Don't Threaten Me With a Good Time

It's been a week since Pete had contacted Tyler and Josh about cancelling the Save Rock and Roll tour. The buzzing in Tyler's head doesn't help. The constant questioning of why them? They were about to head out on such an amazing tour, but it was put to a stop. Course, he couldn't be mad or wonder why. Patrick has been missing. He wished good luck on Pete and the rest of the guys plus family to find him.

He lets his fingers tap aimlessly on a wooden table in Josh's apartment. They would see each other a lot in general, but Tyler wonders if he has been an annoyance lately. Everyday it seems as though there's another crack in the ceiling; another cloud in the sky. Ohio was never an extraordinarily positive place, at least not for hopeless hopefuls in small towns.

Josh sits across from Tyler, handling a plate of Hot Pockets.

He says, "We may not go on tour yet, but if we eat like we are, I'm pretty sure we'll both feel better." He smiles.

Tyler attempts to smile back, "Yeah maybe."

After the simple meal, Tyler retires to the guest bedroom. There's a slight booming irritation in the back of his mind causing a headache. He decides to pass up medication for it, however. It was a good reminder that he was alive. Also he could never forget how proud he was for writing a song like Migraine. Through suffering, he creates art. That art inspires others which in turn inspires him back.

Josh knocks on the door before coming in, "Hey, wanna watch a movie?"

"No, sorry, man. Not really in the mood."

"Alright, goodnight then!"

"Night." Tyler replies softly.

He lets his thoughts wander. Usually he wouldn't let the dangers of his own mind speak, but tonight he relaxes, takes a deep breath, and lets his thoughts and memories flow.

'Tyler, pathetic useless Tyler.'

It's that voice again, he thinks. The sinister, deep voice that overflows his mind with doubts, self hatred, and pessimism.

'No one will ever take your band on tour. No one truly understands your words.'

Tyler lets the voice he calls blurryface continue.

'You'll never make it, Tyler.'

The voice finally becomes mute as the young man falls to sleep.

~~

The days continuously progress as Tyler succumbs more and more to the voice haunting his mind. Alone alone alone. All he truly wants is solidarity. He still lives at his parent's house which is another thing blurryface ridicules him about. He could very well move in with Josh. The spare room was always set for him, but he was beginning to feel more and more like a burden. To his parents, his brothers, his sister. To his best friend...

~~

It's a quiet evening at the Joseph household. Josh sits across from Tyler. The young man notices his best friend's constant look of concern. It was a good three days of barely eating anything. Josh noticed these things the most. Tyler wish he didn't. He wish he didn't have such an amazing friend and bandmate.

'Josh is too good for you' blurryface says.

'I know' Tyler thinks.

When dinner is finished, Tyler helps wash up. He takes his time slowly washing and drying each plate and bowl.

'The world will be so much better without you' it says.

'I know' Tyler thinks.

He then feels a hand fall on his shoulder. He jumps a little before noticing that it's Josh.

"Hey, you can spend the night at my place again. I know the past couple of days seemed a little rough and family was a good call, but yeah, never hesitate to come over. What do you say?"

Tyler puts a bowl away before replying, "I'm gonna stay here for the night. Thanks for offering, though. Means a lot."

"Alright." Josh replies in a seemingly disappointed tone. Tyler feels bad for a moment. He would never pass up staying with Josh, especially with the loss of touch he has with his family, but tonight the voice in his head was winning.

Before Josh leaves, him and Tyler share their special handshake. When they pull each other in for a hug, Josh wraps both arms around Tyler.

The tight hug lingers for a bit before Josh says, "Take care of yourself, man."

They release from the hug and Tyler gives him a small nod.

Josh heads out and before he reaches his car he says, "I'll call you tomorrow."

Tyler waves goodbye and watches as his best friend drives down the dark street. Unfortunately, there will be no tomorrow for the young man. He could feel it in his chest. The less and less he fights, the more blurryface grows. He already spent too long letting the voice consume him. He believes every word.

He goes in his childhood bedroom and sits at the edge of his bed. He watches the time tick by. The clock's hand grows louder and louder with each passing second. His head begins to pound. The words are harshly echoing through his mind.

'No one loves you. No one understands. No one cares. You must die and rid yourself of all the burdens you've caused. You have failed, Tyler Joseph.'

The clock hand strikes three and Tyler assumes all his family must be asleep by now. The booming in his head causes his feet to stumble as he makes it down the stairs, through the hallway, and finally into the kitchen.

'Grab a knife, Tyler. Leave this world. Your family will be so much better without you.'

Tyler does what the voice says and opens the drawer full of kitchen utensils. He grabs two knives.

'Now, Tyler! Do it now!' The voice shrikes.

He takes the two knives and harshly drags them across his throat. The blood spews intensely covering the cupboards and counter. He watches as the world slowly drifts away into a black abyss. His final thoughts: Thank God the voice is gone.

~~

"So killing yourself made you a red eyed demon?" Brendon asks.

"No, I didn't kill myself per say, it was blurryface. It's an actual ominous demonic force that-"

"Hmm, interesting." Brendon intrudes. He looks over to Patrick, "Tragic, really. Since knowing this place actually exists, I thought you'd go to heaven." He then stands up from 'his' throne and stretches his arms and wings.

"Well shit happens. Anyway since we told our stories, what's yours?" The yellow eyed demon asks.

"Hmmm, what?" Brendon starts, "Sorry, didn't hear you over the sound of the little voice in my head telling me I need a better wardrobe." He proceeds to rip off his loose tattered garments.

Patrick, unamused, looks away. Never in a million years, even after death, did he want to see Brendon's dick. The black eyed demons in the room appear to be mystified. Patrick felt like gagging a little. Tyler unfortunately captures a glance and feels completely uncomfortable. He shies away.

"Well, boys? And if not, I'm completely comfortable like this."

"No," Partrick starts, "We'll get right on that." He grabs Tyler and they both head to the manufacturing section of hell into the clothing area.

"What do you think Brendon would want to wear?" Tyler aks.

"Don't know, don't give a fuck. Pants, all he needs is a goddamn pair of pants." The rage in Patrick grows more and more everyday. One simple plan: to get Brendon to talk of how he died, not tend to dressing the fucker because he wanted to avoid the question. He finds a black pair of pants cut right above the knee that may have been Brendon's size. His anger and unwillingness may be prominent, but fucking forbid if he has to go back because they won't fit.

They head back to the main bureau to find Brendon sitting sideways, legs crossed in the chair. He's eyeing the black eyed demons that seem ready to jump his bones. He taunts and teases them. Once again, Patrick has the urge to gag.

"Here." Patrick says as he tosses the slate colored demon the pair of pants.

"Oh." Brendon says as he smiles. He gets up and tries them on, "They fit."

Thank the devil. Patrick sighs with relief.

"My ass looks great in these, doesn't it?" Brendon says, showing off to the black eyed demons.

Patrick actually gags.

The slate colored demon turns to him, "Thanks, Patty." He then sits back on... his throne.

"Mhm." Is all Patrick can reply with.

"Also," Brendon adds, "from now on, call me your king." He smiles deviously.