Øverturning the lies (a twenty one pilots fanfiction)

~Tyler~

Tyler clasps his hands together, almost like he's praying. But he's not. At the back of his mind, very nearly buried, memories of a life before swirl through his mind.

Once, it seems, he did believe in something. 

Ever since his time in Dema, however, all he feels is a heavy heart. And pain. 

In these circumstances, it's hard to believe in anything. 

Tyler lets out a sigh and tries to will his hands to stop shaking. 

He doesn't succeed. 

He lays back down, pulling the scratchy-thin blanket back over his body and curls up, pulling his arms around himself. 

He doesn't know what will happen the next morning, and the uncertainty is destroying every last inch of his sanity. 

That makes it difficult enough to sleep without adding in the pain he feels in his arm. The new pain. Not old pain, he's afraid.

The scarlet mark he carved there himself was the third one, the third time he broke his promise.

But what was his promise?

To not give in to the system?

It's too late for that.

Far too late.

To resist hurting himself even more?

On that last thought he pauses.

Even more...?

Besides the new, angry lines of red that trace their way across his flesh, there are no old scars.

None that are visible at least.

He knows that better than anyone.

It never ceases to amaze him how his mind has doubled as both a santuary and a prison.

Either way he's constantly inside it, constantly inside his own skin, for better or for worse.

For worse, he thinks.

The idea that release is soon gives him an odd sense of tranquility.

He pulls his arms tighter around his knees, horrified at his own thoughts.

Scared. So scared.

He's still scared when sleep finally claims him.

But when he wakes up he has something new to occupy his mind.

"Come with me, Tyler," Nico tells him.

He's using his name.

That can't mean anything good.

Tyler recoils instinctively, still half asleep, part of him remebering what the bishop has done to him before.

"Don't be scared," Nico says. "It's important. Very important. I never would have woke you otherwise."

Tyler's brain is screaming at him not to go with him, but he does anyway.

When was he this unsteady on his feet?

When did his own legs refuse to support his weight?

Nico reaches out with his forever-ice-cold fingers, supporting him.

It's an in-between time; no one is awake to do their daily jobs yet, but the neon lights are barely visible in the rising daylight.

Tyler doesn't think he's ever seen Dema like this.

He can't tell if it makes the place feel even more oppressing or more welcoming.

Nico is moving fast across the gray landscape, and Tyler can barely keep up.

At one point he trips and falls, scraping his leg on a rock.

More blood.

Will this leave a scar as well?

Nico is instantly beside him, wrapping his latest injury with a bandage.

A thought occurs to Tyler and its like a lightning bolt in its intensity.

He's never seen the bishop wearing anything other than that red cloak before.

And somehow he always managed to have bandages on hand.

A sick feeling squeezes his stomach.

He remembers the many times he watched through the lens of a jaded soul as the bishops moved through their rituals, their scarlet robes flowing with their bodies as they worshipped their neon lights.

Only the bishops know all of the details of their religion, but Tyler knows enough to speculate and guess.

He knows enough to wonder if they follow the religion as well and everything they inflict on their followers.

Unwilling, coerced followers, but followers nonetheless.

"Child," Nico says, stirring Tyler out of his thoughts.

He glances at the bishop questioningly and the red figure helps him to his feet.

And its then Tyler knows.

He sees for a fraction of a second when the bishop's sleeve moves just slightly.

But he sees.

He sees the scars.

And he's overcome with a strange sense of sadness.

It only intensifies as the odd duo continues along their way.

This time they don't go to the tower of silence.

But that doesn't matter to Tyler.

All that matters is own thing, and that's the figure dressed in yellow he sees lying, defeated, on the ground.

Fear grips him.

Oh no, no, please not Josh!! Please!!!

He closes his eyes to make sure this is true. That this, in front of him is reality.

He opens them.

And a pair of weary brown eyes stares back it him.

Silence.

Deafening silence.

He wants to say it kills him but somehow, somehow, his rebellious heart keeps pumping blood and his traitourous lungs keep breathing oxygen.

Right as his world crumbles all around him, he is still alive.

And somehow that scares him more than anything.

If everything he thought he knew is falling apart, why should this broken self of his continue existing?

Is there any point of it at all?

Was his life lacking meaning from the very start?

Wait, hold on. How did that happen? I'm genuinely asking...I forgot. *shrugs in author*