12

                                    

                                          
It was Wednesday, and it was raining. The droplets of water rolled down the glass Tyler was pressed up against, holding Tyler's fascination as he watched them fall. He would trace the raindrop with his index finger, shaking and unstable but capable. The window was cold against his skin, keeping him here in his room, here in a mental hospital, and here in life.
                          
And he hated that.
                          
After his incident, he'd been prescribed new antipsychotics with a higher dosage in an attempt to reign in Blurryface. Of course, Blurryface didn't like that idea and made Tyler ridiculously sick whenever he took them. Most of the time, Tyler was bent over the toilet puking up his stomach as punishment for trying to tame Blurryface, or he had vivid nightmares of horrible things happening to both him and everyone he cared about.
                          
The amount of time Tyler was able to spend with Josh was limited due to Blurryface, and the most time they'd spent with one another had been roughly an hour in the music room. The piano's keys and the micrhone were the few things that could calm the storm brewing inside of him, belting out his harm and danger with words Blurryface had etched into him.
                          
This lack of time bothered both Tyler and Blurryface as they only had four more days with Josh. Blurryface blamed Tyler for this, for taking his medicine and decided to punish both of them for Tyler's actions by making him sick. This, in return, made Tyler want to stop taking his medicine even though his doctors would punish him and Tyler would get worse, resulting in more time being sent in Tree Pine.
                          
Either way, Tyler was losing. And it drove him mad.
                          
At that thought, Tyler looked away from the window, looking down at his bare feet as he sat on the top of his desk. There were papers scattered everywhere. Some were underneath his body while others were crumpled and thrown aside. The ones that did matter were the ones Josh had, the ones that Tyler hid under the drums for Josh to find and read as they were not allowed to pass notes to other patients. Everything Tyler owned did not matter, not anymore. Not since Blurryface stopped giving him words to sing and Josh was left with the same songs and the same drums to play.
                          
Yet there was one paper the interested Tyler greatly. It was the one set by the window, words and ideas scribbled out hastily and hysterically yet some thoughts left out to fester, to ripen. Gingerly, Tyler took hold of it, looking over the lines with wide and curious eyes.
                          
The paper wasn't anything special under Tyler's eyes. There were random words written while other were shadowed by Tyler's distaste and disapproval. Some were circled and underlined, and Tyler hung upon those words the most. Blurryface stirred at the words written on the paper, untangling itself from the knots of Tyler's rusty and broken mind.
                          
What's that? 
                          
Tyler tried not to reply, squinting down to try and understand what he had meant to say with his hands. These weren't lyrics, no. But they were ideas, they were his thoughts. Tyler didn't remember what they were for, but the bold ideas stuck out to him like Josh's soft smile and the rain under the sun that afternoon.
                          
Tyler grabbed a pen he had stolen from a therapy session a few days prior to then, and grabbed the closest, emptiest paper he could. With a new, frantic need bursting in his chest as though it were dying star, Tyler scribbled and wrote as fast as he could.
                          
And when he was done, Blurryface sank back into the waves of his depression.
                          
' Goner'
                          
Tyler began to write.
                          
At lunch, Tyler was merely poking at his food with disinterest while Josh slowly ate his salad, watching the movie that was playing on the small TV. Tyler wasn't that hungry after writing down his thoughts and ideas, and when he saw Josh and realized they only had a few days left any hunger that he'd possessed had disappeared and evolved into hot anxiety. The thought of being the only one sitting at their normal table, eating shitty food with no one to complain about it too terrified him to no end.