I Read About the Afterlife (But I Never Really Lived)

All the lights go out together

Hey all. AYL is on haitus because a) I'm drifting a bit away from the Yogs and b) writer's block ugh so here you go. I won't stop writing AYL though, it will hopefully be back around christmas. Or something idk but when it does return, please know that updates will not be frequent as it's for some reason so hard to write. This is something I put together for AO3 (I'm JoshDunismyspiritanimal over there) which I'm basically just using for bandom fics and the like. Please don't hate me. Chapter title taken from The Reasons Why by The Cure

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A lot of different things go through your mind when you want to die.

The most important thing that went through Tyler's mind was that he didn't want to be alone anymore. He'd been alone for his entire life and he was done with being alone. Absolutely, positively, one-hundred percent done. Done with all the bullshit life kept throwing at him, like how his best friend couldn't see him anymore, or see anything really, because of a drunk driver. How his mom had taken away his music because she believed he would pursue it as a career – well, she wasn't wrong – and that he needed to get a real job when he grew up. How his dad had gotten drunk when he was 13 and driven them straight into a building, killing himself and Tyler's older sister (he still had the scar about his right eyebrow from a particularly sharp piece of glass to prove it).

Life pretty much sucked for Tyler.

It sucked for Ryan, too. For fuck's sake, he couldn't even see anymore. How was he supposed to read or write or do fucking anything? He'd spent sixteen years of his life preparing to be a writer because, fuck, he could write. At least that's what Tyler told him, and coming from Tyler, that was pretty amazing. He couldn't become an author if he couldn't see his hand holding the pencil, or watch carefully as his fingers flew across the keyboard, typing out the stories of his characters.

His second option in life was music. Ryan was pretty damn good at his guitar, but now he couldn't find his guitar in his room because he couldn't find his way around, damn it. Tyler had eventually told him that his guitar wasn't even in his room anymore, that Ryan's dad had thrown it away. That fucker, Tyler'd sworn he'd kill him.

Now here they both sat, in Ryan's bed, with their parents out of town, bleeding out from their wrists and their ankles, and a particularly deep cut on the side of Tyler's throat. The house was perfectly silent, and while Tyler was content for the first time in his life, knowing everything would disappear soon, Ryan was not.

"Fuck, Tyler," he groaned, rolling over and resting his chin on his best friend's knee. "It's so quiet. God it... it's unearthly."

"You're mom's unearthly," Tyler grumbled half-heartedly. "Shit, Ryan, what do you expect me to do about it?"

"Sing to me." Ryan's answered came without hesitation. "My dad has a ukulele in his room."

Tyler glanced nervously down at his friend, who's eyes were closed blissfully. "Don't fall asleep yet, Ry," he said quietly. "I'll be right back."

He pushed Ryan's head off of his lap and left his best friend's bedroom, walking down the hallway and dragging his arm across the white-painted wall, grinning sheepishly at the little crimson trail his wrist left behind him. Ryan's parents wouldn't care because his parents didn't care about him and Tyler's parent didn't care about Tyler.

Sure enough, in Ryan's parents' room, there was a ukulele hanging up on the wall, which Tyler took down carefully. It was a pretty shit ukulele, but if Ryan wanted Tyler to sing to him, you bet your life

Tyler was going to sing to him one last time.

When he returned to Ryan's room, the brunet was resting on his back, his face looking particularly soft and gentle. Tyler sat down on the bed, and when it dipped, Ryan sat up and leaning on Tyler's shoulder.

"Did you find it?"

"Yeah," Tyler told him softly, positioning the ukulele and resting the body on his knee. "What do you want me to sing?"

"Something you wrote," Ryan answered quickly, curling around his best friend. "You've never sang me any of that, you know that, right? I'm sure they're amazing, because I've heard you sing before and seen what you can write. You're perfect, Tyler. You've just been thrown a shitty life."

Tyler snorted and decided to keep talking to Ryan while in his mind he sifted through his music. "Wish I could agree," he said. "If I did, we wouldn't be doing this."

"I don't want to stay," Ryan said softly as Tyler took a deep breath and got ready to play before remembering, damn it, this song wasn't even for his ukulele because he'd written it at the music store downtown after his mother had confiscated his instruments, and of course he was only allowed to play the piano there.

Improvisation, Tyler thought. He could easily transfer the piano onto the ukulele without too much thought, after all, he knew the notes easily enough.

"I don't want to stay, either," he whispered as his fingers plucked out the first few notes, and he went over the lyrics roughly in his head just to make sure he got them one-hundred percent correct. "Now the night is coming to an end."

Ryan nodded at how true this was, because their lives were depressing as shit and he wanted nothing more than to leave.

"The sun will rise and we will try again."

This part didn't make sense with how Ryan was previously thinking about the song, unless Tyler was implying that he was going to call 9-1-1...

"Stay alive, stay alive, for me."

How ironic.

"You will die, but now your life is free."

More like 'over', Ryan thought with a note-less hum, burying his face in Tyler's side to breathe in the smell of his best friend once again.

"Take pride in what is sure to die."

How can one take pride in themselves when they hate themselves so much? Ryan had no idea how Tyler had written this when here they were, already so close to death.

"I will fear the night again."

Ryan didn't fear the night. He never had, even as a kid, because it was stupid. Nothing was going to get to. Was Tyler afraid of the dark? He was too tired to ask.

"I hope I'm not my only friend."

I'm your friend, Ty, Ryan wanted to protest, but his lips felt numb and he couldn't move them.

"Stay alive, stay alive, for me."

In his newfound state of paralysis, Ryan was panicking. He didn't know he'd be suddenly scared to leave. No no no, he didn't want this anymore. He had to get Tyler to call an ambulance but he couldn't speak and he couldn't move and, fuck, he had to stay alive, for Tyler.

"You will die, but now your life is free."

No, Ryan thought, desperately trying to move his lips. No, I won't die, Tyler please, fuck, call a fucking ambulance.

"Take pride in what is sure to die."

Tyler's breath was short and he put down the ukulele to curl himself around his best friend just as Ryan used his last bit of energy to say, "Tyler, I'm scared."

"I know," Tyler whispered. "Me too."

Neither of them saw anything after that.