Empathy [Josh Dun - Twenty One Pilots]

TWENTY SEVEN

Tyler was lying on his bed, both hands behind his head, like he always did when he had too much to think about he couldn't even hope to let it all out somehow, which happened way more often than he would like. 

The thoughts kept flowing as he inhaled slowly, trying to ease the beating of his heart just for a second. He thought of Josh, of their friendship and how it had helped him so much in so little time. He thought of the bullet that went straight towards Josh's face, and the pain in his heart at the idea of him being dead. Then he thought of the risk he had taken to save him, and how he had nearly killed Mark instead. Luckily he was able to save him, but how long could he continue doing this without any deep consequences?

Tyler was tired. He was tired of all of this, tired of himself. Why couldn't he just be normal? Why couldn't he just focus on himself? Hear only his own sadness. Heal his own sadness. Why did he have to go through that? Why was he chosen to feel all that pain? Was he really made for this? Maybe it was a mistake because who in their right mind would choose the weakest boy alive to bear all the hurt of the people around him? 

Tyler sighed, sitting up and looking at the back wall of his room, right in front of his eyes. The ticking sound of the clock attracted his eyes, and he stood up. Slowly, he pulled the chair out from under his desk, pushing it gently towards the wall before stepping up to grab the annoying time-counting machine. He didn't need that to know time was passing by without him ever accounting to anything. Annoyed, Tyler reached for the ticking hand, setting his finger right in front of it so it couldn't move anymore, stopping time just for a few seconds. 

Slowly, the boy navigated back to his bed where he sat down, the clock balancing on his lap. He sighed again, something he was used to, then decided the best thing to do right now was to tear out those fricking hands counting time. One by one, he reached for them and pulled them until they snapped. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. There; time had stopped. Then, in an attempt to entertain himself, Tyler looked up at the bin located on the right side of his desk and, aiming just like he had learned to, threw the clock towards it.

It missed noisily, scraping across the desk and moving everything else on it way before landing with a bang in the other corner of the room. Tyler chuckled miserably - he wasn't even able to aim right - before standing up again to repair the mess he had made. He picked up the clock, throwing it in the bin for good this time, then kneeled down again to put away everything else.

He stopped when his fingers stumbled upon the cross. The wood felt warm in his hands, and suddenly Tyler felt guilty. Weak, he sat down right there, almost under the desk, and held the cross tightly in his hands. So tight, actually, that it left marks on his skin. Tyler knew God had a plan. He was convinced of that, most of the time. It was just so hard to believe when all he felt was pain. Doubt was gnawing at his heart constantly, and he did his best to keep it at bay, but there were days when he just felt like giving up. Days when none of it mattered, when his heart and mind didn't believe anything anymore, except for the fact that he didn't want to be there. Days when God didn't exist. 

Tyler exhaled violently, a sob shaking his frail body as tears escaped his eyes. Today was one of those days. As pain suffocated him, Tyler lay down on the floor, allowing his whole body to feel the ground underneath him, to try and regain some control. It always worked. 

Tyler ignored how long he stayed there, lying on his back in the middle of his bedroom, his head under the desk, hands still tightly gripping the cross against his heart. He desperately let himself cry until tears stopped forming at the corner of his eyes, his head painfully throbbing with each beat of his heart. One hour? Two? 

Time didn't really seem to pass as usual, but when his cheeks were finally dry, when his breathing finally stuck to a somewhat normal pattern, Tyler was surprised by the darkness outside. It was winter though, and darkness didn't really mean much anymore: it could be 5 just like it could be 11. The boy sighed, aware that he should probably move now, but jumped with surprise at the sound of excited knocks on his door.