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Stay in Place Sing A Chorus - Forest Fic
Stay in Place Sing A Chorus - Forest Fic
Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: Underage, Major Character Death
Category: M/M
Fandom: Bandom, Twenty One Pilots
Relationship: Josh Dun/Tyler Joseph
Character: Tyler Joseph, Josh Dun, Original Male Character(s), Kelly Joseph
Additional Tags: Don't copy to another site, Synesthesia, Songfic, Mental Instability,
Imaginary Friends, Past Patient Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual
Abuse, Suicide
Collections: Read Again They Were Good (clayrin), clique
Stats: Published: 2014-06-21 Words: 8807
Notes
if you are very easily triggered by anything in the tags, please don't read this. i don't think
this is very graphic, but please be cautious.
"Orange, right." Josh points at Tyler. "That's right. I keep forgetting that one."
"A lot of things are orange, though," Tyler says, frowning.
"Not where I'm from," Josh says darkly. "Everything's just blue-black there."
"Don't," Josh says firmly. He shakes his head. "Don't even try."
There's a soft tap on the door before his mom pokes her head in.
"What are you doing, Tyler?" Tyler's mom asks, looking in.
"Tyler," his mom says, sighing. "Josh isn't real, remember? We've been over this before."
"Tyler, I..." His mom pauses, looking unsure. "Don't apologize, okay? It's just that Josh doesn't
exist."
"Okay," Tyler tells her, waiting for her to leave so Josh can come back.
His mom looks at him, something yellow-blue-red in her eyes. He forgets what other people call it.
Josh would know.
"Tyler, you have an appointment tomorrow, remember?" Tyler's mom says. "With Dr. Paulson."
Dr. Paulson has lots of markers, a checkerboard, and a liberal use of a drawer full of candy so Tyler
won't tell anyone about the one time everything tasted like metal and soap and magenta dipped in
candle wax.
His mom bites her lip. "All right, Tyler," she says. "Remember to eat, okay?"
"He sounds so..." Josh bites his lip, searching for the words. "I would say purple-green, but I'm
missing something, aren't I?"
"Right, right," Josh says. He makes a face. "I don't like it when you go there."
"I was kidding," Tyler says as he sprawls back onto his bed.
"Some joke," Josh mutters, sounding irritated. "Don't kid about that, okay?"
"Okay," Tyler says, suddenly reminded by his conversations with his mother. The sound of butter
being spread on toast, bland, and purple-red acceptance.
"No, really," Josh says, hopping off the bookshelf so he can grab Tyler's hand. "Don't joke about
that. That was... bad."
"It was," Tyler allows, and Josh presses his lips to Tyler's hand.
And Tyler is so charmed by the way Josh's mouth forms his name that he agrees automatically.
"Everything all right with your wife, Doctor?" Tyler asks politely.
"Peachy," Dr. Paulson huffs, flopping down onto his chair. "Chocolate or lollipop?"
"Lollipop," Tyler answers. He likes to suck them as obscenely as possible once in a while, just to
check Dr. Paulson's priorities.
The lollipop is red, tasting green-red-yellow, like cherries. Tyler's careful to rub it across his lips,
making them as red as possible.
"Last session we discussed books," Dr. Paulson says, not paying attention to Tyler's treatment of
his lollipop. "And headaches."
"Yes, you mentioned that many times," Dr. Paulson says, sounding tired.
"-of Genesis is almost entirely green, so you can read it," Dr. Paulson says. "I take very good
notes, remember?"
"I remember," Tyler says in the same tone he uses with his mother.
Dr. Paulson, who is entirely familiar with Tyler's vocal tones, sighs.
"Tyler, I'm sorry I'm not at the top of my game today," he says. He leans forward, and Tyler jerks
back so quickly that the lollipop almost goes down his throat. "Sorry, sorry," Dr. Paulson
apologizes. He takes off his glasses so he can scrub his face with his hand. "I'm so sorry, Tyler."
Tyler doesn't say anything. He thinks that if he opens his mouth, nothing but the 'gibberish' only
Josh seems to understand would fall out. His heart's pounding in his chest, and he places his hand
over it. Dr. Paulson follows his movements and winces.
"I'm okay," Tyler says, pleased when he hears them come out as 'normal' words.
"You're not, Tyler," Dr. Paulson says with a sigh. "You're not okay." He shakes his head slowly, as
if to clear it. "What do you want to talk about today?"
"The treehouse," Tyler says, before wishing he didn't say anything because Dr. Paulson's eyes go
blue-orange-green, all interested and almost hungry-looking.
"What treehouse?" Dr. Paulson asks, jotting something down in his notebook.
"We- I found a treehouse in the woods," Tyler murmurs, scowling down at the carpet. He feels
oddly exposed now.
"What was the treehouse like?" the doctor asks, not looking up from his notebook.
"I dunno. Woody." Yellow-purple. The way wet chalk feels. The lowest B on his piano.
"Do your parents know about the treehouse?" Dr. Paulson asks.
Dr. Paulson blinks. "I suppose it doesn't," he says slowly. "I just wanted to know if you've been
talking to them."
"You could've just asked them that," Tyler points out. "You could've just asked me that."
"You're right, Tyler. I'm sorry," Dr. Paulson says, sounding genuinely apologetic. "Have you been
talking to your parents?" Tyler snorts. "I thought so." The doctor leans forward slowly, so Tyler
has time to prepare for his presence. "I think you should talk to them, Tyler. They really care about
you."
"They don't." Tyler knows he sounds like a child, like the smell of orange peels, but he doesn't
care.
"They do, Tyler. And they were so, so upset when they found out what had happened to you."
"Tyler, you weren't very easy to understand then," Dr. Paulson says gently. "You still aren't,
honestly."
Tyler is silent for a moment. "No." He pauses. "They don't know me at all."
"Tyler, have you ever thought about making peace with your parents?" Dr. Paulson asks.
Tyler scowls. "They should be the ones making peace with me."
"They're trying, Tyler, really," the doctor says. "I guess you haven't noticed, but they're trying to
make amends."
Dr. Paulson ignores that comment. "They said they've been trying to take you out more and
participate in family activities."
"I hate crowds," Tyler tells his doctor. "I hate board games. I hate TV."
"They don't know what you like, Tyler," Dr. Paulson says. "But I'm sure they'll be happy to do
whatever you do like with you."
Tyler blinks. "What?" Dr. Paulson has never willingly brought up the topic of Josh before.
"I'm not saying that Josh is real, Tyler," the doctor says quickly. "But maybe you could try telling
someone in your family about him."
"And what purpose would that serve, other then to cater my delusions?"
"It'll help you open up," Dr. Paulson says, ignoring his sarcasm. "You're much easier to understand
when you're talking about something you're passionate about."
Tyler thinks about this. "You'll have to tell my parents that it okay for me to talk about Josh."
Dr. Paulson sighs. "I didn't mean for that to happen when I told them about Josh, Tyler. I'm sorry."
Dr. Paulson nods slowly to himself, jotting something down in his notebook. "I'll talk to them."
"What are you going to say about me?" Josh asks as he picks at a piece of splintering wood in their
treehouse.
"You could tell them how pink-red-orange I am," Josh says, flashing Tyler one of those smiles that
make Tyler melt. "How sexy I am, how I sound like melted marshmallows, how my lips are the
key C major, how I can-"
Josh laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he grins. Tyler looks away before Josh can see him
staring.
"I know," Tyler says. "But telling them about you isn't going to convince them of that."
"Talk to them about you anyways," Tyler says. "Fuck what they think."
"Why do we talk like this, anyways?" Tyler asks. "If we just used our words, nothing like that
would happen."
Tyler nods slowly. "Sounds like something I'd do. Back, y'know."
"Well, yeah," Josh says. "You were all-" he makes a few indiscernible hand motions, "blue-purple.
Jumbled."
"Not exactly," Josh says. "Sort of... I can't remember the word for it. Orange-green-purple."
"That's it. I keep forgetting that one," he says. "Confused. You were confused. And like the letter
M. The way August smells."
"Confused, maybe," Tyler allows. "I don't know about lost, though."
"Maybe," Tyler says again. He watches Josh flick the lighter he always has on and off. "Why do
you even have that? You don't smoke."
Josh shrugs. "You never know when you'll have to set everything on fire."
Tyler furrows his eyebrows. "What? What are you talking about?"
"He dyed his hair the other day," Tyler tells his mom.
They're sitting on the steps outside, watching the wind blow through the trees in their backyard. It
sounds like a cool pillow on Tyler's skin, and he smiles.
"Blue. Bright blue," Tyler says, grinning a little to himself. "It was red for a while before,
actually."
"That's neat, Tyler," his mom says, still looking rather uncomfortable.
"He has these really dark brown eyes," Tyler says, choosing to ignore his mother's discomfort.
"Coffee eyes. That kind with coffee and hot chocolate. What's that called again?"
"Tyler," his mom says, biting her lip, "who is Josh to you?"
"It's... y'know, okay if you want a boyfriend," Tyler's mom says. "Just so you know."
"You always have this goofy look on when you talk about him, Tyler," his mom tells him.
"Well," his mom shrugs, "you've never seemed very straight, Tyler."
"It wasn't an insult!" his mom begins to protest, but pauses when she sees Tyler laughing.
"I'm gay," Tyler assures her once he's done giggling. "I just never expected you to notice."
"I do occasionally notice something about you, Tyler," his mom tells him.
Tyler immediately sobers. He frowns, and his mom sighs, carefully taking his hand.
"I'm sorry, Tyler," she tells him. "I know that an apology won't fix anything, that it won't change
anything, but I am still so sorry."
"I-" His mom sighs. "Dr. Craig seemed very professional, Tyler. He was supposed to be top of the
line. And he was very smooth, very reassuring that there was absolutely no misconduct." She sighs
again, squeezing Tyler's hand gently. "I regret not listening to you more than anything, Tyler."
Josh rolls his eyes. "Come on, Ty," he says, passing him his pocket knife. "Show me. In 'normal'
words."
Tyler stares at the knife, warm and heavy in his palm, like silk on dewy grass.
"Show me," Josh repeats.
Tyler flips out the blade, pressing it to the wooden floor of their treehouse.
"'Normal' words," he whispers to himself, trying to recall one for how he feels.
T-E-R-R-I-F-I-E-D
Tyler shrugs, wiping the wood shavings off the knife before flicking it closed and handing it back
to Josh.
Tyler sighs, tracing his thumb over the carving in the wooden board.
"You are," Josh says. "Like stretched orange cotton. Not knowing what's around the corner is one
of the best things ever."
"Maybe a little," Josh allows. "But maybe what's around the corner is the best thing you could
possibly imagine."
"What if it is?"
"What if it isn't?"
Josh leans forward, taking Tyler's fingers away from the carving in the wood.
"How are things with you and your mother?" Dr. Paulson asks as Tyler slides a peanut butter cup
into his pocket.
Dr. Paulson nods slowly. "You talked to her about Josh, then?"
"As expected, Tyler," Dr. Paulson says, still looking down at her notes. "It can't be comfortable for
a woman to hear her seventeen-year-old son talk about his imaginary friend."
"Who she thinks is imaginary," Tyler corrects before he can stop himself.
The doctor sighs, running his hand through thinning hair absentmindedly.
"He's not real, Tyler," he says softly. "I'm sorry, but he just doesn't exist."
"Look," Tyler says, suddenly feeling ready to fight, "I know you think I'm crazy because of this,
but Josh is real, okay? You're not going to convince me otherwise."
"It's all blue-black," Josh says. "My home, I mean. That's why I like it here better."
"I know," Tyler says. "I'm just saying that I hear you whenever you tell me."
"But I don't want you to hear me," Josh says insistently. "I want you to listen."
Josh makes a frustrated noise. "Some people- philosophers, mainly- say other people never hear
each other," he says. "But I don't think that's true. I think everyone hears, but I don't think most
people listen."
"Oh." Tyler pauses, thinking. "I get it." He frowns again. "I think."
"Tyler, your psychiatrist and I want to start you on a new kind of drug," Dr. Paulson says as Tyler
sits down.
"What?" Tyler asks as he picks out a purple lollipop. "Don't you remember how it went last time?"
"Not antipsychotics," Dr. Paulson says. "That was a mistake, I know." He sighs, running a hand
through his hair. "That was a mistake."
"What kind of drug, then?" Tyler asks, unwrapping the lollipop and popping it in his mouth.
"It also treats insomnia," Dr. Paulson says. "Frankly, Tyler, you're starting to look like a skeleton.
One in need of a good night's sleep."
Dr. Paulson sighs. "Your mother told me she can hear you talking to yourself at three in the
morning. Every single night."
Tyler opens his mouth to say that it's not himself he's talking to, but decides against it.
"Tyler, I really don't think you're getting enough sleep," Dr. Paulson says softly. "You look
exhausted all the time."
"I'm fine."
"Tyler, this is honestly what I think is best for you," Dr. Paulson says gently.
Tyler glares at him. "And why do you care about what's best for me?" He leans forward,
undaunted. "I don't think you do," he says, placing his hand over his cheek deliberately.
Dr. Paulson's expression drops. "Tyler," he begins, stopping. "Tyler, I'm so, so sorry about that."
The doctor sighs, rubbing his eyes. "There's no excuse for that," he says. "But Tyler, this really is
for your own good.” He pulls out another piece of paper and jots something down on it. “I'm going
to talk to your parents, and once I have their approval, we’re going to start you on Ativan. Okay,
Tyler?”
Dr. Paulson sighs again, rubbing the ring on his left finger. “Okay. Now, Tyler, I thought-”
"Stop putting my name in every other sentence you direct to me," Tyler says. "I know my name
now, okay?"
"And why's that?" Dr. Paulson asks, scratching something down on his notepad.
"It's just another reminder that no one's actually unique," Tyler says. "No one's actually special."
Dr. Paulson sets his notepad onto the desk, looking intrigued. "Elaborate?" he requests.
"Certainly," Tyler says. "You know, there's someone out there named Tyler Joseph. Maybe not
now, but there will be. Maybe even both, depending on how long I live." He pauses, tapping his
chin. "And if there really are infinite universes, there are an infinite number of Tyler Josephs,
saying the exact same thing that I'm saying, thinking the exact same thing that I'm saying. Yes,
there are an infinite number of worlds where Tyler Joseph is a plumber who crossdresses in his
free time and has never once considered other universes, but that would mean there are also an
infinite number of worlds that are an exact replica of this one. And if that's true, there's no reason
for anyone to feel special." Tyler hums thoughtfully. "You could always argue, of course, that
there may be no such thing as parallel universes, but even so, there's still going to be someone with
your name in your past, present, or future. And I read that everyone has a doppelgänger on this
earth, although the two doppelgängers may not live at the same time." Tyler sighs. "What's the
point in being unique?"
Dr. Paulson stares at him. "...and that's why you don't like your name?"
"It's definitely interesting," Dr. Paulson tells him. "I'm definitely going to think long and hard about
it later."
"Good," Tyler tells him honestly. "I think everyone should think about it at least once in a while.
Food for thought, you know."
"Mom?" Tyler asks, walking into the kitchen.
"Tyler?" his mom responds, turning to him with an expression of mild surprise.
"I have something to tell you," he says, cautiously taking her hand and leading her to sit at the
kitchen table.
"I..." am in love with the boy you think is imaginary what do I do, "...uh." Tyler scratches the back
of his neck. "Um."
His mother blinks in surprise. "Spaghetti and meatballs," she says. "Why? Do you want to eat with
us?"
"So, let me get this straight:" Josh begins, "you tried to eat the spaghetti with a spoon, called your
brother a periwinkle dust mop when he tried to give you a fork, listened to your sister talk about
her basketball tournament, fell off your chair when your other brother kicked you under the table,
watched your dad drink a nonalcoholic beer, listened to your mom talk about your sister's
basketball tournament, and burst into tears when the brother who kicked you asked why you don't
go to school."
Josh raises an eyebrow at him. "And why did you even go to dinner?"
Josh raises the other eyebrow. "How do you accidentally wind up eating dinner with your family?"
"I- ah..." Tyler runs a hand through his hair. "Well, I was going to ask my mom something, but, uh,
I ended up asking her what was for dinner."
Josh's raised eyebrows lift even higher. "What were you going to ask her?"
Tyler feels his face flush even darker. "Nothing," he says a little too quickly.
Josh's eyebrows rise so high that they almost disappear into his mop of bright blue hair. Before
Tyler can stop himself, he's reaching out and pushing Josh's eyebrows down himself.
They stare at each other for a moment before they both burst out laughing.
They end up with their foreheads pressed together and fingers intertwined, and they're both still
giggling as Tyler looks down at Josh's soft, C major lips. It would be so easy just to...
"Tyler?"
Tyler snaps out of it, looking back up into Josh's mocha eyes. Their foreheads are still pressed
together.
"Can I, um..." Before Tyler can think about it, he's shifting himself oh-so-slightly for their lips to
touch. It's brief, but Tyler can still feel those perfect, C major lips unresponsive on his when he
pulls back.
"Oh," Tyler echoes, standing up. "Oh, oh man, I'm so sorry, I- I'll..." He practically slides down the
ladder.
"No, wait, Tyler-" Josh calls, but Tyler doesn't look back.
"You seem gloomy today,” Tyler’s mom comments as Tyler pours milk into a bowl of cereal.
“Do you mind if I join you?” his mom asks, gesturing to the seat across from Tyler. He shakes his
head. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t know you like that kind of cereal,” Tyler’s mom comments.
“Hmm?” Tyler says, looking up. “Oh, yeah, it’s Josh’s...” he cuts himself off when he looks down
at the floating brown and tan corn puffs, “...favorite.”
Before he knows it, Tyler’s suddenly bawling into his bowl of Reese’s Puffs.
“Sorry, sorry,” Tyler says through a small sob. "I- I don't know, I-" Another sob cuts him off.
"Shh," his mom says, suddenly kneeling next to his chair, hand on his shoulder. "Hey, it's okay."
Tyler wraps his arms around her, burying his head in her shoulder. He's suddenly bombarded by
memories of when he used to cling to her after his unending nightmares when he was little. He
stopped asking for his mom when Josh came into the picture, though. He'd cling to Josh instead.
Tyler chuckles through a sob, wondering if he'll have to go back to hugging his mother after
nightmares.
"It's okay," Tyler's mom says softly, patting his back. "Sweetheart, it's all okay."
"Mom?" he whispers into her neck.
"And I know-" Tyler pauses to take a deep breath, "I know that you think he's not real, and
everyone's so vehement about it that sometimes I think he might not be too. And where would that
leave me?" He's starting to shake now. "Stuck in love with a ghost, that's what."
The position they're in isn't very comfortable, and Tyler's mom slowly helps them both stand
before guiding their way to the sofa. Tyler immediately curls up, burying his head back into his
mother's shoulder.
"I messed up," Tyler says, shuddering. "I kissed him and he didn't kiss back and I want to die,
Momma, he means so much and I messed it all up."
"Oh, honey," Tyler's mom says softly, running her hand through his hair.
"Tyler," his mom says carefully, "have you considered that this might be a good thing?"
"It's not healthy to rely on- on someone like you do," his mom says gently. "Maybe take a break
from Josh?"
"A break, Tyler," she echoes. "Just for a little while. Take up a new hobby or something."
"Josh isn't a hobby, Mom," Tyler says, indignant by her implications. "He's a person. A person that
I need to make amends with," he says, springing up.
"Tyler, wait-"
But Tyler's already dashing out the back door and running into the forest to find Josh.
Tyler can hear Josh humming mindlessly when he approaches the treehouse. He cautiously climbs
up the ladder, poking his head in.
"Hey," Tyler says, and Josh nearly drops the lighter in surprise.
He's cut off when Josh surges forward and presses C major lips to his.
The kiss last longer than the last one, and this time both of them are contributing. Josh's mouth is
warm and sweet, and Tyler can feel his own heart thumping madly.
Josh's soft, blue-sky hands reach up. One cradles the back of his neck, and the other cups his jaw.
Tyler's hands hesitantly reach up as well, grasping Josh's shoulders.
They finally pull back, and Tyler slowly opens his eyes to see Josh's still closed, looking utterly
contented.
"I like you," Josh says suddenly. His voice sounds a little different. Like rain falling up. "I like you
a lot."
"I like you a lot too," Tyler says, and Josh beams at him, tiger-growl teeth peaking through C
major lips.
"Like- like-" Tyler throws his head back, hitting the wooden floor of the treehouse. "I can taste-
ahh..."
Josh swallows his groan, pressing perfect C major lips to his. Tyler whimpers again, bucking his
hips up.
"Josh," he gasps.
"Tyler," Josh says, warm and low in his throat, honey and birdsong and dark, sweet orange.
Tyler's a mess of gasps and moans as Josh gently moves his fingers inside him. He can taste
something, like metal but not quite, and he's so so desperate for something, but he doesn't know
what.
"Please," Tyler whispers, not even sure of what he's pleading for. Josh's fingers press up, and the
not-metal taste becomes so overwhelming that a sob is startled out of him.
"Hey," Josh says, pausing. He cups Tyler's cheek with soft, blue-sky hands. "You okay?"
Josh presses a gentle kiss to his forehead. "Tell me if it becomes too much, okay?"
"Okay," Tyler murmurs. He presses himself against Josh's fingers, and Josh smiles, all C major-
sweet. "Come on," Tyler says, throat suddenly dry, "you can- ah."
Josh goes back to slowly moving his fingers. Tyler isn't exactly sure of what he's doing, but it's
good.
He can feel something else in his veins, hot and desperate and red-black velvet. He groans,
squeezing on Josh's fingers.
"So good," Tyler grunts. "So, so... like- ah, not metal but almost, and velvet, and- ahh..."
Josh slowly pulls his fingers out. Tyler frowns at the loss.
"What?" he starts to ask, but Josh is suddenly shifting Tyler's hips and pressing something warm
and hard against him. "Oh."
"Okay?" Josh murmurs, looking down at him with wide, mocha eyes.
Josh gently pushes in, lower C major lip tucked under tiger-growl top teeth.
Tyler's eyes roll back as he's slowly filled up. It burns, but it's like creamer for coffee, like red
robin feathers, and it's okay.
"Yeah," Tyler confirms, closing his eyes. The not-metal in his mouth is building up again, and he
gasps as Josh shifts his hips oh-so slightly. "Oh! Oh, ahh..."
Josh kisses him again, and Tyler kisses back as hard as he can.
"So, so, ahh," Josh moans into Tyler's mouth. "You're so, oh, oh..." Tyler kisses him, swallowing
his groans.
Josh is starting to move his hips in slow, steady motions, and Tyler finds himself moving his own
hips to meet his motions. Josh is hitting something inside Tyler every single time, and Tyler can't
help but whimper in a low, constant sound.
Tyler doesn't even know what Josh is asking for, but he presses his hips even closer to Josh's,
squeezing, and with a yelp, Josh's movements stutter and still.
Josh is panting hard as he reaches down and wraps his hand around Tyler's- whoa.
He reaches up, wrapping his arms around Josh's back, clinging desperately. The not-metal taste is
more intense than ever, and he sinks his teeth into Josh's collarbone with a groan.
Tyler feels the velvet in his veins, tastes the not-metal in his mouth, and he can start to hear a low
humming, a perfect G sharp.
He groans, high in his throat, and Josh mouths along his jawbone down to his neck.
Tyler doesn't what Josh is even talking about, where he's close to being, but he's too jumbled up
and overwhelmed to ask.
Josh twists his hand, rubbing his thumb over the top, and the not-metal in Tyler's mouth suddenly
becomes so much, too much, and he sobs hard into Josh's skin.
He's falling, sinking, and he can feel himself shaking. The not-metal in his mouth finally comes
spilling out as a moan higher than he ever thought he could make. He splays his arms out, one
hitting the wooden wall, and he feels all of his muscles clench and unclench.
The G sharp grows louder and louder until he finally screams, groaning and whimpering. Josh is
murmuring soft, cloud-sweet words as Tyler finally quiets down.
"Hi," Tyler echoes, ears buzzing. "That was- that was..." For the first time ever, there's something
that Tyler can't describe.
"I know," Tyler says, and immediately wishes he could shove those words back in his mouth
because Josh's mocha eyes go dark.
"What," Josh says softly, C major lips pulling back to bare tiger-growl teeth, "did you say?"
Josh exhales in a way that Tyler can only describe as red-green-orange, like a stream over a bed of
jagged crystal. Perfectly dangerous.
"You don't-" Josh takes a deep breath, "you can't understand, okay?"
"I-"
"You have no idea what it's like," Josh growls, "to be terrified of going home. No idea what it's like
to be frightened of your own parents." He stands up, pacing the best he can in the cramped space of
the treehouse. "You have no idea what it's like to have to hide whenever your dad gets too drunk
and destroys whatever he comes across, and your mother is too high to care. You have no idea
what it's like to use your body to protect your sisters, your little brother. You don't know the fear
that runs through you when your father pulls out his belt because he's feeling pissed off and needs
something to take it all out on. You have no idea what it's like to be whipped as hard as a grown
man drunk on cheap liquor and anger can manage. And let me tell you something, Tyler." He stops
pacing and turns to look Tyler in the eye. "It. Hurts."
"You've just been sitting there all day," she says, sitting down next to him on the sofa. "Is there
something wrong?"
"Well," Tyler says. He tries to stop himself, but the words suddenly come pouring out. "Josh and I
had sex, okay? And ever since then he's been extra moody and I don’t know what to do. And
yesterday we had a fight because I agreed with him when he said that everything is blue-black and
he got mad because I don't know what it's like. And he's right, I don't know what it's like for
everything to be blue-black. But he kept on yelling and yelling and Mom, he's hurt so bad at home
and I want to help him but I can't and that hurts."
"You- you had sex with Josh?"
"Tyler," his mom says urgently, squeezing his hand so hard it's to the point of painful, "did it hurt?"
Tyler feels his face contort into a vaguely shocked and disgusted expression. "What?"
"When you had sex with Josh, did it hurt?" his mom says. "Did he hurt you?"
Tyler frowns. "Well, a little. But I didn't really notice then." He considers this thoughtfully. "It hurt
to sit down the next day," he says truthfully.
His mom looks absolutely horrified. "Oh, Tyler," she whispers, wrapping him into a hug. "I'm so
sorry."
"What?" Tyler says, confused. Why is she sorry? Wasn't the sex a good thing? It felt good.
"It's okay," Tyler's mom says, rocking him gently. "It's okay. You're safe here."
Tyler sits there, utterly bewildered. Was he not supposed to have enjoyed it?
His mom runs a hand through his hair. "You're all right. No one's going to hurt you. Not anymore."
Tyler's mom hasn't let him out of her sight since he told her he had sex with Josh.
He hopes Josh will understand why he hasn't been out to make amends yet.
His mom has only left his side to call a few people and to talk to his dad.
"I'm just going to go say hi to your siblings, okay?" his mom says, when they hear the garage door
open. "I'll be right back."
He can hear his mom greeting his brother and sister when there's a tap on the living room window.
He looks out to see Josh standing there, waving cautiously.
"Come on," Josh says, gesturing out to the woods behind them.
Tyler bites his lip. "My mom'll freak out if she comes back and I'm not here," he says.
Josh sighs. "Please?" he says. "I'm sorry, Tyler. I didn't mean to yell. Please. I'm sorry."
Tyler sighs, looking out. "Fine," he murmurs, climbing out of the window.
"Hi," Josh says softly, cautiously taking his hand. "Can we talk?"
"Okay," Tyler says, and they walk, hand-in-hand, into the forest.
"I'm sorry that I blew up at you like that," Josh apologizes once they're safely hidden in the trees.
"I'm sorry I said I understood," Tyler says. "I don't understand. I don't know what I was thinking."
Josh smiles, C major lips a little sad. "Everybody's fucking sorry," he whispers, and Tyler leans in
and kisses him.
Josh's eyes are closed when he pulls back, and he looks peaceful.
"Um." Tyler pauses. For some reason, all he can think of is "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star."
Josh finally opens his eyes when Tyler finishes. "Thank you," he says.
They walk deeper into the forest, hands still clasped together.
"Have you ever noticed," Josh begins, squinting up at the darkening sky, "that when you squeeze
your eyes together, everything changes?"
"Yeah." Josh snaps his fingers. "Like that- that guy. With the covered faces. Red-August-L name."
"Yel- yes, him," Josh says. "Everything's not quite what it should be."
Tyler nods slowly, squinting around the forest. Everything has a slightly eerie gloom to it, slightly
off. He shivers, looking back at Josh, who- who isn't who he's supposed to look like.
"You're not quite what you should be," Tyler says without thinking.
Josh stiffens, and Tyler thinks he's going to yell again, but Josh just squeezes Tyler's hand.
They walk in thick silence, all green-orange. Tyler can sort of taste it.
"In the way it's all in my mind," Tyler clarifies. Josh cocks his head.
"Well, of course it's all in your mind," he says, and Tyler blinks.
"What?"
"This is all in your mind," Josh says, gesturing. "But that doesn't mean it's not real."
Tyler sighs. "Yes, but what if all this-" he gestures around, "is only in my mind?"
Josh shrugs. "Then it would still be real, wouldn't it? If you can see it, if you can feel it, why
wouldn't it be real?"
"I- I don't know," Tyler says, frowning. "Maybe because it isn't real for anyone else."
"So?"
"Everyone tells me you aren't," Tyler says. "My therapists, my psychologist, my parents-"
"Don't listen to them," Josh says firmly, staring into Tyler's eyes. "Don't listen. You can see me,
right? Hear me?" He squeezes Tyler's hand. "Feel me?"
Tyler shakes Josh's hand off in favor of burying his head in his hands.
"I told you to remember me!" Josh growls. "Did you think that up yourself? Am I really just your
imagination?"
"Shut up!" Tyler screams, hands over his ears. "Shut up shut up shut up!"
"Listen to me!"
"Yes I am!"
"Tyler!"
Tyler screams, tears running down his cheeks. He runs into the light of his house, bangs on the
door, and his brother opens it.
Tyler runs past him, sobbing as he dashes into his room. He collapses on his bed, not even
bothering to lock the door.
Tyler wakes up to his mother lying on his bed next to him, rubbing his back.
"It was my fault," Tyler says, running his fingers through his hair. "I kept screaming that he's not
real, he's not real, and he was crying but I didn't stop and finally he just hit me."
Tyler rubs his eyes, nodding. He's suddenly wrapped into a fierce hug.
"Why... why are you...?" Tyler begins but doesn't finish, hesitantly patting his mother's back.
"My baby boy," she whispers, hugging him to the point that it's hard for him to breathe.
"Mom?"
Tyler looks up to see his youngest brother peeking into the room.
"Um, I don't mean to bother you, but Dad's on the phone," the brother says, holding out the phone.
Reluctantly, Tyler's mom releases Tyler and grabs the phone. Looking much relieved, his brother
leaves immediately.
"Chris?" his mom says, holding the phone to her ear. She listens for a moment. "No, he just woke
up." She pauses again. "Yes, I did- no, I'll tell you later." Another pause. "Yeah, he is. See you
soon." She hangs up, setting the phone on Tyler's dresser.
Tyler frowns. "What's Dad doing out? What's my brother doing up?"
"Your dad went out to go pick up a few things," his mom says. "And all of your siblings haven't
been able to sleep."
"Why?"
"About what?'
Tyler nods slowly, lying back down. He buries his head in his pillow and pretends Josh never hit
him.
"I don't get why we're making such a big deal out of this," Tyler says.
"Most kids do it because they like it," Tyler's mom says gently.
"But I liked it, Mom," Tyler says, frowning. "I like it."
"We didn't think you would ever be able to enjoy sex," Dr. Paulson interjects. "Not after what
happened with Dr. Craig."
Tyler freezes.
"But Dr. Craig," he pauses, swallowing, "he just- he just hit me. Right?"
"Oh, god," his mom says, burying her head in her hands. "Oh, Tyler."
His mom just shakes her head, burying her face in Tyler's father's shoulder.
"Dad?" Tyler asks softly, and his father swallows hard, intertwining his fingers with his wife's.
"Tyler, Dr. Craig-" he pauses, taking a deep breath, "Dr. Craig..." He shakes his head, looking to
Dr. Paulson.
"Tyler," Dr. Paulson says, his normally calm expression looking troubled, "Dr. Craig would hit
you, yes. But, ah..." He runs a hand through his thinning hair. "He would, well, hurt you.
Sexually."
"Molest you, yes," Dr. Paulson says softly, eyes full of rooster-crow sadness.
"That was a severe amount of trauma for a child that young, Tyler," Dr. Paulson says. "It's not
surprising that you repressed those memories."
"We saw no need to upset you," Dr. Paulson explains. "It would've only hurt you."
"And this is where Josh comes in," Dr. Paulson says. "You started talking about him not too long
after Dr. Craig became your therapist."
"Tyler," Dr. Paulson says softly, "Josh is a coping mechanism. He's not real."
"No," Tyler tries to say, but things are starting to click into place. "Oh. Oh, no."
Was it?
Tyler buries his head in his hands. No one else has ever seen Josh. No one else can prove he exists.
Oh, god.
"Tyler," his mom says, "do you want anything? Do you need anything?"
Tyler's shaking his head slowly, digging ragged nails into his knees.
"No, no," he says, squeezing his eyes shut. "No."
"Tyler," somebody says. He doesn't know who, because everything is starting to blur in his ears.
Tyler wakes up in his bedroom, his mom asleep on the chair next to his bed and holding his hand
in an nearly painful grasp.
He looks out the window, at the sinking sun, and squints his eyes.
"Of course," she says. "I'll be right back. Don't move, okay?"
As soon as she closes the door, Tyler's throwing open his window and clambering out the way Josh
used to all the time. He races out into the woods, skin suddenly too tight for his body.
Dirty. Dirty dirty dirty. The kind of dirty that Tyler can feel in his soul, the one place where he
can't scrub viciously with soap.
His feet are wet with blue-black water, and he looks up to see everything turning blue-black now.
He wants to shout for Josh, to tell him that he gets it now, he understands, but Josh is gone and he's
never coming back and Tyler thinks his lungs are going to burst.
But everything's becoming bluer and everything's becoming blacker and Tyler can feel the cold in
his bones. It's seeping in through his eyes, and he closes them as tightly as he can but it still leaks
through. He's shivering, he's shaking, and he's so, so dirty.
Tyler slowly becomes aware that he's pleading for Josh to come back, come back to him, but Josh
is never coming back because he isn't real, and Tyler is a crazy fucking idiot left with only his
crazy fucking mind and he's so so so dirty, he's filthy, and he's never going to be loved.
"Please!" he shrieks, harsh and guttural, like the word's being torn away from his throat. "Oh,
please!"
The word echoes around the forest, bouncing from tree to tree, and Tyler can feel the word sink
through him, coating his bones, making them vibrate "pleasepleaseplease."
"Where are you?!" he screams. "I need you! I fucking need you, oh please!"
His hands are on his head, pulling his hair, clawing his skin. His nails are tearing though the soft
skin of his cheeks, ripping, and he thinks that the pain is the most real thing he's ever felt. He claws
desperately at his face, his neck, his arms. It hurts, it fucking hurts, and he's sobbing but he's
laughing because isn't this just the best thing ever?
"I'm real!" Tyler screams. He points towards the sky accusingly. "I'm fucking real! Why aren't
you?!" He collapses onto the cold, cold ground. "Why aren't you real?!" he shrieks. "Why- aren't-
you- real?!" he demands, slamming his head against the ground with every word.
Tyler goes quiet suddenly when he realizes that he's sprawled out in front of the treehouse. Their
treehouse. He closes his eyes and lets the memories play before them. Kissing, touching,
whispering lullabies that were never real.
With a strangled cry of agony, Tyler pushes himself up off the ground. He clambers up the tree
into the treehouse.
It's dark, quiet. The air is heavy, and Tyler doesn't speak. He sits and watches tears drip onto the T-
E-R-R-I-F-I-E-D that's carved into the wooden floor.
Josh's lighter is lying by Tyler's shoe, and he slowly picks it up, flicks it on. The flame glows in the
darkness, and Tyler watches himself press the flame to the wall.
He holds it there, watching the wood grow darker as it chars. For a while nothing else happens, but
Tyler suddenly sees the wood catch fire. He flicks the lighter off and watches, transfixed, as the
flame grows larger and larger, climbing up to the ceiling.
Tyler lies on his back and watches as fire slowly engulfs the roof. The treehouse is starting to fill
with smoke.
Something inside him is pulling, insisting that he has to get out, get out before he suffocates or
burns. He ignores it. He doesn't care anymore.
He doesn't care.
The mother is crying softly, the father is purposefully silent, and the siblings are warily grieving
the brother they never really knew.
The doctor is there too, rubbing the tan line on his left ring finger and breathing in, breathing out.
The priest conducting the ceremony asks if anyone would like to say a few words.
A boy with bright blue hair and mocha eyes (and C major lips and blue-sky hands and tiger-growl
teeth) stands up.
End Notes
and so we end.
i apologize.
a huge thank you to odetosleep. if you haven't read anything by them, go do that now.
Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!