I Fell And You Caught Me | Tyler Joseph X Reader

Trying (Tyler's POV)

It's been six weeks since (Y/n) and I started dating, and the only thing I can say is, she's amazing. Absolutely wonderful. I love having her with me. I've been attempting something I probably shouldn't, however. Though it may be helping her.

I've been trying to bring back her memory. Not of her entire life, of course.

Just Twenty One Pilots.

I've been singing, playing the piano, playing the ukulele, doing anything that might spark that memory. I even said 'Twenty One Pilots sings that,' and she couldn't remember who that was. Other days, she picks up sometimes, when I sing, but she can never remember the name of the song, or the band. Josh helps sometimes as well, but he gets the same result, something, but nothing.

It sounds kind of narcissistic, now that I think about it. But it's the exact opposite.

From what Alex told me, she was obsessed with our band in all the right ways. Supporting the clique, that was a big part of what she did. She helped people through stuff, big stuff, anonymously. She tried to keep drama from spreading. She also attended our concerts, all within a five hour radius of where she lived at the time. She thought of everyone else before herself.

Anyway, I want her to remember because we seemed to be the only thing that made her happy then. Maybe not happy, but stable. I think, now, she is happy, but there are days where she seems so down, and those are the days when she needs music. I don't want to just give it to her, though. She needs time, exercise for her brain. That's why I drop hints at least twice a day.

Today was piano day.

I played the rather upbeat tune to Guns For Hands, and she walked into the room.

"I know what you think in the morning, when the sun shines on the ground, and shows, what you have done, it shows, where your mind has gone," I sang to her. She looked as if she had no care in the world, no intentions of possibly trying to remember the song. She just sat there on the couch, smiling at me, listening.

"And you swear to your parents, that it will never happen again, I know, I kno-o-ow, what that means, I kno-o-o-o-ow."

I decided to try something. Instead of partly shouting the chorus, I softly sang it.

"That you all have guns, and you never put the safety on, and you all have plans, to take it..." I left that last part different as well.

"I'm tryin, I'm tryin to sleep. I'm tryin, I'm tryin to sleep. But I can't but I can't when you all have... guns for hands," I stopped singing and playing, looking over to (Y/n) for any kind of reaction to the differences. Surely, there was.

"That sounds a bit... strange. No offense," she said. I shook my head.

"What about it was strange?" I asked.

"I'm not entirely sure, maybe it was too... slow? Soft?" I nodded. Both are right. She gave me a weird look. I giggled.

"What?"

"What are you doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"Everyday, we sit here. Whether you're singing it playing an instrument. Or both. And you always give me this weird look, like you're looking for something. So, What are you doing?" I sighed, and looked her dead in the eye.

"Trying."