Twenty One Pilots One Shots

Addict with a Pen

He remembers it.

All the time, he remembers it.

It haunts him.

It haunts him, The night it became too much to handle, the night he had to walk out, for his and Tyler's sake.

He remembers walking in to see Tyler's lifeless body, surrounded by needles and small empty bags with white residue still clinging to their insides.

He remembers the little bit of blood, dripping in smooth contrast on the skin of the upper lip from the mans nose. The red so clear against the stark white face of a man he no longer recognized.

Lips turned purple, from an obvious loss of oxygen.

He remembers the paramedics rushing in, pushing him aside as he desperately tried to revive The man he loved with CPR the 911 operator had taught him over the phone.

"Try to get his heart beating, that's the first step."

"Do you know the song 'Stayin Alive'?"

He remembers the words overdose, Herion, Opiates, coming out of the paramedics mouth as he pulled a small needle from his bag and jammed it into Tyler's limp thigh.

Narcan.

The seizing had started not long after that.

White foam had slipped past Tyler's lips, as his body jerked so harshly he thought he might break something.

It haunts him, the pale face of the man he loved, being loaded onto a stretcher with oxygen on his face, tubes in his arms and the defibrillater coming out in the ambulance as he flatlined once more inside the vehicle.

He had stayed throughout the wait at the hospital, to see whether or not he would make it out alive.

He had called his family with the news, listened to his mothers horrified sobs over the phone as he waited alone in a plastic waiting room.

He stayed until he heard the words "hes stable" come from the doctor's mouth.

And then he left.

He never wanted to feel like he had that night ever again.

So he walked.

Not long after, Tyler started writing letters.

|-/

Dear Josh,

It's been 62 days, since I died. It's been 62 days, and because of you, I checked myself into rehab. I'm going to get better Josh, I swear it this time. I love you, I won't stop, and I want you to know I don't blame you for leaving. I might have done the same thing. I know it was tiring, dealing with a suicidal headcase such as myself. But I promise, no more drugs. No more self destruction. I'll heal, and hopefully, I'll find my way back to you.

Stay alive, fren

TY X

|-/

Dear Josh,

It's been hell, living here without you. I'm 4 months sober now, the longest I've gone, but Josh, I've been travelling the deserts of my mind, and I haven't found a drop of life. I haven't found a drop of you, and I feel like I'm dying in this lonely desert. You, were my life, my person.