Twenty One Pilots One Shots

j.d. | Addict with a Pen

Prompt: You are in a Short Term home because your family felt you needed extra care they could not provide for you. You attend weekly Musical Therapy sessions with a therapist that was appointed to you.

Warnings: brief mentions of self harm/suicide

The trailer above is for a film called Short Term 12. It is probably my favorite movie of all time, and it's what inspired this plot line. It's on Netflix. (Also, Rami Malek is in it, so)

☼

"Hello, Y/N. Welcome back to Musical Therapy. How are you feeling?"

You sighed. "Yellow. Fine."

The therapist scribbles something on his clipboard.
"Hmm, Y/N, last week you were Green, Happy. Has something happened?"

"I'm just a little sleepy, I guess."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Y/N."

"Why do you say my name in every sentence? I know who I am."

"Sorry, Y/-... Force of habit." He sighed and rested his clipboard in his lap. "Are you ready for your Improv Prompt?"

You sighed again. "Sure."

"Talk to me about how you feel about your life and how you ended up here. Use water as symbolism for hope. Use sand as life and it's unpredictability. Speak in the form of a letter you would write to God- theoretically speaking. I'll give you a few minutes to brainstorm." He left the room, the door clocking behind him.

You cracked your knuckles and figured out a melody as quickly as you could.

You thought about your life and how you ended up here (like he had said to.)
Nothing particularly sad or dramatic stood out, but you still ended up depressed for some reason.
(And ultimately, suicidal.)

You surely didn't feel suicidal, and you didn't want to die, but harming yourself can probably easily appear otherwise to people.

The door clicked and you were dragged back to reality.
"Ready?"

Your therapist had brought in two other boys.

"Oh, um, this is Tyler and Joshua. Tyler is our newest patient, and Joshua is his friend. He's here as well. Would you mind if they listened?"

"Um, sure... It probably won't be very good? though."
You took a breath and stretched your fingers before playing.

"Hello,
We haven't talked in quite some time
I know
I haven't been the best
Of sons
Hello,
I've been traveling in
The desert of my mind
And I haven't found a drop
Of life
I haven't found a drop of You
I haven't found a drop
I haven't found a drop
of water,"

You suddenly felt a rush of anger and screamed at the top of your lungs.

"Water!"

Your therapist spoke up over your music (and screaming) with an encouraging, "Yes! Tell me about the water!"

You shook your head frantically and began speaking again.

"I try desperately to run through the sand
As I hold the water
In the palm of my hand
Cause it's all that I have
And it's all that I need and
The waves of the water
Mean nothing to me
But I try my best
And all that I can to
Hold tightly onto
What's left in my hand
But no matter how
How tightly I will strain
The sand will slow me down
And the water will drain,"

You began to feel silly, screaming and yelling at your therapist and these two boys you'd never met before.

"I'm just being dramatic
In fact,
I'm only at it again
As an addict with a pen
Who's addicted to the wind
As it blows me back and forth
Mindless, spineless, and pretend-"

You wanted to speak about how you felt you couldn't leave this place.

"Of course I'll be here again
See you tomorrow
But it's the end of today
End of my ways,"

You felt anger towards your family for never listening to you and just calling you insane.

"As a walking denial
My trial was filed as a crazy
Suicidal head case!
But you specialize in dying
You hear me screaming, 'Father, '
And I'm lying here just crying
So wash me with your water"

You let the last notes ring out and you looked up to see your therapist with an approving smile on his face.

One of the boys has a black sweater on, and he was looking at you in shock, as if he could relate. He was pale and had deep bags under his eyes.

The other was smiling. He had curly brown hair and a nose ring.
He clapped quietly for you.

You blushed and looked down at your lap.

The other boy began crying.
"I want to go home!"
He started kicking as your therapist attempted to hold him still.
His friend helped him calm down as your therapist wrapped up your session.

"Um, that was good, really good. I'm going to get Tyler into bed- um, I'll see you on Monday."

He walked Tyler out and showed him his room.

The other boy looked over at you once they had left.

"Hi. I'm Josh."