One Shots

"it wasnt your fault"

prompt: "it wasn't your fault"
This one's a TØP fanfic, enjoy.

"It wasn't your fault"
She starts, but I cut her off
"Yes it was!"
I yell, fury itching to lash out in physical spurts.

It had been a couple years since I had 'recovered' from my outbursts. Only I knew that inside me, I was still the monster I was.
And now my ex, Tyler, has tried to kill himself.
And despite my new girlfriend trying to convince me otherwise (bless the kid), I still knew the truth.
It's all my fault.
All of it.
You see, the beautiful woman standing across from me, Jenna, doesn't know my past. She doesn't know much about me, actually. She doesn't know that I was an abusive shit, or all the drugs I used to take. Or the alcoholism. Or anything, really.

I snap back to reality when she shakes my arm gently. I can see the hope in her eyes. But I can also see the empathy. She's so understanding it's disgusting. I've never known anyone like her before. Maybe that's why we started dating. She was exotic, and I was. Well... I don't know.
"You should go see him"
She says, trying to keep me grounded by keeping her hand on my arm.
Physical contact always helps me, especially in times like this or when I'm having a panic attack. She knows that. She knows me quite well, and I appreciate her taking the time to get to know me. But she'll never get me like Tyler did. Nobody will ever get me like that ever again.
Tyler was the only one I could trust. He was my one and only. The light at the end of the tunnel. The sunrise after a long night.
He was my everything.
And I had to ruin it. Just like how I ruin everything else.
"Yeah"
Is all I say, knowing that if I was to try and argue, I would only make things worse.
- - -the next day

I'm driving to the Hospital a couple of towns over. Tyler's brother has told me what hospital and hospital room he's in, which I'm grateful for.
My hands are shaky as I tap a rhythm onto the steering wheel of my car. I play the drums, thanks to Tyler. He would always tell me how he loved when I played. He said it was like the rhythm of the gods. It calmed him down when he'd have his moments, and it often helped me settle down as well.
That's why I'm doing it now. I'm trying to calm down, but there are a million things racing through my mind.
Why would he want to see me? I was the worst sort of person for him and all he ever did was help me. I shouldn't go. I'd ruin his recovery. What am I gonna say? Oh, hey, it's me. You know, your abusive ex-boyfriend that caused your depression that landed you in this hospital in the first place? Yeah, I'm sure that would go splendid. I do want to see him though. It's been so long. I miss him. Maybe I could try to get him back. No. No I'm so fucking stupid. No. I've got a girlfriend and he's probably got someone too. Someone who doesn't slap him when he forgets to wash the dishes. All he ever did was forget. But forgetting isn't bad. Forgetting is something that everyone does. But hitting is bad. Hutting is horrible. So are drugs, alcohol, depress...
My thoughts trail off as I realize that I've arrived. Good thing I've been here a lot and know the route by heart.
I wish I didn't know it though.
This is where I brought Tyler when I'd beaten him up so bad that he wouldn't wake up.
That was the scariest day of my life.
I push all of my thoughts to the back of my mind and build up the courage to go inside.

I've been in the waiting room for a few minutes, anxiously tapping my fingers on the arm of the chair and my foot on the carpeted floor.
"Josh Dun?"
A woman with a tight bun and a sad smile questions
I stand up, maybe a little too fast, and make my way to her.
"Follow me"
She says, already turned away and walking deeper into the hospital.

She comes to a stop soon after, and before we go in, she turns around. I'm closer to her now than I was before, so I'm able to notice more.
Her smile is gone now, replaced by a line line made from pressing her lips together tightly. Her eyes are kind, but they're also tired. And a little sad, I think. There are wrinkles on her forehead, around her eyes, and around the corners of her mouth despite her young age.
I've always been good at reading people, the woman is no different.
Being in the hospital must have aged her ten years. Not just the stress, but the constant loss that hangs over the building. It's like smog. You can feel it. It's almost like the energy is being sucked out of you, and soon you'll be in one of the hospital beds.
"Before we go in, there's something you should know."
Oh god, here it comes.
"As you probably are already aware, Tyler attempted to commit suicide. What you may not be aware of, however, is how he went about it."
She pauses, clearly affected by the situation.
After clearing her throat, she continues
"He um, he took a lot of pills. Mostly antidepressants, but some other types, too. I won't list them off because it's likely you won't recognize the names."
She stops again, tears now starting to form.
"In addition to this, he also slit his wrists. Very deeply. Many, many times. He claimed to have done it because the pills weren't working fast enough."
Her voices cracks on her last word, but she regains herself to finish what she needs to tell me.
"There were also traces of a lot of other drugs in his system, but he's told us that those weren't taken to commit suicide. Heroin, cocaine, and marijuana, to list a few. It's a wonder that he's still alive..."
She's recollected herself, but she's clearly not recovered.
"Thank you ma'am"
I feel bad for not consoling her, but I've got bigger issues at hand. Namely Tyler Robert Joseph.
She nods and opens the door, not following me in.
I close the door behind me and see her walk away through the small glass window in the door.
I turn around to Tyler.
But this isn't Tyler, not really.
The Tyler I knew would never allow himself to be dressed in all white, sheets the same color. He never trusted himself enough to wear white. He always felt it was too risky. Also, I could rarely find the boy wearing anything other than black, so there's that, too. The kid just liked black. That's one of the reasons why seeing Tyler in this state is so odd to me.
That, and the 87 million needles sticking into his frail frame.
He's pale, which is also unusual for the boy. He was always tanner than me, but now I'm not so sure. He's so pale that I can see the veins in his skin from several feet away. The fact that he's deathly skinny also probably doesn't help. His bones stretch against his skin, pushing against his figure, almost as if they're trying to escape.
He hasn't noticed me yet, completely absorbed in a notebook. He is frantically scribbling something down. It seems almost as if he is racing his thoughts, his mind moving too quickly for him to get the thoughts down.
"Are you just gonna stand there and watch me, or are you going to come sit down?"
I guess he has noticed me.
He looks up, and shock is plastered across his perfect face.
"Oh"
Is all he says, his hand abruptly stopping, leaving the only noise in the room to be the beeping coming from the machine hooked up to him.
"I wasn't expecting to see you here"
The shock is fading in fear. Or maybe anger. Perhaps disappointment? I don't know why, but I can't seem to tell.
"I wanted to make sure you were okay"
At that he snickers, shaking his head and lifting it to meet my eyes.

"When have you ever cared about me?"

And deep down, I know he's been gone for years now.

A/N:
I don't know how I feel about this one. I think it could be good, but I'm too lazy to make it so. I like it, but I don't love it, ya know? School is draining my life essence out of me, one day at a time. Anyway, I hope you're having a good day. Bye.