An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
I don’t know how god thinks, but God, do you love me? — Chapter 1
Tyler deals with religious guilt as he has a mental breakdown in Josh’s bathroom.
TW:: Religious trauma/guilt, Internalised Homophobia, Mental health struggles/breakdowns!! (read with caution)
The air was cold, freezing even. It travelled into the bathroom through a crack in the window, sending a shiver down Tyler's body. The yellow lighting hummed as Tyler bent over the sink, staring at himself in the mirror. "It's nothing..." he muttered under this breath. He couldn't look at his own complexion as he continued to speak "I'm not one of them." he said bitterly, his murmur becoming a whisper. He shouldn't be one. He couldn't be one. He wouldn't be one... what would God think? "I'm not a faggot..." He spat violently, now daring to look into his own eyes through the glass.
These feelings were hard to ignore. Every time Josh was around, things felt right, like he was where he was meant to be, with him. Josh had a gorgeous smile, a handsome face, a body that was hard to ignore... but everyone thought that, right? He put his head into his hands and began to shake, convincing himself over and over again that the feeling was friendly... that the obsession would pass naturally, like any other platonic relationship.
Gosh, the guilt was swallowing him alive, the guilt of his sin. Fantasising about being the one he loved, being the one who kissed his lips, being the one in whom he confined, just brought him closer to hell. He prayed constantly, believing the holiness would wash away the thoughts. His nasty, dirty thoughts. The thoughts he thought about late at night, playing with himself, imagining Josh's hand instead of his own. God would forgive him, he always did. He knew Tyler was sorry, right? He moved to the floor, curling himself into a ball on the freezing bathroom tiles. "Do you love me, God?" he managed to say in-between sobs that make his body ache.
Josh and the others settled around the lounge, which was full of their laughter and the low hum of a random pop-punk cd out of the thousands that Josh had burnt. They chatted casually about music and video games, like any group of young adults in the early 2010s would. The atmosphere was full of activity and excitement. The lounge came straight out of the 90s due to the old furniture. Red plastic cups lay scattered across the floor. The air stunk of cigarette smoke and unmentioned tension filled the air. The couch was a leather that turned a dirty brown due to age, quite skinny and had various stains from who-knows-where. Josh claims he found it on someone's lawn. However, everybody knows damn well he brought it from some random old person on facebook marketplace. The walls were white, with bits of the plasterboard peeking through. The coffee table littered with cigarette ash and empty alcohol bottles lay abandoned. He stole it from his grandma one summer and still couldn't be bothered to buy a new one, despite how shit it was. An old boombox sat on the lounge's windowsill, being a 17th birthday present for Josh from his parents. Next to it, Josh's array of mixtapes were displayed, all burnt from his crappy laptop. He had all sorts, from Blink-182 to Metallica, he had anything you could name sat in that pile. His drum kit which took up almost all of the room. It was a sleek red and black, a striking contrast to the rest of the room, full of warm browns and neutrals.
Matt (Josh's cousin, of sorts, they were loosely related) slacked on the couch, joint in hand and jabbering on about whatever his high mind could fathom. Chris was perched down beside him, preoccupied with listening to his incoherent rambling. Chris was the backbone of the group, he was understanding and mature but he also knew how to let loose sometimes. He met Josh in high-school, and introduced him to Tyler by forcing Josh to go see his band live. Both Chris and Tyler were in a band called Twenty One Pilots who played some small shows here and there... but the band was really lacking here and there. Inspired, Josh offered to join them playing. After a few months, the band became just Tyler and Josh. Chris left to focus on finding more work and the other member at the time, Nick, left to focus on his schooling… but that didn't bother either of them. They both quite favoured the heaps of quality time spent with one-another now forced upon them.
Josh relaxed onto the wall behind his drum kit, his arms crossed, eyes distant and dissociated, and heels dug into the ground, lost in speculation. Tyler Joseph was difficult to figure out. He had a distinct way of processing things. Despite this, Tyler had something special that kept pulling Josh in deeper and deeper. Their bond was profound. So, when Tyler had deserted the conversation, Josh sensed there was something grave - really fucking grave. Compared to the rowdiness of the others, Josh was quiet and collected - pondering attentively. The others observed his internal contemplation but decided to turn a blind eye.
The chatter amongst the room continued as Chris itched toward Josh instinctively. "Hey, dude." He mumbled, understanding that Josh was deep in thought and starting a conversation loudly and abruptly might startle him, or piss him off. Josh looked over to his side, a small grin melting onto his face at the sight of his friend's face. "Hey." He uttered back. They entered a comfortable silence for a second before Chris continued, "Is everything okay? Since Tyler wandered off you've been pretty out of it - not like that's bad, of course. Just lookin' out for you." Josh responded almost straight away, his volume creeping up a tad. "Yup - I just can't help but worry about him when he runs off like that, ya'know?" Chris nods patiently, compassion filling his expression.
Around twenty minutes ago, Tyler had abruptly left his conversation with Josh; barging past both Chris and Matt before slamming the bathroom door shut and suffocating himself inside. This was a regular procedure for an overwhelmed Tyler. He would usually come back out after five minutes, right as rain. Tonight was different - drastically different. Josh had been counting and 20 minutes without his reappearance was unsettling. Josh couldn't tolerate the thought of leaving him alone in there any longer. He moved up from the wall he was resting on and turned to Chris, determined. "I'm gonna go sort out his sorry ass." he affirmed, standing tall and prepared to deal with any of Tyler's turmoil. Chris answered with a simple "Good luck." accompanied with a thumbs-up for encouragement as Josh confidently marched toward the bathroom door. The bathroom door stood ominously in-front of him but for Tyler - anything was possible, no matter how difficult.
Ill-lighted, the bathroom remained overcast with fog and the moon's glimmer on a distant winter's night. Tyler's touch lingered on the floor. He twitched frantically as he bit harshly into his shirt sleeve. His eyes were glazed over with undisclosed distress and a impending sense of a inescapable regret. Josh's hand brushed over the doorknob cautiously, before calling out...
"Tyler, It's Josh. Let me in." He was firm, but soft and almost loving. Tyler's frenzy made a sudden stop hearing his voice. Burdensomely, he lifted his head up. "Fuck off..." He managed to murmur slowly, the sin burning his remorseful throat . "No." Josh said harshly, "I'll say it again... open the door, please." He sighed exasperatedly. Tyler shook his head repeatedly, even though it wouldn’t be visible to Josh, who was barricaded outside of the bathroom. "I can't."
"What do you mean you can't?"
"I just... can't." Tyler’s voice broke with caution, apprehension. His voice was quiet not with resistance, but with fear. Josh noticed this straight away, his body standing rigid, his pressure onto the door handle releasing ever so slightly.
“Take your time.” He affirmed with patience for his best friend. His best friend. A feeling of intense pride and something else he couldn’t quite name rushed through his body like adrenaline.
Josh waited for a moment, tense but composed. His breaths were deep and stable instead of frantic and short, and his arms now brushed by his sides and his posture relaxed. Internally, he was shaking with anxiety.
The handle started to shake softly. Tyler’s hand trembled slowly onto it as the door start to open slightly. Curiously, Josh peered through. The sight made him stumble back slightly, his eyes widened, and his mouth hung open.
“Ty— Tyler?” He stammered.
Tyler’s face, usually a peachy pink flush, now flashed an iridescent blue-white. His posture was frail and hunched, his body shook slightly. He avoided Josh’s gaze, his eyes lingering anywhere where the pain in his gaze couldn’t meet his.
“What happened?” Josh fretted, putting a hand in his messy brown hair.
“I don’t know,” He whimpered, “I begun to get overwhelmed - It all just suddenly came over me, like I was drowning in my own self sabotage.”
Tyler’s eyes welled up as he spoke, still hiding his face in his shirt, embarrassed of his vulnerability. Josh listened intently, concerned and sympathetic.
“I understand,” He began, “It’s okay to feel these emotions, Tyler.” He looked down Tyler’s misty eyes, looking away, delicate like a deer. “Don’t feel like you’re alone, I’ve got your back, always.”
Something in Josh’s endearing tone made Tyler snap. Tears erupted frantically out of his eyes. Josh froze before walking up to him and guiding his head onto his chest, resting his toned arms around his frail, weeping body. He acted as a sanctuary to Tyler’s turmoil, whispering sweet words into his ears as he slowly rocked him back and forth on the cold bathroom floor.
“What really happened, Ty?” Josh enquired cautiously, drawing small circles of comfort and solidarity onto Tyler’s back.
That nickname made Tyler’s heart swell, and his disgust with his feelings increase. “I just feel so much guilt, so much sin.” He muffled quietly into Josh’s chest.
“Why?” Josh continued, “I’m sure you haven’t done anything bad enough for this reaction.” He laughed nervously.
He knew what he was doing was wrong, letting another man get to him like this. What would his friends think? What would his family say? What would God think?
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