Electricityscape |-/ Tyler Joseph Fic

chapter three

It felt really nice to have someone to talk to about self-harm, to be honest. Even if he basically was a total stranger, it was nice; I didn't feel like I was putting a burden on someone close I knew.

So I texted Tyler again the next day, asking if we could hang out again.

Sure, when do you want me to drive over?

I kinda wanted to go to the treehouse again tbh

Okay, so I'll pick you up?

I'd rather walk if that's okay

Alright

So I jacked in my headphones and headed out the door. I turned my music up pretty loud, but I was still sure to watch the street for cars. I didn't really know what I wanted to talk to Tyler about today. I'd let him ask his questions, but what about after that? I kind of wanted to ask him some questions too. Surely he had some deep dark secrets I could pry out.

I'd been walking for 7 minutes before I heard Tyler's voice call out, "Hey, stranger."

I looked up to see him leaning against a stop sign on the corner. I took a moment to appreciate how good he looked in casual clothes, as opposed to uniform, before pulling my headphones down around my neck. "Hey."

We started towards his house, and he decided to strike up conversation. "How'd you sleep?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Alright. You?"

He just let out an empty laugh. "I didn't."

I looked over at him. "At all?"

He shook his head. "No, not really."

"Why not?" I asked, sounding like a concerned mother.

He scratched the back of his head and said quietly, "I'm kind of an insomniac."

I didn't really know how to respond, so I didn't. We had reached his house and started walking through the woods along the familiar path. After reaching the treehouse, Tyler let me climb up first. When I reached the top, I turned around and offered him a hand up. "You decent?"

He just nodded, then sat down at his usual spot along the wall. I helped myself to the notebook and pencils again, then sat down next to him. I started working on the drawing he had requested.

Then he spoke. "Do you want to talk more about, y'know?" he asked.

I smiled a bit. "Sure." I kept drawing, but tilted my head slightly so he knew I was listening.

"Do your parents know?"

I nodded. "Yeah, but they think I don't do it anymore."

"You still do it?" he asked immediately.

My stomach tightened, as did my hand around my pencil. Shit. "Yeah," I confessed.

"Don't you, like, talk to somebody about it?"

I smiled weakly. "Just you."

"So this whole time you've been dealing with this shit and haven't said a word about it to anybody?" he asked. He seemed kind of upset.

"I told my parents," I answered.

"Parents don't count. You know they don't."

I let out a laugh. "Then, no. Just you."

"Are you on meds for any of this?"

I sorted through the hundred of pills I take through my head to decipher which ones were actually for my head. "Yeah, I'm on Prozac and Welbutrin." I could tell he didn't understand, so I added, "Prozac's for depression, Welbutrin's for anxiety."