collective.

I. put me to sleep

(inspired by Put Me To Sleep by Point Blank Society)

tw:: mentions of suicide & self harm ::

3522 words

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my head's under attack, but i'll forget about it when your nails are in my back

9:38pm, wednesday.

Josh was curled up in a ball of blankets and sweats as he'd often found himself anymore.

It'd been three weeks since he'd last spoken to him, and it was beginning to feel like torture. The love of his life, his soulmate, his best friend all gone in one break up. It was what was best, though. Tyler had self destructed past a point of no return and needed help he wasn't willing to give himself. Josh couldn't stay—it wouldn't be fair to either of them. Tyler needed help that Josh couldn't give him, and Josh couldn't allow himself to carry the weight of both of them any longer. Watching somebody you love burn themselves up into a forest fire was torture.

So, his evenings all played out the same: come home from work, microwave dinner (Tyler always cooked—he never thought he'd have to learn how), and lie on the couch curled in Tyler's old sweatshirt until he eyelids begged him to drag himself to bed.

This evening, though, a knock placed itself at his door. It was weak and panicked, and Josh's stomach dropped when he heard it because he knew exactly who was going to be on the other side of his door.

He braced himself before slowly cracking the door to reveal a mess of a man he used to call his own.

"Tyler?" he asked quietly, the name feeling like a curse word on his tongue.

Tyler had been crying, hard. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, his nose was red, and his hair was disheveled (Josh knew he was tugging at it as he often did when he was upset). He could still see the faint tear tracks on the man's tanned skin.

"I-I'm sorry," his voice was fried, presumably from sobbing, "I didn't know where else to go."

Josh opened the door a little wider, concern drawing his eyebrows together. He shook his head, unable to find his words, "Wh...what's going on?" His voice sounded like it was coming from someone else, like he was watching this interaction in third person.

Tyler tugged at his sleeves, avoiding eye contact. He looked like he was deciding whether to run away or not, but ultimately said, "I don't trust myself...at all."

"Tyler," Josh bit his lip, every logical part of himself screaming to set a hard boundary. He couldn't save Tyler, and he couldn't keep dropping everything in an instant to fix him. That's why he broke up with him—he couldn't keep giving the man everything he had if he wasn't going to help himself.

"I know it's not fair that I came here," Tyler's voice was small, much smaller than usual, "I just have this feeling in my chest... I-I don't wanna be alone tonight." It was a plea for help. He was begging Josh not to leave him alone with himself. Josh wanted to pretend like he didn't have a soft spot for the man anymore, but he stepped aside, allowing his door to fully swing open, "Come in."

"Sorry," Tyler muttered as he passed through the doorway of the apartment he'd been in a million times before. It felt wrong now, like seeing a familiar place in a bad dream—there was just something off about it.

Josh closed the door and stared at the man for a few moments, unable to get a hold on himself. He'd spent days crying over Tyler. Nights were so lonely and sad that he felt like he was going to die from a broken heart, but now, here he was. Tyler was right in front of him, and he had no idea what to do.