twenty one pilots one shots

Paint

A/N: So I'm obsessed with the album characters lazytongue (@/hands4guns on instagram) created so I wrote this one-shot lol (and btw in this thing Phun is still a girl and hasn't transitioned yet which is really important. So if you struggle with dysphoria this may be triggering for you and you're not alone and your feelings of dysphoria will go away someday. I love you.)

Thin tendrils of forest green, baby blue, violet, sunflower yellow, lime green, and salmon streamed down Titled's face, drowning his cheeks in a sea of color. He hated his tears. They weren't natural. His tears made him look like a mutant, a freak; the fact that he couldn't keep his eyes from leaking was an added bonus.

He doesn't know how his sleeves are painted in pastel swirls, sometimes mixing together in ugly, dark brown spots. He was grateful it didn't, don't get him wrong. It just befuddled his mind how the stains didn't appear on his clothes or his skin.

He was also glad the other albums didn't make fun of his tears. Maybe they thought they were even pretty, poetic maybe. He didn't know what he would do if his constant tears was met with harsh words.

His tears were just colored water, really, though it was a mystery how the color came to be. Again, it defied all logic. Tears are clear; water droplets that leaks from our eyes. They can't come in different colors.

Titled's usual movements were lifting either arm slightly to wipe his tears away. At the beginning of his life, the constant motion was a nuisance, but now that he's older, it was instinctive. He hardly notices that he does it half the time.

But, sometimes, he breaks down. His thoughts blare in his head, and the darkness they bring surrounds him like the shadow of night swallowing the day.

His tears practically drench him. They fall over the edge of his eyes like a dam breaking. The metric tons of water come rushing out through the small cracks. Pressure added on the dam's wall makes it groan, and eventually crack, releasing even more water.

Suddenly, the darkness feels like the sun's light kiss of warmth on a bitterly cold winter day, a gentle hand on your shoulder when you need reassurance, a tight embrace when you're sad. His tears suffocate him, the dam's waters pulling him under. He's afraid to open his eyes, and the currents make him feel like he's spinning and flipping in the floodwaters.

He hasn't broken down in a while, and it makes him feel incredibly relieved. He hated getting that upset and feeling like he's drowning further than he already has.

It was a Tuesday morning, and Phun was the last to wake up. She didn't shuffle out of her room until just before noon, which earned concerned looks from the other albums.

She ran her fingers through her long, medium brown hair, wincing as she encountered knots. Her fingers lingered at the ends of her hair, and she stared down at it. She frowned, then removed her hand, letting the strands fall.

She continued her shuffling to the living room.

Titled, Regional, and Ves immediately stood, walking over to the younger girl.

"What's wrong?" They asked concernedly in unison.

Phun shrugged, running her hands through her hair again. "I guess I'm just kind of sad today." She mumbled, folding her arms across her chest.

"You should eat something," Regional told her, taking her hand, but she yanked it away. "Phun?" He breathed, his brow creasing.

Phun rubbed her left hand up and down her right arm, looking down at the floor. "I'm... I'm not hungry."