Chapter Text
It’s been a long day.
The concert was supposed to start at 8 PM, but due to someone hitting his head with a cupboard door and getting an intense headache, was delayed to 9:30. The fans were unhappy, the crew was unhappy, but most of all, Tyler was unhappy. He hates when things don’t go according to plan.
He really, really hates when things don’t go according to plan.
“How’s your head?” Josh asks, handing Tyler a can of Red Bull from the mini-fridge and making his way over to the bed. “Actually, you probably shouldn’t have this, the caffeine—“
Tyler shoots him a glare. Don’t you dare take this one good thing away from me, Joshua William Dun.
Josh understands him instantly.
“You know what, fine. Have your Red Bull.”
“That’s more like it.” Tyler says and cracks the can open.
As always, they had insisted on sharing the same room. No point in getting two rooms as they would only use Tyler’s, anyway.
The room itself is opulent, walls carefully plastered with gold damask wallpaper and expensive paintings hanging on each of them. Tyler kind of hates it. It also isn’t huge, because both of the men really hated having too much space to themselves. Then there was the bed Josh was on, which — by accident — ended up being one queen bed instead of their usual two twins.
This had happened to them before, of course. Not like it was ever a problem. Lord knows, they had seen parts of each other their girlfriends probably hadn’t.
Therefore — Tyler and Josh hadn’t bothered to fight for separate rooms.
“Fine. I guess.” Tyler groans from the couch, taking off his shoes. “We did okay today…” He trails off. “We did okay today, right?”
There’s a hint of hope in his eyes as he looks towards Josh. Please tell me the show was fine. You’re the only person I would believe it from.
“Better than okay.” Josh smiles, taking off his own shoes after sitting down on the bed. “Your feet stink. Want some ice?”
“For my feet?”
Josh is the one to shoot him a glare this time.
Tyler ponders over something for a minute, his expression switching to concern. He takes a deep breath and starts softly nudging his shoes back and forth with his feet. “Do you think we’re getting to old to stay in the same room?”
“No. I like being in the same room with you,” Josh replies almost immediately.
It’s not surprising to Tyler that he doesn’t ask where the question came from. Of course he wouldn’t. It’s Josh Dun. He trusts any and every word that comes out of Tyler’s mouth. He had patiently stuck through “would you still be my friend if I was a worm?” question and all of its adjacent variations, so this one was probably a mild 2 on the scale of severity.
Of course he would say that. It’s Josh Dun.
“Yeah, me too. Just double checking.”
Tyler takes a sip of his Red Bull, hums, and finally gets up, putting the can on the desk and making the few steps to towards Josh. He throws himself onto the — extremely uncomfortable — hotel bed, making a sound that could wake up no less than three rooms in the nearest vicinity. He groans at the feeling of feeling his body almost snapping in half after hitting the mattress.
“Dude. It’s 1 AM,” Josh grumbles from the other side of the bed, turning his expression from the TV to his bandmate. “You can’t be that loud. The walls are like, paper thin in this place.”
“Back hurts,” Tyler states nonchalantly, pulling out his phone and turning off one of the lights. He looks at Josh, then back at his phone. “Mm. Too far.”
Josh lowers an eyebrow. “What?”
“You’re too far. Come here.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
Josh chuckles. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re great at debating?”
“Yeah, all the time. Now come here.”
Josh straightens up, looking Tyler up and down. Tyler can tell Josh isn’t sure what exactly he wants from him. He’s not too sure what he wants, either. All he knows is that for the entire concert, even with the pounding migraine, he could not stop thinking about the man on the drums.
His stupid hair. His stupid mesh shirt. His stupid necklace, and eyes, and voice. Stupid.
Of course he couldn’t. It’s Josh Dun.
Tyler has tried telling himself that in the long run, it wouldn’t matter if Twenty One Pilots had a different drummer, but he knows damn well that’s not true. Hell, probably a good chunk of their songs wouldn’t even exist if Josh weren’t so mind-numbingly stubborn to keep them on the album.
Yes. Twenty One Pilots would have existed without Josh Dun. The band would still be nearing its 20th anniversary.
Fuck, no, it would not. Tyler would not still exist if it weren’t for Josh Dun — fuck, fucking — whatever.
Josh scoots over to Tyler’s side, and now they’re both lying too close for comfort — which Tyler finds strange to note, considering they’ve probably never been too close for comfort. “What? You wanna show me something?”
“Nope, not really.” Tyler says.
“Then why did you — Tyler.” Josh groans, grabbing his friend’s phone with almost no effort. “Would you look away from that thing for a second?”
“Just messing with ya.” Tyler chuckles. “Relax, Joshua.”
He’s not sure why he used Josh’s full name. He only does it when he’s angry, or sad, or — ah.
Now that he has no phone to look at, his eyes turn to look directly into Josh’s, as if searching for an answer to a question he has only asked in his head. As if he’s begging Josh to read his mind for real this time. This time, the question isn’t one of the stupid ones.
Well, maybe it is.
Josh stays silent and adjusts his head on the pillow, still pouting. Tyler wants so badly to do something to get Josh to take his shirt off. Just for fun. That’s what friends do, right?
He keeps his mouth shut.
Tyler’s the one to straighten up now, sitting up and leaning his back on the headrest. He winces in pain, but would do it time and time again just to admire Josh from this view. Slowly, he moves his hand to Josh’s head, then to his ear, then to his hair.
“Your hair’s soft today,” he muses.
“It’s soft every day,” Josh half-mumbles from the delight of Tyler’s fingers gently massaging his scalp.
He turns to look at the ceiling.
Of course it’s soft every day, idiot, Tyler thinks. Fuck. I can’t believe I know that.
“Yeah, but it’s usually also greasy.” Tyler notes, too serious for his friend’s liking. There’s no way he could afford to voice any of his inner dialogue out loud.
“Jeez. Way to ruin the moment.” Josh mutters under his breath. If Tyler didn’t know any better, he would assume it was… Disappointment?
“We were having a moment?”
Nice, Tyler. Stupid.
It’s not like Tyler does’t know they were having a moment. Of course he knows. But this little inkling of doubt he has — the one that’s gnawing at him — creates this imaginary barbed wire fence that he can not cross. For a multitude of reasons. His head starts spinning every time he thinks about it for longer than twenty seconds.
He’ll play into it anyway.
“You’re an asshole.” Josh says. His voice is neutral, as if he’s already half-checked out of the conversation.
Tyler hates it. Okay, maybe he took it a little far.
“Well, alright.” he shrugs, trying to gain his composure. “We both know that’s not what you really think.”
Tyler’s staring at Josh still, his gaze piercing him with its heat, trying to find an inkling of emotion.
Nothing.
“Since when do you know what I really think?” Josh lowers an eyebrow in amusement.
A glimmer of hope. Good.
“Silly Josh. I’ve known ever since I met you,” Tyler says, his gaze almost burning a hole through his bandmate.
He feels the panic setting in. He had not thought this far.
“And what am I thinking now?”
Tyler pats his lap, signaling him to come even closer. Sure, they’ve been incredibly close before, but this feels different.
Intimate. Hell, even a little romantic.
Josh obliges, scooting closer and putting his head on Tyler’s lap.
His best friend’s head is on his lap. They were just having a moment. Okay.
Tyler feels like he’s about to die.
He moves his fingers to Josh’s cheeks, carefully, almost as if he’s calculating how many millimeters he has until he touches his bandmate’s skin again. He moves them down to his chin, then back up to his lips. He takes a deep breath, trying to curb himself from saying something he can never take back.
“Your freckles are cute,” he finally states, warm fingers once again hovering above Josh’s face, then gently landing on top of his left cheekbone.
“I have freckles?”
Tyler rolls his eyes. “Yeah, you do. And they’re cute.”
“Careful, Tyler.” Josh smirks. “One more compliment and I’m gonna start thinking you’re in love with me.”
Even if I were — which I’m not — no way in hell am I admitting that.
“Maybe I am.” He pauses. “You’ll never know.”
There is a slight smirk on the corners of his lips. Great move, genius. That’s definitely something someone not in love with Josh would say.
Josh snorts. “That’s what the internet’s been saying for the past fifteen years, anyway.”
“Yeah, but it’s usually thought to be a mutual thing.”
His hand moves to Josh’s neck, and he can feel the slightest hint of his friend’s pulse under his fingertips. Is Josh’s heart beating as fast as his? He’s too dizzy to tell.
Any expression disappears off Josh’s face just like moments before. “Maybe it is. You’ll never know.”
Tyler’s own words echo in his jead. That had to be a sign, right? A sign of something?
Tyler lowers his head, getting awfully close to his bandmate’s own. Their faces are directly above each other’s now, and all he would need is just a few inches to —
No.
“I won’t?” He simply asks, deeming it the better decision.
“I don’t think so.”
Tyler feels a moment of bravery strike him, and his body gets a bit too ahead of his brain, and—
“C’mon, Josh.” He says calmly, “One of us has to cut the shit.” His tone is annoyed, hell — even angry — as if he’s mad at his own cowardice.
Whatever it might be, that’s none of Josh’s business.
“Won’t be me,” Josh grins, grabbing Tyler’s face and moving it away from his own so he could get up. He jumps up from the bed, shamelessly, as if he’s late for something.
Tyler’s face drops almost instantly. His shoulders slump along, and he feels like a puddle of sweat, anxiety, and disappointment.
“No shot you just did that.”
Josh makes his way over to the sofa and grabs his jacket. “I’m gonna take a walk, okay? Don’t wait up.”
Tyler opens his mouth to say something — he’s not sure what, exactly — and instead watches the hotel room door close behind his friend.