Graveyard Blues [Brallon]

Nothing

[ooo we starting a job today boys]

We're all surprised to say the least, when two days later the author of Graveyard Blues turns up, and it's two separate people.

Joshua Tyler is a pseudonym for a pair named Josh Dun and Tyler Joseph. Josh's hair is shaved at the sides and dyed on the top, and Tyler's is growing out but it's still decently short. They both like the color yellow a bit too much, and I could easily throw their bodies in a garbage bin if the occasion ever arose. I'd just have to strip the bright colors and burn them to ashes.

Brendon and Taylor are overwhelmed in their presence, and I imagine Hayley would be too. I don't understand the big deal, but that's far from important. I should have read at least the first book.

Graveyard Blues was — and is — a hit series. They're practically millionaires, and they give most of their earnings to charities and people in need. Either way, they can afford to fire most of the crew and rewrite half the script, because that's what they do.

At first, they're dramatically concerned with the casting choices. They sit down with the major and minor characters, and end up firing everyone but me, Taylor, the stunt doubles, a handful of extras including the ones trained in acting like zombies, and Jenna. She's promoted.

Josh looks us over while Tyler starts listing other actors he believes would be a good fit for the open positions to run them by us. "I think we only got a say with you two. I'm so glad, honestly, because—"

"Do you guys have a psychic connection?" I can't help but blurt it out. I know it's difficult to write a book with another person, and to have it flow so well is a feat on its own. Brendon glares at me and angrily squeezes my hand. He can't believe I asked that.

Tyler glances up from his phone for a moment to glance over me again. "You're just like Dallas." His voice is monotonous, uninterested. I like him. It doesn't seem like he gives a shit like his partner does.

Josh nods. "Yes you are, and definitely. That's why we started writing; we were really good at it when we worked together. It's like we share the same brain."

Taylor and Brendon are quickly involved, drastically more so than I pretend to be. "That's so cool! When one of you gets hurt can the other feel it? Can you guys hear each other's thoughts? Are you telepathic? Can you see the future too? What am I thinking of right now?"

They're frowning and giving the other concerned looks. "No telepathy or mind reading, but yes to the first one," Josh lifts his elbow and peels off a large pale bandage covering a deep purple burn mark, "Tyler was upstate and I bumped a hot pan on the stove when I was cooking dinner."

Then Tyler carefully rolls up the sleeve to his button-up and shows us a red bruise exactly where Josh's is, in the same place and same shape. "I was eating cereal for dinner and I literally thought I was fucking dying."

"Of happiness because we're so in tune with each other!"

"I passed out and almost drowned in my cereal milk, Joshua."

Josh purses his lips and folds his hands on the pile of paperwork in front of him. His smile is forced, and a little distressed. "We're very excited to be working with you guys as this mess continues. On that topic, are the other crew members any good?"

Taylor shrugs. "Fire the prop manager, and that's it. He sniffed my hair yesterday."

🔪

I don't know what switch flipped, but he's all over me for the rest of the activity-less day. We spend the day at a little lake in the middle of nowhere while Josh and Tyler try to sort everything out on their own.