Southern Gothic // Joshler

3. Storm

Tyler doesn't remember the previous night.

All he remembered was the thing pounding on the door until he passed out from stress in his mother's arms. He must've fallen asleep after that, because he woke up the next morning on the couch to find his mother at the kitchen table, drinking a black coffee. There was no breakfast in sight.

"It left around 3." She said quietly as he walked into the kitchen. Her eyes were sunken in. "I didn't sleep. I'll go get a new rifle after you go to school."

Tyler nodded solemnly, not even bothering to look at the clock as he poured himself a glass of orange juice from the fridge. He took a big gulp of it and immediately felt like he was going to vomit.

Running over to the sink, he dumped the rest of it down the drain. Thanking his mother, Tyler walked silently up to his room to get changed. He didn't speak to his mother as he left for school.

The walk there was so thick with tension it could've been cut with a knife. He didn't feel any eyes on him that morning as he walked. The elders knew what happened, they must have known.

The walk took longer than usual, as his feet dragged behind him as he walked. Approaching the school, Tyler noticed that everyone was quiet as he entered. The lively shouts and laughs he had experienced the morning before were replaced with solemn silence and all eyes on him as he entered the hall.

There were whispers as he walked past, and he grew increasingly uncomfortable.

"Hey, Tyler," Brendon stated, tapping Tyler on the shoulder. "Good morning."

Tyler turned around to face his friend, practically falling backwards when he saw him. The nauseous feeling came back as he saw Brendon.

Brendon, while ultimately looking like himself, was not himself. He was too elongated, Tyler realized, his smile too wide and his brown eyes far too dark to be him. His smile was slightly too wide to be his.

"We aren't friends," Tyler stated flatly, his hands shaking as he turned back around in an attempt to discourage whatever the thing was. "Don't talk to me."

"But Tyler-" It started, placing it's hand on Tyler's shoulder. There was no warmth, only ice.

"Don't touch me!" Tyler shouted, smacking it's hand away. "We aren't friends!"

All eyes on him immediately looked away, and he felt the presence that declared itself to be Brendon leave.

Gathering his books with shaky hands, Tyler hurried down the hallway, past his first period class, outside the back end of the school to the football field. He ran to go sit down in the bleachers, tears running down his face as he let out a sob.

"He's gone too," Tyler stated in disbelief. "They took Brendon."

"Who's gone?" A voice came from behind him and Tyler let out a shout of surprise as he turned around.

A kid with bright blue hair was sitting a few rows back in the bleachers. He was wearing all black, and had a nose ring.

"Who are you?" Tyler asked harshly, looking around, lest he be spotted with whoever this was. "Why are you dressed like that?"

"Who am I?" The kid laughed, his eyebrows furrowing. "I'm Josh fucking Dun, honey, who are you?"

Tyler gulped, his breath catching in his chest at the swear. "I'm Tyler, you shouldn't be-"

"What the hell is wrong with this school, anyway?" The kid, Josh, responded. "Y'all dress in all black, white, grey, you're all quiet, nobody here has any sense about anything-"