joshler oneshots

more damage than heroin needles

summary:

tyler's a serial killer. josh is suicidal.

words: 690

----------------------------------------

josh watches the news with eager aggression.

stations across the country buzz with the same news and the same clips and photos and the same tones that express ungenuine emotion to the victims. stations across the country are buzzing with the news of a serial killer.

he moves quickly, from the center of california to sunny los angeles within a day and disappearing without a trace once the work is done.

he's damn good at his job, josh thinks.

he still hasn't been caught, and the cops are feeling the pressure as bodies begin to pile and blood begins to pool.

josh sits in his run down apartment, wrapped in a threadbare blanket and shivering because they cut his heating off.

the lights are all off and the only source of light is the small television that crackles every other 5 seconds.

he isn't the safest, theoretically speaking.

his apartment is in the alley ways of san francisco and he often awakes to either screaming or the sound of drunken laughter and shattering glass. empty syringes are loosely shoved in drawers in case the landlord makes an appearance, and there's always someone knocking on the back door.

he thinks that maybe he should be scared, because the killer has disappeared again and his windows don't lock and his door barely closes.

josh just smiles, because he has a secret put away in a drawer and he knows that he can't be killed if he's already dead.

and no, surprisingly enough the secret isn't his stash of heroin.

he gets up early the next morning, shaking the cold out of his fingers and putting on unintentionally ripped jeans and a black tshirt.

he laughs at himself for dressing up for his own funeral.

he decides to do his best to clean the house, making sure his worn down blanket is folded neatly over his bed and his clothes are in his closet.

he puts all the toilet paper away and empties out the fridge.

josh wants to see the sunlight for the last time, no matter how weak it may be. so he heads downstairs to grab one last meal.

the sun barely peeks from the clouds and the streets are filled with perfect faces of makeup and freshly trimmed hair and impeccable custom tailored suits.

josh looks at himself in the smudged glass of an empty store and reminds himself that pretty does(n't) matter.

he decides the last thing he wants to eat is just a simple sandwich, and he allows himself the luxury of an iced coffee to go with it.

he sits outside, even though it's beginning to rain and he imagines he can feel sunshine warming his skin.

he takes a shower when he gets back and tries to rinse the dirt off his hands and the blood from under his skin.

7:46 pm.

he thinks that the sound of the staticky tv should be the last thing he hears.
he sets it at a quiet volume, and his hands shake as he goes to refold the blanket again and again and finally stands up.

he almost tiptoes to his empty kitchen.

he knows all the drawers are now empty except for one, and his hands are trembling so violently that he struggles simply to pull the drawer open and and grab the loaded gun.

he's lifting the gun to his head when he hears the window in the next room open.

he laughs, something bitter and desperate and slightly insane.

of fucking course there had to be some fucking runaway or petty thief to interrupt the day he had so carefully set up to be the end.

he decides to stay in his bedroom.

maybe whatever broke in will kill him faster than himself.

there are light footsteps and a red eyed man bursts through the doorway, breaths shuddering and gun pointed with knives sticking out the pockets of his jeans.

josh laughs hollowly as he puts the gun under his chin.

"maybe you'll be my excuse. do you want to do it or should i do the honors?"

he wasn't expecting him to throw his gun on the floor and gently coax the gun from under josh's chin with tears streaming down his cheeks.

now josh is crying too, and he wants to question why a killer is hugging him with hands too soft to hold knives and words too gentle to taunt last words.

it's california anyway, and josh has learned that the strangest things happen here.