***Trigger warnings for PTSD, a panic attacks, thoughts of suicide/self harm, unintentional self harm, and mentions of vomiting.***
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Tyler grumbled irritably when someone grabbed his shoulder and began to not-so-gently shake him awake. He buried his face in his pillow, his body so heavy with exhaustion that his joints were aching and his eyelids were glued shut. The shaking didn't stop, so he grumbled again.
"Tyler, wake up," he heard Jay whisper fearfully, making his eyelids slam open instinctively. "There's someone sleeping on your couch."
"What?" Tyler mumbled groggily, looking toward his bedroom door in confusion. It took a moment for his brain to supply him with the information that he'd given Frangipane his address and permission to crash on his couch last night. He sighed, laying his head back down on his pillow as he told Jay, "It's just Frangipane. I told her she could sleep there. It's okay."
"Frangipane? What? Are you still asleep right now?" Jay asked worriedly, flicking Tyler's temple a couple times until his hand was swatted away.
"It's her last name. She helped take care of my friend last night, and she probably didn't get done until super early this morning, so leave her alone. And leave me alone. I'm trying to sleep," Tyler explained grumpily, already half asleep again.
Jay was quiet just long enough for Tyler to almost fall back to sleep, but then he asked, "So am I not allowed to go get food until she wakes up?"
"You can eat. Just do it quietly, and in the kitchen," Tyler permitted. "Why are you even awake right now? What time is it?"
"It's like five thirty. This is when I usually get up for school, but I obviously can't go today," Jay replied, already headed for the door.
Tyler groaned, pulling Jay's pillow over his head before thinking to warn his brother, "Don't try to sneakily do anything illegal while I'm asleep. Frangipane's technically a cop, I think. I don't really know how it works, but she's definitely in law enforcement."
"Gross," Jay commented before leaving the room.
"Yeah," Tyler agreed tiredly as he pulled the pillow back over his head and allowed himself to go back to sleep.
---
Frangipane had left around five in the morning with a plethora of soft kisses to Josh's face and just as many promises that she'd be back again tonight at nine, and Josh hadn't been able to sleep since. His mind and body were exhausted though, which was making things infinitely more difficult for him. It was also making things more difficult for the guard they'd tasked with watching him. The guard looked younger than Josh by at least a year, and jumped whenever Josh moved even the slightest bit.
At the moment, Josh was drawing. That was the only thing he could think to do to keep his mind from going back to an incredibly dark place. He was making extremely colourful and detailed portraits of Tyler, Abbie, Jordan, Ashley, and Frangipane with his crayons as he sat on the cement floor, surrounded by pages he'd torn out of his sketchbook. He'd purged all of the old pictures of his mom and dad, but even now, he kept looking down at drawings he'd started of Ashley and Jordan and seeing his parents staring back at him, forcing him to rip out more pages. Drawing Frangipane made the fresh wounds beneath the bandage on his forearm sting, so he stuck to drawing Tyler and Abbie. After a while, he was able to replace his other parents and siblings with Hoppus, Skye, Jack, and Xavier, which made him feel safe enough to draw Frangipane again.
He drew until his hands hurt, until his crayons were too short to be useful, until he only had ugly and unhelpful colours left, but then he used those too. Every time he tore out a page, the guard outside of his cell grabbed the nightstick on his belt, prepping himself to beat the shit out of Josh if he acted up. Josh wanted to go home. He wanted to be where Tyler was. He wanted Frangipane to come back so she could keep rubbing his back until he fell back to sleep, whispering how safe and loved he was as his eyelids got heavier and heavier. He wanted to be safe. He wanted to stop being so aware of the blue eyes watching him from outside of his cell, even if these ones were fearful and uncertain.
YOU ARE READING
Lockjaw (Joshler)
Hayran Kurgu"This is how it often goes, sold into captivity so long ago. This is how it often goes. God knows I would know." -Mothers (Lockjaw) As awful as it sounded, Josh's favourite letters were the ones that came from people who, for some reason, thought he...
