I Fancy The Singer (Book 1 // Joshler)

Part Five

Josh was gone, he left earlier that afternoon to take care of business with Chris, their manager. The way it was going, their ongoing tour had no other choice but to be cancelled. Tyler laid back on his bed, staring at the ceiling, which still had a few remaining nocturnal stars from his childhood. He laughed at the memories and turned onto his right side where he had a clear view of his bedroom since his bed rested against the wall on the left side. His eyes wandered all over until they caught sight of a box in his closet, on the floor. He sat up and walked towards it, crouching before it and tilting his head in confusion as he observed its contents. They looked non-violent. The brown cardboard box held a bright red hat, a bottle of black body paint, and contact lenses, red contact lenses. Underneath were a few pieces of black clothing: shirts, black leggings and even old black sports shorts he remembers wearing for basketball, along with a white and red backpack which had black writing along the straps.

He grabbed the box and brought it to his bed, curiosity controlled him as he changed from his grey sweats to those black pants along with the shorts on top of them. This didn't make sense to him, he didn't know why he would wear something like such but he didn't stop, he kept on getting dress. He put on the black shirt, white backpack and red hat. He looked in the mirror, he recognized himself somehow, yet he was a complete reflection of a stranger. He placed in both contact lenses and covered his neck and hands in paint. Why? Why would he even know how to be someone he doesn't remember. He looked in the mirror and just stared, he stared at his persona which was once a huge part of him, shaking his head, he dropped the bag. A thud sounded and he looked down. A book had fallen out, a hardcover notebook, not too big, which was clearly full. He knelt down and picked it up, opening a few random pages carefully.

He saw many words, some familiar, some unrecognizable. One of which stood out most, repeatedly appearing page after page, in no significant order. Blurryface. Tyler dropped the book, he let it slip out of his hands and onto the floor. His head was pounding, he had a migraine as he felt cerebral thunder control him. He laid down and shut his eyes, he didn't see black. He saw flashes of colors, he could hear the colors burning in his skull. Soon enough, he was gone, his brain had given up and the overwhelming thoughts had put him to sleep, if only he could be resting.

Josh had just left the business building, where he had set up a meeting with Chris in order to complete the cancellation of their tour. It tore the boy apart. He had just signed his dreams away, the right to take all he'd ever work for, away from him. In a way it didn't seem to matter, he and Tyler were okay. They were going to be okay, Josh wasn't concerned with the band as much as he was for Tyler. Throughout the years, they've written and composed music, Tyler had the opportunity to deal with so much more, something much greater than his self and he overcame suicide, depression and probably half his insecurities he'd became at peace with.

It's worth it, it's worth it to keep going. I know it sounds really cliché but I mean it, I really mean it when I sit here and tell you that.

Josh had never forgotten the day Tyler sat down in front of him and told him that, when he explained the meaning he wanted to give to their album, Vessel. That album meant so much to him, it contained one very special message, and Josh will never forget it.

Heading back to Tyler's home, Josh was listening to Trees from their CD: Vessel. He smiled as he remembered the moments he sat behind those drums hitting the snare with much power, his arms slamming back down in sync with Tyler's words, with his voice. Pulling up to the familiar doorstep, he turned off his radio and headed inside where he found nothing but silence. Kelly and Chris had gone to work and Tyler, well Tyler should be here, maybe he was asleep? Josh didn't wanna worry himself, so he headed downstairs and to the boy's room, slowly pushing the door open.