Work Text
Tyler woke to the shrill blast of his phone’s obnoxious ringtone, the sound drilling through his skull like a jackhammer. He groaned, slamming a hand over the device to silence it. The room was dim, the light peeking through the curtains muted and gray. He didn’t feel rested at all, but the world didn’t wait for him to catch up.
He swung his legs out of bed, rubbing the remnants of sleep from his eyes as he shuffled to his suitcase. Today was going to be chaos. The second leg of the tour was kicking off, which meant an endless string of commitments: an interview in the afternoon, a packed show in the evening, and not a moment to himself in between.
The downside of being artists in demand, he thought bitterly, pulling on a clean shirt.
The only thing keeping him grounded was Josh. Always there. Always steady. Tyler relied on him more than he liked to admit, but Josh never seemed to mind. That quiet, unshakable presence was what kept Tyler afloat when the noise of it all became too much.
He let out a long breath, savoring the fleeting silence of the hotel room before stepping into the whirlwind.
When Tyler reached the hotel breakfast area, the usual buzz of activity greeted him—crew members chatting over coffee, roadies juggling schedules. A few people waved or called out, but Tyler’s eyes instinctively scanned the room for one person.
“Where’s Josh?” he asked, grabbing a plate and looking around.
“Went for a jog, I think,” someone answered, barely glancing up.
Sure enough, a few minutes later, Josh walked in, sweat darkening his shirt, hair damp against his forehead. He looked like he’d run a marathon, his breath still slightly uneven. Tyler lifted a hand in greeting, expecting Josh to come over.
But Josh barely acknowledged him, his eyes distant, clouded with something unreadable. Without a word, he headed straight for his room.
Weird.
Tyler frowned but shrugged it off. Maybe Josh felt gross and just needed a shower. He’d probably feel better after.
Except he didn’t.
Josh didn’t reappear for the rest of the morning. Tyler checked his phone a few times, tempted to text him, but something stopped him. He couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever was going on with Josh, it wasn’t something a text would fix.
When Josh finally did show up, it was just in time for the interview. Tyler spotted him coming down the hallway, shoulders hunched, hands shoved deep into his pockets.
“Where were you?” Tyler asked, his tone light but laced with curiosity.
Josh’s forehead creased. “Needed space,” he muttered, not quite meeting Tyler’s gaze.
“Tired of me already?” Tyler joked, hoping to draw out even the smallest laugh. But the words landed awkwardly, hanging in the air between them.
Josh didn’t respond, didn’t even smile.
For the first time, Tyler wondered if maybe he was right. Maybe Josh
was
tired of him. They spent nearly every waking moment together—onstage, in interviews, in cramped buses and hotel rooms. Sometimes it felt like too much, even for Tyler. So he could only imagine how suffocating it might be for someone like Josh, who thrived on quiet and solitude.
Still, something about the way Josh avoided his gaze, the way his hands fidgeted at his sides, set off alarms in Tyler’s head.
“Let’s just get this over with,” Josh said abruptly, heading toward the space set up for the interview.
The interview was a disaster.
Tyler could talk for hours if you gave him the space, and at first, he tried to cover for Josh’s silence. But it quickly became clear that Josh wasn’t just being quiet—he didn’t want to be there. His answers were clipped, his tone flat, his posture closed off.
Tyler tried to excuse it in his mind. Interviews were draining. Repeating the same answers to the same questions for months on end was enough to make anyone check out. But this was different.
Josh wasn’t just bored or tired. He looked like he was somewhere else entirely, his thoughts miles away.
By the end, the tension in the room was unbearable. Even the interviewer noticed, their polite smile faltering as they wrapped things up.
As soon as the interview ended, Tyler grabbed Josh by the shoulder before he could escape. The touch was firm but not forceful, a quiet plea for Josh to stay grounded.
“What was that?” Tyler asked, his voice soft but tight with concern.
Josh froze, his expression unreadable. “What was
what
?”
“Josh, please.” Tyler dropped his hand, his tone turning gentler. “What’s going on with you? Are you okay?”
Josh swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he looked down at the floor. Slowly, he stepped back, retreating from Tyler’s space.
“Can we talk after the concert?” he asked quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “Tonight. I—I need to talk to you.”
Tyler’s heart sank. The way Josh said it, the way his eyes finally met Tyler’s with that haunted look—it felt like a goodbye.
“Can’t we talk now?” Tyler pressed, his voice cracking slightly.
Josh hesitated, his mouth opening as if to say something, but then he shook his head. “Not now.”
Before Tyler could argue, Josh turned and walked away, leaving Tyler standing in the empty room, the weight of the unspoken words pressing down on his chest like a stone.
For anyone watching, the show was electric—a whirlwind of energy, lights, and sound that drew the crowd into a collective euphoria. But for Tyler, it was pure agony. He was moving, singing, dancing, but inside, he felt like he was clawing at the edges of something slipping away.
Josh.
Josh, who was always his constant. His anchor. But tonight, Josh felt like a ghost. His usual grounding presence was absent, replaced by something evasive, fleeting. For the first time, Tyler couldn’t shake the feeling that Josh didn’t want to be found.
He tried to push the thought away, forcing himself to focus on the crowd. He let their voices, their energy, drown out the ache in his chest. He screamed at the top of his lungs, danced harder, laughed louder. Anything to forget the way Josh’s distant stare had lingered all night, like he wasn’t really
there
.
But no amount of stage lights or screaming fans could distract him from the dread pooling in his stomach.
When the show ended, Tyler lingered.
He chatted with the crew, paced backstage, fussed with his gear—anything to delay the inevitable. Because whatever Josh had to say, Tyler didn’t want to hear it. Not tonight. Not when his chest already felt tight with unspoken fears.
But avoiding it wasn’t an option. Josh found him in a quiet corner of the venue, his face tense, his hands shoved deep into his hoodie pockets.
Tyler’s heart sank.
“So, what did you want to talk about?” he asked, his voice steady, though it felt like his throat was closing.
Josh hesitated, shifting his weight like he was searching for an escape. “There’s no easy way to say this, Tyler. And believe me, I wish... I wish things were different.”
“You’re starting to freak me out, man,” Tyler said, forcing a smile that barely stretched across his face.
Josh swallowed hard, his jaw clenching. “I’m quitting, Tyler. I can’t keep doing this.”
The words hit like a sucker punch, leaving Tyler momentarily winded. He blinked, trying to process what he’d just heard. Josh was always there. Josh couldn’t leave.
“What are you talking about?” Tyler asked, his voice breaking slightly.
“I’m sorry,” Josh said, his tone soft but resolute. “I need to leave. I’ll finish the tour, don’t worry, but after that... I’m done.”
“No,” Tyler said, the word sharp, almost instinctual. “No, you can’t. You
can’t
leave.”
Josh’s face tightened, but he didn’t look away.
“Josh, you can’t just... What the hell is this? When did you decide this?” Tyler’s words came fast, laced with anger he couldn’t contain. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to drop this on him now, to pull the rug out from under him like this.
“I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” Josh admitted quietly, his voice heavy with something that sounded like guilt.
“Then you should’ve told me!” Tyler’s voice rose, his frustration boiling over. “You should’ve—God, Josh, you can’t just
decide
something like this and expect me to be okay with it!”
“Tyler—”
“No!” Tyler cut him off, his chest heaving as he struggled to keep his composure. “This isn’t fair. This isn’t fair to me, to the band, to
us
. You don’t just get to walk away!”
Josh’s expression hardened, his voice steeling. “I
am
walking away, Tyler. And you need to accept that.”
“I’m not accepting it!” Tyler snapped, his anger spilling over. “It doesn’t even make sense, Josh! You love this band—you love—” He stopped himself, the words catching in his throat.
Josh flinched, his shoulders stiffening. “It’s not sudden, Tyler. I’ve been trying to figure this out for a long time.”
Tyler’s laugh was bitter, sharp. “Oh, so you’ve been keeping this from me for months? Great. That’s just
great
.”
“Tyler, I didn’t want to hurt you,” Josh said, his voice softening, a crack of emotion slipping through.
“Well, too late for that, isn’t it?” Tyler shot back, his words venomous. The betrayal burned through him, scorching everything in its path.
Josh’s face fell, his expression a mix of guilt and hurt. For a moment, Tyler thought he might say something, but then his jaw tightened, and he nodded stiffly.
“Fine,” Josh said, his voice low, almost defeated. “If that’s how you feel, maybe I should leave now.”
“Maybe you should,” Tyler bit out, his anger masking the ache in his chest.
Josh stared at him, his expression unreadable, before turning on his heel and walking away.
Tyler watched him go, his heart pounding, his stomach sinking. He felt like he’d just torn something apart with his bare hands, and the worst part was, he couldn’t tell who was to blame anymore.
Tyler woke to the shrill blast of his phone’s obnoxious ringtone, the jarring sound splitting through the haze of his restless mind. He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face as fragments of the night before flooded back into his thoughts—the fight, the anger, the unbearable ache of Josh’s words. But something felt… off. He reached for his phone, blinking hard at the screen.
January fourteenth.
He froze. His heart thudded painfully in his chest. Hadn’t yesterday been January fourteenth too? He squinted at the date again, his pulse racing.
“Did I… dream it?” he muttered under his breath. The idea felt absurd, but the details of the argument were so vivid, too real to be something conjured in sleep. Yet, the very thought that Josh wasn’t actually leaving sent a wave of relief washing over him, loosening the knot in his chest. He exhaled deeply.
It was just a bad dream. That’s all.
Determined to shake it off, Tyler pushed himself out of bed and headed downstairs. He was going to make the most of this day. He’d tell Josh about the stupidly dramatic nightmare and laugh about it over breakfast. Maybe tease Josh a little about jogging too much or something—anything to ground himself back in reality.
But as he glanced around, Josh was nowhere to be found. Tyler frowned.
“Where’s Josh?” he asked someone from the crew, trying to keep his tone casual.
“Went for a jog, I think,” they answered without looking up.
A chill prickled the back of Tyler’s neck. He stiffened, the words eerily familiar, like an echo bouncing off the walls of his mind. His hand went to his hair, raking through it in frustration as unease crept under his skin. No, it couldn’t be. It wasn’t real.
He sat down with a cup of coffee, trying to steady his thoughts. This was fine. Completely fine. Josh would walk in soon, give him that casual, goofy wave, and everything would go back to normal. He’d been stressed, that’s all. It was just stress messing with his head.
But when Josh finally appeared, Tyler’s stomach sank.
Josh’s posture was identical to the dream—or whatever it was—his shoulders tense, his expression distant, his eyes not even glancing in Tyler’s direction. Tyler waved at him, hoping for a sign, a break in the pattern, anything. But Josh barely acknowledged him before heading upstairs.
Tyler swallowed hard, his chest tightening. This wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be.
The day unraveled just as it had before. By the time Josh arrived for the interview, looking sullen and withdrawn, Tyler’s initial relief had long since burned away, replaced by the simmering anger he remembered all too well.
He knew what was coming. He knew Josh had already made up his mind.
The interview was unbearable. Josh was quiet, his answers clipped, his mind clearly somewhere else. And Tyler? He couldn’t stop himself from being curt, his words snapping out like a whip. The tension between them was thick enough to choke on, leaving the interviewer shifting awkwardly in their seat, trying to wrap things up as quickly as possible.
When it was finally over, Tyler all but bolted from his chair, only for Josh to grab his arm as they left the room.
“What’s up with you?” Josh asked, his brow furrowed.
Tyler felt the rage bubbling up, too overwhelming to contain. He jerked his arm free. “What’s up with me?!” he spat, his voice rising. “What’s up with you, Josh? Why the hell are you throwing all of this away? Everything we’ve built together?”
Josh took a step back, his expression caught between confusion and defensiveness. “What are you even talking about?”
“Don’t play dumb with me!” Tyler snarled, stepping closer. “You already decided, didn’t you? You’re leaving. You’re walking away, and you couldn’t even tell me to my face.”
Josh’s face hardened. “You think yelling at me like this is helping?” he said, his tone icy.
“Fuck you!” Tyler shouted, the words tearing from his throat before he could stop them.
He stormed off, his vision blurred by the sting of tears. He hated this. He hated how powerless he felt, hated how angry he was at Josh for leaving, and at himself for reacting this way. He hated that the universe was cruel enough to make him relive it, to rub salt into the wound twice over.
Tyler woke to the shrill blast of his phone’s ringtone. His eyes shot open, his chest heaving.
He grabbed his phone with trembling hands. January fourteenth.
“No,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “No, no, no. I can’t do this. I can’t do this again.
His heart sank as the realization hit him. He hadn’t escaped anything. He was looping, trapped in this nightmare, stuck reliving the same damn day. The same pain. The same fight.
And he had no idea how to stop it.
Tyler didn’t head downstairs this time. He couldn’t. The weight of the last two loops bore down on him, anchoring him to his bed. His head dropped into his hands, fingers clutching at his hair as the memories replayed again and again.
Josh wanted to leave. He was tired of it all.
Tyler rubbed his face, trying to make sense of it, but all he felt was frustration and hurt. Why hadn’t he seen the signs? Why hadn’t Josh talked to him about it? Touring was exhausting, sure, but giving it all up? Walking away from everything they’d built together?
Walking away from him?
The thought made his chest tighten, his breath shallow. It wasn’t just the band, was it? It was Josh leaving him.
That’s the problem, he realized. That’s what had blinded him—the fear of being abandoned. He groaned and fell back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. He’d been so wrapped up in his own feelings, so consumed by his anger and panic, that he hadn’t stopped to think about what Josh might be going through. Maybe it wasn’t Tyler’s fault. Maybe it wasn’t even about him.
But Josh leaving his drums? That didn’t make sense. Josh loved music. He loved performing. So what was really going on?
Tyler sat up abruptly, running a hand through his hair. He couldn’t lose Josh, not without trying. If he was careful—if he handled this right—maybe he could change his mind. They just needed time together, away from all the noise and stress. Something to remind Josh of how good things could be.
He grabbed his phone and quickly typed out an email to the interviewer, canceling the appointment. It wasn’t exactly a great excuse—“Tyler’s sick, sorry, can’t make it”—but it didn’t matter. What mattered was using the time they’d gained to fix this.
Snacks in hand, Tyler made his way to Josh’s room. He knocked eagerly, his heart pounding as the door opened to reveal Josh, towel draped over his damp hair, basketball shorts slung low on his hips.
Josh blinked at him in surprise. “Ty? What’s up?”
“Got you snacks,” Tyler said, forcing a bright smile. He held up the bag, feeling oddly like a kid bringing an olive branch to a playground argument. “Thought we could hang out, play some video games or something.”
Josh frowned, glancing over his shoulder. “Aren’t we supposed to have an interview soon?”
“Nah, I canceled it,” Tyler said, trying to sound casual. “Figured we deserved a break, you know? Just us.”
Josh’s brows shot up. “Oh.”
The reaction wasn’t what Tyler had expected. He’d imagined Josh would light up, maybe crack a joke, let the tension between them dissolve. But Josh still looked distant, his eyes clouded with something unreadable.
“Can I come in, or are you hiding something?” Tyler tried to joke, though his voice wavered under the weight of Josh’s silence.
Josh hesitated, his fingers tightening on the edge of the door. “I… Look, Tyler, I really appreciate it. I mean it. Canceling the interview was nice of you. I just… I’m exhausted, man. I kinda just want to nap or do nothing for a bit.”
Tyler’s smile faltered, but he quickly plastered it back on. “Oh, right. Yeah, no worries. Another time, I guess.”
Josh offered a small, almost apologetic smile. “Yeah. Another time.”
They stood there for a moment, the silence heavy between them. Josh looked conflicted, glancing back into his room before meeting Tyler’s eyes again. He licked his lips, hesitating before speaking.
“We need to talk, Tyler,” he said quietly.
Tyler froze. His heart dropped. “Really?” His voice cracked despite himself.
“Not right now,” Josh said quickly, his tone soft but firm. “After the show. Is that okay?”
Tyler nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you want, Josh.”
Josh nodded in return, the door clicking shut behind him. Tyler stared at it, the bag of snacks still in his hand.
Not yet, he thought. It wasn’t over yet. He could still fix this.
He would make the show unforgettable. He’d hype Josh up, joke around with him, remind him how good it felt to be side by side, doing what they loved. He could still prove to Josh that this life—their life—was worth holding onto.
The show was incredible. For a fleeting moment, Tyler believed he’d done it. Josh was laughing behind his drum kit, the rhythm tight and alive, the energy electric between them. Josh was here—really here with him. It would be okay now. It had to be.
“It was great!” Tyler said as they walked offstage, the adrenaline still thrumming in his veins. He turned, grinning at Josh, desperate to hold onto the high of the performance.
Josh nodded, wiping sweat from his brow. “Yeah, it was.”
But his tone made Tyler’s stomach drop. The way he said it, soft and sure, sent a chill down his spine. There was something final in his voice, something that made Tyler’s grin falter.
Josh’s eyes gave it away. They weren’t conflicted anymore—they were calm, resolved. He looked at peace, and that scared Tyler more than anything. He hadn’t changed a damn thing.
If anything, he’d made it worse.
Tyler’s chest tightened as Josh’s words broke through his spiraling thoughts: “I think it’s time we talk, Ty’.”
His voice was gentle, but Tyler’s heart was already racing. He didn’t want to hear this. He wasn’t ready.
Josh led him to a quieter corner backstage, away from the bustling crew. The hum of cases being packed and cables coiled faded into the background. Tyler stood frozen, every muscle tense, waiting for the blow, waiting for the end of everything.
Josh inhaled deeply, like he was steadying himself. “I love you.”
Tyler blinked, his mind grinding to a halt. That wasn’t part of the script. That wasn’t what Josh was supposed to say right now.
His mouth opened to speak, but Josh raised a hand to stop him. “Let me finish.”
Tyler shut his mouth, the words tangled on his tongue.
“You know that, right? You’re my best friend. You’re… everything. But this…” Josh gestured at the crew around them, at the chaos of the tour, the cases stamped with their logo. “It’s becoming too much. And I don’t think I can do it much longer.”
His voice cracked, and Tyler’s stomach clenched. He couldn’t look away, even though he wanted to. It was like watching a slow-motion crash, knowing the impact was inevitable.
“I don’t want you to think this is about you,” Josh added quickly, his eyes searching Tyler’s face. “It’s not. Somehow, today—you made it easier. You gave me space. You gave me an amazing show. But…” His breath hitched. “It’s time for me to stop.”
He swallowed hard, his voice thick with emotion. “We’ll finish this leg of the tour, of course. And I’ll still be your friend. But I just… I can’t do this anymore. I’m leaving Twenty One Pilots.”
Tyler’s breath hitched as the words landed, heavy and final. His chest ached, and his throat tightened like he was being strangled.
“But it’s you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. His words came hoarse and raw, like they’d been clawed out of him. “It’s you and me. Twenty One Pilots, it’s us. I don’t…” His voice cracked, and he looked at Josh, desperate. “Stay with me, Josh. Please.”
Josh’s expression softened, and he reached out, as if he wanted to comfort Tyler but didn’t know how. “Tyler…” he tried, offering a small, broken smile.
“No,” Tyler choked out. His hands trembled, his vision blurring as he fought the tears threatening to spill. “No.”
“This isn’t me asking,” Josh said gently, though there was a quiet firmness in his tone. “This is me telling you what I need.”
There was something in the way he said it—a subtle reproach, a quiet reminder that Tyler hadn’t been listening, not really. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe that was why everything was falling apart.
Tyler’s knees felt weak. He closed his eyes, shutting out the world for a moment, shutting out Josh’s voice, shutting out the truth he didn’t want to face.
He’d messed up. As a bandmate. As a friend. And now it was too late to fix it.
Tyler woke to the shrill blast of his phone’s ringtone. He cried.
How many times? How many versions of Josh leaving would he have to endure?
His chest was heavy, his breath ragged, his pillow already damp with tears. He grabbed his phone and hurled it across the room, watching it splinter against the wall. Bits of plastic scattered across the floor, a physical reflection of how he felt inside—fractured, broken.
The scream bubbled up before he could stop it, muffled only by the pillow he pressed to his face. It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair.
How could he keep waking up to this same torment, knowing it ended the same way every time? Josh saying, “I love you,” only to rip everything apart moments later. Those words used to mean comfort, safety. Now they were a knife, twisting in his chest.
He curled under the blankets, pulling them over his head as if they could shield him from the inevitable. Maybe he could just stay here. Holed up. If he didn’t face the world, then Josh couldn’t leave.
But the world refused to leave him alone.
By midday, the incessant buzzing of his cracked phone filled the room, each vibration like a needle under his skin. People came knocking on the door—bandmates, management, crew. Their voices were muffled, but he knew what they wanted. Answers.
He couldn’t give them any.
The blanket felt safe, but it wasn’t impenetrable. The walls he’d built around himself wouldn’t hold forever, and as evening crept closer, the knocks grew more frequent.
“Tyler?”
Josh’s voice, gentle but firm, broke through.
“It’s almost time for the show. Can you… Can you open the door, please?”
The handle rattled, but no one came in. Tyler’s stomach clenched. If management got involved, they’d force their way in eventually, and he’d have no choice but to face Josh.
With shaking hands, he crawled out of bed and shuffled to the door. He unlocked it and stepped back. Josh entered cautiously, closing the door behind him.
Tyler took one look at him—hair slightly tousled, concern etched into his features—and everything crumbled.
He threw himself into Josh’s arms, gripping him like a lifeline. His face buried in Josh’s neck, his breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps.
“Tyler, hey…” Josh’s arms came around him, steady and grounding. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”
The question broke something in Tyler. A sob tore out of him, raw and ugly, shaking his whole body. Josh tightened his hold, murmuring soothing words Tyler couldn’t process.
“I don’t want you to leave,” Tyler choked out, the words muffled against Josh’s skin. “I don’t know how to handle it. Tell me what to do. Tell me how to fix it.”
Josh stilled, and for a moment, the silence was deafening.
“Ty…” Josh’s voice was soft, resigned. “There’s nothing to fix.”
Tyler pulled back just enough to look at him, his tear-streaked face tilted up to meet Josh’s gaze.
Josh sighed, his brows furrowed in thought. “This isn’t about you. It’s about me. I don’t feel at home in this anymore. The touring, the press, all of it—it’s too much. I don’t want to keep pushing until I hate it. Until I hate
us.
”
The words hit Tyler like a punch to the gut. His arms loosened, but he didn’t let go entirely.
“I can’t bring you down with me,” Josh continued, his eyes softening. “These feelings are my responsibility. I can’t ask you to carry them for me.”
Tyler stared at him, searching for something—anything—in Josh’s expression that he could latch onto, something that would tell him this wasn’t final. But all he found was empathy, worry, and unwavering resolve.
And in that moment, something inside Tyler snapped.
Maybe it was desperation, or maybe it was the knowledge that the loop would reset again and again, robbing him of anything to lose. He surged forward, capturing Josh’s lips in a kiss.
It was messy, uncoordinated—a frantic, clinging thing born of panic rather than love.
Josh froze, his body stiffening under Tyler’s touch. He didn’t kiss back.
When Tyler finally pulled away, his breathing labored, Josh’s face was unreadable.
“I canceled the show,” Josh said after a long pause, his voice tight and controlled. “I let them know we wouldn’t be performing tonight.”
The words didn’t register at first. Tyler blinked, his mind struggling to keep up.
Josh took a step back, his fists clenching at his sides. “I’m leaving, Tyler. That’s final.”
“Josh—”
“No.” Josh’s voice wavered, but his tone was firm. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to kiss me like that—to
trick
me like that—just to make me stay.”
He turned and walked to the door. His steps were hurried, his movements tense, but the way he shut the door was heartbreakingly soft.
Tyler stood in the silence that followed, his chest heaving, his vision blurred by tears. He collapsed back onto the bed, the storm inside him raging louder than ever.
For the first time, he didn’t want the loop to reset.
“Let it all go to shit,” he whispered into the darkness, his voice breaking.
Tyler woke to the shrill blast of his phone’s ringtone. Of course.
It couldn’t be that easy. He couldn’t just wish for it to stop.
He didn’t move, his eyes locked on the ceiling, his chest heavy with the weight of memories from the last loop. The kiss he had stolen from Josh burned in his mind—a desperate, unfair attempt to hold onto something slipping away.
It hadn’t worked.
From all the outcomes, it had felt like the worst. They hadn’t yelled, but something deeper, something
fragile
, had cracked between them. Tyler could still see the way Josh’s face hardened as he walked out of the room. The disappointment in his voice.
Tyler exhaled slowly, forcing his breath into a steady rhythm. He needed to think. To be rational.
If the loop kept happening, then maybe it wasn’t pointless. Maybe it was a God-given chance—a lesson he was supposed to learn. He couldn’t waste it.
“Okay,” he whispered, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Let’s do it right this time.”
Josh loved him, but he also wanted to leave because everything—the touring, the press, the constant scrutiny—was too much. It wasn’t about Tyler, no matter how much it felt like it was. Josh had said as much in every version of this conversation.
The thought stung, but it also brought clarity.
Tyler sat up, scrubbing his face with his hands. So what now? Was he just supposed to watch Josh go? To enjoy the last leg of the tour and then let him walk away? It felt wrong—empty—but maybe that
was
the answer.
He glanced at the clock. Dawn was breaking, the faint glow of sunlight creeping into the room.
“Do it right this time,” he repeated to himself.
Tyler waited outside the hotel, the cool morning air biting at his skin. The sun was barely up, and the world felt still, peaceful. Birds chirped softly in the trees lining the sidewalk.
He spotted Josh before he heard him, jogging down the street, his hoodie darkened with sweat. Tyler’s breath hitched, the memory of yesterday still raw in his mind. Shame flushed his cheeks.
Josh slowed as he approached, his face shifting from focus to surprise.
“Oh, hey,” he said, breathing heavily. “Were you waiting for me?”
Tyler nodded. “Yeah, I… I needed to talk to you.”
Josh frowned, glancing toward the hotel door. “Can I take a shower first?”
Tyler hesitated, the momentum he’d built threatening to slip away. Josh must have noticed his hesitation because he sighed and sat down on the curb, his breath still labored.
“It can wait,” he said with a shrug. “Come on, tell me.”
Tyler sat beside him, feeling awkward but determined. The crisp air stung his lungs as he inhaled deeply, steadying himself. Josh’s breath made little clouds in the cold, fading quickly into the morning.
“I know you want to leave,” Tyler said quietly.
Josh’s head snapped toward him, his eyes wide with worry. He opened his mouth to argue, but Tyler raised a hand to stop him.
“No, just… let me talk, okay?”
Josh closed his mouth, his expression conflicted but obedient.
“I know you want to leave,” Tyler repeated. “Don’t ask me how I know—I just do. And… I really want to understand why. I know I can’t fix it. I know you’re already decided, and I can’t change your mind. But… please, let’s talk about it. I don’t want it to fester between us.”
Josh swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he looked away.
“It’s not your fault,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while. It’s just… hard. I’m tired. I miss my family. I still love our music, but the press, the constant touring, the fans—it’s a lot. And I don’t want you to stop making music, so… I’m just going to leave. We can still hang out. You’re still my friend, and I still lo—”
Josh cut himself off, his cheeks flushing slightly.
Tyler’s ears perked up at the almost-spill, but he didn’t push. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
Josh sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. “Because I thought it would pass. That it was just a phase or something and I’d get back on track. And I didn’t want to disappoint you.”
His voice cracked slightly as he looked at Tyler, his eyes pleading. “I was so scared of your reaction. I kept putting it off. Until today—I knew I’d tell you today.”
Tyler exhaled slowly, his chest tightening with guilt. Josh had been scared, and
rightfully so
. Tyler’s initial reactions had been cruel—angry, venomous. He’d yelled, lashed out, turned Josh’s fear into reality.
“I’m sorry,” Tyler said quietly, closing his eyes for a moment.
“Are you mad?” Josh asked cautiously.
Tyler shook his head. “No. Not at you.” He hesitated. “When I first found out… yeah, I was mad. Furious, even. But I didn’t understand then.”
Josh’s expression softened. “Do you now?”
“I think so,” Tyler admitted. “I’m just scared of being without you. You’re the one who keeps me grounded, remember?”
Josh’s lips twitched into a faint smile.
“I’m not trying to guilt-trip you,” Tyler added quickly. “You’ve made your choice, and I respect it. I’ll just… have to learn to make do without you.”
Josh nodded, his gaze dropping to the pavement.
Tyler stared at him, the ache in his chest dull but persistent. This was it—the end of the loop. They’d talked it through, found peace. He’d make the rest of the tour unforgettable for Josh, and when it was over, he’d let him go.
It would be fine.
He had to be fine with it.
Tyler woke to the shrill blast of his phone’s ringtone.
“No,” he muttered, slamming the phone.
The sound died abruptly, leaving him staring at the ceiling.
Why?
Why had the loop reset? He had been at peace with all of it—the music, Josh leaving, all of it. So why? He groaned, frustration prickling his skin.
This time, it wasn’t grief that weighed him down. It was exhaustion. He didn’t know if he could sit through another conversation with Josh. He’d felt like he’d done everything right the last time—he’d listened, accepted, supported. What if he messed it up again?
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Tyler forced himself out of bed. He canceled the morning interview and got dressed mechanically, his mind elsewhere. Did he do the same thing as last time? Confront Josh early, talk it all out? Or was there something else?
He scratched his head, pacing the room. If the loop had reset, it must mean he’d missed something. A choice. A moment.
He paused mid-step, a new thought cutting through the noise in his head:
What about me?
Josh had his reasons for wanting to leave—valid reasons. And Tyler had accepted them. But he’d never asked himself what
he
wanted.
He froze as the realization sank in.
He didn’t just want Josh to stay. He wanted to be with him—to stand by his side, no matter what. If Josh needed a break, Tyler could take one too. They could stop together.
Warmth bloomed in his chest as the idea took root, spreading through his body like sunlight. It felt so simple now. So obvious.
Why didn’t I think of this before?
The truth was, he’d been so caught up in holding onto the music—onto everything they’d built—that he hadn’t stopped to consider what it was costing him. He wasn’t invincible. He was tired too. He always told himself it was the good kind of tired, but his aching body and the constant buzz of anxiety told a different story.
And he had
snapped
—truly snapped—when Josh told him he was leaving. That wasn’t normal. That wasn’t who he was.
His laugh came out shaky, nerves and relief tangled together. The weight of it all finally slammed into him, grounding him, but leaving him lighter than he’d felt in weeks.
He knew what he needed to do now.
Tyler didn’t search for Josh that morning. He let him have his peace, deciding to focus on himself instead. He stretched, meditated, and tried to be present in his own body for the first time in weeks. He listened to the tension in his shoulders, the dull throb in his head, and let it remind him why this mattered.
By the time the evening rolled around, he felt clearer, more grounded.
At the venue, Tyler spotted Josh from across the room. They hadn’t spoken much all day, but when their eyes met, Tyler smiled—a warm, genuine smile that he hadn’t realized he’d missed wearing.
Josh blinked, visibly startled, then looked away quickly.
“We’ll need to talk after the show,” Josh said later, his voice low and hesitant.
“Yeah, sure,” Tyler replied, brushing his fingers lightly over Josh’s hand as he passed. It was a fleeting gesture, but it carried weight—an unspoken
I’m here. We’re okay.
Josh’s shoulders relaxed ever so slightly.
The show was electric.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Tyler let himself
be
. He bounced across the stage, grinning from ear to ear, his voice soaring over the crowd. The weight that had been pressing on him for so long seemed to melt away in the lights and the beat of the music.
When it was over, he didn’t hesitate.
As they walked off stage, Tyler reached for Josh’s hand, threading their fingers together and tugging him toward a quiet corner backstage.
Josh looked surprised but followed silently.
When they stopped, Tyler turned to face him. “I’m listening to you,” he said softly.
Josh’s lips trembled. For a moment, he seemed to be holding it together, but then the dam broke.
Tears spilled down his face as he started talking—halting at first, then pouring everything out.
He told Tyler how he’d been carrying this for so long, how he loved the music, the fans, the shows—but it was too much. The touring, the interviews, the constant pressure to perform—it was crushing him.
“I’m so scared,” he choked out, his shoulders shaking. “Scared that I’ll wake up one day and hate it. Hate you. I’d rather quit now than ruin everything we’ve built. And I’m so fucking sorry. I should’ve told you sooner, but I was terrified. I didn’t want to let you down.”
Tyler didn’t let go of his hand the entire time.
When Josh finally stopped, his chest heaving and his eyes rimmed red, Tyler gave his hand a gentle squeeze.
“It’s okay, Josh,” he said, his voice steady.
Josh looked up at him, his expression raw and vulnerable.
“Let’s take a break,” Tyler said, the words coming out easier than he expected.
Josh blinked, confusion flickering across his face. “What?”
“After this leg of the tour,” Tyler clarified. “Let’s go home. Take time for ourselves. Maybe we’ll come back. Maybe we won’t. But let’s stop. Let’s take care of ourselves. Together.”
Josh stared at him, his lips parting as if to protest, but no words came.
Finally, he nodded, a single tear slipping down his cheek. “Together?”
“Together,” Tyler said firmly.
Josh let out a shaky laugh, and for the first time in days, Tyler felt like they were both on the same page.
It wasn’t the end. It was a beginning.