Chapter Text
Chapter 1: The Attempt
Josh walks into Tyler's kitchen, arms full of Taco Bell.
"Hey man, I got your cheesy gordita crunch with the fiery shell..." he calls, nudging the door shut with his foot.
Tyler doesn’t answer.
Josh chuckles to himself. "They were out of that Baja Blast you like, but I snagged—"
He stops.
Tyler is standing at the sink, his back to Josh. His shoulders tremble.
Josh frowns. "You good?"
Still no response.
He takes a step closer. The bags crinkle in his arms. "Dude?"
Then he sees it.
A razor blade, slick and red, clutched tight in Tyler’s hand. Blood drips steadily from his wrist—staining dishes, streaking the stainless steel basin, pooling in bright crimson.
The bag slips from his hands. Drinks and tacos scatter across the tile.
“Tyler—?”
“Leave me alone, Joshua!” Tyler screams without turning.
"NO!" Josh huffs, lunging forward, grabbing him, pulling him back from the sink. They hit the floor hard. Tyler’s head lolls to the side, eyes glassy.
His wrist is torn open—slick with sin, bleeding fast- too fast. The razor blade is still clenched in his hand. Josh pries his fingers open one by one and lifts it away, tossing it far out of reach.
“Why won’t he just take me?” Tyler cries out in frustration, his gaze fixed on Josh.
Josh rips off his shirt, tearing it into strips, and wraps one tightly around Tyler’s wrist.
“He can’t have you!” Josh snarls, his voice rough with frustration as he pulls the fabric tighter still.
“Your blood needs to stay inside,” he mutters while working to stop the bleeding.
He fumbles for his phone, digging through his pocket. He dials emergency.
Josh responds to all the operator's questions. Finally, she says, "Please stay on the line." Josh sets his phone on the floor and turns his full attention back to Tyler.
He presses another layer of cloth over the blood-soaked fabric, hands shaking as he works to slow the bleeding.
His eyes flick to Tyler's chest- still rising, still falling, but too shallow for comfort.
Please be fast. Please. Please. Please, Josh thinks, heart hammering in his throat.
They wait.
||-//
Tyler shudders and looks up at Josh, dazed. “I have to rinse the sink, Josh. I can’t let my mom see this.”
Josh starts to rise. “I got it—”
“No.” Tyler stops him, voice firm despite the weakness. “I gotta do it.”
Josh hesitates, then nods, helping him up. Together, they stagger to the sink.
Tyler turns on the water. He watches his dirty blood swirl and circle the drain, fading pink.
There’s so much of it, Tyler thinks. Splattered on the faucet, streaked down the side of the basin, dripping from the edges of a plate. It’s in the grooves of the dish rack. On the counter. On the floor. Spattered across the toes of his white high-tops, soaking into the canvas, blooming red—a stain now. His knees buckle.
His world tilts.
Josh catches him just before he crumples, lowering him gently to the tile. One leg bent, the other stretched out. His colorful socks peek out, exposed where his pants don’t quite reach his sneakers.
Tyler stares past Josh. He sees the shadows dancing in the corners. Taunting him.
“Leave me alone…” he sobs aloud.
Don’t leave me alone, a breathless scream inside his mind. He’s afraid of himself—of what he might do if no one stops him.
||-//
"J," Tyler's voice is barely a whisper, raw and distant. Josh leans closer, "Yeah, Ty?"
"I just wanted the voices to stop. I didn’t know what else to do. I’m so sorry."Josh swallows hard, trying to steady his own shaky breaths. "It’s okay. You’re here now. I’ve got you."
Josh knows Tyler is battling unseen forces, and it takes all his strength to stay calm. His hands move automatically, tightening the makeshift bandages.
Then: sirens.
Loud. Close.
Paramedics flood the room, and the rush hits Josh in an instant. His breath catches as two people kneel beside Tyler, talking fast but calm.
"Pressure here—good job on the makeshift tourniquet."
"What’s his name?"
"Tyler," Josh says, his voice hoarse. "Tyler Joseph. He’s eighteen."
"Any meds? Substances?"
"No. Just... he’s been struggling. Depression. Voices, he said. I didn’t know it was this bad."
One EMT nods, already pressing a clean dressing to Tyler’s wrist while the other starts checking vitals.
Josh scoots back to give them room. He notices the blood drying on his hands. Under his nails. On his arms.
Tyler groans, barely conscious now.
"You stay with us, Tyler," the medic says firmly. "You're not going anywhere."
Josh watches helplessly as they lift his best friend onto the stretcher. Straps click into place. An oxygen mask goes on.
Tyler's eyes flutter open, locking with Josh's.
"I don't want to fall away," he mouths.
Josh steps closer, his eyes stinging. He cups Tyler's face gently, his thumb brushing against his temple. “Then stay with me. Keep the lights on in this place. Please.”
Tyler doesn’t answer.
The EMTs wheel him out.
Josh follows, grabbing the keys and locking up behind them. His heart is still racing. He feels like he’s floating and sinking all at once.