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Tyler was used to riding the up and down wave of his emotions.
He could deal with the overwhelming sadness by putting his pen to paper and letting the thoughts stream out of him until there was nothing else to give. The happiness was as simple as pretending he would never be sad again, being able to forget the inevitability of the crash that followed the high.
The part he struggled with was the in-between; the numbness, the lack of motivation, and the desire to hide away in his days-old bedsheets until he thought he might melt into them, inextricably tangled together from now until the end of time.
It was like he spent most of his days looking for a pause button, a way to keep the world still until he was ready to hop back into action once the spell had passed. Tyler had learnt from a young age however that the world doesn’t work like that, and that the guilt that came with a slump in his creative output was all a part of the life he’d chosen to live.
He just wanted a moment to collect himself, to catch his breath and come to terms with this rapid escalation of fame; the pressure, the magnifying glass on his every move, the way he can’t even go to the grocery store without someone knowing who he is. It was all so different from before.
Tyler found himself stuck in a paradox of not wanting to trade it for the world, and wanting things to just slow down.
He’d been that way for as long as he could remember; constantly reminded by his parents of how easily distressed he became as a child when things didn’t play out the exact way he had imagined in his head, how over the years he’d developed little twitches and motions that helped him process the extra energy in his body that he didn’t know how to store away, or how pretending that there wasn’t something vaguely off about him in public settings led directly to the sort of burnout that Tyler had been experiencing more frequently as of late.
However, actually doing anything about the situation he found himself in would have to wait until the numbness subsided, and Tyler could muster up the strength and motivation to get out of bed.
He’d managed it a few times that week, even if it was only to wander aimlessly to the bathroom, or to sit on his couch and obliterate his brain cells with reality television. He’d set himself a strict time limit on the social media apps on his phone, so doomscrolling through Twitter had instead been replaced by hours wasted on shitty game apps with adverts he couldn’t be bothered to pay for the removal of, swiping away until he looked at the clock to realise three hours had gone by.
That seemed to be his new schedule; waking up at midday, maybe grabbing something to eat, swipe or watch or whatever, eat again, and then wallow in his own misery before falling asleep in the early hours of the morning.
A routine. Simple and repetitive.
Occasionally, Tyler would find the time to reply to his texts. Maybe it was more a case of finding the effort rather than the time, but after a day of mindless phone games, his thumbs ached. Reassurances were sent to his Mom that yes, he was remembering to feed himself and yes, he’d been outside at least once that week, but he knew it was typical ‘mother’s worries’ that kept her nagging. Mark would offer a space to hang out, and Tyler would shoot back a text of ‘Sorry man, so busy working on new stuff. Maybe next time?’
Technically it wasn’t a lie, he was busy – busy doing fuck all.
He’d even found himself brushing off Josh’s attempts at contact.
Sorry, my phone died.
Sorry, went out and didn’t see your message.
Sorry, something came up. Another time?
It’s not that he took Josh for an idiot, he knew that his best friend would see right through every excuse, but if he was sure of one thing, it was that Josh was highly avoidant of any and all conflict. It meant that Tyler was unlikely to be called out for his bullshit, and that Josh would resolve himself to just try again at another point.
Maybe it was a good thing that Josh didn’t know the true extent of his bed-rotting burnout, because if he did, he’d decide it was his job to fix it. Tyler didn’t want that. Quite honestly, he was content to indulge in his angst for a little while longer. It’s not like he could write anything, months of constant touring had left him drained and twitchy; he didn’t think he could string a verse together if he tried.
And he had tried. That’s how he ended up in the situation he was currently in – head full of thoughts that seemed to vanish into thin air the second a pen was in his hands.
Tyler stared at the ceiling, searching for patterns that didn’t exist the same way that he tried to grasp on to a reason to get out of bed. Sometimes, it felt more like tricking himself than finding something genuine.
He supposed it was time to answer his text messages again.
It wasn’t surprising that Josh contributed to most of the unread notifications.
Josh: Hey man, you doing good?
Josh: Haven’t spoken in a while, call me?
Josh: Or not. I get that you might not feel up to it.
Josh: Me again.
Josh: Which you know, obviously.
Josh: Are you okay? Mark hasn’t heard from you either.
Josh: I’m getting worried, Ty.
Josh: You haven’t been like this in a while.
Tyler certainly felt guilty. A deep pit opening up somewhere within him, a voice that whispered to him that he never should’ve looked. Now you’ve made him worry, don’t you think he has better things to be doing?
In the back of his mind, something told Tyler that his habit of isolating himself when things got too heavy to carry was only making him worse. From the outside, it seemed like he was punishing other people for the way he felt, but in truth the thought of being open and inviting people in when he felt low only drained him further.
Or maybe he was just trying to protect himself from that look of pity in Josh’s eyes.
He’d only ever seen it a few times before, on really bad days early on in their career or whenever he’d make a joke a little too dark to be coincidental, but the way Josh’s brown eyes shimmered with something akin to grief was enough to keep Tyler from telling the truth.
Everything in his life took energy. Creating, interviews, talking with family, suppressing his need to flap his hands or hit his head or the piano when performing, tending to basic daily tasks, talking to friends – it all took and took from Tyler until he was reduced to nothing but a bump under the covers who couldn’t even get the words in his mind to spill from his lips.
So, yeah – despite the persistent voice in Tyler’s head telling him to put on a brave face and get on with things, he’d really rather that Josh didn’t know.
Even if his best-friend-slash-something-vaguely-undefined seemed to know exactly when Tyler wasn’t doing okay.
Even if he knew that Josh would only accept being ignored for so long.
Even if Tyler’s doorbell was currently buzzing.
The sound was impatient; two sharp presses of the bell followed by three hurried raps against the wooden door that echoed throughout Tyler’s hallway. He’d learnt to decipher the knocks, the differences in pattern and force telling him exactly who had come to check on him. Tyler kept that knowledge safe, like a mental phonebook so he could choose whether it was someone he wanted to open the door to that day.
“Dude, if you don’t let me in, I’m breaking the fucking door down.”
Oh.
Tyler didn’t know how he felt about the sound of his best friend’s muffled voice echoing down his hall. What he did know, however, was that he couldn’t just leave him outside.
“What are you doing?” Tyler asked, his voice hoarse from disuse and a small frown on his face as he cracked the door open.
“You didn’t answer your texts.”
“So you turned up at my house?”
“You didn’t answer.” Josh wore a deeply troubled expression as he looked Tyler up and down. “Three days, Ty. None of us have heard from you in three days. Not me, not Mark, not your Mom–”
“–I’ve been busy.”
“Tyler,” Josh began, “Please don’t lie to me.”
There it was – that look of pity in Josh’s eyes that Tyler had been worrying about. It made him feel childish, like everyone thought he needed to be watched over in case he did something stupid. It had been years, and yet when he got like this, everyone treated him like a piece of glass that was about to shatter into a million pieces. Tyler knew that Josh didn’t deserve to be shut out like this – not after all the times he’d seen Tyler in this state before – but he’d never been particularly good at keeping it contained.
He could feel the wall building in his mind, the words on his tongue drying up as it began to take more and more effort to speak.
“Talking is too much.” He whispered, resorting to a lower volume in hopes of easing the scraping and scratching of his throat.
“Oh.” replied Josh, the cogs in his mind finally aligning as to why Tyler had been ignoring everyone. “Is there– Is there anything I can do to help?”
Tyler shrugged, beginning to tap the fingers on his free hand against the pad of his thumb, two hits for each fingertip before moving on to the next. It was just enough to hold the fog in his mind at bay, not wanting to break down on the doorstep in front of Josh and make him worry more than he already was. He knew what stage of the shutdown he was reaching; every question being answered with “I don't know”, an increase in those repetitive movements in hopes of soothing himself, the way every sound got louder and the lights got brighter. The start of a spiral.
“Is that a genuine shrug, or one that says you know what you need but are too scared to ask for it?”
Tyler shrugged again, managing to step aside so Josh could enter his house at last.
“Come on, Ty. I can’t help if you don’t give me anything here.”
His shoulders moved once more, like they were acting on autopilot as he wrapped his arms around his middle in an attempt to find an ounce of grounding pressure. He knew he was seconds away from his vision beginning to get blurry.
“Do you want me to leave?”
The fright in Tyler’s eyes gave Josh the answer he needed, stepping into the hallway with the vague confirmation that his presence was needed. Josh knew he probably would’ve just gone back to his car and sat in the driveway if Tyler had said no, not willing to let his friend deal with this alone.
Tyler shut the front door with shaky hands once Josh had stepped inside, before reaching up to tug at the dark strands of hair on top of his head. He tried to say something, to shake loose any of the words swirling in his brain, but they all just clung to the inside of his mouth like sticky molasses.
I’m sorry I pushed you away.
I don’t know why I can’t change.
I’m thirty-six years old – no longer the kid that got dragged to the Doctor’s office at fourteen because he spent every morning freaking out over something he couldn’t name.
The thoughts choked him; pressing down on his throat until Tyler felt like he couldn’t breathe, strangling any attempts at verbalising a sound other than a vague whimper. He dug his bitten nails into his palm, trying so hard to focus on the physical sting rather than the words swirling in his mind. Josh looked at Tyler, concern etched into the lines of his face but not quite knowing what the right thing to say was.
“Meet me halfway here, Ty.”
Tyler heard the first sob before he could register that he made the sound himself – an opened floodgate that would take immense effort to close again. He’d always likened these moments to a pressure cooker in his own mind, event after event being chucked into the pot as it whistled and begged to be depressurised, hitting a critical point where it risked exploding at the worst possible time. Now, as the tears fell and his sobs turned to near-wails, he knew he had reached his breaking point.
He tugged the sleeve of his sweatshirt between his teeth, hoping to muffle the out of control sounds that escaped him as his body trembled and his posture closed in on itself. His brain felt almost empty, apart from the blaring thought that he was making a fool of himself in front of the most important person in his life.
It wasn’t a secret that Tyler had meltdowns like this; Josh had been there through more than enough of them back when they began performing together and the stage lights suddenly got too bright or the crowds got too rowdy, but once they’d hit thirty, Tyler had learnt to keep the pot bubbling until it was safe to release in the privacy of his own company.
Unprofessional. Messy. Childish.
All words that Tyler had internalised the older he got, pushing down any outward expression of his peculiar tendencies for the sake of public image and promotability. He could almost laugh at his own hypocrisy – cultivating a space where fans could be their true selves while he still pushed down any authentic displays of his sense of self.
He’d stopped slamming the top of his piano as much. He made an effort to decrease the twitchy movements he made on stage. He'd even gone as far as to adopt a literal character and mask to hide behind; pulled between places of control and freedom, hidden by a covering of grey and red and seams that looked like cat ears, a poet chucked in at the deep end, unprepared and doomed to fail.
“Tyler…”
Josh’s soft voice tried to break through the fog, but all it seemed to do was make Tyler cry harder, as if the kindness was physically overwhelming. The drummer searched through his memories for what used to help Tyler when they were younger, recalling the times he would just let Tyler cry it out in his warm embrace until he felt regulated again.
Hesitantly, Josh opened his arms, wondering if it was still the right thing to do.
“Can I–” He started, wanting the decision to be touched to belong to Tyler. “We used to–”
Before Josh could settle on an invitation that seemed right, Tyler launched himself into his arms, gripping tight to the fabric of his hoodie as he sobbed into Josh’s shoulder. His hands scrambled to close the space between them both, encouraging Josh to hug Tyler tighter.
He was rarely keen on receiving hugs when upset, but there was something about the pressure of Josh’s arms around him that felt safe and secure, like the crumbling pieces of his body were being held together by his best friend as Tyler fell apart.
Josh was safe. He was a steady and secure presence in Tyler’s life, having been there through the best and the worst and never wavering in his loyalty. He’d never once tried to fix Tyler, only the situation at hand that left him overwhelmed and on the verge of collapse.
Even when Tyler retreated and tried to deal with things on his own, Josh could always see right through it. Every “I’m okay” muttered through gritted teeth or every wince and jolt would be noted in Josh’s mind as he set to work finding little ways to help.
Extra RedBull in the fridge, spare headphones in his backpack, a hand to fiddle with, or a large hoodie offered to hide away in.
Turning up on Tyler’s doorstep after three days of isolation.
Josh’s hands rubbed up and down Tyler’s back as he sobbed, tears soaking into the dark fabric covering his shoulder. He kept his breathing level, whispering soft encouragements for Tyler to match his pace.
“In and out with me, Ty. Don’t want you hyperventilating.” hummed Josh, exaggerating each inhale and exhale so that Tyler could follow.
He tried his hardest, each breath coming up shakier and shorter as he tried to bite back the frustrated cries that threatened to spill out. Each attempt took immense effort, shudders and hiccups halting any progress Tyler was making.
“Hey,” Josh cooed, “It’s okay, we can do this.”
Josh counted Tyler through each breath, over and over until the singer’s cries began to level out into sniffles and his breathing fell in time with Josh’s own.
“Doing so good, Ty. We’re almost there.”
A small nod was followed by a whine as Tyler recovered. His voice still felt out of reach, despite the urge to apologise that echoed in his brain. Josh would tell him that it wasn’t necessary, he always did, but it never stopped Tyler’s need to apologise for every rough edge and black hole that made up his being.
Josh was good like that.
It sent a crackle up Tyler’s spine, fuzzy electric shocks that manifested into a pit opening up in his stomach. Josh was good, too good, and suddenly Tyler was hit with the urge to push him away; run and hide somewhere that was impossible to locate, wait for Josh to inevitably tire of him and realise that he wasn’t worth the trouble.
If everything good had to come to an end, Tyler would rather be in control of when and how rather than leaving it up to fate.
But then Josh’s arms held him impossibly tighter, like he was trying to squeeze every sabotaging thought out of Tyler’s mind, and Tyler could feel himself settle ever so slightly – enough for the crackle to fade to a hum, enough for the voice in his head to say that maybe he doesn’t give Josh the credit he deserves as a man capable of making his own decisions.
Maybe he could cast the guilt aside for now, and just let himself be taken care of.
Even if Tyler thought he was too old to be consumed by the itch in his soul that left him feeling wrong, Josh never judged. Tyler knew he’d do the same for his bandmate in a heartbeat, he just had a hard time admitting that he deserved the reciprocation. A lead singer, a songwriter, a frontman. The face of something that grew bigger than he ever anticipated. Everything pointed to him having to remain strong and unshakable, even when he felt like everyone would see his odd habits and quirks before they could try and understand him as a person.
Josh had seen all of that the first time they met, and yet for some reason unbeknownst to Tyler, he wanted to stick around.
So he did.
And with every passing day, Tyler felt more and more understood, yet the fear of losing something that had rooted itself in every aspect of his life loomed overhead like a grey stormcloud.
He never had to pretend around Josh.
Certainly not now, nearly a decade and a half into their friendship.
Josh had experienced every facet of Tyler by this point.
“What brought this on, Ty?” the drummer asked, his voice just above a whisper.
Tyler shrugged, feeling the heavy pull of his shoulders moving, relying on them to speak where his words failed yet again.
“What–” Josh went to ask another question, but he knew that the only response would be another shrug until Tyler felt like he had the energy to speak again. “Let’s just- let’s move to the couch, okay? We can sit down and then take things from there.”
Tyler tried to focus on the feeling of Josh’s arm still around him as he was guided to the couch and encouraged to sit. He shivered slightly when the warmth of his bandmate retreated, replaced by one of the soft blankets his mother had given him as a birthday gift.
He wasn’t sure how long Josh wandered off for, the seconds and minutes blurring as Tyler stared at his dark reflection in the TV screen, his peripheral vision feeling like static electricity as his eyes lost focus and he let himself drift in the feeling of coming down from the spike in adrenaline.
The tiredness was beginning to seep into his muscles, like an elastic band stretched too far. His body hurt from the tension, his eyes hurt from screwing them shut to keep the tears at bay, his throat hurt from the force of which some of the sobs had been ripped from him.
There was an odd pleasure in it though, how through the exhaustion sat the feeling of being truly empty. Everything had been drained from him, and now Tyler could rebuild.
Blinking as his mind snapped into focus, Tyler realised that Josh had returned, the couch dipping beside him under the drummer’s weight. On the coffee table sat a glass of water and a couple Advil, both of which Tyler scooped up without being asked. The cold water soothed the raw pain of his throat with every sip, and Josh waited patiently for Tyler to put the glass down before speaking.
“Are you ready to talk about it now?”
Tyler pulled the blanket tighter around his frame, tracing the stitching across the edge with his thumbs. “Maybe? I can’t– I don’t always know it’s happening until I’m in too deep to get out.”
“I know,” reassured Josh, “but usually there’s something that tips you over the edge.”
“I think I’ve just… I don’t know, shoved everything aside for a while until it all caught up with me. We’re between tour legs, we’re putting the final touches on songs, we’ve got videos to shoot– Sometimes everything piles up, and I don’t know how to stop it.”
Josh nodded, thoughtful and giving himself time to reply. “Were you able to put any of those feelings into writing?”
“Nope.” Tyler slumped back into the couch cushions, reaching up to tug at his hair before being caught by one of Josh’s own hands and enveloped in a steady warmth. “I just sat there staring at the page like the words would suddenly appear.”
“You could’ve called me, y’know?”
“I know.” Tyler sighed. “But I’d been ignoring you for days. Didn’t feel like I could suddenly turn up to ask for support after that.”
“I’m never going to hold that against you, Ty. If you need my help then I’ll be there. No questions asked, grudges put aside. You’re my best friend, none of this is uncharted territory for us.”
“Thank you,” The whisper of his voice sounded delicate, as if he was trying to make himself believe it was true. “I’ll try and remember that.”
“That’s all I’ll ever ask you to do. We both just have to keep trying.”
Tyler’s eyes fell closed as he felt his hand being raised to Josh’s mouth, a soft kiss pressed to his knuckles followed by a thumb tracing the cracks of his skin.
“You should rest,” suggested Josh, “I know how exhausted you often feel after all this. Take a nap, and I’ll order us some food after, okay?”
“M’kay.” came the reply, and Tyler let his body be shifted to a comfortable position in Josh’s lap, the blanket tugged to cover his shoulders as he curled up on the couch.
“Do you want the usual?”
“Yeah, sounds good.”
Josh let his hands run through Tyler’s hair, planning a way to get him to shower after they’d both eaten, thinking through all the little things he could do to take some of the load off Tyler’s shoulders. Change the bedsheets while he showers, find some mind-numbing comedy film for them to relax to, stay for a night or two until he was sure Tyler was ready to take his workload back up.
Tyler gradually began to slip below the waves of sleep, comfortable and safe with Josh by his side. He knew it would take a little longer to fully bounce back, but he’d done it several times before.
It was always easier when he let Josh help.