Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

leave the city.

plato’s allegory of the cave suggests that when a person spends their entire life chained in darkness, they spend it believing the shadows on the wall are as real as the world could get. but if they were freed, they face two choices.

first, they could stay. stay where it was comfortable, where nothing challenged what they already knew. or second, they could leave. they could walk toward the light, toward the opening in the cave where the shadows came from. no one questioned the opening. maybe because comfort was easier. maybe because thinking too hard about a greek guy’s 2,000-year-old metaphor wasn’t exactly appealing. (2,452 years, to be exact.)

but leaving the cave meant finding something bigger. and when someone spent their whole life in the dark, even sunlight could feel like a revelation.

outside, their eyes would burn. at first, they wouldn’t see anything at all. but over time, they’d adjust, and realize the outside world was unlike anything they had ever known. there would be people they’d never met, things they’d never seen. and when they looked into a puddle, for the first time, a face would stare back.

maybe, in that moment, they would realize they were no longer alone. and maybe they’d think they would never return to the cave after seeing something so extraordinary.

but they did return. they told the others about the sky, the trees, the lakes, the roads, the people. but no one believed them. or maybe no one wanted to. the others called them crazy, said they had been gone too long, said they’d been brainwashed.

still, the freed person believes what they saw. they try to convince the others. tried to free them, too. but the others stayed. content in their darkness. watching shadows. believing that was as real as life would ever get.

and the freed person couldn’t stay with them anymore. not after what they’d seen.

because everything had changed. their life had changed. but they still asked themself one question.

why didn’t anyone ever come back with details from beyond?

tyler’s teacher read his essay and smiled that kind of smile teachers gave when they were about to say something critical but called it “constructive.”

“you’re a good writer, tyler,” she says, soft but steady. “but in every essay, you keep it distant. you never connect it to yourself.”

he hears this every time. “what do you mean?”

“plato’s allegory is a great choice. it’s a beautiful metaphor, it applies to a lot of things. but what’s your cave, tyler? what’s your outside?”

he frowns, unsure how to answer. the truth was ugly. he would’ve written that the cave was his life, and he wasn’t sure there was anything beyond it. he would’ve written that when he looked into puddles, he didn’t see a face staring back. maybe he was just like the others. too stubborn. too swallowed by the comfort of the dark.

sometimes he wondered if the cave was the outside. and sometimes he wondered how some people didn’t even seem to have a cave at all.

“i don’t… know how.” he hesitates, because what even was honesty? a cat scan would tell her more than an essay ever could.

“it’s actually quite simple. be honest.” she smiles like she hadn’t just asked for the hardest thing in the world.

“if i was honest, i wouldn’t be in this classroom talking to you right now.” he says it with a little edge, his usual defense. dark humour.

but no one really knows that about him. it’s better that way.

“see? that’s you. your humour, your wit. i want to see that in your next essay. tell me about your life. where’s your cave? what changes everything for you once you find the outside?”

the words stay with him the whole walk home. she had basically asked him to answer the one question he had been running from his entire life. and there were only so many answers you could give before someone locked you away for good.

it wasn’t all bad, though. there were the walks home, when the world went quiet except for an organ and brandon flowers’ voice in his headphones. maybe that was his glimpse of the outside. maybe that was all he’d ever get. and maybe that was enough.

but when he walks through his front door, up the stairs, into his room—it’s still dark. even with all the lights on. like he can’t see anything at all.

and he didn’t know if he would leave the cave, even if he could. let’s be honest, he didn’t know what was waiting outside. he didn’t know what would happen if he tried. and there didn’t seem to be much of a reason to try.

we all live. we all die. in time, maybe he’d leave the cave.

but for now, all he could do was stay alive.

probably what his teacher wanted him to say, anyway. 

-

how exactly did humanity go from cavemen to twenty-five teenage boys packed into a locker room, reeking of sweat, testosterone, and cheap body spray? it was a question tyler found himself asking far too often. somewhere between discovering fire and writing philosophy, humanity ended up here: half-naked under fluorescent lights while a coach screamed about laps like it was the olympic trials.

the irony wasn’t lost on him. plato’s cave had literal chains. tyler’s prison was a school gymnasium with bad ventilation and the soundtrack of sneaker squeaks and strained grunts. sometimes he wondered if the shadows on the wall were just these guys flexing in the mirror, pretending they weren’t afraid of anything.

he, on the other hand, wasn’t pretending. he most definitely was afraid of everything.

“give me ten laps!” the gym teacher shouts with the kind of authority that could make grown men cry. tyler wasn’t sure why running laps was the solution to anything. it’s not like they were the ones pregnant without a fetus.

dropping gym class was clearly in his best interest. that’s what his doctor told him. his doctor being the voice in his head, the one suggesting an early retirement from life. did he listen? sometimes. did he agree? debatable.

the number of laps required to be considered “in shape” was beyond him. he couldn’t do one push-up, meanwhile the guys who bragged about how many girls they’d made cry could do a hundred without breaking a sweat. unbelievable.

usually, ignoring them was easy. 

“joseph, let’s pick up the pace, okay?” the teacher claps his hands like the sound alone could fix tyler’s life. shockingly, it’s not encouraging at all. if this were a symphony, tyler supposed he’d be the off-key note. it would mean standing out though. so that’s a no-go.

but his life wasn’t a symphony. more like an accordion falling down the stairs. chaotic, shrill, and mildly entertaining to someone who wasn’t him.

the bell rings, mercifully. the best sound he’d heard all day.

some days, the walk to english class was worse than gym. it was one thing to be surrounded by guys who didn’t know what deodorant was, but it was another thing entirely to be packed together like sardines all trying to escape the can at once.

he makes it to english late, thanks to a hallway fight that blocked the classroom door. it wasn’t his business, but somehow it always became his problem. and because the universe hated him, he was sent to the office for a late slip.

english was supposed to be his safe space. his favourite class. the place where he learned about plato’s allegory of the cave. the only class where he could participate without speaking. just him, his thoughts, and occasionally his teacher’s comments on his essays.

until today.

“can i sit here?” a guy asks.

tyler stares at him. he doesn’t own the desk. he doesn’t own the chair. he certainly wasn’t about to tell this guy what to do. but instead of explaining any of that, he just says, “okay.”

the guy pulls out the chair and sits down, placing his bag between them. tyler keeps his eyes forward but can’t help studying the guy’s face out of the corner of his eye. thank god for peripheral vision.

he had hoped the interaction would end there. but throughout his short-lived life, he had learned that some people have a habit of being annoying.

“you listening to any of this?” the guy whispers, unwrapping a stick of gum and tossing the wrapper aside.

“you mean the lesson?” tyler deadpans, hoping to bore him into silence.

“ooh,” the guy laughs quietly, biting his lip like he knew something about tyler that tyler didn’t. “you know deadpan humour is one of the smartest forms of humour?”

“and what does that have to do with me?” tyler asks, flat and unimpressed.

“you tell me.” the guy raises an eyebrow, undeterred. maybe he’s one of those people who don’t understand social cues.

tyler shrugs and turns his attention back to the lesson.

“i’m josh, by the way.”

tyler hadn’t asked. but apparently, that didn’t matter.

“okay?” he replies, furrowing his brows.

“that’s a strange name.” josh doesn’t say it like a joke, but tyler can tell he meant it like one. he wasn’t nailing the deadpan thing, though. tyler still held the crown for that.

“tyler. happy now?” he says, dry.

“oh, i am over the moon.” josh leans back in his chair like he’d just won something. “you look like a tyler.”

tyler thought about asking what that meant. but on second thought, he didn’t want to know.

Chapter Text

lately, tyler had been thinking about death. not in a suicidal way—more like questioning where people actually go when they die. obviously, the body stays behind, gets cremated, buried, donated to science. but what about the soul? does it just drift in darkness forever with no purpose? that sounds miserable. miserable enough to make him want to stay alive, at least for now.

it helps him sleep knowing his body will be donated to science one day. maybe that’s his purpose. maybe, in death, he’ll be worth something. maybe some dying kid will have a heart because of tyler joseph, some stranger who didn’t think his own life mattered.

sometimes he wonders if anyone would care. sure, his family would grieve, plan a funeral, invite the grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, a priest. but eventually, they would move on. and he wouldn’t blame them. he wouldn’t care if he died either. though, he wouldn’t be alive to care, so does it even matter?

he wonders if the cavemen ever had these thoughts. probably not. they were too busy climbing mountains and building homes in caves.

and speaking of homes—what is that, really? not a house. a house is just wood and brick. a home is a feeling. one he’s not sure he’s ever felt. how do you know a feeling if you’ve never had it before?

he could keep going with this, but honestly, he’d probably bore anyone listening. it’s not like he’s shakespeare writing a sonnet or herman melville writing a book with a title people mistake for male anatomy.

maybe this counts as a journal. maybe this is what his english teacher wanted when she said “be more personal.” whatever. maybe he should just talk about his day.

at dinner, it’s quiet except for the sound of forks against plates and teeth against glass. nobody asks him how his day went. not that he has anything to report. unless you count thinking about the afterlife in math class.

“sit up straight, tyler,” his mother mumbles, barely looking at him.

he does. she’s not wrong—his posture sucks.

“how was your day?” his father asks, still staring at the empty chair beside him.

outlier. it’s rare for anyone to care about his day.

“the usual.” tyler stuffs his mouth with food to avoid the next question.

but it comes anyway.

“make any new friends?” his mother asks.

he freezes. “what?”

“i asked if you made any new friends,” his mother repeats, voice sharp.

he thinks for a second. in any other situation, the answer would be no. but then there’s english class. there’s josh.

“kind of,” he says.

the whole table looks at him like he just spoke in tongues. “you made a new friend?” his brother zack asks, surprised.

tyler hesitates. josh isn’t a friend. a friend is someone who sneaks out with you at midnight for ice cream. not someone who talks to you once because they feel bad.

“no,” he sighs, playing it off like it’s a joke. “but i did socialize. for what it’s worth.”

“great! invite him over,” his dad says, maybe sarcastic, maybe not.

“uh i’m good.” tyler laughed dryly, stabbing at his food.

“why?” his dad presses, but not like he expects an answer.

tyler puts his fork down and stares at him. “i’ve talked to him once, and i’m pretty sure he just felt bad for me.”

his mom gives him that look—annoyed, a little sad. “you don’t have to believe you’re incapable of being liked, tyler. you’ve had friends before.”

“yeah. had.” past tense.

she’s partly right. he wasn’t always like this. but things happen. and sometimes, you don’t get out of the cave. sometimes, you sit in the dark, waiting for something—anything—to pull you out. maybe one day. maybe never.

- 

being introverted, tyler thinks, is like watching the world from a distance without ever stepping into it. he likes it that way. from the sidelines, he notices things. mostly, that everything annoys him. or maybe everyone annoys him. maybe both. he isn’t sure if ‘open-minded’ is the right word to describe himself, but anytime he thinks school might not be the worst thing ever, his teacher ruins it by making them do ice breakers.

he never understands them. how is telling the class what animal he’d be supposed to unlock his personality? it’s like taking a buzzfeed quiz. no, he wouldn’t be a dolphin. he’d be an earthworm. at least then he could crawl into the dirt and disappear forever.

but seriously, aren’t there bigger things to teach than ice breakers? shakespeare has lived and died, leo tolstoy wrote dozens of books, and edgar allan poe wrote “alone” almost two centuries ago. but no—today’s english class is about what type of noodle you’d be.

maybe it bothers him because people actually make friends through this crap.

“i got rigatoni,” josh says, turning his phone to tyler like this is breaking news.

tyler looks at him, unimpressed. “cool. do you want a medal?”

“not really,” josh laughs, like tyler’s funny. “what did you get?”

“i’m not doing that.”

“why not?”

“because it’s stupid?” tyler says it like a question.

“true,” josh nods, completely unfazed. “but not everything in life has to have a purpose, y’know.”

“it’s better if it does.”

“not everything’s gonna make sense. we shouldn’t waste energy trying to make it make sense.”

“that got inspirational very quickly.” tyler doesn’t realize he laughs a little until josh points it out.

“did you just laugh?” josh grins, brown eyes wide. tyler notices, for the first time, that josh has monolids. or it looks like it at least. perhaps josh has asian heritage.

“sorry. i wasn’t trying to make fun of you or anything.”

“oh, i know.” josh laughs again, and this time tyler notices something else—sharp side teeth, the third ones from the middle. he doesn’t know what they’re called.

tyler just nods and goes back to staring at nothing. but he wonders why josh talks to him at all. someone like that deserves a friend who matches their energy. someone who doesn’t treat life like a chore.

“you wanna get outta here?” josh asks, scrolling through another quiz.

“i’m sorry?” tyler raises an eyebrow.

“you heard me.” josh keeps clicking answers like this is all perfectly normal. tyler glances at the teacher, still lost in conversation with other students. “i know a place.”

“i can’t just leave class,” tyler protests. this feels like a trap.

“come on, you really think she’s watching?” josh gestures toward their teacher, still fully distracted. “we can just go.” his voice drops lower.

“and why would i agree to that?” tyler crosses his arms. “what makes you think i don’t want to be here?”

josh raises his eyebrows and squints a little, like he knows something tyler doesn’t. tyler looks at the door. then at josh. then at the dumb quiz on someone’s computer in front of him.

“fine.”

he doesn’t realize how far this “place” is until he’s in josh’s convertible, watching fields blur past. the sky is overcast and the wind hits his face every few minutes like it has a personal vendetta against him.

he rests his chin on his arms, leaning on the window.

“you like the view?” josh asks, voice warm, and tyler doesn’t need to look to know he’s smiling.

“yeah.” tyler watches birds flying south before winter hits. there’s silence except for the tires on pavement.

“you’re not much of a talker, huh?” josh says, eyes on the road. tyler finally looks at him, hands resting on his thighs.

“not really.” he shrugs, looking down.

“no big deal.” josh laughs a little, and something in tyler feels lighter. not fixed, not healed, but lighter. like he doesn’t have to force conversation to fill the silence.

after a few quiet minutes, josh turns up the car radio. music fills the space between them, a song tyler doesn’t recognize—though the voice is unmistakable.

“is this the smashing pumpkins?”

josh’s eyes light up. he glances over, grinning. “yeah, it is. how’d you know?”

his smile is oh so wide, it almost makes tyler smile too.

“billy corgan’s voice is unique. anyone could recognize it.” tyler shrugs again, but josh’s grin doesn’t fade.

“whatever. it’s still cool,” josh laughs to himself.

the downtown skyline appears out of nowhere, breaking up the endless fields. tyler’s been downtown before, but only as a kid. to be honest, no one looks at him and thinks, “hey, that kid definitely leaves his room.”

when they stop in front of a tall apartment building, tyler’s confusion multiplies.

“this is the place?” he asks, watching elderly people with walkers shuffle out the front doors. “are we visiting your grandma or..?”

“not exactly,” josh says, getting out of the car. “just follow me.”

tyler gets out, shuts the door, and trails after him into a building that smells like pudding, death, and the universal old-people scent no one can explain.

they pass the elevator and head for a door marked ‘stairs’.

“we’re going up,” josh says, holding the door open. tyler steps into the blinding yellow stairwell. the door clicks shut behind them, loud enough to make him jump. josh seems to already be on his way up.

“come on,” josh calls from above. tyler looks up. he’s already gone.

after what feels like a hundred floors, they reach the top. josh pauses in front of a door glowing with daylight from the crack beneath.

“are we even allowed up here?” tyler asks, waiting for some distant shout to call them out. nothing happens.

“are we allowed to skip class?” josh pushes the door open. wind slams them in the face. the door looks heavy, but josh holds it like it’s nothing.

he’s got a point.

josh waits for tyler to go through first. when tyler steps outside, it’s a rooftop. gravel crunches under his shoes, and the air smells faintly of cigarette smoke.

“so you took me out of english to spend the period on a random rooftop?” tyler asks, probably looking as confused as he feels. honestly, he’d rather be in english than on some sketchy rooftop with a guy he barely knows.

josh walks ahead and gestures for tyler to follow. the crunch of gravel underfoot makes tyler want to stab his ears with a pencil, like the one episode of chicago med he had watched recently.

josh stops at the railing and grips it with both hands. tyler follows, doing the same. it’s only then he realizes how high up they really are.

rooftops stretch out in every direction. some red brick, some grey. down below, people move along sidewalks, cars weave through intersections, and horns echo through the streets. above them, the sky stays overcast, clouds thick and heavy like the thoughts filling tyler’s head.

“you can see the whole city from up here,” josh says, stating the obvious. but somehow, it still feels like news.

tyler doesn’t answer. he’s too busy watching the world carry on without him. for once, he’s observing without anyone calling him weird for it.

“why are you so nice to me?” he asks, turning to face josh. a genuine question.

josh doesn’t answer right away. he just keeps looking. “i don’t know,” he says finally, shrugging. “you look like you could use it.”

“so you’re pitying me, is that it?”

“no,” josh pauses. “i just think people who expect kindness usually don’t need it the most.”

“it doesn’t mean i deserve it.”

“doesn’t mean you don’t.”

they stare at each other for a moment. not exactly awkward, but close.

“i have to be home soon,” tyler says, breaking the quiet.

Chapter Text

tyler is making hot chocolate. well, to be more specific, he’s boiling the water. the process of it takes too long, he believes. it’s really only a few steps, boil the water, add the powder, mix, it shouldn’t take so long. but something that tyler’s learned is that when you stare at the clock, a minute can feel extremely long. 

so here he is, staring at the kettle, watching the water boil in bubbles illuminated by the bright blue light. at some point, the light will abruptly turn off and there will be a click. the water will begin to calm. this means that the water is ready. 

it’s the first time he’s left his room today, a typical saturday. the clock reads 11:48 PM, and his elbows are pressed against the cold, granite counter. it’s dark outside, of course, tyler’s favourite time of day. his whole family is asleep, the house completely silent. this comes close to the best thing ever. 

there’s something about not worrying if he’ll run into his parents down every hall of the building he lives in. his house. his home. maybe not his home, actually. the establishment in which he resides, due to his inability to afford a place of his own. soon, he will be able to go off to college and spend his days reading and writing for a good cause. projects and essays that his professors won’t pester him about due to them lacking emotion. but for now, he is trapped in the cave everyone else calls ‘home’. 

the kettle abruptly comes to a halt, the blue light shutting off. tyler flinches at the sudden changes. the kitchen is now pitch black, and the high pitched noise has vanished. he’s quite frankly terrified for no reason, hands trembling and heart thumping in his throat. the water is becoming calmer with each second, and the steam has seemingly disappeared. 

being scared and being startled are two different things. tyler is scared when his father yells at him, when he calls him quiet in many, many derogatory ways, not to mention when he’s called a faggot for not having a girlfriend, or not showing interest in girls. how would he explain to his father that the girls at his school either whisper shit to each other or don’t give a single fuck about him? tyler is grateful for girls who do the latter. 

sure, he’s heard of other kids who have horrible relationships with their fathers, but he wouldn’t call his horrible. he knows his dad is a good person, a good guy, just maybe not the best father. he blames a large fraction of his introversion on it. tyler prefers to call their relationship dysfunctional rather than awful, because there are some times where his dad is nice to him, like when they go to the cottage and take the boat out for fishing. or maybe when tyler was younger and played u11 house league baseball, and his dad took him to the batting cage to work on his swing. 

he experienced aspects of a normal father-son relationship, which he’s grateful for, even now when his relationship with his dad isn’t the best. but he can’t help but wonder if it played a part in who he is now. 

tyler remembers a good chunk of his childhood, and he definitely remembers having friends and being more social. at this point, even having one friend is considered more social. he doesn’t have one friend. he knows it’s his fault, but he can’t change who he is. who he’s becoming. the way the world works, fate, god, none of it can help him. 

but it’s natural to shut people out. that’s what he tells himself. it’s not like he’s gonna cry in someone’s arms, fuck no. that’s scary. besides, even if he wanted to, who would offer that? no one. exactly. no one wants to give up their time (and arms) for the kid who reads arthur miller in the back of a classroom. tyler wouldn’t either. 

he takes the kettle and pours the barely steaming water into the white mug filled with hot chocolate mix. he watches as the water almost reaches the top before he tilts the kettle up, the hot chocolate powder mixing with the hot water as he stirs the spoon, clockwise, counterclockwise. the water is still somewhat hot, allowing for both substances to mix, but tyler will still put it in the fridge. 

he doesn’t know what he’ll do while he waits. his thoughts will just have to make up for it.

-

“fate versus choice,” the teacher begins to walk around the classroom. “are we destined to be who we are? or do we choose it? think about it for a second.” 

a good question, tyler notes. he had been waiting a while to take this class, smiling big when he got his timetable back. introduction to anthropology, psychology, and sociology is one of those classes that actually appeals to you when you see it. he had the option to take geography, dramatic arts, even instrumental music. and while music is generally up his alley, hsp3u seemed like the course closest to philosophy. tyler would take philosophy every period if it were totally up to him. 

and of course, he gets to incorporate philosophical themes into his english essays and assignments. so it’s not all bad. 

twin studies was definitely something tyler had heard of, but he didn’t directly associate it with a course like this. it raises good questions and gets his mind thinking, which is tailor-made for him, in his opinion. he would take debating existential nihilism over human interaction any day. 

he can’t help but apply the asked question to himself. is tyler destined to be someone who loves old books written in classical athens, but avoidant and alone? or did he choose to be this way? if he had a non-related twin, and the twin didn’t have a sister who killed herself, would the twin avoid socialization like it was the plague?

these are merely tyler’s shower thoughts.

but diving into this idea, assuming the twin was raised in a whole different environment, perhaps a more loving one, the kid would most likely grow up to be a lot more sociable and nice. if tyler is a black cat, his twin would be something of a golden retriever. the exact opposite, if you will. opposites attract may or may not apply here.

one of tyler’s favourite parts of plato’s symposium is aristophanes’ speech about split souls. if you summarize it into words that even tyler’s classmates may be able to comprehend, it would say that according to greek mythology, humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. fearing their power, zeus split them into two separate beings, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves. 

tyler wonders if he actually believes it, or if he just thinks it’s a cool concept. it’s undoubtedly a very good quote, as stated previously, one of his favourites, but he doesn’t know if he has someone out there that he’s ‘supposed to find’. that sounds stupid. how would he even know that? humans can fake anything, they put on facades, some are even pathological liars, like his mother. tyler remembers that there are also professional liars, like politicians. 

remaining on topic, how do you know that the person you are talking to was apart of you at some point? what are some given signs? tyler feels as though the passage tackles soulmates, which is a whole other ballpark of questions that he doesn’t want to answer. some people believe there is one person in the world that they are meant to be with, while others believe that there are different people for different phases of your life. tyler believes that there is no one for any phase of his life. at least not this one anyway. the cave is way too comfortable. well, maybe not comfortable, but safe. predictable.

pushing people away is one of his talents, he likes to say. to himself, in the mirror. he’s been around long enough to know himself, even if he’s done more changing in the past year and a half than the weather patterns in oklahoma. 

tyler’s never been to oklahoma though. maybe his so-called ‘other half’ lives there. but it’s not worth the thought. people find what they claim to be their other half all the time. some people get divorced, but others stay together until they die of old age. his point is that if there is someone for everyone, you could easily end up with someone who isn’t that person and be totally fine. unless there’s some indication. 

he thinks he will stick to solitude.

Chapter Text

5 years before

“when he is on his way upward and sees the beauties above, he is called a lover.” tyler’s sister, madison, read from the book. 

“is that actually what it says or did you paraphrase it again?” tyler glared at her from his seat on the floor. 

“i paraphrased.” madison smiled and shrugged.

tyler groaned, slouching his shoulders and slipping down the wall a little more. “why do you always paraphrase the best parts?”

madison shifted to face him from her seat on the floor. “because i think that it’s not about what it says word for word,” she paused, raising her eyebrows. “it’s about what you get out of it. the way i said it was how i see it.”

“and it’s not because i’m ‘too young to understand socrates’ speech in its entirety’?” tyler raised his eyebrows, a slight smile curling at his mouth.

madison looked down at the book, sighing. “tyler,” she looked up at him. “you’re smart. really. i don’t think every eleven year old is as interested in this stuff as you are. but..” madison trailed off. 

“but..?” tyler’s eyes widened. 

“nothing.” madison paused and smiled as she stood up to ruffle her younger brother’s hair. “it’s late. you should be in bed by now.” she walked into the connecting washroom of her bedroom, turning on the sink.

tyler sighed, bringing his knees up to his chest. “does your book talk about death?” 

madison turned off the faucet and looked out the door. “in certain ways, i guess,” she returned her attention to the toothbrush and toothpaste. “but you know, it is a book about love. the idea is that plato imagines a dinner party where different people take turns making speechs about—”

“their personal takes on love, and then alcibiades, who’s extremely drunk, comes in and starts praising socrates. yeah, i know.” tyler ran through it like he had a hundred times. 

“..in a nutshell.” madison nodded and shrugged. she turned to the mirror smiling as she brushed her teeth. 

tyler looked at the framed photo of them on his sister’s dresser. her room was his favourite room in the house. there were paintings that actually held meaning for tyler, walls that weren’t plain white or grey, and most importantly, he was usually welcome in there whenever he wanted. his sister was always up to hang out with him, which was rare for a kid like tyler.

“where do you think we go after we die?” tyler asked, a genuine question. a little random, but not for him. life and death was something he thought about often, along with questions regarding the purpose of life. ‘why are we here?’, ‘what’s the point?’

“i’m not sure,” madison turned off the faucet and the bathroom lightswitch. “there’s really no way to know unless you die. and even then, you wouldn’t be able to tell anyone.” 

“but what do you believe?” tyler asked again, fidgeting with his fingers. 

“i..” madison paused to think. tyler couldn’t read the expression on her face. “i think there’s something waiting. like something is looking down at us.” 

“you mean god?” tyler tilted his head. madison came over to kneel right in front of him.

“i mean, we’re taught that by mom and dad, by the church, but sometimes it doesn’t make sense to me. so many different people talk about their vision of god in ways that are just so drastically different, it makes me wonder if we all see a different god.” 

“do you mean the god of love?” tyler shifted to sit cross-legged. “like from your book?”

“i believe in that,” madison nodded. “but there could be more. i just don’t know what i believe yet. when you die of old age, i’ll tell you in the afterlife.” 

their conversation was suddenly interrupted by a knock on the door. a very familiar knock. 

“tyler?” the muffled voice of their mother asked. “are you in there?”

tyler closed his eyes in silent annoyance. “yes. come in.”

his mother opened the door slowly with a sustaining creak. she was a shorter woman with dirty blonde hair. she was smiling, but by her eyes, tyler could tell exactly what she was thinking.

“tyler, honey, you really should be getting to bed now,” his mom looked at her watch. “it’s half past twelve.”

tyler groaned, slowly getting up to his feet. “okay.”

-

present day

tyler never forgets things. he has quite the perfect memory, especially when it comes to remembering quotes or passages. spoken like a true philosopher. if you give him thirty numbers, he will, guaranteed, remember at least twenty-eight of them. but once in a while, once in a blue moon, he will forget something.

today was one of those days. this left him in the changeroom without his gym bag. his gym bag contained his gym clothes. and gym clothes were mandatory to participate in gym. earlier in the semester, tyler assumed that if he ‘forgot’ his gym clothes every day, he wouldn’t have to participate in gym. 

but watching is just as worse. 

he didn’t forget them on purpose this time. he genuinely blanked and walked straight to the gym from lunch. he didn’t even stop to fill up his water. but spending time thinking about his sister doesn’t exactly keep him in a cool, calm and collected mood. 

no, it fucks him right up.

but his participation grade is bad enough. he’s not the type to skip classes; hell, he gets very good grades. but he’s on the brink of failing gym as a whole. so yeah, he has to show up. with his gym clothes. 

the worst part about forgetting something, in tyler’s opinion, is not the immediate second guessing of literally everything else he may have forgotten, no. it is going back out into the halls while everyone is rushing to get to class. if he had a dollar for each time he’s gotten trampled in the halls, he would have three dollars. but come on, no one likes to be trampled.

there is a swarm of people in the front foyer of his highschool. the staircase is flooded, the floors are absolutely covered, and the halls… don’t even get him started. 

being around people makes tyler want to cry. and smash people’s heads with a baseball bat. maybe his old bat in the garage could be useful after all these years. obviously, everybody has some form of anxiety, but tyler’s been told by enough people in his life that it shouldn’t be an excuse not to leave the house or even talk to people. and it’s definitely not an excuse to leave any caves either. 

any social interaction that he participates in is initiated from someone else. it’s easier that way. if he doesn’t try to talk to people, and if he doesn’t try to open up and be himself, no one can make fun of him. no one can do anything. this brings tyler immense comfort. 

he’s been told it’s not a healthy way to go about life, as many different experiences will require him to talk, express himself, the whole nine yards. but he’s been doing this for as long as he can properly remember, and he gets better at it with every coming year. 

perhaps the constant rejection of his personality traits contributed to this mindset of his. but it’s not that deep, tyler tells himself, because one day, he will only have to communicate through writing. which he already does. 

well, apparently not enough, according to his english teacher.

as the hallways begin to clear, tyler shoves his hands in his pockets and walks toward the staircase. his locker is on the second floor. he prays that the hallways are less busy up there. 

the staircase is littered with papers and gum, tyler carefully trying to avoid it with every step. the metal railings clearly display many, many handprints, which creeps him right out. the only thing worse than talking to people is touching people. or at least touching something that has greasy little handprints, its sole purpose to remind him that the people at his school do not wash their hands. 

he makes it to the second floor, relieved that it is clearly less packed. a few people are still at their own lockers, gathering their own school supplies. tyler wonders if anyone else has also forgotten their gym bag.

probably. maybe.

he’s grateful to see his gym bag, slouching at the bottom of the locker. it just looks so sad, neglected, sitting in the darkness. tyler almost feels bad for it. until he remembers why he has the gym bag. 

he can hear the sounds of shoes squeaking against the hall floors. he doesn’t know what they are made of, but he does know that when it rains, people walking on it is really, really annoying. tyler doesn’t like the idea of someone walking right now. not while his back is turned, and definitely not while he is crouching down to get the bag out. the bag, that seemingly does not want to leave.

he thinks that it would be worse to be approached by someone he knows than someone he doesn’t know. maybe one of his childhood friends that ended up going to the same secondary school as him, maybe someone he was forced to be paired with for a project. maybe someone that has made many attempts at talking to him, and ended up bringing him to the rooftop of a senior retirement home. 

josh. the only thing worse than being approached by a stranger would be being approached by josh. 

but screw plato and his smart quotes that tyler believes in sincerely, because a self fulfilling prophecy is something that always finds him at the worst possible moment. 

“you need help?” a voice slices through tyler’s world. he turns around to see josh right behind him, standing up straight, unbothered and stupidly calm. does it not bother josh to talk to people? right. of course it doesn’t. this is the same guy who got rigatoni on a buzzfeed quiz. 

“i’m good.” tyler deadpans, turning back around and still trying to yank the gym bag out of his locker. it’s clear that tyler must come at this with a different technique, because pulling is not doing the trick. 

“turn the bag and try from a different angle.” josh suggests, staying exactly where he is. 

tyler thinks for a bit before ultimately taking the advice given. he turns the bag about 90 degrees and it comes out easier. it still took some force, but it was out. tyler lets out a sigh, bringing the strap to sling across his shoulder. he’s about to walk away, but his sense of gratitude tells him to stop. 

tyler reluctantly turns around. “thanks,” he says, before turning back to make his way to the gym. a hand on his wrist stops him. 

correction, a hand on his wrist stops the entire fucking world from spinning. 

he immediately tenses up. he’s not touched very often, and when he is, it’s usually a surprise and extremely uncomfortable. but this—this is just startling. 

“i’m sorry,” josh lets go of his wrist, shoving his hand in his pocket. “i didn’t mean to upset you the other day.” 

tyler’s eyebrows are raised so high, he expects them to fall off any second now. not literally, of course, but they were losing feeling. he’s not sure what to say. it’s been so long since he’s heard the word ‘sorry’ said to him, that he forgets how to respond to it. he recalls the response ‘it’s okay’. 

“it’s okay.” he says, displaying a fake, exaggerated smile. he sees this in the media a lot. 

“are you sure?” josh raises an eyebrow. he seems to genuinely care whether tyler is hurt or not. a great actor he is. 

“you didn’t do anything,” tyler assures, awkwardly delivered but it is the truth. “this is just how i am.” 

“what do you mean?” now josh looks confused, and tyler cannot see an end to this rapidly developing conversation. 

“what i mean,” tyler sighs heavily, adjusting the strap on his gym bag. “is that you shouldn’t apologize for situations i put myself into.” 

“oh,” josh nods, with understanding. “i see.” 

tyler nods, eyebrows raised, turning around and walking back to the staircase. 

Chapter Text

4 years before

tyler’s teeth clank against the metal fork as the food enters his mouth. 

it’s dinner time, and along with the sounds of chewing, he is listening to the conversations that his family is having. he’s not purposely being excluded, god forbid anyone ever talks to him while he’s eating. one task is enough for now. 

but it isn’t to say he doesn’t chime in with a witty remark here and there, just to let his family know that he’s not mute. maybe his parents wouldn’t believe he has a verbal disability if they were better people to talk to. that sentence doesn’t make sense, tyler thinks. whatever. these are just the drafts anyway.

his family is often joking when they say stuff like that though. but it’s a little too often that he’s told he needs to talk to people more, at least by his standards. especially for how much he’s heard it throughout his short life. some kids grow up introverted, some kids grow up with very few friends. but having a few friends sounds perfect to tyler. 

it’s kind of ironic, because you’d think that growing up with three siblings would somehow create a social kid, but only the opposite with tyler joseph. he occasionally enjoys the company of his two younger brothers and is very close with his older sister, but in the end, he’d rather be in his room alone. 

“so, maddy,” tyler’s father sets down his fork and interlocks his fingers. “have you started thinking about college or uni? anything caught your eye yet?” 

the way her expression drops is evident. to tyler, at least. he knows she’s easily stressed out by a lot of things. 

“not yet,” she says, looking down at her plate to avoid eye contact. “nothing interests me.” 

a small sigh escapes her dad, just loud enough for her to feel like a disappointment. “you’re gonna have to start searching soon. you’re graduating in a little over a year.” 

madison swallows, eyes darting anywhere but in the direction of the man speaking to her. “i know.” she bites out, the words coming out sharper than she intended them to. 

“hey, i’m just making sure you have a good path in life,” her father raised his hands in a surrender motion. “no need to get angry with me.” 

tyler can see, can feel, the rage boiling inside of his sister. but it only lasts for a few seconds of silence before she forces herself to calm down. “sorry.” she mutters, still avoiding eye contact. 

their dad just shakes his head while rubbing the bridge of his nose. it’s at this point that tyler knows madison feels like shit. 

later that night, tyler is in his room (of course) reading republic by plato (shocker). he’s laying down sideways on his bed when he hears a familiar knock on the door. a feeling that he can only describe as relief washes over him when his sister opens the door. 

“whatcha doin?” she asks, staying put in the doorframe. her hands remain at her sides like she doesn’t know what to do with them. 

“just reading,” tyler smiles softly as he places the book down. “what’s up?”

“nothing, i just thought i’d see if you had any plans to hang out with those new friends you mentioned.” she pushes the door open a little more, now leaning against the wall. 

tyler laughs weakly, trying to distract himself from the fact that she’s trying to casually hint. he applauds her for not being too upfront and saying something like you need to be more social, tyler.

“why would i want to do that?” he says, playing along. 

madison sighs before walking toward him and plopping down on the bed. she tangles her fingers together, and the nervousness is radiating off of her, like she’s trying to find the right words. oh, fuck a self fulfilling prophecy, because tyler can hear the words escape her mouth before she even opens it.

“i think you need to be more social, tyler.” she finally says, looking up at him with a concerned, dark-indigo look. tyler has never seen so much of his mother in another person. 

“not you too,” tyler groans, falling back down onto his back. “you’re not even in the position to tell me that.”

“i know,” madison admits, and tyler is a little relieved that it didn’t spark an argument. “but that’s exactly why i’m telling you this. i don’t want you to turn out like me. i don’t want you to end up in eleventh grade with no close friends and no life plan. i don’t want you to end up like me.” 

that last line hits tyler like a truck. he knows his sister isn’t perfect, but he still looks up to her and it breaks his heart a little when she says stuff like that. insecurity and anxiety runs through his family, it seems, and after hearing what his sister thinks, what she’s scared of, he’s not sure that he wants to stay this way.

maybe he will hang out with his new friends. 

-

present day

the feeling of stepping into the cold english classroom after sweaty gym class is something tyler will never get tired of. it wouldn’t matter if he hated everyone in the class and everyone in the class hated him. it would still be better than gym. 

the only time tyler even remotely enjoys gym(enjoy is a strong word), is when they play basketball. he’s decent at it, with playing it as a kid and all. he believes that most commonly, you enjoy something more if you’re good at it. it’s too bad his dad pushed him so hard that he seemed to push his desire to play out of him. but he can occasionally enjoy it, if he’s forced to. ‘

“alright grade elevens,” ms. arden, tyler’s english teacher hollers across the classroom in a successful attempt to gather everyone’s attention. “i’m just gonna do the attendance, you guys can have about fifteen minutes to finish up yesterday’s work. then i’ll announce our next project.” 

tyler, who finished yesterday’s work yesterday, can’t help but feel a flicker of hope and excitement when his teacher says that. english is his favourite class, and an english project means that he’ll spend the next week or so doing something productive that he could most likely choose. that’s the way he sees it anyway.

ms. arden calls out the names of students in the class, going down the list by last name. tyler finds that he’s usually called when teachers reach the middle of their list, his last name starting with a ‘j’ and all. 

speaking of names that started with ‘j’, the seat next to tyler is empty, and he can’t help but feel confused when his teacher calls out ‘josh’, waits for a response and then proceeds to mark him absent. 

tyler doesn’t understand why that even crosses his mind. he’s not supposed to care about some random guy in his class, even if he’s talked to him a few times and ridden in his car. just because he skipped class once to spend it on a random rooftop, it does not mean that he and josh are friends. 

josh doesn’t deserve a friend like tyler. josh probably deserves someone who’s social and matches his ‘golden retriever’ energy. tyler is nothing short of a ‘black cat’, if we’re comparing animals to humans now. 

so now tyler is left alone at his desk, which used to be familiar. safe. but ever since josh got switched to his class, it’s become a daily routine for them to exchange a nod, maybe even a ‘hey’, if tyler is feeling particularly generous that day. he finds it hard to understand why josh continues to talk to him and treat him nicely after all the stuff he’s said to him. 

sometimes it feels like josh feels so bad for him that he feels like he doesn’t have a right to be mad at him. he does though. tyler knows he’s a bad person. he’s at fault for most things, including the reasons behind those things. one thing stacks onto the other, like his own personal pyramid scheme, except he’s at the bottom and everything that’s wrong with him is at the top, pulling the strings.

it’s rather difficult dealing with a loss, of any kind really, because the absence isn’t the hardest part. tyler personally believes that it’s the endless scenarios you play in your head of things you could’ve said, things you could’ve done, and things you wish you could take back. 

a lot of the time, tyler selfishly wishes he was the one who commit suicide in the family. not that he has any hard plans, god no. it’s more of a matter of seeing if his family would regret their actions. if they would have the desire to take anything back. 

he snaps out of his trance when he hears the irritating sound of a chair scraping against the floor. josh plops down into the seat next to him, flashing him a toothy grin that screams hello. and he still says it anyway.

“hey ty.” josh nods before pulling out his laptop. 

“ ‘ty’ ?” tyler grimaces at the nickname that he did not give josh permission to use. in fact, no one has permission to call him something as small and stupid as ty. 

“yeah?” josh raises an eyebrow like tyler had just asked him what one plus one is. “you know, like your name. well, taking away the ‘ler’.” he chuckled to himself, as if ‘ty’ was something he created on the spot and wants padented. 

“you are never calling me that,” tyler assures, scoffing with his usual edge. “no one calls me ty.”

josh brings his hand up to his chin to think. “well, then i’ll be the first!” he smiles with a gleam in his eyes and tyler almost feels sorry for him. sorry for him having to deal with the grumpy guy in the seat next to him. 

tyler looks ahead for a second, resting his head in his hands as his elbows use the table for support. he thinks of an idea and his head jolts to josh. “okay, j. ” tyler almost smiles at the way josh’s face lights up. he expects him to cringe, grimace like tyler did, or maybe even gag. but he doesn’t.

he just remains there, with his dark curls gently brushing his forehead, his perfectly imperfect teeth on showcase. his giant smile is causing a crinkle on both sides of his eyes, moving his freckled skin in a tight grin. tyler doesn’t realize that he’s staring until josh opens his mouth to speak.

“ ‘j’. ” josh tests the nickname out on his tongue, his eyebrows furrowing in a confusion that seemed more like a warm pink than purple, which means that josh probably likes the nickname. to tyler’s dismay, josh’s response is “i like it. you should call me that from now on.”

tyler scoffs, shaking his head like he can’t believe josh is saying that. “um no?” 

“uh uh uh, you will. i know you will.” josh shakes his head like he knows tyler better than tyler knows himself. stupid bitch, tyler thinks. 

“no,” tyler deadpans, looking everywhere but josh. the cabinet near the teacher’s desk look’s really interesting today. “there will be no j, and there will definitely be no ty. ”

“wait!” josh raises his hands in surrender, the sudden volume change causing tyler to flinch. “i have a proposition.” 

tyler rolls his eyes, expecting josh to change his nickname to ‘ler’, or something else that’s so stupid tyler could cry. 

“how about you give me your number and i’ll make the name tyler,” josh suggests, already reaching into his pocket and grabbing his phone. “then you can name my contact josh. just to set it in stone and stuff.” 

it would be an easy no, but all of a sudden he hears madison’s voice in his head. 

i think you need to be more social, tyler.

this is a giant revelation. tyler takes a sharp, deep breath in, followed by an exhale. he contemplates leaving to go to the washroom, grabbing josh’s phone and smashing it on the ground. hell, he even contemplates giving him a fake number just so he’ll leave him alone. 

but he’s tired. he’s tired of letting his family, his teachers, different memories of his sister dictate his life. he knows she’s right. he knows that other kids his age are normal and actually have friends. friends that they make themselves. and here tyler is, pushing away the one person who is actually making multiple efforts at talking to him. 

so instead of cowering away, he yanks josh’s phone out of his hand. he doesn’t throw it on the ground, like his original thought. no, he actually uses his thumbs to type out a ten-digit number. not a fake number. no, this is his real number. 

he is giving josh his real number. 

and now, he is handing it back, with a filled out contact labelled ‘Tyler’. 

“oh wait,” josh laughs to himself, scanning the contact name. tyler can’t predict this one. “what’s your last name?” 

“don’t push it.” tyler deadpans, keeping his glare intact as he turns back to the fascinating cabinet.

“just so i don’t mix you up with the other tylers in my phone!” josh smiles. tyler’s glare only sharpens. 

“just put ‘j’.” tyler groans quietly, shrugging in the process. 

“tyler j,” josh smirks, nodding before he stuffs his phone back in his pocket. “it’s gotta nice ring to it.”

“okay.” tyler nods reluctantly, not sure what he’s supposed to say to that. he thinks, josh is stupid. but josh is also persistent. he did ask for his phone number.

something must be very wrong here then.