Chapter Text
Tyler was in control. Tyler was winning. It was different this time. Nobody could possibly know. That was the mantra he looped every day now.
He wasn’t depressed. He was incredible. Top of the world. Just a handful of shows left, a quick hop around the British Isles, and he would have completed another extremely successful tour and spun out the narrative of his little story to a satisfying end for the next album. And he got to do it all with his best friend! With his beautiful wife and amazing children! How could he possibly be depressed? He had everything.
He smashed the cold water from the bathroom sink into his face again, trying to wake up. He had everything. He was too near the end to stumble. More cold water. He gasped, scrubbing at his face with a towel. The door was unlocked and open behind him, the fancy executive suite the band’s credit card booked lying undisturbed. Long gone were the days of cramming into vans with Josh, sardined into tiny bunk beds. He was an old man now, he was past all of it.
“Old old man,” He hummed, looking at his reflection in the mirror. No prominent wrinkles yet. 36 years old, not looking to shabby. Maybe his eye bags were a bit too prominent, but that was forgivable. This tour had been long and unforgiving. He looked fine – he was fine. “Used to say I wanted to die” His voice skittered, like a record skipping a beat, “before I’m old but because of you I might think twice.” Hm. Clearly he needs to warm his voice up more. He paced back into the hotel room and flopped down onto the perfectly made bed. He tried not to think of Jenna and the kids, enjoying the hot Spanish sun. He got up again and wandered to the window. Despite the recent warmer temperatures, the skyline of Glasgow just seemed grey, the steely wide river that cut through the scene just below his window not helping the matter. What was it called? The river… something. Tyler knew he definitely knew it during the Bandito tour. Annoying. Tip of his tongue. Maybe he should google it.
He paced back to the bedside table to grab his phone, starting to feel more and more like a wild animal cooped up in a zoo. The River Clyde. Duh. Automatically Tyler opened Twitter (or X or whatever the hell) and idly scanned through a few of the tweets. Lots of excited fans queuing for the show – some since the night before. It always made Tyler’s heart ache a bit, knowing he had people so hyped to hear him sing some dumb tunes that they would camp outside in the dark and the cold just to have the chance of barricade. He had to make this show a good one, had to make it worth their time. Be rude not to. He had an inkling that his recent performances hadn’t been the best, that people were catching on that he wasn’t actually that talented- he quickly tapped twice on his shoulder, physically shaking off the unwanted thought. No. No, he had to be at the venue in a few hours. Keep the mindset clear. Tyler flexed his left hand, wiggling the fingers. He looked at the tattoo on his wrist, the three black lines circling the bone.
He wish he had made the effort to haul his keyboard up to the hotel room last night, but everyone was so exhausted after the journey over from Paris that all he could do was collapse into the unnervingly big bed. Would have been nice to play something before the sound check though. Messing about on an instrument was Tyler’s version of writing a diary. Bouncing chords and thoughts around the room ‘til he felt grounded and settled again. He tapped a vague rhythm with his spare hand as he continued to scroll through twitter, swaying from side to side on the balls of his feet. Cool fanart. Photo of Jim when he was still a puppy. Some meme using slang he knew just enough of to find it funny. Scroll, scroll, scroll. Breathe. He flicked over to iMessage.
Tyler:
What are you doing before sound check?
Josh:
Gym?
Tyler:
You should ditch that and get lunch with me.
Josh:
Are you trying to sabotage my gainz
Tyler:
Your gainz
Josh:
Contrary to popular belief, I wasn’t born with these muscles baby
Tyler:
Ha ha. Do the muscles want lunch tho?
Tyler chewed his lip, waiting for the immediate response. It didn’t come. Josh probably just wasn’t looking at his phone right now. Whatever. He tried to ignore the minutes ticking by. Josh wasn’t avoiding him. He was just busy. Tyler was as well. Sometimes the thought of all the things he still needed to do woke him up in sheer panic in the middle of the night, grasping to make sure he hadn’t overslept his alarm. Sometimes, like today, it the feeling would follow him into the morning, the afternoon, looping round back into the night again. But Tyler wasn’t a teenager anymore. He’s smart. He’s in control! He’s recognising he’s feeling a bit – stressed. So he’s distracting himself by talking to someone he loves. Grade A for Tyler, perfect coping technique there. It’s not his fault that Josh doesn’t want to talk to him. There’s probably someone more interesting that Josh is around right now. Or maybe he just put his phone on mute, rolling his eyes as Tyler ate up his valuable gym time- woah. Slow down. Immediately, he pulls up Jenna’s number and slams the call button. He fights the urge to pace as he listens to the tinny ring.
“Come on.. come on….” No response. He rings again. Nothing.
It’s fine. She was probably busy with kids. What time would it be in Spain right now? Maybe she was putting them to bed. God, Tyler loved them so much but they were absolute terrors when it came to settling down for sleep. He doesn’t know how Jenna does it, how she is able to keep calm with 3 under 5s while her husband is selfishly carting himself around Europe for his own vanity projects-
He quickly smacked his head with his hand, and the shock at the sudden action made him pause in his thoughts. Calm down. Breathe. He had talked about this, back when he had a therapist. What’s the mantra? People love me. People want me here. I am overthinking. He carefully put the phone down on the bed and walked back into the bathroom. A shower would clear his head, he was just working himself up right now. Show tonight. Singing and performing and doing the things he loves. Isn’t that wonderful?
He strips quickly, not looking at the wide mirror above the sink and instead jumping straight into the shower without waiting for the water to warm. The cold is good, shocks him into sense faster than the water from the sink had. He tries to casually look down, pretend his gaze isn’t immediately locking onto his thighs. They look normal, well defined from working out and a gruelling tour. Not a single sign of what he did 3 nights ago. He started stretching the flesh, moving it under the light, prodding at it with his fingers until he could just make out the memory of faint lines. Not a scar to be seen.
See? In control. It wasn’t a relapse. A relapse would have blood and leave scars and require plasters. This wasn’t anything like that. Temporary stress relief, nothing to worry about. He was so close to the end of the tour, he would never risk messing it up by properly doing it. Not that he’s doing it at all. The water started to reach the warming side, and Tyler cranked it up higher. He stood for a while letting it just run over him. Then onto his usual shower routine; washing his hair once, twice with shampoo. Shower gel lathered on his skin, and if he scrubbed extra hard that was no one’s business but his own. It felt good to be clean, he got way too grimy with this constant touring. Tour. He loved it, it’s what made him feel alive. How many had he done now? The electricity in the room fuelled him.
But he’s getting older. He can’t just jet around the country with nothing tying him down. He’s got three kids, and already he felt like he’d missed key things even when he brought them with him. Everything was slipping past him so fast. Even now, there was only summer between this and the next tour. Not really a break. He scrubbed more shower gel on his face and yelped out a curse as it got in his eyes. He stumbled forward, trying to find a towel or something but instead knocked the shower control and in an instant it was scorching hot, burning, scalding. Tyler yelped out again, wrenching his eyes open as he stumbled out of the shower. Through misty eyes he finally grabbed one of the hotel’s fluffy white towels and collapsed onto the tile floor. The air was freezing cold, a comfort on his burnt skin. Is this how it felt to be a lobster?
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Tyler muttered, curling up into a ball and pulling the towel over him like a blanket. He scrubbed at his face until the soap cleared out. He couldn’t – Tyler let out a sigh. The white noise of the shower was still running in the background. How was Tyler going to perform tonight. All he wanted to do was crawl into the drain, get washed away to sea with the rest of the water. Change his name and run away.
But he couldn’t and he can’t. There’s too many people relying on him. He’s got too much he needs to do to be able to disappear guilt free. Just his luck. He felt like a firecracker sometimes. All this pent-up energy, fizzing under his skin. His shows were a release but only to a certain extent. He was an example to so many people, people who watched his shows to see it did get better. He couldn’t let it all out on stage.
So what else to do? He sat up. Just once more. It didn’t count. It wasn’t the same thing at all. He brought his hand down to his thigh. His nails were slightly longer than usual, not as trimmed back as he usually kept them. He ghosted his hand along the skin, inhaled and then – SCRATCH. Again. SCRATCH. Quick and light. A cat could do more damage. SCRATCH. His nails skimmed along his skin. SCRATCH. The fading sigh of pain after each contact. Once more, make it count – SCRATCH. Tyler leant back and exhaled in relief. His head cleared as he focused in on the slight stinging. He looked down at his work. Angry red lines lined his thigh, some of them raising into thin white welts. But not a drop of blood. It was fine.
He got up, switched off the shower, and wrapped the towel around him securely. He felt calm. His head in a meditative empty. He changed into fresh boxers, covering up the already fading scratches. He knew from experience that by the time he woke up tomorrow they would be gone. Like it never happened. It was perfect, Tyler can’t believe he never thought of it before. He wasn’t breaking his promises to anyone like this. He picked up his phone. With a blink of surprise he saw he had been in the shower for nearly 40 minutes – it had felt like 4.
Jenna:
You okay babe? At pool with kids right now, wasn’t on phone sorry!
Josh:
Yeah I’m down for lunch. Would have to be soon tho
Josh:
Don’t ask me to do something then don’t respond damn
Josh:
Tylerrrrr
Josh:
Okay I’ve got timed out. See you at the venue?
Tyler smiled, quickly shooting off to Jenna:
Tyler:
Nothing, I just miss you. Send the kids my love.
And to Josh:
Tyler:
Sorry, was in the shower. Tell the
gainz we can lunch tomorrow.
Tyler:
See you at venue
He paused then spammed a bunch of his most recent emojis. Just for texture.
Everything was fine. They had responded not long after he went in the shower. See? Overthinking. The shower had cleared his head, and his family loved him. He brushed at his chin. He needed a shave really. He’d do it at the venue. Tyler pulled on the some jeans and a t shirt (it didn’t matter what he looked like he would be getting changed soon anyway) and wandered over to the window again, small currents of water running down the nape of his neck. He stared at the River Clyde, at the long skyline of Glasgow. “We’re a long way from Kansas now, Toto,” he said, just to make himself laugh. Maybe it was just a bad cloud cover earlier – the city didn’t look so grey at all.
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By the time he got to the venue the beautiful emptiness in his head had cleared out, replaced with the usual anxieties he got before a show. Last time he performed in this venue it had been 2019 – a lifetime ago. People rushed him about, here was the route for car radio, here is your dressing room, here is where you go for costume changes, do you want anything to drink will you make any setlist changes could you quickly sign this for my daughter she’s a massive fan have you seen the size of the queue outside this is going to be a big one-
Tyler let the wave take him, catapulted from one thing to the next. He barely had time to exchange a few words with Josh and dap up a few of the crew before he was sat down for an earpiece fitting and thrusted on the main stage for a levels check. They tried to play through Nico and the Niners, while the stage team worked on setting off the fireworks and the fire streams and the co2 jets. Tyler tried to hold down his flinches and focus on the steady drumming of Josh instead. They went off multiple times each night for goodness’ sake. They were his idea! Maybe he was overtired, but each little sound seemed to grate right up against his skull.
A few people had snuck in to watch the sound check. Tyler could see them, peering in through the seated area doorways. He pretended not to be bothered – it would be rarer for him not to have onlookers when soundchecking. He preferred it when it was people clearly interested though – staff stealing their only chance to watch them, crew taking in a moments break. Not this lot. They were clearly bored investors, men in suits observing who was their money maker tonight. They liked to see their shares dance for them. The song ended, and he turned to Josh to make some mean joke -
“Tyler could you give us your loudest scream please?” One of the tech desk guys called over the intercom. Tyler readjusted his grip on the microphone. Damn, not a moments rest. Which song was that again? Jumpsuit? No. Holding On To You? Entertain my faith… No, it couldn’t be that. Had he genuinely forgotten? How many times had he done this exact sound check in his life. It’s like suddenly forgetting your phone password. Unbelievable. He looked to the side, catching a raised eyebrow from Josh. Oh, right, scream–
“And now I just sit in silence,” Tyler yelled. It sounded awkward. He shuffled on his feet.
“Sorry could we get that one more time Tyler?” Tech on the intercom said.
“And now I just sit in silence,” Tyler repeated, trying to push his vocal cords more. The suits in the seating area were talking to each other about something.
“Sorry, once again please?” One of the suits must have said something funny, as the rest of them burst into laughter, clapping each other on the backs.
“And now I just sit in silence,” Tyler screamed, echoing around the empty arena. The suits looked at him. Tyler became aware he was breathing heavily.
“That’s great, thank you,” Tech desk said with a thumbs up, “We got the right level. If you guys wanna head over to b-stage now we can check mics there.”
Tyler nodded, not waiting for Josh before quickly descending the stairs into the pit, suddenly feeling very hot. He wanted this to be over now. The ghosts of the night to come pressed against his imagination as he walked down the side aisle marked out in white tape. He could almost see the rows of outstretched hands begging for a high five. Josh jogged up behind him, catching up easily.
“Car Radio?” Josh said, feigning casual. Oh shit, the loudest on the main stage was Ride, wasn’t it?
“Felt like a change,” Tyler said. He could play casual too.
“Might confuse the tech guys,” Josh said, now walking in stride with Tyler. Their footsteps synced up almost perfectly with no effort at all.
“Gotta keep ‘em on their toes man,” He tried to joke, distracted as he watched the suits disappear out of the arena. Good riddance. He was getting unnerved by how bothered they were making him. Why was he noticing everything today?
“They’ll go to the press, tell the world how hard you work them. Lead singer of Twenty One Pilots makes techies’ lives a misery: mass outrage. Can see the headlines now. You’ll be cancelled on twitter.” Josh said. Tyler didn’t respond. It didn’t feel funny. The pause was awkward. “Tyler?” Josh dropped his voice, “you doing okay?”
“You should go to your stage,” Tyler said bluntly, almost running up the stairs to his own. Josh stayed at the bottom, looking up at him in confusion. Tyler grabbed the mic stand. “Which song do you guys wanna test?”
“Uhh can we do Mulberry Street? But could we start with just Josh’s drumming, then mix in the vocals later? Just wanna make sure we get the sound evenly balanced.”
“Fine by me. Josh?” Tyler asked. He was sounding like a dick now and he knew it. Why was Tyler such a shitty friend? Josh gave him a look he couldn’t decipher before turning and quickly jogging to his drum stage.
The sound check proceeded as normal, if not a bit on the annoying side, and if Josh was hitting his drums harder than normal then Tyler pretended not to notice.
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He catches him in the dressing room, in the half hour before doors open. Tyler should have known - he could never hide anything from Josh.
“Hey man, how’s it going?” Josh asks, flopping on the sofa like it’s his own dressing room, “Got a spare red bull?” Tyler wordlessly passes him one. The sound of it being cracked open was crisp and clear. Tyler wondered how he’d recreate that on piano. “Mm, that’s cold. How many you drank today?”
“Like, 2.” Tyler said. He was scrolling twitter on his phone again. Videos of the queue outside were surfacing on his timeline. People waiting anxiously.
“Jeez, I don’t know how you do it. I’d be an nervous quivering wreck.”
“Cuz you’re weak dude,” Tyler turned around to smile. Josh immediately smiled back.
“You telling me you’re not nervous?” Josh laughed.
“Redbull is my best friend. It would never make me feel bad.”
“You sure? You seemed not so great earlier today…” Josh said, keeping his tone light. Tyler’s smile dropped.
“What?”
“I don’t know… you seemed a bit stressed. Snappy,” Josh leaned forward, and damn he must have picked up puppy eyes from Jim because the way he was looking at him-
“I’m tired, that’s all. And it’s the last leg of the tour – you know the stuff we’ve got planned, I want it to come across clearly.” Tyler had spent way too long planning this story to mess up clues as important as this now. “But it’s fine, man. I am stressed, but like. That’s expected. Sorry if I’m being a dick.”
“Hey there’s no worries, you were fine,” Josh said. “Do you wanna come join the others in the green room? They’ve set up a game of Uno.”
“Maybe in a bit. I’m – “ Tyler waved his hands around his face, “Headspace, y’know? Need to get in order before the show. Build up my energy.”
“That’s chill. Please come join us before the show though, I feel like I’ve hardly seen you today.” Josh stood up and clapped a hand on Tyler’s shoulder. He gave yet another beautiful, encouraging, smile. How had Tyler lucked out so much in getting him in the band?
“Of course I will,” Tyler said, absent mindedly rubbing at his thigh. Josh gave him a gentle slap on the back.
“You’ll tell me if it gets too much, yeah? I’m always hear if you need a chat or anything.”
“I’m tired, I’m not homicidal,” Tyler tried to joke off the emotion. Josh’s hand was warm and grounding on his skin.
“Seriously though. I love you dude.”
“I’m fine, don’t worry Josh. Genuinely. I love you too.” Tyler said. Josh gave his shoulder a firm squeeze.
And Tyler was telling the truth - there was nothing to worry about. He had it under control. He was winning.