Melancholy 💧 Joshler

TWO

Tyler finally got dressed. He pulled on a dark blue turtleneck sweater (to hide the marks the he had given him), a raspberry plaid skirt and navy tights.

(Visuals, yay)

Josh was sat in the living room, his chocolate eyes watching Tyler as he sauntered in, sitting down next to the purple haired man and cuddling into him. He peppered light kisses all over Tyler's jaw and ran his hands through his fluffy brown hair. "You're profoundly ethereal Tyler Joseph. I love you immensely." He whispered as he buried his face in the crook of the smaller man's neck.

The entire day, they had cuddled on the couch. They watched movies and kissed. Tyler felt guilty. Josh was kissing him, so close to where he had stained his skin. So close to where the lips of another whispered "trust me" as they marked the inches of skin as theirs. Skin that wasn't theirs to mark. Thinking about it made Tyler feel extremely sick. He was dirty, so dirty. It was dirt that couldn't be scrubbed off, it was dirt that would linger on his skin and clothes no matter how many times he washed, no matter how much laundry detergent he used.

He waited until his lover was asleep and he crept to the laundry basket and plucked out the skirt and crop top he'd been wearing that night to the kitchen. It was a shame really, the shirt was beautiful; white and lacy, it didn't deserve to be worn by someone as impure and dirty and disgusting as him. With tears in his eyes, he brought a pair of scissors up to the shirt and sliced and sliced and sliced, the same for the pretty pink skirt he'd worn. 'It figures,' he thought and mentally scoffed 'I was dressed like a slut.'
He didn't sleep that night.

Again, not my views. Rapists don't rape because of clothing, they rape because they're pieces of shit. -Dylan