Air Catcher (Tyler Joseph/TØP Fanfic)

Føur |-/ I'm a Poor, Unfortunate Soul

!!TRIGGER WARNING!!

Chapter Song: How to Save a Life / The Fray

Avery's POV

"So are you and Josh a thing?" Tyler asked me.

"Oh god, no!" I half-shouted through the mall.

Josh was nice and funny, but he wasn't really my type. Not that I'm being picky or anything, it's just that he's my friend and he always will be.

"Oh," Tyler blushed, "I just kind of assumed because you sit by him all the time."

I could see how someone would think that, but it still made me want to puke just thinking about it.

We wondered into an Aeropostàle and I began to look at some of the clothes. I could probably have anything I wanted in that store, because of how rich my parents were,  but I didn't like to flaunt around with a ton of shopping bags looking like some kind of bitchy, snobby, girl.

Tyler began to look through some of the sweatshirts, "Why don't you shop in Hot Topic?"

"Well I do sometimes."

He furrowed his brow, "But why don't you ever wear the stuff you get there."

I thought for a minute, "Well I don't want people to realize I'm some emo who cu-"

I forced myself to to stop talking when I realize what I was about to say.

Tyler flinched and looked at me, "Realize? What does that mean?"

"I-I don't know. I meant to say, umm, think."

"Well you know that's just a stupid stereotype." he mumbled.

"I know, but..." I trailed off.

He goes back to looking through the shirts, "It doesn't matter."

After a few more hours we decide it's best if we go home and hop back in his car. Well actually Tyler decides, I don't really want to since my house is completely empty and I don't want to be alone, but I keep my mouth shut.

When we arrive we get out of the car and begin to go our separate ways.

I walk back into my house and slam the door behind me. Then it hits me, sadness.

I don't know why or how,  but on the one day I'm actually happy I start to feel sad. It's probably my undiagnosed  depression,  creeping up on me. It pulls me in and takes out any ounce of light I had left.

"You're nothing." It whispers in my ears, "Absolutely nothing."

And I believe it.

Without thinking I run to my closet and pull out a box full of razors.

When I find the one that looks the sharpest, I start crying, or maybe sobbing silently is a better way to say it.

I allow it to puncture the soft skin on my wrists and and drag it across in neat, horizontal lines.

I start crying louder and louder, until I get to the point where I'm practically screaming.

"Hey,  Avery! Open up!" I hear someone shout from outside of my house.

I continue to cry to myself. Ignoring whoever is there.

Then I hear footsteps entering my house, walking up the stairs. Still, I ignore it.

"Avery please!" the voice begs louder outside of my bedroom door.

I begin to cut deeper, hoping to drown out whoever it was.