.:PLAY PRETEND:. Twenty One Pilots [Imagines]

Tyler :: The World In You

Prompt :: "Can you do an imagine where you are depressed and go to an all night coffee shop and meet there. Meet Tyler there. Please?"

Warnings :: Depression

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You've shrugged on your old and worn hoodie, the one with the fluffy wool interior that's lost most of its cream-coloured softness and is now a flattened, matted grey. Your hands are shoved into its pockets, the hood up over your head, your eyes on the cement driveway your feet are walking on as you eagerly move away from that prison of a house life has told you to call "home".

You're heading down your empty street in the middle of the night, sucking in the cold air and exhaling visible puffs of breath from your lungs, trying to relish in the feel of the fresh midnight air and mostly failing - at least in comparison to the way you used to.
You used to take your bicycle out on a winter night and ride as fast as you could, enjoying the bite of the wind as it whipped your hair against your cheeks and stung your eyes. You had loved that feeling; that exhilaration. That ability to embrace sensations that weren't necessarily textbook-pleasant.
Now even the biting wind, it seems, has lost its interest in you.

You walk faster to try to create your own wind, just for that feeling if even only a little bit. You begin to run. There's a slight whoosh of air as you do, as your hoodie falls off your head, but it's not the same now... it never is. Nothing's the same.You're not the same.

The bell above the door dings as you enter the old diner - the one at the end of your street that's older than you. You order your usual drink, pay, and take a seat at your usual booth, the place empty apart from the single employee behind the counter who has already disappeared through the "staff only" door. The low hum of one of the coffee machines, a single car slowly driving past outside, the cough of the employee coming from the other room and your index finger idly tapping against your paper coffee cup are the only sounds that accompany the quiet drone of a radio station playing slow and droning music you can barely hear. All such dull noises,  with such dreary white-washed lighting overhead, dead moths dotting the long rectangular light fixture above you.

Everything about this moment just looks... irrelevant. Is nothing to you. The place seems a metaphor for the whole world, for the way you've been viewing it as of late. Nothing is important anymore - you just want to feel something again, but you don't.
You've been looking for a sense of worthwhile...ness. Yet there's nothing but the steam rising from your coffee, swirling silently into the air until it dissipates and leaves you on your own because steam, like everything and everyone else, doesn't have any reason to give a damn about your life, because you're pathetic.

With a bitter sigh you push your hot drink away and slouch even further down into the booth, eyes on the cup sitting otherwise untouched in the middle of the table in front of you.

The bell above the door dings and the worker returns from the staff room to serve the new customer. Apart from his quiet order and fumbling through a jacket pocket for his wallet, all is still quiet. Your eyes apathetically raise from the cup to the guy standing at the counter, hood pulled over his head the same way yours is. In fact your hoodies look quite similar; black and plain.

He mumbles a thanks to the cashier the same time the phone in your pocket buzzes. It's a Facebook invite from an old high school "acquaintance" - someone you were never actually friends with. They're having a 21st birthday party and have obviously invited everyone on their Facebook friends list. Which reminds you of your 21st, the way that you didn't celebrate it since you didn't have anyone to celebrate with. You haven't seen any of your old friends in years. You don't have new ones.