infidel (joshler)

Chapter 6

*trigger warning in this chapter: blood, murder, and self harm*

Tyler had wanted to attend Josh's funeral. He really had. He wanted one last look at him before he was lowered into the ground in a coffin he hadn't even picked out himself. But the judge and the police said no, that he was sick for even wanting to go. They thought it was his fault. The more he had thought about it after the whole thing happened, the more he told himself that he had not done it. It was the worst blurry of them all. Not Tyler.

Tyler guessed that Josh's family wouldn't want him there. He had watched their son be killed, after all. It had happened at Tyler's house. They were always at Tyler's house. They had been sitting on the big leather couch that was always Tyler's favourite, playing video games and cuddling and sharing small kisses in between levels.

Tyler had never been this happy. Josh had came in and helped Tyler through everything that had crossed his path. As cliché as it was (Josh hated clichés), he had been the light at the end of Tyler's dark and never ending tunnel. Ever since they had admitted their feelings for each other, they had been practically inseparable. Josh had come over everyday, sometimes more if Tyler really needed him. They would sometimes just sit there, appreciating each other's company. Tyler could never get tired of the feeling of Josh's lips on his, the way his hands tangled through Josh's hair. He loved every second of it.

This day, Tyler had felt better than he ever had before. He was sprawled out across the couch, head on Josh's lap, watching him play some video game that Tyler knew he'd be terrible at. He got up to get himself a drink of water.

And then everything was different.

He was watching through the eyes of another person, as a hand that he knew was his grabbed a knife from the top cupboard, where his parents thought
he wouldn't look. He watched as this person slid the knife into his back pocket. He made his way back to the living room, before pushing Josh down onto his back and connecting their lips in a rushed kiss. Tyler was angry. What was going on?

"I love you, Josh."

"I love you too, Tyler."

*trigger warning starts here*

Josh with his eyes closed, still kissing this person that was not Tyler. With a sickening feeling creeping through him, he saw the hand reach back to the knife in his pocket that Josh hadn't noticed. He felt the hand pull it out. And he watched as the knife was plunged into Josh's chest.

Josh's eyes opened in surprise. A disgusting giggle escaped from Tyler's throat, and he was snapped back to reality. He screamed and screamed and screamed and tried to fix the wound but there was blood everywhere, blood all over his hands and Josh, and Josh was staring up at the ceiling, taking ragged breaths. Tyler scrambled for his phone, desperately calling 911, despite knowing that they could do nothing. He told them where he was, and before he could control it, it slipped out.

"I-I think I just killed my best friend."

Once they had gotten there, Tyler was sitting on the floor, his legs crossed, his arms torn to shreds. Just like how Josh had found him that one day. The paramedics ran through the house, some lady screamed into her radio for more help. She knelt down beside Tyler.

"Did you do this to yourself?" She asked him. He looked up at her. He had to admit, she was very pretty. Her eyes were bright blue and her hair was a silky blonde. He was distracted by her for a minute, and then slowly nodded his head. She began to bandage up his wrists, as other people worked on Josh.

*trigger warning ends here*

"Okay, what's your name?"

"Tyler."

"Okay Tyler, I'm Jenna. I'm going to need you to answer a few questions while I do this, okay?" He didn't say anything.

"Did you do this to your friend?" His head snapped up in shock.

"Kill Josh? No! Why would you think that?" She glanced up from the bandages to read his expression.

"When we got the call, someone said that they killed their best friend. Did you make the call?" She said softly. She didn't want to upset Tyler, he could see it. She thought he was dangerous.

"I-I did, but I didn't kill Josh, no, it was one of them, not me. You have to believe me! I'd never hurt Josh! I love him..." Tyler's voice broke off, a sob escaping.

"Okay Tyler, we'll find out who did it. Can you come with me please?" She took his hand, and he followed her to the ambulance. Josh wasn't with them.

"Why isn't Josh coming too?"

"He'll be in a... separate vehicle." Tyler was silent. He stared at each individual fibre on the gauze wrapping his arms. They would have to be changed soon. The first night that Josh had found Tyler like this, the first night that they had kissed, Josh had sat with him, changing his bandages whenever they were needed. Tyler had felt safe. He had felt loved. And now that was gone.

Tyler's mom had taken pictures at the funeral. She had brought them into the prison to show him. She cried and so did Tyler. They had picked the wrong flowers. Roses weren't his favourite. Tulips were. Red tulips, not white roses. The little details made him want to scream. They hadn't even taken the time to figure out that Josh always had a red tulip on his window sill, because they were his favourite and they made him happy. For several years he'd done it. Several years, and they couldn't be bothered to notice.

"Honey, we still love you, no matter what you did. Okay?" Tyler's mom smiled through her tears. Tyler slammed his hands down on the table that separated them and the chair skidded out from underneath him.

"I didn't kill him, Mom! Everyone says that! I didn't kill him! I didn't!" He screamed. His moms face was filled with sheer terror at what her son had become. The guards rushed forwards, dragging him back to his cell, screaming. The last thing he ever saw of his mother was her face buried in her hands. She probably regretted ever giving birth to him.

Two weeks later, Tyler was convicted of deliberate first degree murder. He was confused; they said that deliberate first degree murder meant that he had made a decision to kill. But he hadn't. It wasn't even him that did the killing. He stared at a crack in the wooden table he sat at as the judge read out his sentence. Life in prison with no chance of parole. He said nothing.

The guards led him out, and put him in a vehicle that he knew would take him to his home for the rest of his life. He sat in the dark- there were no windows- and felt a single tear slide down his cheek.

Tyler Joseph was finished.