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Prologue
Tyler Joseph liked to think of himself as a changed man.
He was far from perfect, but he felt he had, at a minimum, made progress from his youth. He saw the world in a different light than he had a decade ago.
These days, as he watched his family grow, his soul settled with the knowledge that he had made the right choice that night so long ago. The memory remains clear, even after all this time. The cold, misty street, illuminated only by the distant streetlamps and blazing headlights, careening towards him.
These days, he saw purpose in life. He lived for his family, but he also lived for himself again. There were more good days than bad. He clung to that knowledge, gripped it with all his strength, when darkness rattled him once more.
Life was worth living; never again would he doubt that. But he had forgotten how easily things could change.
August 15, 2024, Denver: Ball Arena.
“Are you ready?” Josh asks Tyler quietly. His face is solemn. They both know this feeling all too well: that all-consuming pressure to perform, to please, to be perfect. Opening nights were always the hardest. With the new setlists, new crew members, and new stage set up… Tyler always found reasons to worry, no matter how much they rehearsed.
“Sure,” he says, with all the confidence he can muster. “It’s going to be a good show. Everything went smoothly at rehearsals, and it’s not like this is our first time playing in front of a crowd this big.” His logical explanation sounds good in theory, but he knows it only does so much to dispel the anxiety. The same irrational fears that allow him to flourish as a musician still haunt his daily life.
“Yeah. C'mon. We’re on in a minute.” Josh gives him a hearty slap on the shoulder, and Tyler plasters a somewhat genuine grin back.
“Let’s do this thing.”
One hour later
Routines in the Night was, ironically, the song where Tyler started to get his legs under him. The irony was in the fact that this song was one he had initially doubted to the point of suggesting removing it from the album. As usual, Josh’s sage advice had saved a song that ended up being a fan-favorite, and, apparently, one of his own favorites to play live. Microphone grasped in sweaty fingers, he strides through the planned pathway through the crowds. These parts of the shows are always a challenge for him, mentally. Some days, he can’t get enough of the fan interactions, living for the wild thrill in the eyes of the people surrounding him, shouting his lyrics back and straining to touch him. Other days, it is sensory hell. He has to keep on point, on time, while fighting the desire to flinch away from grasping and clawing fingers.
Fortunately, today, he is at ease. The roar of the crowd is a comfort, like coming back to a place you vacation to occasionally. He gladly reaches back to the audience, touching as many hands as he can and making eye contact with even more. Then, he spots the perfect thing to pause in front of: a flag featuring an edited photo of him and Josh kissing, with “JOSHLER” scrawled across it in messy black marker. He maintains a neutral face as he crouches in front of it, but internally, he is cracking up while picturing the fans’ gobsmacked faces when they realize what he chose to pose by. He grasps the fan’s hand and finishes the verse in front of the flag, breaking into a smile only once he sees the camera is off him for the moment.
The rest of the set goes off without any major hitches, and as he and Josh take their sweaty and confetti-coated bows, Tyler allows himself to feel just a little bit of pride about what he and Josh have accomplished.
Backstage, the pair collapse on the couches. Josh pulls off his hat, fluffing his damp hair. Tyler just drinks as much water as he can without suffocating.
“Awesome job man, as always.” Josh says as he puts on a new hat. Josh is always sincere in his compliments, and Tyler still, after all these years, struggles to take them without making a joke in return. He tries.
“You too. I think they loved it. Especially my impromptu photo op…” He starts to smile even as he says it, unable to keep a straight face as the memory from the flag moment crosses his mind.
“Dude,” Josh snorts. “That was so ridiculous!”
Tyler cracks a wider smile. “I know. I just couldn’t help myself. The flag was right there, and–”
“You knew the fans would freak,” Josh finishes his sentence, a knowing gleam in his eye. They have both been witnesses to what reaction a little “suspicious” behavior can evoke from their fans. It doesn't matter that sometimes it confuses Tyler, too.
“Yeah, and I can’t wait to see what twitter looks like by morning,” snickers Tyler.
Josh flops onto his back, laughing. “I’m checking right now!”
After ordered pizzas, a lot of scrolling (the fans are, predictably, trending #joshler on all platforms), and two showers, they are ready to head back to their hotel for the night. They have a day to travel to their next show location, so they don’t need to hop on a redeye tonight.
In the car, Tyler leans his shoulder against the window and watches the city race by, a maze of glowing lights and stories unknown to him. He hears laughter, shouts, music; watches as drunken fools stumble up the streets, leaning on friends and buildings. Some insignificant part of him longs to be one of them, free from the eyes of the public and able to live under the cover of the night. A much larger part of him is full of contentment for the life he has now. In so many ways, what he has now is all he ever wanted. A haze of exhaustion floods his peripheral, and before he knows it, he is dead to the world.
The sounds of the city come back to him before awareness does. Distantly, he hears ambulance sirens; presently, he feels warm. His body is slouched, if somewhat uncomfortably, but the warmth and soft pillow under his head make up for it.
“Ty” comes a soft whisper. He is choosing to ignore that voice. There is no way he is moving, not when he feels so good.
“Ty,” the voice says again, more urgent and a little louder. Tyler grumbles quietly back, but does not move. His pillow shifts, rudely. He cracks an eye open to complain and fix his pillow, but as he blinks, all he sees is…
Awareness slams into him like a freight train. He launches off Josh’s shoulder with more force than necessary, nearly tipping to the side in his haste to pull away. His face flames with embarrassment. Josh grabs his arm to steady him as he rocks back into his own seat. How did he end up on the opposite side of the car?
“Sorry,” he mumbles, then repeats it when he realizes his voice came out slurred and rough the first time.
“No worries,” Josh truly does sound not worried. “You alright? You really crashed.”
“Yeah I think so. Just post-show, y’know.” Tyler shakes his head to clear the remaining brain fog. He notices that they’re parked and have left behind the hum of the city streets.
“All good. We’re at the hotel,” Josh nods to the building beyond their window. “Let’s go get some real rest.”
Tyler grunts in agreement, and they both move to get out. Their security helps them with their bags, and they head into the hotel with heads held low. They’re checked in quietly and move towards the elevators. “Top floor” Josh instructs, but hits the button himself anyway when Tyler makes no move to press it.
They arrive outside their rooms, and Josh passes a keycard to Tyler. He grips it with somewhat numb fingers. “8am flight, right?” He confirms. “So we should leave here around 6:30 to make it to the airport in time. Let’s aim for 6, alright?” Tyler just nods and says goodnight before heading into his own room. Josh’s is right next to his. He knows that Josh will wake him up if he misses his alarm, so he doesn’t worry too much about time.
As the door shuts behind him, he drops his bag on the floor and tries to unpack the day. He still feels a little embarrassed about taking a nap on Josh, but he figures it isn’t the first time and likely won’t be the last. They’ve both passed out on each other multiple times when post-show exhaustion hit. Despite the fans’ beliefs, there really is nothing romantic between him and his best friend, but he does know that they share a bond that not many friends do. He feels grateful for it every day, and tries to earn the unconditional love and loyalty that Josh offers him.
He checks out the hotel briefly (standard: nice but not excessive, clean but not luxurious) before drawing the curtains, setting his bag up on the dresser, and stripping out of his clothes. He tracks down his pajama bottoms and runs through the show in his mind, working through things he wants to modify for the next show. He makes a few notes on his phone to discuss with Josh later, and goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth and get ready for bed.
As he splashes water on his face, he notices a red mark on the inside of his wrist. He pauses to look a little closer at it, and finds that it is actually a set of eight small red dots. They look like either small bumps or scratches, but he can’t tell. It doesn’t particularly hurt, but he does wonder what equipment he managed to catch himself on.
He’s pulled out of his thoughts when his phone dings loudly, a text bypassing his do not disturb– a privilege only Josh has. He checks it and smiles when he reads it.
Josh Dun: Don’t forget to set your alarm for 5
Tyler quickly types back.
Tyler: my alarm lives one room over, but ill remind him
Josh replies with a thumbs down emoji, and Tyler snorts, turning off his phone. After he finishes his night routine, he crawls into bed and stares at the ceiling until his racing thoughts calm down. Quickly enough, his earlier exhaustion returns and drags him down into its depths with sharp claws.