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By the time they wrapped up their 200-capacity show in Springfield, Tyler felt about ready to collapse.
His head had pounded the entire day, which in itself wasn’t something new. He operated most of his days with a low-grade headache behind his eyes.
But then he kept rotating between bouts of feeling unbearably hot and freezing cold, sometimes both at the same time, which he couldn’t make much sense of.
Then, his throat started to hurt. It was just a faint pain at first with each swallow, but had progressed to the point where just opening his mouth made him feel as though he were swallowing glass.
Not exactly ideal for someone who chose to scream in half of his songs. Each note was agony on his throat.
He took his skeleton hoodie on and off maybe ten times during their hour long set. Josh kept shooting him concerned glances that he pointedly ignored.
He was fine.
There was no such thing as canceling a show when they were that small of a band. The last thing they wanted to do was gain a reputation as flakey or unloyal. This band was his life. If he had to perform through headaches and chills and the constant, building need to sneeze, then so be it.
They ended the show with Trees, something that had become recent tradition, and something Tyler didn’t think he’d ever want to change. Something about it concluded the show in such a perfect way. He didn’t want to do it any other way.
Except, of course, for when he entered into the pit and his vision swam so much he thought he might fall straight through the crowd. He gripped onto the hands of two individuals maybe a little too tight, knees threatening to buckle beneath him. He managed to push through it and rise onto shaky feet.
When he looked out into the crowd in front of him, he forgot where he was for a split second.
He glanced to his left to see Josh staring at him, shoulders pulled up around his ears as he shrugged.
Tyler looked at him, face blank, before he remembered.
Oh, yeah.
He tapped his mallets in the familiar rhythmic motion, the synths rising around him. Each tap against the drums sent a spike of pain through his skull.
Just a few more minutes.
Then, he could pass out on the floor of the van and hope to wake up with a better brain.
Or maybe not wake up at all.
He’d worry about one thing at a time.
The motions to get back to stage felt herculean in nature, and by the time he was slumped over, Josh’s arms wrapped around his back, he wished he could collapse onto the ground right then and there.
He felt a tap on his back that sent sparks of pain through his tender skin. He glanced up to see Josh once again staring at him, waiting.
“Oh.”
He cleared his throat and rose back up, lifting the microphone to his lips.
“We’re Twenty One Pilots and so are you! Thank you so much for coming out to the show, we’ll see you at the next one.”
He swallowed, the ache in his throat so intense he thought he might throw up.
He didn’t.
Small victories.
They made quick work packing up the van in order to hit the road. They had an early show in the Quad Cities the next day. Tyler stumbled around, useless, making halfhearted attempts at collapsing microphone stands and wrapping up cords.
He heard the familiar comfort of Josh’s voice, but didn’t understand a word he was saying. Tyler glanced up at him and squinted. “Huh?”
“I was asking what you wanted for dinner,” Josh said.
“Oh.”
“Well, what do you want?”
Just the idea of eating made his stomach churn. “Um. Whatever’s out there. I don’t really care.”
Josh gave him an odd look. Tyler blinked and turned away. “Okay.”
It was all he could do not to audibly sigh when he finally got to sit down in the old, worn-in and cracking leather bench of the van. In an ideal scenario, he’d be passed out on the floor in the back, but unfortunately for him, his friends cared about things like “driving safety”. There wouldn’t be a Twenty One Pilots if they got into a wreck and Tyler went flying through the windshield. Not that he would mind at the moment. It seemed preferable to the ache of his bones and the burn in his throat.
Instead, he squirmed in his seat and tried his best to rest his neck in any position that might allow him to sleep. The van took off, Mark and Michael chatting away up front, and Tyler was growing more frustrated by the moment. Some dumb pop song was playing on the radio, and Josh was texting on his phone, the buttons clacking at an increasingly irritating volume, and the pothole-ridden roads kept rattling Tyler’s skull. He fanned his shirt out in front of him and wiped the sweat growing on his brow. At the same time, he shivered, his teeth chattering in his mouth.
It was only a few hours until the Quad Cities.
He would be fine.
“Tyler?”
The sound of his own name made him flinch. Josh had put his phone down and was staring at Tyler.
“What?” he said, his throat protesting. He attempted to suppress the chattering of his teeth.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he said, straightening his back.
Josh eyed him up and down, not appearing to buy into what Tyler was saying. “You look hot.”
Tyler’s face flushed. “Um—”
“— I mean, like, temperature wise. Not that you’re not attractive, or anything—”
Tyler thought that, at the moment, just the sight of his sickly face would be enough to level buildings.
Mark interrupted Josh’s frantic ramblings. “Real smooth, dude.”
Josh winced and brushed an anxious hand through his hair. “I just mean— you’re sweating. Like a lot.”
Tyler turned away and wiped a hand across his face. “It’s hot outside.”
“It’s, like, 62 today,” Mark said from up front.
Tyler scowled. “Does this conversation involve you at all?” he said with more edge than he intended, irritating his fragile throat.
“If you want privacy, you could always jump out the window.”
Tyler rolled his eyes, but said nothing. He turned back to Josh. “I’m fine.”
Josh remained unconvinced. “Here,” he said.
To his surprise, Josh lifted the back of his palm towards Tyler’s face. Tyler backed away on instinct, seatbelt cutting into his chest. He tried to suppress a sniffle from his stuffy nose.
“It’s okay. I’m just gonna check your temperature,” Josh said.
He spoke to Tyler in a low, gentle voice.
“Okay, mom,” Tyler said, trying to come off as teasing.
Instead, his voice cracked and sounded hoarse.
Josh’s cool palm made contact with his forehead, sending shivers down his spine. He closed his eyes, mourning the loss of his presence once Josh pulled away.
Josh chewed his lip. “Tyler, you’re burning up.”
He felt instant panic. “What? No, I’m not.”
“You’re like a furnace.”
“Shoot,” Michael said from up front, “Are we gonna have to cancel the show?”
“No!” Tyler said through his damaged throat, just as soon as Josh said, “Probably.”
Tyler turned to glare at him. Josh raised placating hands. “I know you hate to cancel, Ty, but you can’t mess around with your health like this.”
Tyler groaned and went to rest his head against the seatrest. At that moment, everything seemed to catch up to him. The migraine. The aches and chills. The feeling of glass shards lining his throat. The constant oscillation between burning hot and freezing cold. “I don’t wanna,” he said, his voice a low whine.
He knew he sounded pathetic, like a small child who wasn’t getting his way. But performing shows was his life. It wasn’t like he had a stable job where he could take a few days off and come back when he felt better. Pausing for even a second could mean the difference between making or breaking this entire thing.
He felt Josh’s hand on his shoulder. “I know. But you need to get better.”
He kept his eyes shut for a moment, when he heard the unbuckling of a seatbelt. He opened his eyes to see Josh shifting towards him. “What are you doing?”
Josh transferred to the middle seat and rebuckled himself in next to Tyler, their shoulders touching. “Keeping you company. You need to get some sleep.”
“I’ll sleep in the hotel,” he said, slinging an arm over his face.
“When’s the last time you did sleep?”
He froze.
His silence was enough of an answer for Josh.
“Ty, if you keep pushing yourself like this, this kind of thing is going to keep happening.”
Josh had lowered his voice to the point where Tyler could barely even hear it. He realized, then, that this was meant to be something between just the two of them.
He felt tears sting in the corner of his eyes and worked through a wave of chills that made his whole body tremble. He whispered, hoping to relieve some of the strain on his throat. “I hate disappointing people. I don’t want to let anyone down.”
Josh ran a hand through Tyler’s hair, and he leaned into the touch. “You’re not letting anyone down. Just try to get better, okay?”
He closed his eyes. “‘Kay.”
“And use me as a pillow if you need to.”
Tyler’s eyes flitted up towards Josh, who looked at him as though he held the world. “I’m totally going to get you sick.”
Josh laughed softly. “That’s okay. I packed some Emergen-C.”
Tyler leaned his head against Josh’s sturdy chest and sighed. “I’m going to spit in your coffee.”
Josh threaded his hands through Tyler’s hair again, and Tyler thought it might be the most comfort he’d felt in his life. “Aw. I love you, too.”
A trip to Urgent Care and the nearest pharmacy later, Tyler had been diagnosed with the Common Cold and prescribed bed rest by the doctor, and gifted a bag of cough drops by Mark, who immediately turned on his heels and locked himself in his room next door.
They didn’t have money for things like separate hotel rooms in their minuscule tour budget, but Michael had made the executive decision to splurge and buy two double-rooms for the night. He and Mark in one, Tyler and Josh in the other.
Tyler had collapsed into the bed by the window as soon as possible. He felt freezing, but he didn’t have the motivation to untuck the blankets. Or take off his shoes. Or move a single muscle at all.
“You should go stay with Mark and Michael,” Tyler said, his voice hollow and dissipating fast.
There was no chance he would be able to perform tomorrow.
They hadn’t even made it to the Quad Cities. They’d landed in some random Illinois town with the cheapest hotel money could buy.
“I’m not leaving you,” Josh said, opening up the bag of cough drops.
Tyler rolled his eyes. “I have a cold. I’m not going to die.”
“And you’re miserable, and you look like you could use a friend,” Josh said.
Tyler startled when he saw Josh standing above him, cough drop held in his hand. He took it and popped it into his mouth, grimacing. He’d always hated the taste of any type of medicine since he was a little kid. His mom used to have to blend cough syrup into juice or smoothies, and even then he could hardly get more than a single sip in.
Still, at the moment, he’d take anything over the feeling in his throat. The familiar burn settled over his tongue as the medicine worked its way through him.
“Thanks,” Tyler ended up saying.
“Of course,” Josh said, resting his hand against Tyler’s forehead. He frowned.
“What?” Tyler said.
“You’re still hot.”
Tyler couldn’t help but crack a grin. Maybe it was the fever, or the sleep deprivation, or the magical powers of his drugstore-brand cough drop, but he found the whole thing deeply hilarious. He giggled, not caring about the way it hurt his throat.
“Come on,” Josh said, but Tyler could see him laughing, too.
“You’re pretty cute yourself,” Tyler said, rolling over in bed.
Josh stuttered on his words. “Um. Thank you?”
“You’re welcome.”
Tyler sneezed, then, and suddenly nothing was funny anymore. “God,” he said, “I think someone shredded my throat into a thousand pieces.”
Josh sighed. “C’mon. Let’s get you ready for bed.”
Tyler groaned. “Ugh.”
“Work with me, Ty.”
Josh untied his shoes for him, then unbuckled his belt.
It should’ve been humiliating. It was a bit, in a way. He was a grown man. He could dress and undress himself. But God did it hurt to just turn his head.
“This is much less sexy than I imagined it would be for you to take off my clothes,” Tyler said, delirium running high in his body.
“Oh, shut up,” Josh said.
Tyler giggled again as he helped Josh shove the pants off his legs.
“Shirt on or off?” Josh asked.
“On,” Tyler said, “If you wanna see that, you’ll have to buy me dinner first.”
He kicked his legs around on top of the sheets, the fabric cool beneath his burning body.
“Are you always this flirty when you get sick?” Josh said as he draped the blankets over Tyler’s frame.
Tyler slung his hand over his eyes. “Only when it’s you.”
Josh paused. Tyler’s heart pounded.
He might’ve gone a bit too far.
He could blame this all on the fever later, right?
Josh shut the curtains to the room, drenching them in semidarkness. Then, he filled a cup with tap water and set it on the nightstand. Tyler watched it all happen with half-lidded eyes. Josh was like an angel, he realized. He was kind and forgiving and caring. So much better than Tyler could ever hope to be.
“What?” Josh asked as he settled on the opposite bed.
“Nothing,” Tyler said, sniffling, “You’re just a good friend. Too good to me.”
“Nothing’s too good for you,” Josh said.
“I don’t know about that.”
Josh was silent for a moment. He stood up and walked over to Tyler. Tyler felt his weight dip against the edge of the bed. “Just get some sleep, Ty. Hopefully you’ll feel better when you wake up.”
Tyler hummed as Josh pressed a gentle hand against his head. Before he could stop himself, he grasped onto Josh’s hand with shaking fingers. “Stay?”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“No. I mean, like, here.”
He suddenly wanted nothing less than to be alone. Josh didn’t say anything.
“Sorry. It’s stupid. You’ll get sick, too—”
“No. I can do that. I’ll sleep with you if you want.”
That made Tyler giggle again.
“Oh, stop,” Josh said, but his voice carried the same amusement as before.
Josh slid under the covers beside Tyler, and Tyler shuffled to rest against him. “I’m definitely getting you sick,” Tyler said, shutting his eyes when he felt Josh’s hand resting on his back.
“I’m already sick,” he said, “Sick as frick.”
Tyler groaned. “You’re not funny.”
“You’re right. I’m hilarious.”
Tyler huffed a laugh as he twisted under the blankets and attempted to find himself in a comfortable position. Josh was warm and solid beside him, maybe too warm, but Tyler didn’t care about that at the moment. He rested his head against Josh’s chest. If his nose wasn’t stuffed, he’d breathe in the familiar scent of him.
All of a sudden, the days events caught up to him. A deep sense of shame burned through him.
“‘m sorry,” Tyler said, mumbling into the crook of Josh’s neck.
Josh ran soothing circles against Tyler’s back. He felt so much like a kid and a 22-year-old all at once that he didn’t know how to reconcile it. “For what?”
“I shouldn't be joking like that. I don’t know what got into me. I— sorry.”
Josh’s hand stilled. “You don’t have to be sorry.”
“I went too far. I— I don’t want to mess with our friendship, or make you feel weird, or—“
“Tyler,” Josh said, putting an end to his ramblings, “You didn’t make me feel weird. Trust me.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I mean, I would take you out to dinner. If I had, like, money. We could go somewhere nice. You deserve something like that.”
Tyler’s heart pounded, and his hands clenched the fabric of Josh’s worn-in t-shirt. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do.”
“But we’re both—“
“I know.”
There was so much unspoken between them in that moment, and Tyler both wanted to disappear forever and to capture it directly as it was. Right then, with his head against Josh’s chest, where they could pretend they lived in a world where something like them could ever make sense. It was all he wanted. It was his greatest fear.
“Oh,” Tyler said.
“Yeah.”
He shivered, not just from the chills in his bones. In the morning, they’d either have to talk about this, or pretend it had never happened. For the moment, Tyler decided to bury his head further into Josh’s chest, closing his eyes as though he could shut out the rest of the world.
“Goodnight, Tyler,” Josh said, voice barely above a whisper.
“Goodnight, Josh.”