Quiet Is Viølent (Twenty One Pilots Fanfiction)

I ponder of something great

Sometimes quiet is viølent.

I sit up in my bed,

"What have I done?" I say looking around my room at the blue wallpaper had been stripped off and the word 'Bleed' has been scribbled on the walls with one of my red pens. My floor is covered in the strips of wallpaper and ripped up pieces of paper that had drawings I'd spent hours on.

This wasn't normal for me to act like this, I'd usually use music to drown out all the pain, but now I'm beginning to wonder if it can do that anymore.

There's hollow knock at my door. I jolt my head up in surprise, no one ever wants to see me, not even my parents.

"Who is it?!" I shout, not even bothering getting up from my bed.

"It's...Umm, Tyler. Your next door neighbour!" He shouts back. My pupils dilate, because I know that he'd probably heard me crying earlier.

"Hang on!" I shout, practically falling from my bed to go and answer the door. Wiping the tears from my eyes I open the door and force a small smile.

"I just came to check you were okay, I heard you crying and..." He starts.

I hold my breath, I don't want to tell him what's wrong because I don't deserve any kind of sympathy.

"And...something told me that I should come see if you were okay, but you're okay now so I guess I should be-"

"Tyler wait," I say pulling his shoulder back so he doesn't walk away.

"Thank you." I smile simply looking into his deep brown eyes.

"If you ever wanna talk about it, I'm literally right next door to you, bye" he smiles back walking back into his apartment.

Me and Tyler have had few conversations in the past, mostly in the elevator, but he's always felt strangely close to me, and I'd like to know if he feels the same way.

Ever since I'd moved to Columbus Ohio things have been different. I'm all alone now, I left my family back in California and they haven't spoken to me since. It feels like I've betrayed them or something, but I still love them, nonetheless.

I'd moved here in hope of getting my art career up and running, but I ended up getting a job at some record store.

This wasn't the first time my mind has got the better of me, and I knew it wasn't the last. Something inside of me stops me from hurting people, and sometimes myself, but it doesn't stop me thinking about it. I pick up the pieces of wallpaper and dump them in my bin and look at my wrecked wall. I don't know why I had written 'bleed', maybe that's what I need to do to feel better, bleed.