Six Feet Under |Joshler|

MANAGER

Trigger warning for abuse and homophobic slurs

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When people thought of Tyler Joseph, inevitably their first thought was the infamous "Blurryface" persona he put in the ring.

The swift, skilled, tactical, and most definitely ruthless: Blurryface.

Their second thought was the Tyler Joseph who was practically drowning in money, splurging it on anything his mind desired, and probably sleeping on mattresses that cost more than most people will make in a lifetime.

The Tyler Joseph, who was just as much of a cold-heartless asshole as his persona.

What people didn't know, was that this wasn't at all the case—entirely at least.

Of course he was most definitely becoming well off, considering the fact that he's been as successful as he is for the last two years. Yet, he refused to leave the first old, worn-out apartment he'd first bought when he moved to this city.

It was almost a miracle that no one had figured out he wasn't living the luxury life they assumed. Then again, he had grown to be very skilled at staying unnoticed in the less crowded areas of NYC.

Not to mention the very few people who had tried to snag a couple of pictures of him in the area he lived always ended up with their cameras broken, as well as a couple of bones—y'know, to get the point across.

The rumor that he wasn't the nicest guy around wasn't completely false. Multiple people had posted on their social media accounts of his lack of enthusiasm when meeting fans, and his tight-lipped or non-existent smile in photos had proven this. However, this never applied to the kids, he was always gentle with them—he wasn't evil.

His refusal to do interviews outside of the mandatory ones before and after matches didn't help his case and created a strong barrier between himself and his fans, yet he still had a strong following.

No one knew why people stuck around, neither did Tyler for the most part, and this is what resulted in the media despising him to the extent that they do.

However, Tyler did have soft spots for things other than children, like his dog.

Excluding in the mornings.

"Get off of me." The brunette groans, weakly shoving at the black pit bull who was currently laying right on top of him and licking and nudging his face in an attempt to wake him up.

However the dog was persistent and switched to barking right in Tyler's ear.

"Fuck, okay! I'm up." He grumbles, sitting up with a yawn. He glanced at the clock noticing he only had about forty minutes to get ready and let out a tired sigh, finally lifting himself off the bed and making his way to the kitchen of his small flat.

This was routine for him, be woken up everyday at around 5 in the morning by his dog, who he feeds before eating his own breakfast, going through the typical morning-hygiene ritual of a 25-year-old man before changing into his workout clothes and making his way out of his apartment.

Not without taking his meds, of course. 

All of this was suppose to be done by 6 a.m., which was when he was supposed to be at the gym he trains in that was owned by his manager. However, it was typically done half an hour later.

What had also become routine was being berated for being late by his coach, Dallon Weekes.

"You're half an hour late."