Tyler Imagines

Postmates

TW: Mentions of suicidal thoughts, and other stuff relating to the topic, as well as anxiety, depression, and self-harm.

National Suicide Hotline - 1-800-273-8255

Text-based Suicide Hotline (for the peeps with social anxiety like me) - Text Connect to 141741 from anywhere in the US (If there is a national one you know of pls put it in the comments and I will add it here)

If you need anyone to talk to I promise I'm here <3

{ Tyler's Pov }

I work as a postmates delivery guy during the week and weekend, it helps make money, but also its a pretty easy job, look where they want to go, accept the order, get the stuff, deliver it and you're paid, pretty easy. I have gotten some weird stuff for people before but honestly, I didn't care, the pay was pretty good and helped pay the bills, and I could do it alongside my normal half-time job.

There was, this one person who I always seemed to ask me to get their stuff, I have no clue if they chose me each time or I was the closest one to them that was available either way, I saw them about three times a week to drop off stuff, they rarely spoke, only to say thanks and take their stuff, never asked much, not even a 'did you get everything?' like some of other people who used the app would ask, they would just take their stuff and mumble an almost worn out sounding 'thank you' and shut the door, I had just gotten done with my regular job at Dickies and went to my car when I check my phone I saw I had a request, from that same person. Their username was OkayFine almost like they didn't really care what their name showed up as. I looked at what they needed, d accepted it. I drove to waWalmartnd quickly looked again.

- Notebook

- Pen's

- Rope

- Nightquill

that was a strange order, it gave Tyler a bad feeling but he went through the store and grabbed everything, maybe this time he would try and ask what it was for, not that it was really any of is business but... maybe it would put him at ease.

I paid for the stuff and even the cashier seemed worried but didn't say anything, I drove the way to this person's house and parked, this time he shut off my car instead of leaving it running and walked up to their apartment door knocking. I looked down at the shorter person who was wearing the same black sweater they always wore along with red plaid pajama pants. Without saying anything they reached out their hand expecting me to hand them the bag.

"What are you doing with this?" I asked moving the bag away, they seemed shocked, after all, I hadn't said much to them before, besides a 'here' and a 'you're welcome' if I could get it out before they shut the door on me.

They looked up at me, bag under their eyes, they looked red and puffy, the few strands of hair that fell in their face looked unkept and dirty, like they hadn't showered in a couple of days. I took a deep breath repeating my question, "What are you doing with this?"

"Does it matter?" they asked, their voice was hoarse, almost sounding as if they hadn't spoken in years, a peek into their apartment showed it was dark, and about as unkempt as they themselves were.

"Maybe it does," I said.

"Give me my stuff and leave please, I have stuff to do" they retorted back trying to take it from me, but I held it out of reach.

"Not till you tell me what it's for" I demanded, I wasn't letting go of this bag, I had a death grip on it and was holding it behind me now so they couldn't get to it so easily.

"If you won't give it to me then I'll just get someone else to deliver and give you a bad score, now give!" they held out their hand, tears gathering in their eyes, seeming like they were threatening to fall at any moment.