”

“But what if the cost is worth it?” the second reaper countered, her voice softening. “What if Tyler’s life matters more than we realize? What if bringing him back balances something we can’t see yet?”

The first reaper cursed under his breath, his resolve finally breaking. “Fine. The benefits... might outweigh the cost. Just this once.”

Tyler stepped forward, his form flickering as he looked at Josh, his eyes wide and glassy. “You can’t do this,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “You can’t give up everything... for me.”

Josh’s gaze softened, his eyes never leaving Tyler’s. “You gave me a reason to live. A reason to feel. I’d give up everything... just to keep you.”

Tyler stepped back, his face a mixture of grief and resignation. “I—I don’t want you to do this.” His eyes were wide with fear, his voice desperate. “I don’t want to be the reason you lose everything. I’m already gone, Josh. I’m already gone, and nothing can change that.”

Josh’s eyes filled with tears. He took a step closer, his voice trembling but earnest. “Tyler, do you want to be gone? Are you… are you at peace now? Or would you want another chance?”

Tyler’s eyes widened before his gaze fell to the ground, shoulders slumping as his voice broke. “I… I want to live. I do. But I don’t want you to die. I can’t be the reason you give up everything.”

Josh’s chest tightened, a tear slipping down his cheek. “Then let me make that choice. Let me choose you.”

The reapers exchanged glances, a silent agreement passing between them. Finally, the third reaper stepped forward, his voice solemn. “Then it’s settled. Tyler will live again. And you... you’ll be human.”

“If Tyler chooses to die again, there will be no intervention. The universe will not allow it. No one will stop him. He must choose to live of his own will. If he chooses death, it will be his decision, and no one can change that.”

Tyler’s eyes flicked to Josh, and Josh could see the pain, the helplessness in his gaze. Tyler gave him a small, weary smile. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to break Josh’s heart all over again.

Tyler’s voice was faint. “I… I can’t choose for you, Josh. But you don’t have to choose me. Don’t choose death just to save me.”

“I’ll give up eternity,” Josh said, his voice firm now. “I’ll give it up, for you. If it means having one life with you, then it’s worth it.”

Tyler let out a strangled sob, his knees buckling. “You’re not going to remember me. What if I never see you again? What if I do see you again and you… you don’t care anymore? I can’t lose you.”

Josh stepped closer and let his hands cup Tyler’s face, his fingers brushing away the tears. “You won’t. Not really. I’ll… I’ll just be different. I’ll be human.” His voice wavered, his eyes shining. “And… we’ll have a life. Together. Just not forever.”

Tyler’s face crumpled, his hands clutching Josh’s shirt, his body shaking. “I don’t want a life with you if it means losing you in the end. Not when I know it happened because of me.”

Josh gave him a bittersweet smile. “You were always going to lose me… one way or another.” His voice was soft, gentle. “But this way, we get to love each other first.”

Tyler’s breath caught, his eyes wide, his chest heaving. “I… I hate you.” His voice broke, his shoulders trembling. “I hate you for making me love you. I hate you for making me lose you.”

“I know. I know, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But I can’t let you go. I can’t… watch you go.” Josh’s voice was soft. “I’d rather live one lifetime with the chance of finding you than spend eternity without you.”

Tyler’s knees buckled, his body collapsing, his face buried in Josh’s chest, his shoulders shaking.

Josh’s heart shattered, his arms wrapping around Tyler, holding him close. “I love you. I love you more than anything, and I’ll never regret this. Not for a second.”

The air grew cold, shadows swirling around them, voices whispering, ancient and hollow. “It’s time.”

Tyler’s head snapped up, his eyes wide, fear flooding his face. “No… no, please… please don’t go…”

Josh cupped his face, his thumb brushing Tyler’s cheek, his eyes burning. “I’ll find you, I promise. I’ll find you no matter what.”

Tyler’s face crumpled, his shoulders shaking. “How will you know me?”

Josh’s lips curled into a soft, broken smile. “How could I ever forget you? I’ll love you in every life… in every form… forever.” He pressed his forehead against Tyler’s, his eyes closing. “Promise me something.”

Tyler’s breath hitched, his voice trembling. “Anything.”

Josh’s voice came soft and filled with longing. “Until I find you… keep singing. Keep creating. You’re something special, Tyler. You deserve to be heard. Maybe you can save some other people.”

Tyler’s eyes filled with tears. He gripped Josh tighter, his voice cracking. “I promise.”

Light burst around them, blinding and cold, shadows reaching out, wrapping around Josh, pulling him away.

Tyler screamed, his hands clawing at the light. “No! No, please! Josh! JOSH!”

Tyler collapsed, his body trembling, his heart shattered, his soul hollow.

His eyes flew open, his chest heaving, air rushing into his lungs. He was on the cold, tiled floor, the walls pressing in around him. The bathroom. The bathroom where he… where he…

His hands flew to the back of his head, his fingers trembling, searching for blood, for pain, for the wound that should’ve been there. But there was nothing. No scar. No ache. Just warm, unbroken skin.

He was alive.

A sob wrenched from his chest, raw and broken, his body curling in on itself as tears spilled from his eyes. He was alive. Here, in this place of shadows and pain and endings… he was alive.

He pressed his hands to his face, grief and relief colliding inside him. He was alive. Josh had… Josh had saved him.

A choked cry broke from his lips, his body trembling. He could still feel the ghost of Josh’s touch, the warmth of his smile, the weight of his love.

And now he was gone.

***

Tyler’s heart stopped when he saw him.

Amid the dust-dappled sunlight of the bookstore, fingers drifting over the spines of old paperbacks. His hair—a familiar mess of brown waves—caught the light in that way Tyler remembered so well. His shoulders were relaxed, his stance effortless, his face softened by a smile so tender, so warm. He looked the same. Almost exactly the same. But younger. More human. Alive.

After a year of nothing, of aching silence, of desperately wishing he could see him again—Tyler had almost given up hope.

Tyler’s chest tightened, momentarily forgetting how to breathe. A thousand thoughts collided in his mind, screaming that it wasn’t possible, that it couldn’t be real, that he was dreaming.

He took a shaky step forward, his voice soft and uncertain. "Hey...”

Josh turned, eyes bright and warm… but empty. No spark of recognition, no flicker of memory. Just a polite, curious smile. “Sorry… do I know you?”

The world stopped. He was right there, close enough to touch, close enough to feel the ghost of his warmth… but he was gone. Everything that mattered was gone.

Tyler’s throat tightened, words crumbling in his mouth. “I… I thought…” His voice broke, fragile and hollow. “Sorry. I must’ve… mistaken you for someone else.”

Josh’s smile softened, head tilting, eyes gentle. “No worries. Happens all the time.” He hesitated, gaze lingering, a crease forming between his brows. “I don’t know why, but… you look familiar.” A quiet laugh, light and carefree, the sound so painfully familiar that Tyler’s knees nearly buckled. “That’s weird, right? I mean, we’ve never met, but I feel like I know you somehow.”

Tyler’s heart twisted, chest aching so fiercely it hurt to breathe. “Yeah?” His voice wavered, his eyes burning. “I feel that way, too.”

Josh smiled, soft and warm, eyes shining. “Maybe we’re just meant to be friends or something.” He shrugged, his laugh a melody Tyler had heard a thousand times before. “If you want, we could grab a coffee or something. I don’t know why, but I feel like I should get to know you.”

Tyler’s breath caught. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he was here, that he was alive, that he was smiling that same beautiful smile… but he didn’t remember. He didn’t know how much they’d lost.

But Tyler couldn’t walk away. Not again. Not when he’d spent every moment since that day wishing he could see him, hear his voice, feel his touch just one more time. Even if Josh never remembered, even if he was just a stranger now, Tyler couldn’t let go.

His voice was a whisper, words fragile. “Yeah… I’d like that.”

Josh’s face lit up, his grin bright, his eyes crinkling at the corners, just like they used to. “Cool. I’m Josh, by the way.”

“Josh…” Tyler’s voice broke, his body shaking. Of course, his name was still Josh. Of course, he was still him… just without everything that mattered.

Josh’s eyes softened, his smile warm. “And you are?”

Tyler’s eyes locked on Josh’s, heart screaming for him to remember. To say his name like he used to, to smile like he knew every piece of his soul.

“Tyler. My name’s Tyler.”

Josh’s face lit up, “Tyler… nice to meet you.”

Tyler wanted to cry.

Josh’s fingers brushed his wrist, warm and real and so painfully familiar. “Hey, are you okay? You look… sad. Did I say something wrong?”

Tyler’s breath hitched. He wanted to scream that everything was wrong, that nothing was okay, that he was drowning in grief and loss and love. But instead, he forced a smile, his lips trembling. “No, you’re fine. I just… miss someone.”

Josh’s expression softened, his eyes warm with understanding. “Someone who meant a lot to you?”

Tyler’s chest tightened. “Yeah… someone who meant everything.”

Josh’s hand lingered, his touch gentle and steady. “I’m sorry. I get it. It’s strange, but… I’ve been feeling this emptiness too. Like I’ve lost someone I can’t even remember.”

Tyler’s heart stopped, eyes going wide. “You have?”

Josh’s face twisted, brow furrowing. “Yeah, it’s weird. I feel… incomplete, I guess. Like there’s a piece of me missing. But I don’t remember who, I don’t even know if they were real.”

Tyler's vision blurred. He wanted to scream that it was him, that he was the missing piece. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t force Josh to remember what was lost.

He looked away, hands shaking, voice a whisper. “Maybe you’ll remember one day.”

Josh’s lips curled into a soft, sad smile. “Maybe. But even if I don’t, I think I’m glad I met you.”

Tyler’s chest ached as he smiled back. “Yeah, me too.”

Josh’s smile brightened, eyes shining. “So, how about that coffee?”

“Yeah, coffee sounds good.” Tyler forced a laugh.

They walked out of the bookstore, side by side. Tyler glanced at Josh, at the way his eyes sparkled with curiosity, at the way his hair fell messily across his forehead, at the way his smile was so effortlessly warm. He looked at him, and his heart ached, but this time… it didn’t break.

Josh was alive. He was here. He was smiling. Tyler couldn’t help but be grateful. Because Josh was in this world, still breathing, still laughing, living. And Tyler got to see it.

It wasn’t the same. It would never be the same. But that was okay. This was a second chance, a new beginning. Maybe they were meant to find each other again, even if everything was different.

They walked together, step by step, their shadows stretching long in the afternoon sun. Josh’s voice broke through the comfortable silence, soft and curious. “Hey, have we really never met before? I feel like, I don’t know… like I’ve known you forever.”

Tyler could feel his heart flutter. “Who knows? Maybe we have met.”

Josh’s eyes sparkled, his smile gentle. “Yeah, maybe.”

Tyler laughed lightly. “You could've seen me around,” he said, almost shyly. “I do some gigs sometimes… It’s kind of embarrassing though, I’m just starting out, and…”

Josh cut him off, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. “No way, man! I play drums!” He grinned, his excitement palpable. “We should totally start a band!”

“Yeah. That’d be cool.” Tyler blinked away tears. It wasn’t the idea of the band, or even the offer—though that was more than he could have dreamed. It was the way, even without remembering him, Josh believed in him so effortlessly, so completely, as if Tyler was worth something, as if he deserved to be believed in.

Josh stood there, so vibrant, so human, so beautifully alive. And in that moment, Tyler realized that no matter what—whether Josh ever remembered their past or not—he would carry that connection in his heart. He would hold onto every memory, every laugh, every tear, and make sure it was enough for both of them.

Because in this life, Josh was free. Free to live, to love, to feel. Free to make new memories, to discover new happiness.

And Tyler would be there, no matter what. Because he’d loved Josh once, and he would love him again. In this life, and the next.

Josh grinned. “I think it’s fate we met, Tyler.”

Tyler’s heart felt warm. “Yeah, me too.”

They stood there, bathed in sunlight, the world moving around them. Tyler looked at Josh and he knew, without a doubt, that this was the greatest gift he could’ve ever asked for.

Because once, Josh had been a reaper, bound to shadows and duty, lost to eternity. But now… now he was alive, flesh and blood and heartbeat.

And Tyler had been human—alive but not truly living, drowning in darkness. But now… now he was living alongside the man who taught him how to love the world again.

And that was all Tyler ever needed.