twenty one pilots one shots

The Boy in the Woods

A/N: trigger warning for a brief suicide mention and schizophrenic hallucinations

"Why are you crying?"

Jenna gasped, her eyes darting across the forest for the source of the voice.

"Wh-who's there?" She called, her heart thumping in her throat making her stutter.

She stood up shakily, hastily wiping tears from her cheeks. The leaves screamed in agony as she crushed them beneath her feet.

The voice spoke again, an echo of the leaves' anguished cries; dry, crackling, breaking as it asked again, "Why are you crying?"

"Why would I tell you?" Jenna scoffed, skeptical. "I don't even know who you are," She grit her teeth as anger rose inside of her. "Show yourself!"

Jenna stood frozen, shuddering as the autumn breeze blew through her. There was only silence; not even the pained screams of dying leaves.

Jenna inhaled deeply, trying to keep her anger at bay. "I just want to see your face."

The morbid silence ladened the dry, crisp air once again, waiting to be cracked and shattered like the leaves.

The sounds of ruthless massacre filled the area once again, leaf after leaf meeting their end as the voice finally stepped forward.

Jenna inhaled sharply as the shadows were banished, her pulse coming to an almost screeching halt.

It was a boy her age, standing like an old tree that was finally weathered from the elements. He was tall, but he slouched, his back arching in an exhausted slope. His skin was like snow, his lips like pink flowers in the spring, his eyes like rivers in those last moments of summer sunsets. He was like a ghost, a phantom groaning with the branches as they fought against the harsh winds.

He was wearing all black, his dark clothing dusted with bits of dead grass and shattered leaves. He had a hood that gathered around his neck like a scarf, knitted strings hanging limply from it.

"You look shocked," The ghostly boy observed, tilting his head to the right. "No matter. Why are you crying?"

"That doesn't matter either," Jenna dismissed, looking down at the graveyard beneath her feet. "It's stupid."

"I bet it isn't," The boy argued. "Let me try and guess.

"Pressure about making good grades? Don't know what you're going to do with your life? Bullying? Feeling lost? Am I getting warmer?"

Jenna shook her head. "You're getting colder like this weather."

"Just tell me, please," The boy begged, taking a venturous few steps closer to Jenna. "I want to know."

Jenna risked lifting her eyes, seeing the spirit of the boy looking at her with complete concern.

He could be a serial killer, or a rapist or something, she told herself. Don't trust him.

But don't you WANT something bad to happen to you? Don't you WANT to die?

Jenna resisted the urge to flinch at the voices, taking an inhale of crisp air.

"I guess it really doesn't matter," The boy shrugged, his autumnal voice almost making Jenna look up again. "You're obviously upset, for whatever reason."

"So?" Jenna huffed, her skepticism breaking the surface once again.

"I need to cheer you up," The boy answered as if it were obvious. "And if I can't help you, I have something else that could work for you."