Growing Pains | Tyler Joseph's Sister

one | a wake-up call in slowtown

DISCLAIMER: This story is mostly AU, so many events and circumstances will be different than the past and present day with the concerns of Twenty One Pilots. This fic takes place roughly in the Vessel era. Both Tyler and Josh are younger, and there are a lot of new elements. Enjoy! :)

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In the basement, dust squirms between the keys of my brother's piano, reaching over to stretch across Josh's drum kit. Every slight noise pulsates at a higher octave than normal. The lightbulbs buzz annoyingly. Static lives in the walls.

The basement sleeps when Tyler isn't here.

I sleep, too. More than I really should.

I am in a state of partial consciousness, transitioning from one dream to the next, when my phone erupts into a vibrating dance sequence on the end table beside my small bed. My body is practically stitched into the blanket cocoon covering all of my skeleton except for the tip of my nose so I can breathe. It is late May, but I am always cold, at least partially.

I am not answering my phone's muted pleas.

Shifting, I face a section of light gray wall in my room that is surprisingly visible due to the majority of wall space dripping with an overflow of decoration. My phone finally quiets down from a call about whatever. I relax back into my mattress, straightening my joints out when I stretch. My pillow is warm.

Headache-inducing vibrations emit from my phone again. The wooden surface of my end table amplifies the notification. My brain rattles like I am backstage at one of my brother's concerts and Josh is starting a drum solo. I love Josh playing the drums, but I don't love Josh playing the drums at whatever-the-hell-time-it-is o'clock while I am trying to catch up on sleep from a week of school.

Groaning, I flail around on the mattress to untangle my limbs from my comforter, anger behind every kick. I flop over to the location of my phone. If I didn't cherish it so much I would probably throw it at the wall, but instead I reach for it on the end table. My limbs are a beat behind schedule. I end up dragging the screaming device face down against the woodwork so it squeaks, but I cannot be bothered to worry about a minor scuff.

The screen blows up in my face when I turn it my way. My room is light, but it is still early for me, and I groggily squint to read who is bugging me.

Incoming FaceTime call from: Tyler

I answer it. "What?" I use my voice for the first time today. It is tired and cracks at the seams.

"So she does live," remarks the person on the other end of the video call, my brother. He is all smiles, which is something I cannot comprehend because he is in an even earlier time zone than me. The sun is hitting his face and making it glow in that yellow-type way. He is wearing a typical Tyler hoodie that is dark in color. "I knew if I kept trying that I'd get ya eventually."

I hold the phone further away from my face than before. My eyes briefly scan over the little box containing my camera view in the FaceTime call. I try to get a grasp on time by reading the small numbers at the top of my screen. 9:13 .

It's like 7:13 there -

"Nice bed head, by the way."

I shove my phone down into a pillow, fake suffocating him. I hear a smothered chuckle. Plopping my head into the same pillow, I pick the phone back up. This time a white mass of a pillow and half of my face occupies my mini square on the screen.

I talk, "What do you want, Tyler?"

He ignores my irritability. "Well, considering you've been asking, I just wanted to let you know when we're coming back."