THE RUN AND GO : JOSHLER

8 : WOUNDED

The room was Brendon's.

Tyler remembered. The room he was in was Brendon's.

As soon as he had found out the door was locked, Tyler had punched the door out of pure annoyance. He was annoyed he was locked in Brendon's room, he was annoyed he didn't have any clothes, he was annoyed he was woken up in the middle of the night.

He was annoyed he was taken away from Josh.

Tyler found a pair of black skinny jeans in Brendon's closet, but was hesitant to put them on. The main reason: they were sparkly.

Tyler knew Brendon had an extravagant closet, but he had no idea it was like this. His entire wardrobe consisted of tight leather pants, graphic tee shirts, and sparkly and colorful suit jackets. Like he was some kind of singer or something.

Tyler had put on the shiny black jeans nonetheless, and grabbed a black shirt with some sort of exclamation point design.

Screw Brendon. Who did he think he was, locking Tyler in here? And for what reason?

And more importantly, what was Josh doing right now?

Tyler sat on the edge of Brendon's bed and hung his head in his hands. He already checked Brendon's room thoroughly. There were no weapons.

Tyler was bored. He played with his hair, fiddled with his hands, flopped back on the bed, sighed, hummed a song he wrote a long time ago.

"Scared of my own ceiling," Tyler whispered, his voice soft and cracking. He laid on his back and stared up at the dark ceiling.

"Scared I'll die of uncertainty..."

Tyler gulped and rubbed his tired eyes with his hands.

"Fear might be the death of me," Tyler murmured, closing his eyes and focusing on the back of his eyelids. He was tired, mentally and physically.

"Fear leads to—"

Before Tyler could finish his sentence, the door swung open.

Tyler instantly sat up, looking in the direction of the doorway. The hallway outside was pitch black, leaving Tyler only guessing who could be standing in the doorway.

"Okay, what the fuck, Brendon?" Tyler groaned. "You think this is funny? I was trying to get some sleep!"

The person standing in the doorway didn't reply. He simply walked over to the bedside table, right next to Tyler. His footsteps clicked against the floor.

Tyler turned round and eyed him sideways.

"Brendon?" He asked.

In reply, Tyler heard the sound of a knife being stabbed into wood.

Brendon stepped out of the way, revealing Tyler's knife sticking straight up in the bedside table. The metal blade glinted silver in the light from the lamp.

"Where'd you get that?" Tyler asked through gritted teeth. His face remained stoic and angry, even though his anxiety was growing.

"Where do you think?" Brendon said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Tyler shot to his feet. "You were in my room—"

"—I wasn't the only one—"

Tyler's hands clenched into fists. "I swear to God, Brendon, if I find out you hurt him—"

"Aw, isn't that cute?" Brendon mused, a smile on his face as he walked over to Tyler.

"What?" Tyler snapped.