joshler oneshots

a deer with a mouthful of poison ivy and barbed wire eyelashes

summary:

sometimes, josh hopes tyler dies.

words: 1,412

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there are some days where josh absolutely hates tyler with every fiber of his being.

of course he doesn't mean that. he doesn't mean it.

josh is just tired, tired of tyler opening his mouth to say something that always starts with "i".

tired of his defeated voice proclaiming self degrading claims and pausing with hopeful eyes afterwards, waiting for josh's words of comfort, waiting for josh to give himself up for tyler. tired of every late night knock on his door and quietly murmured "come in" that leads to purple eyebags the next morning.

of course these very thoughts will soak him, drown him in guilt. he loves tyler, he does. he cares.

it just rots him away from the inside a little more every time he's wrapping his wrists and pulling on a sweater delicately and there comes a plea for help, a whine that cuts josh more than any razor blade could ever.

tyler doesn't care.

josh doesn't get a "how was your day?". josh doesn't deserve an "are you okay?". tyler loves josh for his honey sweet mouth and cotton candy lies, his attention. all tyler wants from josh is his attention.

josh can't kill himself. he knows tyler would blame himself, tyler would write a poem and read it at his funeral, and then feel the absence of someone to talk to, calling and texting every friend he has, telling them it was his fault and waiting for their reassurances and sunshine summer touches.

josh is sick. he's as sick as a dog, sitting patiently at tyler's feet, waiting for his turn to walk, his turn to talk.

josh's hands shake more than they used to.

he's tense at every moment of the day, waiting for tyler's loud footsteps or sideways glances or constant sighing.

in fact, he thinks dully, he's lucky he's gotten enough time to think all of this to himself. he closes his eyes, waiting for-

"i'm going to die alone."

josh's voice is monotone. he's heard the same phrase again and again and again.

"no you aren't, tyler. i love you. you have so many friends who love and adore you. you matter."

tyler sighs, frowning.

"i don't think you really care. you're just too kind to ditch me."

josh feels a cocktail of anger and misery swirl inside of him, like he's a blender about to short circuit. his fingernails, short as they are, dig into his palms. he stares at the round cigarette burns on the bottom of his hands.

"if i didn't care, i would have left by now. i love you." and those three words drain him more than anything else possibly could.

josh doesn't sleep. he's too busy digging a razor into his skin and smoking a cigarette, dropping the ashes directly onto the floor.