Adore // Oneshots

Routine (Joshler)

CATEGORY: Can't say, it's a mystery
FEATURING: Also can't say, it would spoil it
TRIGGER WARNINGS: This chapter features VIOLENCE. To say specifically what happens here would be spoiling it, so if you need/want the specifics, PM me! PLEASE READ SAFELY!
PROMPT: No prompt
WORD COUNT: Approximately 730

It was the morning after, when he woke. Tyler was both physically and emotionally drained, even still, but it would be fine.

After blinking sleepily for a few moments, he slipped out of bed. His friend, Blurryface, had taught him to always take care of himself afterwards. It was always an ordeal, and so he needed to practice particularly liberal self care.

His hands, arms, and shirt were all sticky. After putting his clothes on the floor, Tyler got into the shower and rinsed himself off. He was slightly shaky, but the warm water made him calm down a bit. He didn't know why he was so nervous; he'd done this a thousand times before.

As Tyler washed his hair, he thought about the routine Blurryface had drilled into his mind. He was to shower, firstly, which was what he was doing. Then make himself some warm, hearty food on the stove while he tidied up around the house, making sure everything was spick and span. After that, he would eat at the kitchen table, but avoid the internet, phone, or television; Blurryface had taught him that it could lurch him back into the mentality, or give him a sense of fear.

There were other things to do after that, messier things that Tyler didn't enjoy, but that was for later. He had time.

Blurryface had mentored him, trained him how to do this. He'd done everything he could, lectured Tyler again and again when he did something wrong, and praised him endlessly when he did something right. Over time, the good had been drilled into Tyler's mind, and he had forgotten the bad. At least, that was what he told himself.

Once Tyler's shower had ended, he got changed into clean clothes, a plain white tank top with huge sleeves, and black skinny jeans with red socks, feet hidden in black close-toed shoes. It was what he always wore.

He avoided looking at his bed as he dressed.

Afterwards, he went into the kitchen, which was blissfully untainted. Though it was morning, he settled on a can of cream of chicken soup. Once it was cooking on the stove, he went back into his room and started cleaning up. He would return to his stove now and then to make sure the soup wasn't boiling or burning, then return to cleaning.

Once the soup was done, Tyler sat at the kitchen table and ate his soup, as he should. It was nice and warm, and it comforted him well.

Too soon, his soup was gone. Tyler put the pots and pans in the sink and filled them with water.

It was time for other things. Lingering for a moment at the table, Tyler went into his bedroom to view his guest.

He was paler than he had been yesterday, of course. He had ruined the sheets and almost definitely the mattress with all of the blood. Of course he had; he was dead.

His hair had been pink when he and Tyler had first met, but now it was red with blood; it looked better that way. His nose ring was still intact, and his dark brown eyes were closed. Tyler was in the habit of closing them once his victims were dead.

Tyler always lured them in, coaxed them into coming home to his apartment with him. Once the perfect opportunity made itself known, he would strike without a sound, like a snake. His victims never stood a chance.

The knife that had repeatedly pierced his flesh was on the dresser. That was another thing with Tyler; he always used the same one. It was lucky.

Tyler carefully wrapped his guest in the top blanket, and carried him into the bathroom.

It was messy business, carving the dead. Once it was done, he carried the pieces by the bucketful into the kitchen, then put them down the garbage disposal; what couldn't go that way, he put in a suitcase to take with him. He started carefully cleaning the kitchen, then the bathroom, and finally, the bedroom. It was all pure again.

Or was it? No, it wasn't. It was always going to be tainted, at least for Tyler. And that was why he had to leave. After allowing himself to rest for a minute, Tyler packed the rest of his few possessions into his bag, and left his apartment for the final time.

It was time to begin the search for his next town. And, subsequently, the next person that, he, with the aid of Blurryface, would force to disappear.