Archive of Our Own ^beta

The ten year anniversary of Blurryface brings up weird memories.

Nostalgia is a liar, Tyler knows it. He wrote it. But, like, still. He watched those throwback videos Mark posted on their Instagram and he just felt this dull sense of homesickness wash over him like lukewarm venue shower water. His mother’s favorite holiday tradition is to sit their family down and watch the same VHS home movies over and over again and it felt kind of like that, like he was watching this hopeful bright-eyed version of himself who had a dream and he said all of these clever funny things and he can’t remember any of it now. When he thinks about the Blurryface album cycle, he just remembers Josh. 

On nights when he can’t sleep, he thinks about Josh a lot. He thinks about Josh’s hair and Josh’s mouth and Josh’s endless supply of goodness that seeps through his pores like the opposite of messy slathered black paint.

When he calls, Josh answers on the first ring like a good boy.

He’s sweating and in his home gym. He immediately makes a face when he sees where Tyler is.

“It’s three in the morning,” Josh says as he wipes the sweat off his face with the back of his equally sweaty forearm. “And I thought Jenna said no cigarettes at home anymore.”

Tyler blows smoke at his screen. “She’s not the boss of me.”

The thing is that… is that, he can keep Josh in all of the ways he can’t keep Jenna. Josh is the lighter in his pocket and Jenna is the ring on his finger, and he’s sort of lost when he can’t feel either on his person, but right now, he’s been fantasizing about 2015. And not about the wedding.

“Hah, right,” Josh says. “You’re just smoking in the driveway and not on your balcony out of pure convenience. That makes sense, totally.”

“Okay, I’m scared of my wife,” Tyler rolls his eyes. The smoking is not why he came all the way out here. He’s barefoot and there’s a rock stuck between two of his toes on his right foot. “You got me. The fuck are you doing still awake?”

“You keep using bad words,” Josh goads him. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Fuck off,” Tyler says. And then the anger simmers a little. He’s the moodiest person alive, everyone always tells him this. “I’m fine, probably. Just, you know. Can’t sleep.”

“That’s crazy,” Josh teases him once again.

Tyler would do anything to slap him across the face right now. 

Josh knows him too well because he maintains that easy, sexy smirk. “But, yeah. I can’t really sleep either. Why’d you call me?”

“Because I wanted you and you were going to pick up,” Tyler says. “Because you’re such a little bitch for me.”

Josh truly barks out a laugh. “Oh my God.”

Tyler grins when he sees Josh laugh. “Okay, to be honest? I didn’t think you were going to be working out. We have to be up early tomorrow, you remember that, right? Or did you need me to remind you.”

“Debby put it on my calendar.” Josh says. And then he laughs again when he sees what Tyler sees in his own expression in the little box at the bottom of the screen, his disgusted scoff.

“I hate that you hate her,” Josh says conversationally. 

“I don’t hate her,” Tyler says a little too quickly. He takes a long pull from his cigarette. “Can we– not.”

He doesn’t hate her, okay? But– listen, back in 2014. All of the memories are hazy. That’s been established. But there was this one time Jenna dyed a piece of her hair with Josh’s leftover blue mixture. Tyler would be genuinely light-headed from how hard he got whenever he saw the two of them together. Fucking Debby Ryan is not at all in his equation of things or people that he loves. And plus— she stole Josh away from him all of those years ago and he hasn’t quite forgiven her for that yet.

“Yeah, we can not,” Josh says. “Spill, man. Why did you call me? You’ll see me tomorrow.”

“Because I wanna see you right now,” Tyler practically whines. “I wanna watch you jerk off.”

He watches as Josh takes him into the bathroom attached to the gym. Tyler can map out exactly where he is right now, he’s internally walking the layout. “And if I were sleeping next to Debby?”

“I thought we were not,” Tyler grits his teeth. “And if you were… I don’t give a shit. She could watch. She’s your wife, or whatever.”

“Or whatever?” Josh keeps laughing. Tyler wants to see him cry. He opens his mouth to say something mean and then he stops himself because he’s not that person anymore. 

There is a line. He crosses that line a lot because he has genuine issues and he’s talked to his therapist about it, and she tells him to just communicate, but he can’t communicate because when he does communicate, people think he’s crazy. Yes, he wants to have his cake and eat it too. Yes, he knows he’s a dick for hating Debby even though Josh has always had to be okay with the fact that Jenna is the love of his life. He knows he’s a terrible person for doing this. He knows that Jenna is more than okay with the arrangement they all share. He knows he should be grateful that Debby has come around to the idea of sharing her husband with him. But, like… doesn’t Debby know that Josh was his first? Doesn’t anyone fucking understand that Josh is his, and he gets to decide what Josh does, because he’s his? He pays his fucking bills. He gives Josh the world and all he asks in return is for this. Mean sex sometimes. Not that often. Just sometimes.

It’s not that much to ask. 

Sometimes, Tyler can’t look at himself in the mirror.

Sometimes, Tyler feels like killing himself because of the way that he is. 

Right now, the only thing keeping him going is Josh’s sweaty torso and that fine line of hair on his stomach that travels all the way down. It is seriously seriously not that much to ask that Josh jerk off for him so that he can wake up properly tomorrow so that he can do his job and film this music video for all of their adoring fans and Tyler can pour more money into Josh’s bank account so that he can continue living in his Architectural Digest home and do this. Look pretty and perform.

Josh sets up his camera, but then he moves out of frame so that he can turn his shower on. Tyler has been inside of that huge shower too, he’s kissed Josh against the steamy glass and they’ve laughed about each other’s weird birthmarks and back acne. It’s not all dark with him. 

“Uh,” Josh says when he returns back to Tyler’s watchful gaze. He’s already hard. Good boy. “I feel strange if you want me standing here and jorking my shit.”

Tyler chokes on the smoke in his throat when he laughs. “Jorking your shit. That’s fucking crazy, dude.”

Josh’s smile is so gorgeous. It actually does leave Tyler breathless after all of these years. He’s a sucker for a beautiful smile. It’s how he fell in love with Jenna. 

“Can I bring you into the shower?” Josh asks. “I’ll wipe the camera if it gets foggy.”

“Do whatever you want,” Tyler tells him. “See, I can be kind.”

“Yeah,” Josh says. “I think I’ve seen you be kind exactly three times in my life.”

Tyler considers this. Probably. He’s a little bossy, he’s been told. 

Josh brings his phone into the shower and immediately, it’s loud. A bit too loud. The corner of Tyler’s mouth quirks by itself because the comment he wants to make is, A little lower, but they are not soundchecking right now. The water beats down on Josh’s back as he props the camera up against one of the many expensive shampoo bottles Tyler knows is on the shelf, and then all Tyler can see is Josh’s mouth, the naked upper-half of his body, and his hard cock. 

Josh says something that Tyler can’t hear. It’s fine. Josh doesn’t need to talk. He never does on stage either so what’s the difference? Tyler wants to say that too. That Josh is just his little plaything, dripping and so fucking hot and above all else, quiet. On stage, off-stage, here in the basement, when he’s on his knees, etc.

Tyler takes a few screenshots to save for later. He can hear Josh’s groans through the white noise. He doesn’t take his time with it because he knows that Tyler likes to get straight to the point. 

The cicadas are chirping. The cherry on his cigarette momentarily takes Tyler out of the moment when it burns his finger. It’s three o’clock in the morning and he is sitting in his driveway watching his best friend jerk off a couple of miles away. In these moments, he feels truly heathenish. He is a dark figure in the night wreaking havoc on two marriages, fourteen years of friendship, and a band that means everything to him. 

He lights another cigarette and he watches as Josh’s cock twitches by itself when Josh moves his hand away. Josh’s mouth is open, desperate. His perfect stomach and his perfect abs contract like he’s in pain. 

Tyler swipes at the bottom of his screen so that he doesn’t look at himself watching. That doesn't work, so he swipes out of the FaceTime and makes Josh’s box as big as it can go. He opens his NotesApp, the ash from his cigarette falls onto the black mirror, and he lets lyrics from Breach be the backdrop to this show. They call it center mass, that part they aim for… 

Everything is just wet. Josh’s hair, Josh’s body… some water splashes onto the front camera and it’s from how hard Josh works himself over. Tyler knows exactly what his cock would taste like and it’s making him salivate enough to make smoking a little difficult. The sharpness of the cigarette has nothing on the purely salty taste of Josh’s body, it makes him sick that he can’t have it right now. It’s so fucking embarassing how gone he is for this. His fucking wife is upstairs in his bed sleeping. His fucking kids are in their beds sleeping. He wants to stab himself in the eyes, but if he does that, then he can’t watch this, and fuck if he’s not going to watch this.

“Please,” he can hear Josh beg through the noise. “Tyler, God, please. I need you.”

“I’m here,” Tyler says only this because. He doesn’t know. Where does he even start?

He’s always muzzling himself. 

“I know,” Josh says. “Shit, sorry, I’m gonna–”

Josh cums over his fist and the shower water washes it away instantly. But that’s okay– he jerks himself off through his orgasm and there’s just more and Tyler gets to see it because Josh moves in closer and out of the stream because he knows this is the money shot. He is a gasping, shaking mess, and Tyler wishes he could hold him through it. Then force another one until Josh’s eyes are rolling back and that beautiful grin of his is nowhere to be found on his gorgeous face.

Josh picks up his phone after what feels like hours. “Was that okay?” he says, but it sounds and looks like he’s just mouthing the words because the water is still coming down hard. He looks sleepy now, all tired out. 

Tyler shrugs. He can’t say everything. It’s stupid and wrong and hellish to say that he wishes he could lap up his bathwater, it makes him feel like one of those Sydney Sweeney perverts on Reddit. “It was okay.”

“Can I go now?” Josh motions towards his body wash. “Need to shower for real.”

“No,” Tyler says. “Let me see.”

Josh nods, and then he cocks his head to the side like a smug asshole as if on second thought. “Yes, sir.”

Tyler’s been soft this entire time but yeah, sure. That stirs something deep inside of him the way that only black paint on his neck and hands can.

Believe it or not, Josh arrives to set first. When Tyler pulls into the parking lot, he sees Josh’s motorcycle.

What a fucking waste of money.

But whatever. It’s Josh’s money, not his. 

…or something politically correct like that. 

He drinks a redbull and a half, he smokes outside with Mark, he runs through the shoot schedule, and by the time he’s working black paint on his neck and on his hands, Josh has finished getting his make-up done and he’s sliding into Tyler’s makeshift dressing room looking like he wants something.

“Suh dude,” Josh says. His lined eyes meet Tyler’s in the mirror. Face-to-face like this, Tyler can’t believe he has pictures of his guy’s dick in his phone. That’s fucking crazy. Josh is seriously so good-looking that he wants to jump off a roof. 

“Suh dude,” Tyler repeats back with a shadow of a smile on his face. He can’t help the happiness sometimes, rare as it is. 

He’s in love with Josh. 

It’s incredibly hard not to be. 

He’s tried. 

Josh rocks on his heels a little as he watches Tyler apply the finishing touches to his look. From the corner of his eye, Tyler catches the little bit of red in Josh’s hair peeking from underneath brown curls. This is the shit that makes him the craziest, he thinks. That he gets to decide what color Josh dyes his hair. The clothes that he wears. The storyline he is going to act out. Josh allows himself to be twisted in all sorts of ways in these videos and he lets Tyler write all of these batshit things about him, like how he’s just a hallucination, just a glimmer of a gift, his guiding light and his North Star, and he just takes it all happily and proudly.

“You know, that was kind of a crazy way to wake up,” Josh says. “Was I not supposed to come in here and beg for it after you sent me that?”

He sent Josh a few of the screenshots he took last night. 

“No, you were supposed to beg for it,” Tyler says. He looks up. “So are you begging for it?”

Josh shrugs. “Actually, though, I kind of wanted to talk about something interesting that I noticed.”

“Oh, goodie,” Tyler says, going back to his make-up. “That’s exactly what I wanted you to come in here and do. Talk.”

Josh rolls his eyes. “So… why’d you crop yourself out of those pictures?”

Tyler frowns. This is not following the script in his head, the easy play-by-play he had in mind where Josh enacts his role and he performs his. 

“You heard me,” Josh says. “You cropped yourself out of every single screenshot you sent me. That’s kind of psychotic.”

Tyler scoffs. He doesn’t have anything to say to that. Okay, yeah. Sure, Psychotic. He’s been called that a lot too. 

“Like…” Josh continues. “That’s some real dedication.”

“Can you shut the fuck up?” Tyler asks. The bad words won’t stop. He doesn’t think he’s cussed this much since during the recording of the album, sitting thigh-to-thigh with Paul and throwing back monster cans like a high schooler. 

“Nah,” Josh sits on the table beside Tyler’s jars of face paint. “I want to know.”

Tyler wants to say, It’s not your job to know anything. You just have to sit there and look hot. Don’t you fucking get it? How many times do I have to drill it into your useless head?

He doesn’t say it.

Josh looks at him with one of those Josh looks. The look that he gave to him back in 2011 when he was just a face in the crowd during a show. The memories are so fuckin’ blurry, but Tyler will always remember that – seeing the adoration and the knowing and the understanding just in a single look. It was Josh’s smile that made him attractive to Tyler first, but it was his eyes that really pulled him in and never let go. After all of this time, all of their years and performances and press shoots and arguments and the weddings and the backyard hangouts and the kisses in the shower, Tyler can still spot Josh in a crowd through his eyes first. Highlighted for him in red and black here, it’s worse. Josh can see through Tyler’s soul and that’s scary because Tyler doesn’t want anyone looking there.

“You can tell me,” Josh says like he’s gentle-parenting him. 

“You fucking know already,” Tyler says. “So just shut the fuck up and leave it the fuck alone.”

“Ooh, you’re real scary,” Josh toys with him. “Curse at me some more, that’ll work. That’ll make me go away for sure!”

Then, more seriously — “Dude. Tyler. You can tell me stuff.”

Tyler wants to say, being with Debby has made you a worse person. You think you can talk back now. 

Tyler wants to say, sometimes I think about when you moved to California to be with her and it makes me want to snap your fucking neck, still to this day.

Tyler wants to say, I tell you to jump and you ask me how high, I tell you to dye your hair and you dye your hair, I ask you to go on tour and you ask me what dates, I tell you when I’m writing and you come over to drum for me, so what makes you think you have any sort of say in this?

Tyler wants to say, you’re my best friend in the entire universe and I hate that I’m like this. I hate that I pushed you away and you found someone else. I hate that you came back to me like I’m your fucking abuser. Am I your abuser? Are you really this good? Are you just a hallucination?

Tyler says: “Get away from me before I say something I’ll regret.”

Josh stands. “I get it. Hmm, actually – I don’t get it. Ty, I wasn’t watching porn or something in the shower last night. I was watching you watch me. And it was really fucking hot. Because you’re really fucking hot. And I love you. And it’s annoying to me that you won’t even let yourself see what I see in you, not even for a second. That, like, irks my fucking soul to be honest.”

Tyler stares at him.

Then, “Are you done?”

“Yeah, I’m done,” Josh pats him on the shoulder and leans in to say in his ear, nice and low – “But I’m not fucking you until you think of something useful to say.”

It’s hard to be mad at Josh when they have an entire day of shooting ahead of them. It’s hard to be mad at Josh when he hears The Contract over and over again and he’s reminded of why he wrote it, and what it’s about, and what their music stands for. It’s hard to be mad at Josh when he has to look at him, all cameras pointed his way, and look like he’s in love. Because the undeniable truth is, he is in love with him. He is desperately, savagely, stupidly in love with him. He always has been from the moment they locked eyes with one another, and he always will be.

That’s why he’s so fucked in the goddamn head all the time. He told Josh to shut up, but he knows the problem is him. He knows Josh knows it’s him. Who are they fooling? And why can’t Tyler just give in? Why can’t he be defenseless in front of a person who would do anything for him? 

Why why why why why. It’s so annoying.

Blurryface being 10 years old brings up weird memories because it’s when he fell in love with a boy. It’s when he was getting married to Jenna. It’s when he started having these twisted thoughts about cheating on her.

He can’t even think about it. 

He deserves to rot in hell.

“What do you think I should do?” Tyler asks Jenna while he’s taking a smoke break outside. He is made of questionable choices, the kinds of last minute and impulsive decisions that lead him to ask his wife what he should do with his soulmate situationship. 

“Not be an asshole?” she replies. Her voice is even sweeter on the phone, if that were possible. “You know what you should do. You should talk to him and clear the air.”

“But I don’t want to,” Tyler whines. With Jenna, he is his truest self— an immature nightmare. It’s a wonder how she’s stayed with him so long. Must be this blinding thing called love. 

“Okay, then don’t have sex with him again for the rest of your life,” she says bluntly. Then, like even she can’t take that sentence seriously, she laughs. “Ty, you have to make up with him. I can't believe he took sex off the table, he’s so stubborn.”

“You’re stubborn and you never take sex off the table,” Tyler grumbles. 

“True, but that’s because I always want it,” Jenna says in her Jenna voice. There’s a Josh look, and there’s a Jenna voice. Both make him weak in the knees. “And besides, you pay all the bills. Society and the church told me that I have to give it to you at all times. I’m simply fulfilling my wifely duties and it has absolutely nothing to do with me being horny.”

“Yeah, when I use that bills argument with him, he gets mad,” Tyler says. He takes another drag from his cigarette. When he blows his smoke, he wishes Josh were next to him. It’s just a thing. He likes smoking with someone else. It makes him feel less bad about the whole thing.

“Well, yeah,” she says. “He’s in the band. You pay each other’s bills equally. Without him, there’s no you. Isn’t that pretty much the thesis of your whole, you know. Band? It’s your thing? He's putting on a drumshow?”

Well, no. But, like, kinda? He thinks about writing Josh as The Torchbearer. Never keeping a tally against him. Always encouraging him to be better. Believing in him so deeply. 

“I just think,” Jenna continues, “all joking aside, that it would be unfair if you didn’t at least communicate with him a teeny bit. I know that you’re all macho Dom with him, but you’re his best friend too. The sex stuff and the friendship stuff can’t be separated just because it makes it easier for you.”

“But why not?” Tyler whines again. 

“Because I said so,” Jenna says. “And by the way, I can tell that you’re smoking, and I’m not happy about it.”

Tyler sighs. He stubs out his cigarette on the brick wall. “I’m the worst.”

“No, you’re not,” Jenna says. “You’re just a human being. And you messed up with Josh and it’s time to apologize. It’s no big deal— no one is here to condemn you to hell. No matter what your brain tells you.”

“Stupid brain,” Tyler shakes his head.

“Beautiful brain that is stupid sometimes,” Jenna corrects. 

They stay on the phone a moment longer, quietly basking. His brain has given him some lush things, but it’s been his biggest enemy too. He feels lucky that he has a gift for writing. He feels like shit that he doesn’t know how to appreciate a good thing. 

And then, as if on cue by the universe to get him and Josh closer to their inevitable conversation, there’s the sound of Tommy crying in Jenna’s distance.

“Crap,” she says. “Okay, gotta go. I love you, okay? Stop being a dumbass.”

“I love you too,” he says, and he means it with every fibre of his being. He just wishes he could say it as easily and as painlessly to his other love too. 

They aren’t alone again until they’re at Mark’s house long after the shoot is finished. Tyler’s smoking by the dying fire pit, Mark goes inside to find some marshmallows and to check if the rest of the guys are okay, and Josh is playing fetch with Jim in the yard. When the sliding doors close, they lock eyes. 

They are magnetic. Since that first time. 

“Hey,” Josh mouths to him.

“Hey,” Tyler mouths back. 

It is oddly sweltering out. Everyone who went inside was smart to do so. 

Glitter Freeze on the tiny speaker. Tyler’s heart clenches painfully. Winter is his favorite season because of how isolated it forces him to be. Not one has to look at his scaled back and shameful self. It’s too goddamn hot right now, all of these fucking glances and all of this fucking heat that makes him sweat. When he pictures himself, he imagines muted black paint appearing in beads from open pores…. leaking onto the white of his t-shirt like spreading sickness.

“Will you get out of here with me?” Tyler asks. “I can’t breathe like this.”

Once upon a time, Tyler hated Jim. 

That’s pretty sick, right. To be jealous of the dog? Like, he’s a crazy person. It— he— is harmless and he’s adorable and he makes Josh happy. 

The girl on the radio sings Can you read my mind? I’ve been watching you… couldn’t fight to save your life, but you look so cool…

“Okay,” Tyler rubs at the bridge of his nose. “Turn this shit off.”

Josh turns it off on I only want him if he says it first to me. Tyler hears the next line echo in his head. Josh looks at Tyler expectantly like he knows Tyler didn’t force him to leave his dog at Mark’s just so that they could fuck in the backseat.

“It smells like dog in here,” Tyler says just to say something. Which, it does. Smell like dog in the car. Thinking about Jim makes his stomach hurt. He hated a fucking dog because he got Josh’s attention. That’s it. Defining characteristic right there.

“You’re saying it wrong,” Josh says.

Tyler raises his eyebrows.

“You’re supposed to say ‘it smells like up dog in here’” Josh explains.

“What—” Tyler’s stomachache gets worse. “What’s up dog?”

“Nothing much,” Josh grins. “What’s up with you?”

“I hate you,” Tyler groans. “God, what the fuck is wrong with me?”

Josh shrugs. Then, “You clearly don’t hate me because you have pictures of my dick in your phone.”

“I can hate you and have pictures of your dick in my phone,” Tyler says. Then, he too surrenders under the AC blasting and the quietness of the car now that the radio has been turned off. His thoughts are amplified to a million. 

“I just don’t know where you want me to start,” Tyler says. “I don’t— like myself. I didn’t wanna see my stupid smug face in those pictures. It makes me feel like a fucking pervert.”

“I like when you’re a pervert,” Josh says too seriously. Josh is in the driver’s seat, he thumbs the stitching on the wheel as he speaks. For as bold Josh was being earlier about being direct, he’s like this when it comes to confrontation too– avoidant. “It makes me feel wanted.”

“I like making you feel wanted,” Tyler speaks to his fingernails. Stained black from this morning’s paint. Fingertips nearly torn to shreds from his bass guitar. “I like a lot of things about what we do. But sometimes it makes me dirty. Not because I’m— it makes me feel like shit because I’m such a double dipper. It’s greedy, and, and that’s a sin, you know?”

“I’m a double dipper too,” Josh says. “McDonald’s sweet and sour sauce up in here.”

Tyler rolls his eyes. “Be serious.”

“Okay, yeah, greed is a sin,” Josh agrees. “I’ll give you that. Pride is also a sin, and I finally feel like I’m at a place where I have a lot of pride in myself. Do you want to call me a sinner too?”

“No,” Tyler says. “Because you’re a good person and I’m not.”

“Says who? Jenna? Me? Jesus? Your parents?” Josh asks. 

Tyler wrote Blurryface at the very peak of hating himself. He’d look in the mirror through bleary, wet eyes, and a rotting reflection stared back at him. 10 years ago, he was miserable, and he was getting married, and he loved her, and he loved Josh, and he threw himself into music until there was nothing really left except that decaying blurry reflection. And it was 10 years ago, but it never went away. The ghost of that kid still follows him around.

“Says Blurryface,” Tyler mumbles. 

Josh hums. “Ahhh.”

“I’m so fucked up,” Tyler groans again. “No, seriously. But, but it’s true. I say it right to my fucking reflection, all the time. I’m the worst. I’m bad. I deserve to die. So, yeah. Sue me that I don’t want that in my brain while I’m jerking off to your dick.”

Josh shifts. “I didn’t say that. I just said I wanted you to let me in. I didn’t know you were still thinking about Blurryface like that seriously. Honestly.”

Tyler scoffs. “Yeah, well. There. You fuck a crazy person. It’s not all just a metaphor, it’s— yeah. Still there. Staring at me in the fucking eyes.”

Then, mockingly. “How’s that make you feel?”

“Fine,” Josh says. “I feel completely fine. Why do you think I wouldn’t want you in any way you give me?”

Josh doesn’t take the bait. That’s the issue with him. He never, ever takes the bait. When Tyler wants something to go a certain way, Josh surprises him. It’s been that way for ten years, the only real surprising thing is that it still surprises him. 

“What the fuck do you want me to say?” Tyler asks. “Because it’s fucked up, dude. You deserve better than this shit. You deserve someone who wants to… to, to marry you.”

“I’m married already,” Josh says.

Tyler groans. How much worse can he put this?

“You deserve better than an effin’ psycho. Did you know that when you moved to California, I felt like carving my initials into your skin so that you didn’t forget me? Our tattoos weren’t enough. Needed that shit embedded in you so you’d fucking understand that this— me— I need you.”

Josh squirms a little. And there’s a happy humming in between Tyler’s ears when Josh settles himself to listen to the rest of what Tyler has to say. It feels better than the cigarette buzz. Good boy. 

“I need you so bad,” Tyler says like he’s in a confessional booth. “Josh. Always. It’s not— this is not good for us, I think. Long term.”

Josh scoffs. “Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn’t be so lovable then. Maybe then I’d be chill with losing you. Until then, you’re stuck with me, Blurryface and Nico and all.”

It’s Glitter Freeze all over again. Flares of desire and panic soaring in his chest like a battle cry, or S.O.S signals, or cartoon characters getting electrocuted. He’s fucking haywire. Exclamation points and fire and a fondness that runs so deep through him it might as well be in his blood. “Shut up.”

“It’s true,” Josh says. “Stop being exactly how you are. Then I’ll find a way to not love you. Then I could let this go.”

Tyler scrubs a hand over his face. “Yeah. Sure. Okay.”

He nearly jumps when Josh reaches over to touch his clothed chest. He splays his fingers out over where Tyler’s heart is. And then he pretends to pull. “Kali maaaaaaaa,” he chants.

There is a long five second stretch before Tyler breaks character and bursts into laughter. 

“I would steal your heart if I could,” Josh whispers to Tyler in between a kiss. Tyler couldn’t not. Josh’s mouth looked delicious. The part of him that is Clancy yearns for that safe and warm comfort. “Short Round could totally beat my ass for it and I wouldn’t care.”

Tyler licks into Josh’s mouth. He pulls at his hair. Forces him to stay in place. Forces him to look him in the eye. “Sometimes when we fuck, I can feel myself lose control. I can feel— it— coming through. You wanna steal Blurryface’s heart too?”

“Anything that’s yours,” Josh opens his mouth for Tyler to spit into it. “Ty, fuck.”

The darkness swirls behind his eyes like waves crashing onto sand, foamy white and pure. Like maybe that’s the real him and the frontman is the facade. It makes him sweat like he’s back in front of the bonfire to think that Josh would take it all, leaning back and with an open mouth, and his greedy fingers trying to pry for more. 

“Yeah, anything?” A laugh squeezes itself through the tension in his voice. He feels unhinged. “Okay, let me piss in your fucking mouth then.”

Josh whines. “The car. I just detailed it dude.”

“Fine,” Tyler says. “Loser. Suck my dick.”

When they were younger— there’s a memory that floats to the forefront of Tyler’s mind when he hears the sound of his own jeans being unzipped. Had to be earlier than Blurryface era. Maybe Korea demo time. Josh chained to the handle of the bathroom cabinet. Tyler flicking cigarette ash in Josh’s hair as he made him filthy. Tyler laughing as Josh choked over the taste. Tyler kissing Josh’s bruised wrists, sucking his fingers into his mouth, nosing at Josh’s palm like a dog. Tyler’s knees aching from how he hard he prayed afterwards. It’s unpleasant to think about how jagged his edges used to be. How much worse the comedown used to be. How much pleasure was paired with self-hatred. How his brain became so twisted up in itself until he could only get hard when he thought about how much he deserved to die. When Jenna asked him what the fuck was going on because he couldn’t ever stop crying. Wedding night disaster. Apologizing over the phone. Punching the mirror. Songs on the albums. Trips to Paris. Running away. Smoking in the driveway. Cropping himself out of pictures. Avoiding conversation in the car. Fuck. He and Blurryface and Josh and Jenna have been doing this for over ten years, they’re all basically common law married. 

His mind is elsewhere entirely until Josh gets his mouth on him. Then, all of his thoughts explode into little bits and pieces of red and yellow confetti the color of Clancy’s album cover. Josh’s back is curved awkwardly over the center console and Tyler gets harder just seeing the delicate stretch Josh is forcing himself into. All this for him. 

That Balu Brigada outro, in the backseat, in the backseat… just a dirty synth, engines revving in the desert. Those kids were performing to a crowd of no one, Tyler and Josh were dancing by themselves. Josh was pretending to do the robot. It feels stupid that that’s the only thing Tyler can really think about, but it’s the only thing stopping him from ending this prematurely. Josh’s throat is so fucking tight. His perfect tight little toy. His best friend. Fuck.

He closes his eyes, curls his hand into Josh’s half-dyed hair. He doesn’t feel like an asshole when he pushes Josh down. Josh wants it too. The sound of them is obscene. Josh and that stupid drummer’s intuition, knowing exactly the right rhythm to get Tyler out of his mind and force him into a place where it’s just this — road head with your best bro.

He holds Josh down as he cums in his mouth and down his throat. He grins when Josh coughs over it. He kisses back when Josh kisses him with a dirty mouth, tongue still coated in it. It would be nice of him to return the favor, but he’s not doing that. He gives Josh a look, and Josh is already turning the radio back on and putting the car in reverse. HE DRIVES FAST JUST TO FEEL IT, FEEL IT!

They create magic in the basement studio. They fuck in the basement studio. When Josh asked about turning the Korea demo into a real song, when Josh emailed the song back to him because he didn’t have it saved, that was the only thing Tyler could think to add to that nasty drum beat. Downstairs, I feel better in the cellar down there. 

There’s a bed down here because Tyler actually does sleep in the basement when he’s really in the thick of writing. Not at night, because he always sleeps next to Jenna when he’s at home, but during the day in between pouring his heart out on the microphone or in the times between school pick-ups… or sometimes when Josh is over, and, well, you know.

Jenna doesn’t touch this bed. She’ll clean the studio. The bed is Tyler’s to take care of.

Naturally, it’s a mess when he and Josh topple onto it. 

“Really is like a fuckin’ cellar down here,” Josh says as his head falls on a bare pillow. “Ever heard of a pillowcase?”

“Ever heard of shutting the fuck up?” Tyler asks. He didn’t get a chance to change them since the last time Josh was here and his red hair dye bled into the fabric because Josh was sweating. They both were. That fuck was so good. This one is gonna be better. 

On his back, Josh strips fast. He arches his back to pull his shirt wayside, he kicks his jeans off as Tyler stands over him, as Tyler maps where he wants to mark him first. Then, when Josh is naked and waiting, his stomach flexing in anticipation, Tyler crawls to him still clothed. And he kisses his own name above Josh’s knee. 

“Remember when I didn’t press the needle far enough?” Tyler looks up. “Remember when I redid this? That seedy ass tattoo parlor in Kansas City?”

Josh nods. “I remember everything.”

He whines the same way he did ten years ago when Tyler gets his fingers inside of him. Gets that same wild look in his eyes every single time. The memories flash and flash like a hanging microphone swinging past him. Josh, tired and sleepy and on his back like a cat. Josh, red eyeshadow eyes watering because Tyler only used lube on himself before he started fucking him. It’s kind of a feat how much Josh can take. It feels fucked up to say Tyler never knew sex could be like that until he met Josh, but, there you go. 

“Need your–” Josh winces as Tyler bites his shoulder. Just for something to latch onto. Just another part of him to claim. Tyler grinds his cock against Josh’s thigh, lets him feel how ready he is. “Come on, give it to me already.”

“I told you, you gotta beg for it, bitch,” Tyler tells him. “So start barking.”

Josh bares his teeth at him. Josh has perfect teeth. Like, truly perfect. He’s got the most gorgeous smile in the world. “Woof.”

Tyler laughs. Jesus. Yeah, he’s in love. Fuck.

“I love you,” Tyler says this to him. It’s only fair to uphold his side of the bargain — Josh told him they weren’t going to have sex until Tyler said something useful. And well… yes! This is the most genuine thing he has to offer. At the core of it all, it’s this. He’s in love. Every single part of him, including the worst parts, wants Josh. Needs him, actually.

Josh nods. His Torchbearer, his light. He always fucking knows. He grabs Tyler’s hand to kiss. “Now, Ty.”

Right — yeah. 

Josh’s eyes flutter shut like yellow flowers in the trenches when Tyler enters him. Delicate. He is so delicate. So precious. 

“Hit me?” Josh’s voice is high-pitched and desperate. He nuzzles into Tyler’s touch on his face and he begs again. “Please? Fuck.”

Tyler moves his hand back, takes a deep breath, and then slaps the fuck out of him. No other way of putting it. Josh gasps. He gets tighter. And he whimpers when Tyler does it again. And again. 

Their sex is: hard, fast, visible? It’s so much dirtier with the lights on. It’s so much dirtier face-to-face. No one’s hiding like this. Josh reaches an arm back so that he can hold onto the headboard for leverage and Tyler licks the sweat out of his armpit. He bites the soft and stretched skin there. 

“Gonna fucking break you apart,” Tyler says. Promises him. “Gonna ruin everyone else for you. Fuck, no, I’m gonna ruin you for everyone else, turn you into a mess.”

“Your mess?” Josh barely is able to say. Poor guy. Tyler brings a hand down to stroke his cock in time to this brutal beat and Josh practically seizes. The room smells like them. Tyler thinks about that stupid line in Stressed Out. They’ve been doing this for years and it’s still the exact same. None of this is lost to time the way that lyrics sometimes are, none of this is comparable to the way that he has to relearn chord progressions and the right way to throw his voice. Underneath him is his best friend. None of it is blurry. 

“Yeah,” Tyler drives in harder. “My mess. Mine.”

Their sex is: the beginning of Heavydirtysoul, buzzing between his ears and a throbbing bassline and the echoey warbly synths… the twinkling piano sparkles in Chlorine… the enthusiastic crouching crowd during Lane Boy when he tells everyone to stay low… Redecorate during the Livestream, and I am a Megalodon, ocean’s feelin’ like a pond. An amalgamation of everything that they’ve created together, together. He’s such an asshole – yeah, he wrote it all, but Josh was always this – there, participating, right by his side. 

Josh cums first because he’s Josh. Poor, poor guy. Tyler shows him no mercy. Josh laughs, loose and happy and entirely fucked out as Tyler says this all in his ear, stuttered and with so much feeling he feels like he’s gonna explode into a million trillion pieces – I love you. You’re my heart.

Tyler follows not long after because he’s Tyler. He cums across Josh’s perfect stomach, the condom thrown astray. They breathe in and out together. Break into the same goofy grins. And then Tyler can’t help but to press a fat kiss on Josh’s red cheek, still burning hot from how many times Tyler hit him.

Tyler hums The Contract as he prepares three peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. He is wearing his favorite GROUPLOVE hoodie, he’s fresh off a cigarette, and he’s buzzing from the sex adrenaline. And the feelings adrenaline? It’s just now hitting him that he actually exposed his entire heart. But, you know. It be like that.

Outside, Josh and Jenna are lounging on white plastic lawn chairs. Tyler hands Jenna her plate first, then Josh, and then he’s left with his. He takes his place between the two of them and he soaks in the night. Chilly, starry, beautiful.

“You got your lighter?” Josh asks after a quiet moment. His voice is still a little torn up. Tyler nods and passes over the orange lighter to him. Josh reaches into his pocket and lights up a joint that has seen better days. And since Josh is smoking, it’s fair game. So, Tyler takes his pack of Marlboro Golds out too. And he laughs when Jenna rolls her eyes fondly. 

“Pass?’ Jenna asks Josh when he’s done with the lighter, and he nods. She lights Tyler’s cigarette for him with a look that says, This is the last one, and I mean it. Still, she hands it back to him. Trust. 

“McDonald’s sweet and sour, huh?” Josh says as he blows his smoke. 

“Fill me in,” Jenna says as she takes a bite out of her PB&J.

“Tyler was having a crisis about double dipping his dick,” Josh laughs.

“Jesus,” Tyler says. “I did not phrase it like double dipping my dick. I meant, like, double dipping my heart…?”

“Ahh,” Jenna says. “So who’s who?”

“You’re sweet and he’s sour,” Josh grins.

Tyler flips him off. 

“Hey, can I have a hit?” Jenna asks Josh. 

And Tyler watches with shocked, curious eyes as Josh leans over him to shotgun her. Jenna rests her hand on Tyler’s knee, Josh leans an arm against Tyler’s shoulder, and he shares his smoke with her through an open-mouthed kiss. They’re so fucking hot, the both of them. They don’t know what they do to him. They don’t know the amount of breakdowns he’s had about it. And here they are – laughing and smoking together. His ring and his lighter, his sweet and his sour. Two peas in a pod, Indiana and Marion. Two halves of his heart.

He allows himself to bathe in the afterglow. This cool night, his cigarette, his PB&J, his girl and his guy. Fuck nostalgia. Fuck 2015. Fuck Blurryface. Fuck anyone who’s ever looked at him backwards for this. 

They’ll never have this. 

It feels better than anything.