Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Josh supposes that something's wrong with you when the teacher praises your writing and you scratch through a couple layers of skin with a fingernail.
Or when you get in someone's way when they're trying to put away a book and you're stressing about a bad math grade and then that person just looks at you and you find it hard to breathe for the next four periods.
Sometimes he wonders if he was born with a disfunctional body. Like God gave him the cheap parts, the ones that'll guarantee a slow, terrifying death.
His lungs, for example, don't seem to work well enough half of the time. Especially when he's lying in bed around 10:20 at night that certain weight hits his chest and he can't breathe and his heartbeat is so small, so unexistent, that he wonders if he's dead and people are just acknowledging his ghost.
Honestly, it's normal now.

Chapter Text

This week has been the worst since school started.
Sometimes, he thinks his anxiety is because of it. It's not a disorder, he's just stressed about the new environment and new people.
Then he asks himself to explain the weekends where he wants to scream at the grocery store or climb out the window and listen to music until his phone dies or rolls around in bed until the sheets are a tangled mess around him.
This week, he had a panic attack. Every day.
Nobody would've noticed. They couldn't have seen his hands shaking, seen the lack of air in his lungs, the unexistent heartbeat, the terror that he'll die like this. Someone will find him curled under the blankets, covered in little scars, fading fast, and they won't care.
Nobody cares anymore, he thinks as he slides the blades over his thigh. Nobody wants an anxiety, depression-riddled boy who wants to die.
He puts band-aids on the cuts and goes to bed. When the alarm wakes him up the next morning, the usual terror fills his head, but he just sighs and limps out of bed.

Chapter Text

They all tell him that there are people who have it worse, your problem is nothing compared to theirs.
He wants to ask them, "So if someone has a better life than me, does that mean that I can't have a good life too?"
He usually uses his music to calm down, to banish his anxiety until tomorrow. But then his phone is taken away, every day, and he deteriorates. He tries to stay on his safe perch on a rock in the raging river of his head, but the currents grabs his feet and drags him to the bottom.
They say that when he watches the musicians that he likes, a certain joy breaks onto his face, one that they never see.
He wants to tell them that it's because they never give him a chance to feel that joy. They don't make music that tells him that he's not alone, that famous people suffer too. They aren't the ones who make him feel free.
They say that this music is distracting him from his schoolwork.
He wants to tell them to fuck off, that's the point, but he just swallows and gets out of the car.

Chapter Text

He asks for help, says he's sorry.

It says "read", but there's no response.

Chapter Text

"Stop," he begs, clutching at the pillow. "Stop, stop, stop."

They don't stop. They laugh at the lack of protection around him, tearing open his chest and puncturing his lungs and ripping his heart in half.

Downstairs, his parents laugh together about something, ignoring the shield sitting on the desk in a simple black and white case.

Chapter Text

he has these dreams.
he can't explain them. they're oddly nightmarish, often ending with his death or something jumping out at him. he'll wake up with a start, blankets tangled around him and occasionally pulled off the bed. his heart will be either pounding out of his chest or deathly silent, and his breath will come in desperate gasps.
he never really remembers the details. all that's left by the the time he sleeps again is his death.
this morning, he had one where his family flew to france without him. he wasn't scared, and he didn't make traps like that kid in home alone. he sat on his bed and stared at a pair of scissors for five minutes before picking them up and chopping off the tip of his ring finger.
there was no blood, no bone. it was like the finger was made of rubber, leaving just a smooth, flat stump. he went to work on his other hand, removing his entire little finger and the first centimeter of his thumb. again, no gore. after he was satisfied, he picked up his bags and was suddenly in france with his family.
that first step out of the airport froze him. waves of fear washed over him until he was suffocating and then he breathed, "we have to go now," and his family walked right back into the airport.
as they waited to board the plane, he rubbed at his remaining fingers and tells his mother that he needs surgery. she doesn't even look, just says, "do you have the bits you cut off?" and he holds them out. she takes them and sticks them in her pocket and
he wakes up with a burst of anxiety. it's five in the morning, which means he has two hours until it's acceptable to start moving. which is fine, because it's sunday, and even though he doesn't have to go to his dad's house, his body is filled with lead and it takes him ten minutes to get out of bed when the clock reaches seven.

Chapter Text

this week, they think that they don't really have a gender.
sure, they have feminine body parts and people use the pronouns she/her, but it doesn't feel right.
the next day, they feel like a girl.
the they changes to she, and she looks it up when she gets home from school: "whats the gender where sometimes you feel like a girl and other times you don't have a gender".
no results.

Chapter Text

tyler wishes he hadn't listened to that album over the summer.
whenever a song comes on, a massive smile breaks out onto his face, but then memories of summer rush back and it drops.
all those hours of staring blankly at a sketchbook, the lead weights in his body as he had silent breakdowns over vacation. they come back and ravage his mind until he's left shaking and screaming on the inside.
at least he still loves the songs.

Chapter Text

They all tell him that he does everything too fast

He always feels like he does everything too fast

He likes it

Gets him through the day faster

But when the clock's ticking toward twelve and it gets hard to breathe and his heartbeat just sort of ceases

He just wants to slow down

Chapter Text

hands are always shaking now.

Chapter Text

josh doesn't eat enough anymore
he can barely stomach a slightly large meal
it's worth it, all the pangs and growls
just gotta stay skinny
just gotta stay skinny
otherwise
you'll be ugly ugly ugly like your mind

Chapter Text

He laughs as he stares at the ceiling. "First panic attack of 2017."

His lungs, heart, and mind agree with him for once, and then he's destroyed.

Chapter Text

honestly, he thinks that it's guaranteed that he'll be a completely different person by summertime.
the person you'll see will be silent. curled in on themselves. desperate for any source of hope, that everything's going to be okay.
they will have been consumed and destroyed by their mind, in short.

Chapter Text

"am i a girl?" he asks. his teeth dig into his lip and metal fills his mouth.
the noose tugs on his neck. makeup gleams around his eyes.
josh shrugs. he's wearing heels and makeup too. "d'you feel like one?"
"no," tyler responds. the makeup doesn't feel right anymore. "i don't feel like a boy either. i don't feel like a they."
josh hugs him from behind. he took out his nose ring before he put on his makeup. "i don't either. i'm an it."
tyler nods. "i'm an it," he repeats, hollowly. "we're all its."

Chapter Text

"why am i here?" he asks himself.

"i don't know," blurry answers, and then he tightens the noose and steps forward.

Chapter Text

"maybe we shouldn't jump," josh says. he's got a death grip on the railing.

"it'll be okay, i promise," tyler responds, and he lets go, pulling josh with him.

they collapse on the grass and lay there, watching the sky. josh is laughing, tyler is laughing, and they're both little kids again.

Chapter Text

"maybe we shouldn't jump," josh says. he's got a death grip on the railing.

"it'll be okay, i promise," tyler responds, and he lets go, pulling josh with him.

they collapse on the pavement and lay there, watching the sky. josh is dead, tyler is dead, and they're finally free.

Chapter Text

blood spreads across the pad of his thumb. he watches it bead, then touches it to the tissue and watches it soak in.
his thumb's going numb and there's too many band-aid wrappers on the floor.

Chapter Text

"haven't you ever wondered what genders are?" blurry hisses. his fingernails scrape along tyler's neck and leave long red lines.
"no," he sobs in response. "no, no, please-"
"shut the fuck up," blurry says, jerking on tyler's hair. "think about it, ty. what really is gender? it's just telling the world what genetalia your kid has, right?"
"stop," tyler cries. his hands weakly shove at blurry's chest and he earns a sharp slap in response.
"so what are you, tyler joseph? are you a he? a she? a they?"
"i-i don't know, stop it-"
blurry laughs, cold and cruel, and disappears. tyler stares at the wall until the door cracks open and josh tells him that they've got five minutes before they have to go onstage.
he puts on extra black paint.

Chapter Text

"josh, i don't think i'm a he," tyler says. the pattern in the ceiling burns into his eyes and he blinks.

"josh, i don't think i'm a she," tyler says. the pencil shakes on the paper in front of him and he throws it across the room.

"josh, i don't think i'm a them," tyler says. the branch sways under he weight and he bounces a bit to make it move more.

"josh, i don't think i'm human," tyler says. josh stares at him, and then his face falls off and his skeleton strangles tyler until he wakes up crying.

Chapter Text

it's been going through his head all day. yesterday, too.

"gotta love parents," he mutters as he clicks on the next youtube video. "gotta love your parents."

and really, you do. it's a forced love, sometimes. true love is a lot different. love for your friends is a lot different. currently, it's forced for brendon. very forced.

and he wants to tell everyone how much he hates them, how they take away his only protection and leave him for the vultures. if he did, though, might as well buy a gun and put it up to his temple.

Chapter Text

"it would be so easy," tyler tells the empty room. "wouldn't it?"

it really would be easy. the stairs are quiet here. just wait until early, before his dad goes to the gym and after he falls asleep. sneak downstairs, swallow little bright colors until his hands shake, and then leave to the sound of youtube videos.

so simple.

"why am i so cowardly?" he whispers. the air is cold. "i've been strong for too long. i can't be strong anymore."

Chapter Text

he wants to run into the middle of the street and scream every curse word he knows. even the bad ones.

"i hate this, i hate it," he mumbles. there's a restrained feeling to his chest. maybe it's panic. maybe it's depression.

swearing is who he is. you can't just take it away. brendon urie will fight you until you let him curse and tell you to go f-

"nononono," he hisses. fingernails dig into his palms. "i hate this."

Chapter Text

"imnotgoingtomakeit," josh gasps. his mom snaps something on the other end of the line, but he can't hear her through his ragged, wet breathing. "ohgodicantbreathe."

"you're not getting your phone back," his mom tells him. he just sobs wordlessly in response.

she doesn't know anything. she doesn't know that she's leaving him for dead. she might as well hand him a bottle of pills and a gallon of water and say goodbye.

"icantohgod," he breathes. the line clicks and a loud ringing fills his ear. another sob works out of his throat and he staggers to the bathroom and locks the door.

Chapter Text

blood's pretty to paint with.

tyler wonders why nobody's done this before. the red is so pretty and smooth and soaks into the paper so easily. in the darkness of his closet, it looks even better.

his hands shake as the next cut is made, and he wonders (he's doing a lot of that tonight) why nobody has noticed how beautiful it is when a little blade sinks into the pad of his thumb. he watches as it slowly slides up, skin clinging to it, and then drops it on the floor and squeezes his thumb until blood rolls toward his palm.

he rubs it on the paper next to him and smiles at the streak of redredred it leaves.

Chapter Text

he really was panicking.

they know he has anxiety. they know that it's the social type.

what they don't know, however, is that he had a panic attack at school and just wanted to go inside and curl up and read a book. what they don't know is that when they told him that he had to walk through the garage (where the REPAIRMAN was) to get into the house, he just wanted to leave.

yes, it was stupid. he should be brave enough- as his mom said, "pathetic". but the tears sprang up so easily and his hands starting shaking and his breath started coming in frantic gasps and he stumbled toward the garage, trying to stall, and froze in the middle because he could hear the repairman's voice and he can't he can't-

he's eventually let in. his phone is shoved in his mom's pocket as she walks back outside. he makes it halfway up the stairs before collapsing and sobbing his eyes out.

he's been strong for too long, and he's ready to let go.

Chapter Text

currently, josh is tired of being alive.

his reasons:

1. he has no idea what he is. is he a boy? a girl? a they? an alien malfunction? broken lightbulb?

2. his depression is infecting everything inside his body like those parasites that take over crabs and make them into zombies.

3. anxiety. period.

he doesn't cry, though. he doesn't shed a single tear. he cuts and cuts and cuts and cuts and smiles.

Chapter Text

friday, 8:12 pm

tyler: im a terrible friend

josh: why

tyler: #4

tyler: painted your face with it

josh: oh god

tyler: kinda want to see what happens when i try my wrists

tyler: will there be more??

tyler: i bet there will be

josh: tyler

josh: don't do this

tyler: too late joshie!

tyler: :)

///

saturday, 1:47 am

tyler: it's too late for everything

Chapter Text

what if he does go?

it would be so easy.

so, so easy.

tyler draws and shakes and gets the little broken razor from the bathroom and slices open his fingertips and watches the red rivers spring up and run down his hand.

then he puts band-aids on and tells people he plays the ukulele a lot.

Chapter Text

"I'm falling apart, Josh," Tyler says (screams). "I'm falling apart, I-"

"Whaddaya mean?" Josh grumbles. He's half asleep, face squished against the tree on his arm. Tyler stares at him and clutches at the blanket pooled around his ankles. "Y' not fallin' apart."

"I am, I am," Tyler insists. He scratches his nose and skin comes off. He scratches his ear and skin comes off. "'m falling apart, Josh. I shake and my skin is leaving and I'm gonna blow up soon and nobody'll care and-"

"You're fine," Josh mumbles. His eyes squeeze tighter for a moment and then he's silent, sleeping.

Tyler watches him for a bit, then goes into the bathroom and drinks water until he throws up in the sink.

Chapter Text

Brendon shakes as she stares at her naked body in the mirror. It's not right. Nothing's right about this.

"I'm a boy," she tells herself. "I'm a boy, I need to have top surgery, I'm a boy I'm a boy."

The mirror says otherwise, and the next day, when she stares at herself, she agrees. Just a little.

And the 'she' turns into 'they'.

Chapter Text

"Did you have a good day?" his mom calls from the kitchen. Josh stares at his shoes, wet and dirty and black.

Really, this day has been okay. His depression isn't as suffocating, his anxiety levels are somewhat low, and he's becoming better friends with that Tyler boy.

"No," he answers anyway, because without music to stop the screaming, he isn't okay.