Hopeful Undertone

Chapter 19: A Room in Tokyo

* * * 

TWENTY-FOUR MONTHS LATER 

* * *

"We are Twenty One Pilots, and so are you." 

The roar of the crowd was deafening. 

Or at least it would've been, if I hadn't been wearing earplugs.

Tyler took took one final, sweeping glance around the arena, then looked over at Josh. They just shook their heads and laughed. 

Not in their most delusional daydreams had the boys imagined that the release of Blurryface would launch them into such stratospheric levels of success. Their latest single, Stressed Out, had become their first Top-10 hit and was still climbing. A world tour had been scheduled, tickets were snapped up, and that's how I found myself halfway around the world, watching from the side of the stage as tens of thousands of Japanese fans screamed, chanted, and wept at the privilege of being within viewing distance of my husband. 

They walked offstage, Josh leading, both of them elated and smelling like a locker room. Tyler's face lit up when he spotted me. He ran up, pulled me in by the waist, and kissed me.

"How was I?" he asked when we finally managed to pull ourselves apart.

"Fantastic, as usual," I said. 

"The lighting cues got screwed up halfway through heavydirty. So annoying." 

"Really? I didn't notice." 

"Were you actually watching at that point?" he asked, lacing his black-stained fingers through mine as we headed down the hall to his dressing room. 

"What you mean 'was I watching'?" I retorted. "I watched the whole show." 

"You did not."

"I did!" I squealed. "Ask anyone."

"I guess I'm still waiting for you to get bored of me," he said smirking. He held the door open for me and closed it behind us. 

I turned and wrapped my arms around him. 

"I'm—not—bored—" I said, kissing him between every word, "and I'm—yours—for life. How many times do I have to tell you that?" I said, stroking his hair. 

He stared into my eyes. "I just... can't believe it," he said.  

* * *

The morning after I read Tyler's note, I called him to make plans for that night.

A friend of his was playing a show at a small venue, he said. Afterward, we hung out with his friends for a while, but I'd be lying if I said I remembered anything from that night except the way Tyler's eyes lingered on mine. The tension between us was rising with every new interaction. As far as I was concerned, everything else was background noise.

When everyone left, we walked hand in hand along the downtown streets, stopping near a big, pretty fountain in a courtyard strung with lights. It was then that I told Tyler that I loved him.