❝ my chemical romance, panic! at the disco, fall out boy and twentyonepilots imagines. ❞
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𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐘 𝐎𝐖𝐍, 𝐔𝐍𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒
𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐄.
𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐃:...
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You stood motionless on the wooden planks that made up your back porch, the full moon being the only source of light accompanying you. There was an icy wind blowing - the kind that brought a chill to your bones and caused you to pile on as many layers as possible to gain warmth. Goosebumps seemed to have permanently formed on your skin, and your bare feet had lost feeling in them due to the harsh cold. But you didn't feel the cold. At least, you didn't right now. How could you? How could you possibly feel anything other than emptiness at this time?
The familiar sound of the patio door sliding across its railing indicated the presence of one of your friends, but you didn't turn around to face them or even acknowledge them. Yet, two seconds later, your arms were being engulfed in soft wool and warmth instantly flooded over your body. It didn't last long, though. Almost as soon as the blanket made contact with your skin, you had pulled it off again.
"Why do people keep trying to put this blanket on me?" you snarled, irritation evident in your voice.
"You mean besides the fact that it's basically below freezing point out here?" Tyler retorted, his voice calmer and much more controlled than yours. He reached for the blanket and wrapped it around you again. This time you let him. "Because you're in shock."
You scoffed. "That doesn't mean I need a blanket. It means I need booze."
"I don't think alcohol is the answer."
"Oh, and a blanket is?"
"Well, it would certainly be better if you didn't have hypothermia, no?"
You didn't bother replying to him, instead sitting down on the cold, hard wood. Tyler joined you, both of you staring up at the night sky, watching the wind carry away what little clouds there were. After a few minutes of silence, he turned to look at you and you did the same. You could see the sympathy in his eyes, along with a hint of curiosity.
"I know you're not about to ask me something stupid like 'Are you okay?' or 'How are you doing?', Joseph."
"No. No, I'm not. I know that you're not okay and I know that you're doing terrible. But it's just..." he trailed off, rethinking whether he should say what he wanted to say or not.
"Just what?"
"It's been almost 24 hours since you got the news, and I haven't seen you cry once."
