Archive of Our Own

Josh looked at his friend in disbelief.

Tyler was standing on his doorstep with a duffle bag across his shoulder, a backpack on his back, and the rain soaking through his clothes. His sweatshirt used to be baby blue— Josh knew that one, that used to be his— but now it was a dark navy.

“Hi?” Josh asked. Jim weaved through Tyler's legs happily.

“Can I come in?”

Josh stepped aside. Tyler walked in and dumped his bags on the ground, not making eye contact with his friend.

“Can I stay here for a bit?”

“Sure?” Josh said, like a question. “Did something happen?”

Debby was gone for the week, in LA for filming. Josh was looking forward to having the house to himself and Jim, living on his own time with no responsibilities (at least until the day before Debby flew back; then his main responsibility would be cleaning up). But it looked like the universe had other plans.

“We had a fight.” Tyler looked at his soaked shoes. He kicked them off his feet. “I didn’t want to sleep in my truck.”

“What did you do?” Josh asked.

Tyler just stared blankly at him.

“Fine. Uh, guest bedroom’s open,” Josh said, a bit uncomfortable. “Deb’s gone for the week.”

Tyler headed for the stairs, dragging his stuff with him. Josh watched his retreating back and closed the front door. He leaned against it for a second, debating whether to call Jenna, but decided against it and climbed the stairs after Tyler. Jim followed.

“What’s going on?” Josh asked, standing in the doorway.

Tyler was in the midst of pulling off his wet clothing. He stopped and turned around, his back to Josh. “I’m changing.”

Josh sighed and turned around. “What happened?” he repeated.

“We yelled at each other,” Tyler said plainly, muffled by some clothing. The sound of soggy cloth hitting the hardwood floor made Josh cringe.

“About what?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Josh chanced a look behind him; Tyler had pulled on a dry shirt and sweatpants from his duffle bag. He picked up the mass of wet clothing and threw it in the ensuite bathroom’s bathtub. Josh followed.

“I said, I don’t want to talk about it,” Tyler reiterated. He didn’t sound too upset, but Tyler had gotten quite good at hiding through the years.

“Can we talk about it in the morning?” Josh asked. It was late, after all. He wanted to wake up early to run.

“Fine. Yeah. I’m going to bed,” Tyler dismissed. “Night.”

Tyler near pushed Josh out the bedroom door.

The next morning, Josh woke up at six to go for a run with Jim. Tyler was sleeping when he got back, so he made breakfast and set aside a few pieces of toast for him. He fed Jim and waited.

And waited.

He ended up putting the toast in the fridge at ten.

At twelve, Josh used the leftover toast to make a sandwich for Tyler, leaving it in the counter. When he was done his own lunch of left over stir fry from his takeout dinner yesterday, he left a sticky note saying that he was taking Jim for a walk, and walked out the door with his companion.

An hour later, Josh threw out the sticky note and put the sandwich back in the fridge. His heart was pounding in his throat as he considered a new possibility, one that made his anxiety skyrocket. He shakily walked up the stairs and gently pushed open the guest room door.

Tyler was sprawled out on the bed, on his stomach, his head squished between two pillows. He had dried tears on his cheeks and was breathing deeply. The curtains were drawn so that minimal light entered the room, but still; it was almost two in the afternoon and he had never known Tyler to be a deep sleeper.

Satisfied that his friend was alive, Josh gently closed the door and went back downstairs. It was almost the end of April and Debby loved to garden, so he took advantage of the mild weather to rake up debris that the snow had carried over from winter.

Around five, Tyler finally stumbled down the stairs. Josh looked up from the couch he had been sitting on for two hours or so, watching cooking shows, and stood up in surprise.

Tyler’s hair was sticking up in all places. His eyes looked dull and lifeless, and paired with his pale winter complexion and heavy eye bags, he looked almost dead. He had a grey sweater on with the drawstrings tied in a bow and the same black sweatpants he had worn the night before.

“How did you sleep that long?” Josh asked. Jim went up to Tyler and sniffed at him, expecting pets that Tyler didn’t give him.

“Sleeping pills,” Tyler mumbled.

Josh felt his heart drop; he was clearly abusing them with the amount of hours he slept.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Tyler turned and walked to the kitchen.

Josh followed and got the sandwich out from the fridge; the bread was soggy and the lettuce was wilted. Tyler sat at the table and stared at it for a minute before picking it up gingerly. Jim laid down on the floor beside him, using Tyler’s left foot as a pillow.

“I relapsed,” Tyler said, then took a bite out of his sandwich like it was no big deal.

“What?” Josh said, his mouth moving before he could think. He cleared his throat and sat opposite Tyler, his hands splayed on the table. “Sorry. Why?”

Tyler shrugged. He put the sandwich down and made no move to pick it back up.

“How bad is it?” Josh tried to come up with a hierarchy of priorities: safety, reason, prevention? That seemed like a start. “Do you need, like, medical attention?”

Tyler shook his head.

“What did you use? Do you have it with you?” Josh asked next.

Tyler held a staring contest with his sandwich.

“Is there anything you can tell me?” Josh had to hold himself back from grabbing Tyler’s shoulders and shaking some sense into him.

Tyler continued to stare at his sandwich.

About five long, silent minutes later, Tyler stood up. Jim backed away. “I’m going to bed.”

“Walk Jim with me,” Josh said, also standing up.

“I’m okay,” Tyler answered, staring down at the dog.

“C’mon,” Josh pressed.

Tyler nodded and made way for the front door, Jim and Josh close behind.

Outside, the first few robins were flying around, chirping loudly, talking with the doves and chickadees. Jim walked obediently ahead of them both, his leash loose (Josh had spent a month straight teaching him not to pull), staring at the squirrels with mild interest. Tyler had his hands in his sweater pockets. His head was tilted to the ground, watching his steps. His eyelashes were clumped with barely-there tears. He sniffled a bit, whether it be because of the chill or emotion, Josh didn’t ask.

Mid-spring was muddy and unpredictable. It seemed that the trees knew that, holding onto their buds for just a little longer to protect them from the frost that was sure to come. The sky was grey, growing darker as the sun set later and later each day (to Josh’s delight). Josh took a deep breath and let the cool, wet air fill his lungs. Tyler only had eyes for the sidewalk.

Forty-five minutes later, they reached the house again. Josh wiped down Jim’s paws as Tyler kicked off his shoes and wordlessly went to the guest bedroom.

An hour later, as Josh was eating his own dinner, he got a text from Tyler.

Tyler: she’s mad at me because i have a wife and a kid, and i never tell her stuff. and i don’t trust her. and that’s not how marriage works.

Josh put down the spoon back into the soup bowl.

Josh: want me to talk to her?

Tyler: no
Tyler: she’s right

Josh: have you talked to her since?

Tyler: yeah
Tyler: she’s leaving me on read

Ouch. Josh cringed.

Josh: what did you say?

Tyler didn’t respond, so Josh finished his soup and washed the dishes. He watched some hockey on the tv, sat on the ground with Jim curled up beside him, still awaiting a response that didn’t come. Josh gave up and went to bed.

In the middle of the night, Josh woke up to the sound of a creaking floorboard. Already lying on his back, he glanced at the doorway– he kept the door open so Jim could come and go as he pleased– and noticed a humanoid figure, backlit by the moonlight flooding in from the hallway; the sky must’ve cleared up.

Josh let Tyler stand there and internally debate for two minutes until he got creeped out. “What’s up?” he croaked, his voice gruff from disuse.

Tyler startled a bit, then took one step in. “Nothing.”

Josh waited. Tyler took one more step in before pausing, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Josh couldn’t see his face, but he knew the look Tyler wore when he wanted comfort that he didn’t feel he deserved; eyebrows knitted together, eyes downcast, a bitten lower lip.

Josh wordlessly rolled over and held the blanket up as an invitation. Tyler joined him, falling into the bed. The mattress groaned under their shared weight, but it settled eventually, along with Josh’s bones and worries.

They fell back asleep, side by side.

–

Josh’s alarm went off early that morning, and he spooked himself a little when he saw Tyler on the other side of the bed; he had forgotten about him. Tyler grumbled and rolled over as Josh threw the blankets off and got changed into his running gear.

Jim and him completed a lap around the neighbourhood, totalling to a quick 5 miles. It was sunny out today; the birds were alive, the sun was warm, and the morning dew was making Josh’s socks wet. His lungs burned in the cool air and he timed his breathing with his steps, feeling the water squish through the fabric. He left footprints alongside Jim’s.

Josh returned and wiped Jim’s paws again; Jim hated boots. He heard the shower running and instead of stressing out the water heater, Josh decided to make breakfast until Tyler was done. He took off his shoes and socks and slipped into a pair of fuzzy crocs he had in the coat closet. He turned on the kitchen fan and cracked some eggs in a greased pan. Jim sat patiently by the stove, waiting for some scraps or crumbs.

Tyler emerged just as Josh finished scrambling four eggs. He knew Tyler would most likely refuse, but he fixed him a plate anyway. Tyler sat at the table and watched as Josh sprinkled some cheddar cheese and salt and pepper on his eggs.

“That’s for you,” Josh said, pointing to the plate in front of Tyler with his fork, as if it wasn’t obvious.

Tyler stared at it. His hair was wet; it was getting into his eyes. Josh didn’t know the last time he had cut it.

Tyler stood up and poured himself a bowl of cheerios instead. Josh finished his eggs and took Tyler’s portion, feeding a little spoonful to Jim and putting the rest in the fridge for later. He fed Jim his proper meal as well, while Tyler watched, taking so long to finish his cereal that it turned into a soggy mess at the bottom. He stood up and poured it down the garburator.

“How’d you sleep?” Josh asked. He was used to silence, but this was unnerving.

Tyler shrugged.

“You should talk to Jenna.”

He tensed at the mention of his wife. He looked at his feet, shaking his head. “Can I play your keyboard?”

“It’s downstairs.”

Tyler took that as permission and hurried to Josh’s basement studio. It was less a studio, more of a practice room, with foam on the walls, a full drumkit in the corner, a microphone, and a keyboard. It didn’t even have a computer.

Taking this opportunity, Josh left the dishes and walked briskly up the stairs to the guest bedroom. It wasn’t that Josh didn’t trust Tyler, but he knew his friend better than anyone. He knew how bad it could get, how much Tyler would hide without telling a single soul. He had made leaps and bounds of progress over the course of the couple decades Josh knew him, but there was still a long way to go. And judging by the fight with his wife, Tyler had yet to tell anyone what was going on.

Josh was glad he went through Tyler’s stuff, though. Amid the mess of unfolded clothing and hastily packed toiletries, Josh found a pack of ten single edge razor blades underneath his toothbrush case. He took Tyler’s sleeping pills, too. Lemborexant, 10mg. There were only about ten pills left. He had gotten this thirty-day supply just a week and a half ago. He hid them back in his own room, on top of the tall dresser and behind a standing photo frame of Jim.

Satisfied, Josh went downstairs and resumed washing the dishes.

Tyler climbed up the stairs of the basement a good hour later, looking miserable. Josh had showered and was now playing tug of war with Jim; which mainly consisted of Josh throwing the toy, Jim running after it, and then Jim simultaneously wanting Josh to throw the toy but also not letting him take it from his mouth. He was still learning the concept of object permanence.

“I’m going to take a nap,” Tyler announced. His voice was smoother. He must’ve been singing.

Josh said nothing about how it was barely ten. He continued throwing the little stuffed crocodile.

Tyler stomped back downstairs, looking a little panicked. “I need to go to the store. I need to get something.”

“What?” Josh asked, knowing full well what he wanted.

“A toothbrush. Some other stuff,” Tyler said, a forced casual.

Josh had seen a toothbrush among Tyler’s stuff. “Can I come with you?”

“No.” Tyler was already shoving his feet in his shoes.

“Why not? I wanna get out of the house,” Josh argued, also pulling on his shoes.

Tyler didn’t say anything, but left the door open behind him. Josh closed it and locked it, staring sadly at Jim’s face as he watched them leave, his face pressed to the window.

Josh climbed into the passenger seat of Tyler’s truck, and they made their way to Walmart. Josh didn’t comment on Tyler’s shaking hands, even though they were trembling so much it could have been considered a safety hazard. Tyler’s stops and starts were a little jerkier than the last time Josh had ridden with him. He slammed the door a little harder than necessary when they had finally made it to the parking lot.

“You should look around,” Tyler said, too casual. “I’m going to be boring.”

“Nah, I’ll stay with you,” Josh said with a smile. Tyler dug his hands in his pockets as he perused unnecessary aisles.

Tyler looked at the clothing section. All the Easter stuff had been put away, making room for summer clothing and activities. “Go try on a shirt. I’ll get it for you. As a thanks for letting me stay over.”

“I have enough clothes,” Josh said, shaking his head and smiling even though his heart hurt more with every passing second.

“Let me get you something,” Tyler nearly begged. The light reflected off the linoleum tiles and into Tyler’s watery and red-rimmed eyes, making them look shiny.

“I’m okay, Tyler,” Josh said gently. He knew Tyler knew that Josh knew what he was doing by now.

They made their way around, Tyler getting a little more panicky by the minute. It showed in the way his eyes shifted, looking for an escape, in the way he pulled at his hair, in the way that he put on and took off the hood of his sweater over and over again. He bit the drawstrings, catching them in his teeth, chewing the end. He had a crease in the middle of his eyebrows from scrunching them.

“You want some?” Josh asked, picking up a box of Honeycrisp cereal as they walked down the grocery aisles.

Tyler shook his head. Josh brought it with them anyway.

“You should see if there’s any cool games,” Tyler said, gesturing to the video game section.

Josh in another life probably would have agreed and sauntered off, either giving in to Tyler’s antics or just blissfully unaware of the situation. But Josh was in this life, one where his best friend was struggling, his best friend with a wife and child, his best friend whom he had known for years. He knew Tyler too well. And Tyler knew that, and it was hung unspoken in the air, but Josh decided he needed to pin it down and breathe it to life.

“I know what you’re doing,” he said softly.

Tyler’s face twitched in an upsetting way, but he nodded. He continued on.

Tyler bought a toothbrush even though they had both established that he didn’t need one, and that wasn’t the reason he came to the store in the first place. But they checked out, toothbrush and cereal in hand, and made their way back to Tyler’s car.

“Early lunch?” Josh asked before they pulled out of the parking lot.

Tyler made no move or sound to acknowledge that he had heard his friend, but he took them to a Taco Bell regardless. Tyler went straight to a booth while Josh ordered; Tyler always got the same thing, anyway.

They ate in an unsettling silence. Tyler was picking at his sweater sleeve, seemingly fascinated by the stitching; it was falling apart and he was making it worse. By the end of the meal, a hole large enough for Tyler to put his thumb through had formed. At least he had eaten everything, Josh reasoned with himself, as Tyler tied and untied the drawstrings on his hoodie for the thousandth time.

When they got back, Tyler ignored Jim’s excited greetings, kicked off his shoes, and fell face-first onto the couch in front of the living room.

After saying his hellos to Jim, Josh walked over to the couch. “Move over.”

Tyler didn’t.

Josh sat on his legs and turned on the television. Jim laid down in front of the couch, sighing heavily in the way that dogs do. Josh looked down at his dog. “What was that for?”

Jim just side-eyed him.

Josh focused on the TV. He watched a mind-numbing amount of Property Brothers with Tyler, until Tyler finally fell asleep. His mouth was slightly open and he was breathing deeply, calmly. It set Josh at ease just looking at his friend finally at peace.

Josh eventually got up and took Jim outside for a little while in the backyard, still working on fetch. Josh learned that the trick was to have two balls; one to throw, and one for Jim to keep in his mouth. It usually worked out until Jim had control over the two balls and would somehow cram both of them in his mouth, then get uncomfortable when Josh tried to take a ball from him. He wanted Josh to throw, but he didn’t want to give up the ball. Josh made a note to bring out three balls next time.

Tyler was awake when Josh returned inside to prepare dinner, staring at the TV with glassy eyes, in the same position Josh had left him in. Tyler seemed lost in his own head, not even looking up whenever Josh peeked his head around the corner of the kitchen to check on his friend.

The frozen chicken fingers and fries took forever to cook. Josh, with his nagging fear of contaminated food, took the temperature of every single chicken finger until it hit 160 fahrenheit. Then, apparently not trusting it enough, he cut open the chicken so he could see if it was cooked for himself. Josh set the dry, overcooked chicken and fries on a tray and walked over to the couch.

“Want some food?” he asked, putting a hand on Tyler’s forehead. He looked ill.

Tyler slowly got up and followed Josh to the kitchen. He stared at the food for a little while Josh plated his portion, then grabbed the new cereal and poured it into a bowl with some milk.

Tyler and Josh ate their respective dinners in silence.

Josh tossed a piece of chicken to Jim before feeding him his dinner of the usual dog food. The chicken tasted funny, anyway. He packed up the leftovers and shoved them in the fridge. Tyler stared at his empty bowl of cereal like it held the answer to some kind of existential question.

“Can I have a sleeping pill?” Tyler asked his bowl.

Josh took the bowl away and put it in the dishwasher. “Okay.”

Tyler was still sitting in the same position when Josh came back from retrieving the medication, and only looked up when he placed a singular white, round pill on the table in front of him. Josh prepared a glass of water but Tyler had swallowed it dry. He accepted the glass anyway and drank it in one go.

“Sleep well,” Josh said, taking the empty glass from Tyler. “Come and get me if you don’t.”

He nodded and stood up heavily. It looked like his bones were made of lead.

“Hey,” Josh interrupted, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Tyler met his eyes for what felt like the first time that day; they were bloodshot and teary, heavy with the weight of it all. The skin around his eyes was irritated from being wiped at so often and the puffiness of fluid retention accentuated the bags underneath them.

Josh pulled Tyler into his arms and they stood there for a little while, Tyler fitting like a lost puzzle piece. Josh could hear the shaky breaths in his ear and he tried to purposefully steady his own breathing, hoping it would keep him and Tyler afloat if he breathed enough for them both. The hug felt warm and familiar and full of unspoken words, conversations and meanings.

Tyler pulled away eventually and rushed up the stairs, unwilling to let Josh see his face.

Josh went to bed around ten. He texted Debby a quick goodnight and wished her luck, then turned off the light.

–

Tyler was awake when Josh headed downstairs for his six am run with Jim. He was lying on the couch, face smushed in the cushions, the only part of his skin visible being his nose and eyes. The tv was on to some morning news station, but Tyler wasn’t watching. Just by looking at him Josh knew that Tyler hadn’t slept a wink.

It rained for the entirety of the five mile run. Jim happily trotted alongside him, tongue hanging out, grateful to be in the outside air. They were both soaked through to the bone but Josh felt lighter in a way. The ground smelled of worms and mud. Dodging the worms on the sidewalk gave Josh something to distract himself with as he pushed through the stiffness in his legs.

He towel dried Jim the best he could. He couldn’t see Tyler anywhere, but his shoes were still at the door, so he assumed he was either in the basement or the guest bedroom. A quick visual confirmation told him he was in the basement– the upper half of the studio door was windowed. Tyler had his back to him, angrily pounding notes on the keyboard that Josh couldn’t hear for the headphones plugged in.

When Josh went to go shower, he realized that there were some things out of place. It was nothing drastic; there was a fingerprint on the corner of the mirror that swung open to reveal the toothbrushes, the extra toilet paper under the sink was facing the wrong way (Josh liked them uniform), the bars of soap were behind the shampoo and conditioner; Josh had bought the bars of soap last, so he had put them in front of the shampoo and conditioner. He was meticulous in the way he organized his things, a habit he supposed he acquired from growing up with such a large household.

Josh closed the cupboard under the sink and made a beeline to his dresser. He checked behind the photo frame and counted nine pills, ten razor blades. He pulled out his shaving kit from the top dresser drawer and was relieved to find it untouched. Tyler’s search had been fruitless, but Josh still wanted to cry.

He showered instead. Maybe the sting of the soap in his eyes could replicate the cathartic feeling enough. It didn’t.

Josh pulled out the eggs that Tyler didn’t eat the other day and put them in a pan with some cheese and green peppers, then chopped some lettuce and made a kind of breakfast wrap; refrigerated egg would be unpalatable any other way. He did the dishes, gave Jim his breakfast, and walked down the stairs to interrupt Tyler’s piano session.

He knocked on the door then walked in; Tyler wouldn’t have been able to hear him anyway. He walked slowly into Tyler’s peripheral, and his friend stopped and pulled the headphones off his ears.

“Do you want breakfast?” Josh asked, already knowing the answer.

Tyler shook his head and put back on the headphones; conversation finished. Josh sighed and walked up the stairs, pulling out his phone; Debby’s shoot started in an hour. He called to wish her luck. He didn’t say anything about Tyler for a reason he did not know yet. Maybe he didn’t want Debby to worry. Maybe he didn’t want her to ask Jenna anything. Or maybe there was something broken about Tyler that Josh wanted to protect. Josh was the only person who had seen Tyler at his lowest; and this was getting pretty damn close to it.

Tyler emerged eventually. Jim ran up to him excitedly, wagging his tail and squirming around Tyler’s legs, rubbing against the fabric of the same sweatpants that he had worn his first day here. He left golden fur on the cloth. Tyler gave him a few scratches behind his ears and met Josh’s eyes.

“I’m hungry,” he announced. Josh looked at the clock; it was nearing noon.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Cereal,” Tyler answered. He left for the kitchen, Jim following happily.

Josh ate the chicken fingers from the other night for lunch– they somehow tasted worse. Tyler resumed his staring contest with the cereal bowl. It was like he didn’t know what to do with himself, going through one menial task to another.

“Can you walk Jim for me?” Josh asked, taking the dishes away and sticking them in the sink. “I have to do some taxes.”

“Just pay someone to do them,” Tyler mumbled, but he stood up and made for the front door anyway.

Josh sat down on the floor of the living room, with his spread of papers and his laptop on the coffee table. He turned on the tv for some background noise. An hour into it, Tyler returned with Jim. It must still be raining; his sweater was wet and Jim looked muddy.

“Sit,” Tyler said, bending down and wiping Jim’s paws with the towel they kept by the front door. Jim glanced over Tyler’s shoulder at Josh, anxious to run to his owner.

Tyler gave Jim an aggressive towel dry and gave him a few treats before hanging up the towel. “Release.”

Jim ran straight for Josh. His fur was a little damp, but he was as happy as ever. The wet fur clung to Josh’s clothes like glue. “Hey, bud.” He kissed his forehead.

Tyler seemed in a better mood. He tossed his wet sweater on the stair railing to dry and fell on the couch behind Josh, in just a t-shirt. “What’s up?”

“Taxes,” Josh said, gesturing to the multitude of papers.

“They have electronic things now,” Tyler said. It was probably the most words Tyler had said in a single sentence since he had gotten here. “You just plug in the numbers and it carries it to the next page.”

“I’ve just always done it this way.” Josh shrugged.

Tyler scoffed but said nothing. He laid on the couch, switching between watching the tv, watching Josh, and going on his phone for a while. Josh tried not to be too overbearing, but he was glad that Tyler was keeping him company. His heart hurt for his friend. It was comforting, hearing him breathe and move around.

Tyler fell asleep eventually, on his back, his arm limp on his forehead and the other one grazing the ground, hanging off the couch. Josh took the opportunity to check the skin on his wrists; they were clean, but they had always been clean. He didn’t want to bring the topic up again, worried that Tyler would push him away, but if he didn’t address it soon he might just worry himself senseless.

Tyler woke up miserable again. He declined the pasta that Josh had slaved over (poured in a pot and boiled for eight minutes) and ate his cereal. Tyler had a staring problem, but Josh was no better. He watched his friend eat almost as if he was analyzing his movements; Josh didn’t know what he was doing, or what he was trying to figure out, but maybe if he stared long enough at Tyler he’d finally break and tell him something.

“I’m going to go to the store,” he said, standing up and putting his bowl in the sink.

“I’ll come too,” Josh said.

Tyler pulled a face. “I’m going alone.”

“No,” Josh said bluntly.

“Why not?”

“You know why not.” Josh’s voice broke on the last word and he suddenly realized how emotional he was. His shoulders were to his ears, tense with worry, his hands shaking as he put his fork in the dishwasher.

Tyler stayed silent.

“Come walk Jim with me,” Josh offered.

Tyler silently obeyed, following Josh out the door with Jim leading the way.

It had stopped raining, and the sun was peeking through the clouds, pink with early sunset. The evaporating water in the golden sunrays looked straight out of a photograph; Josh hoped Tyler was taking it in as well, enjoying the birds re-emerging after the rain, the early spring flower buds peeking through all the green grass. After months of cold and grey, it felt like a world of difference. Glancing over, however, Tyler had his head down and was staring at the sidewalk.

The walk was short and silent, only lasting half an hour. Jim said hello to a few other dogwalkers. Tyler managed a polite nod, which Josh figured was better than just ignoring them.

“Can I have a sleeping pill?” Tyler asked once they were back inside. He was already on the way to his bedroom.

Josh nodded and went to his room to retrieve it. He saw how Tyler was watching him over his shoulder, careful to take note of where Josh was. Josh made a mental note to remember to change his hiding place. Maybe he should throw away the blades all together.

“Here,” Josh said, handing Tyler the small white pill. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” Tyler returned, heading for the ensuite. Josh closed the bedroom door behind him, then went to his own room to put the pills and blades in the hood of a sweater hanging in his closet.

Josh watched hockey until it felt like an appropriate time to go to bed. Preseason baseball wasn’t worth watching.

In the middle of the night, the same creaky floorboard woke Josh up. Tyler didn’t wait, though; he walked straight to the bed and climbed in without an invitation. Josh rolled over to face him.

“I talked to Jenna,” Tyler whispered, his voice hoarse.

“Yeah?” Josh whispered back.

“She’s really angry.”

Josh reached out and found Tyler’s hand. He gave it a tight squeeze. “She’s worried about you.”

“She said I owe it to her and Rosie to get better.” Tyler’s voice got unsteady at the end, wavering into nothingness.

Josh didn’t know what to say. In a way, Jenna was right; but in the same fashion, Tyler owed it to himself to get better the most. He squeezed Tyler’s hand again. Tyler squeezed back, then rolled over so he was facing away from Josh. Josh turned so he was facing the ceiling. His mind was racing.

Tyler had suffered for so long, for as long as Josh knew him, and for longer. He remembered that night when Tyler called him to say Jenna was pregnant; he remembered the doubts, the tears, the fears, the whispered confessions. Tyler was afraid of being a bad father. He was afraid of passing along his instabilities, his insecurities, his illnesses. He loved this unborn child with his whole heart and was already worrying about what he’d say if they one day told him that they wanted to hurt themself.

“I had a great family and still ended up like this,” Josh remembered Tyler saying over the phone, in his basement, where Jenna couldn’t hear. “I don’t know what I’d do.”

Then when a depressive episode hit, about three months before Rosie was born, Tyler panicked; he was suddenly hit with the reality that becoming a father didn’t just mean that he would be happy forever. His family wasn’t going to heal him; this was a chemical imbalance in his brain, this was habits and ways he had coped for so long that it wore grooves in his muscle memory, this was something bigger than a band-aid fix. This was something that no amount of external searching could heal; Tyler had to learn how to deal with it from within.

Josh had calmed his worries with reassurances that if it did happen, he had an amazing support system. He had a wife, his friends, his family. He had different strategies to cope, like writing music, like screaming, exercising, talking it out. Josh knew better than anyone how solutions sounded reasonable outside of the actual situation; but once the situation actually happens, things shift and the solutions don’t seem feasible anymore.

Here Tyler was, a new father, once again reminded of how this monster in his head would never go away. This was a monster that could be tamed with pills and distractions, but it was here to stay. Not even fatherhood could make it surrender.

Tyler was crying silently beside him, his shoulders shaking, his nose sniffling. Josh rolled over and wrapped his arms around him gently, slowly. He found Tyler’s hand and held onto it tight.

His best friend was struggling, and it felt like he could only watch.

–

The sun streamed in through the thin window curtains, shining directly into Josh’s eyes. It was the first morning this week that he hadn’t woken up before sunrise to run; rest days were his sleep-in days. His alarm was turned off.

Tyler was sleeping, his arms held loosely on either side of his head, similar to how babies slept. His hair was a mess but his face was gentle, free of tension. It was a good look on him.

Josh slowly got up, careful to not disturb Tyler. Tyler rolled over anyway, turning away from the light, mumbled something, and stilled. Jim stood up from where he was waiting at the top of the stairs seeing that Josh was awake.

“Good morning,” Josh whispered, reaching down and petting his dog. He grabbed a hoodie from the chair in the corner and headed downstairs, closing the bedroom door gently behind him. Jim led the way, stopping on the stairs every so often, checking behind him to make sure Josh followed.

Walking outside in just his pajama pants and a sweater was a mistake; while the sun was warm, it had dropped about ten degrees from yesterday. His breath came out in a cloud of condensation and he held his hands in his pockets. Once he got moving, the weather got a little more tolerable.

Josh dropped the leash and let Jim roam a little, picking it up every once in a while whenever they passed another dog or walker. The birds were alive and the sun was almost too bright; Josh had to squint whenever he looked at something that wasn’t the sidewalk. And even then, the dewy grass and leftover puddles from the rain reflected the sunlight back into his eyes.

Tyler was still sleeping when they returned. It was nearing nine. After he cleaned Jim up, he went back to the bedroom and checked on his friend.

Jim ran up to Tyler and sat, whining a little. Tyler woke up slowly and reached out a hand to pet the dog. He wore a slight smile. It was the first time Josh had seen him smile in his whole time here.

“Morning,” Josh said, suddenly feeling much lighter.

Tyler looked at him with soft eyes, sitting up in the bed, the duvet bunched around him. “Hey.”

“C’mon Jim. Let’s go get some food,” Josh told his dog, waving him over. He let Tyler get ready for the day.

Josh didn’t feel like putting in much effort, so he poured himself a bowl of granola and yoghurt for his breakfast. After finishing his own food, Jim laid lazily on the floor by his feet. It felt like a good morning; that was until Tyler walked in, clearly upset.

He grabbed a bowl and poured some cereal into it, poured in some milk from the fridge, and found a spoon.

He cried silently into his cereal, spooning it into his mouth every once in a while. Eventually, he just sat there with his elbows on the table and his head in his hands, staring at his breakfast. Josh fixed two mugs of coffee and placed one in front of Tyler. He didn’t even look up.

Josh put his hand on Tyler’s shoulder and sat on the seat next to him. He gave it a quick squeeze. “I’m here for you.”

Tyler nodded, blinking rapidly. A tear fell into his cereal. Tyler pushed the bowl away.

“What’s going on?” Josh asked.

“I miss her,” Tyler admitted in a shaky whisper. “I’m tired of disappointing her.”

Josh pulled his sweater sleeve over his fist and wiped away some of Tyler’s tears with the fabric. “You should give her a call.”

Tyler nodded and stood up, making his way back to the guest bedroom.

Josh cleaned up the kitchen and poured Tyler’s soggy cereal into the garburator; he normally would have commented on the lack of proper nutrition his friend was getting, but that seemed to be a lower priority. Josh was just happy he was eating.

He went upstairs to get changed when he heard Tyler talking behind the closed bedroom door. He was crying, his voice thick with tears, and Josh felt his heart shatter.

He got dressed and brushed his teeth. He didn’t need to eavesdrop. When he exited his bedroom however, Jim was standing outside the guest bedroom door, whining. He looked back at Josh expectantly before going back to staring at the door.

Josh knew something was wrong. There were no sounds from Tyler’s room. He crossed the hall in quick steps and opened the door without knocking.

Jim went straight to where Tyler was; hidden on the other side of the bed, sitting on the ground, the only thing visible being the back of his head. He freaked out and froze when he heard the door open, and when Josh rounded the corner of the bed so he could see Tyler, he knew why Jim was so concerned.

He was shirtless. There were scars on his stomach; they’ve always been there. But now there were new, red lines, and Tyler had been scratching open his scabs.

Jim forced his way into Tyler’s lap, getting in the way of Tyler’s hands. He licked at Tyler’s face, pressing himself against his chest, his tail wagging aggressively— he was nervous.

Josh left the door open and went downstairs, giving Tyler some privacy. This was what Jim was for.

Josh’s legs felt like jello. He had to hold onto the handrail to keep himself from falling.

Jim stayed with Tyler for an hour or so, then made his way back downstairs. Tyler followed.

“Good boy,” Josh said, handing Jim some dehydrated liver treat.

Tyler’s fingernails were pink with blood. He sat at the kitchen table and stared at it, lost in thought. Josh put a rubber band in front of him. Tyler made no move to grab it, but he started to trace the tattoos on his left wrist with his fingernail.

“I’m going to call your doctor,” Josh said, putting his phone on the table in front of him and sitting opposite Tyler. “Let’s do it.”

Tyler nodded. Josh gripped his hand and Tyler squeezed back.

“Doctors on Columbia, how can I help you?” a female secretary asked from the phone.

“Can I schedule an emergency appointment for Tyler Joseph?” Josh asked.

“With Dr White?”

Josh looked up at Tyler. “Yeah,” Tyler said into the phone.

“Okay. What is the nature of your emergency?” she asked.

Josh looked at Tyler expectantly. Tyler licked his lips nervously and stared at the phone. “It’s, uh, mental health related.”

“I’m going to send you a survey to fill out, and then I’ll call you back once we get it,” she said, typing something on the computer.

She read Tyler’s email and phone number, confirmed it, and then hung up. Tyler sat in the chair and stared at his inbox on his phone.

“Hey,” Josh said, squeezing Tyler’s hand again; he hadn’t let go. “I’m proud of you.”

Tyler filled out the survey. They phoned back on Tyler’s phone and asked if he felt comfortable going to a hospital. Tyler said he was with a friend and was safe, so they scheduled an appointment for tomorrow morning.

Josh made a script with him.

I’ve been self harming
I’m on Dayvigo 10mg. It’s not working.
I was diagnosed with MDD, GAD in 2005.
I have been on lexapro 20mg, bupropion 300mg with no effect. I have been off meds since 2015.

The next day after the appointment, Tyler and Josh hung around the pharmacy while they filled Tyler’s prescription; 5mg of lexapro, slowly increasing until 20mg, then adding 75mg of venlafaxine.

Distracting Tyler from the idea of taking a pill every day for the foreseeable future was a difficult task. Josh tried reading the birthday cards, picking out the most ridiculous ones. He tried making a joke about laxatives. He even tried making a joke about condoms; Tyler would smile for half a second before turning away, tears in his eyes.

“Something inside me is broken,” Tyler whispered forty-five minutes later, finally staring at the white paper bag with the receipt stapled on it, “and it’s never going to be fixed.”

Josh knew how that felt. He’d be lying through his teeth if he said that it got better, or that it went away, or any of that stuff. They just had to grow around it and hope the hole didn’t swallow them up. It was all Josh could do to keep his own anxiety manageable; running, eating healthier, and getting Jim had helped immensely. There were bad days, of course— but they didn’t feel like the end of the world anymore.

Tyler cried in the car on the way back, his head against the window, staring off into space. Josh had had enough. When Tyler escaped downstairs to play the keyboard, he gave Jenna a call.

“Hey, Josh. Is this about Tyler?” she asked off the bat.

“Yeah,” Josh answered.

“Oh, thank God,” she almost sobbed out. “I’m so worried for him.”

“What’s happening?” Josh asked, confused:

“I keep asking him to come back, but he won’t. He keeps shutting down.” Jenna took a shuddering breath. “I don’t know how to help him.”

“Wait,” Josh said, the gears in his head turning. “What was the original issue?”

“I found out he relapsed, and I got a bit angry, telling him that he has to get better for Rosie’s sake. I don’t think he took that well. I apologized after a day or so. I kept telling him to come home,” she said, talking faster as she got more worked up. “I see him typing but he doesn’t send me anything. When he calls, he ends up shutting down when I ask him when he’s going to come back. I miss him.”

Deciding not to rat out his friend, Josh said, “I’ll take him over to you. I’ll talk to him.”

“Please. Please make sure he’s safe,” Jenna sobbed. “I’m sorry I yelled at him. I’m not sure what he told you, but he’s been pushing me away for about two weeks now. I just, I just want to knock some sense into him sometimes.”

“I know,” Josh said softly, calmly. “I feel that way sometimes too.”

Jenna laughed, a watery sound. She sniffed. “Okay. Okay, thanks.”

“Of course. I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah. See you.”

Josh hung up and hung his head. He looked at his dog, who was staring at him expectantly— he hadn’t gone for his midday walk yet.

“Let’s go save our idiot friend,” he told him. Jim wagged his tail.

Tyler was playing the keyboard, the headphones out; Josh didn’t recognize the tune. It sounded vaguely classical with lots of minor chords. He knocked on the door.

Tyler turned around. Josh let himself in.

“I talked to Jenna.”

Tyler froze, a hand hovering on top of the keys.

“What’s keeping you from going back?” Josh asked.

Tyler broke, his gaze wavering, falling to his feet, the walls, the piano, the ground; everywhere but at Josh. He played sour notes, messing up the chords. The tears were imminent but they hadn’t fallen yet. It hurt to see him so fragile.

“I’m not better yet,” Tyler gasped out, his chest tight. “I don’t deserve them. I can’t go back until I’m better. I can’t be there for them.”

“Ty—"

“I’m ruining my life!” Tyler interrupted, angry at himself. He pounded on the piano keys; a chord progression that didn’t sound at all like it was supposed to go in that order. “I’m stupid and, and, and a fuck up and I can’t do this. I’m a horrible father. I’m a horrible husband. And I’m pushing myself into your life and you don’t need me being so miserable all the time! And—"

“Tyler,” Josh said, grabbing Tyler’s hands and squeezing them. “You are not a fuck up.”

“You’re better off without me,” Tyler sobbed, continuing his rant. “I hate being like this. I’m so tired of being a person.”

“You’re working hard,” Josh reasoned. “You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

“How? All I’m doing is self-sabotaging.”

Josh got down on his knees so he was eye-level with Tyler, who was still sitting on the stool. “You just came back from the doctor, no?”

Tyler nodded slowly.

“You came to me instead of sleeping in your truck,” Josh listed. “You’re letting me help you. That’s good. You’re doing good.”

Tyler let out a shaky breath, tapering off into a sob. He kept his eyes downcast.

“Hiding isn’t going to help.”

Tyler nodded. He glanced up at Josh, meeting his eyes briefly, then looked away.

“Let’s pack up and go back,” Josh offered. “She misses you. She needs you, we need you, at your best or at your worst. It doesn’t matter.”

Tyler took a deep breath before standing up. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Let’s go.”

Tyler and Josh packed up. Josh collected Tyler’s sleeping meds and put them with his new pills. He kept the razor blades.

Josh followed Tyler’s truck all the way back. He knew from the way that Tyler took an extra second at each stop sign that he was stalling, but eventually, they pulled into the long driveway.

Tyler stopped at the doorstep, his hand outstretched, about to open his front door. He paused and glanced back at Josh, who wore an encouraging smile.

Jenna beat him to opening the door. She stood in the doorway, tears gathering in her eyes, her lips pressed tight together as if fighting back waves of words. She didn’t say anything, but held out her hand. Tyler took it.

“I’m scared,” Tyler admitted. “I don’t know how to be the person you need me to be.”

Jenna pulled him in for a hug, kissing his temple quickly. “Ty. You being here is all that I need.”

Josh smiled at the two. He could hear Rosie babbling to herself in the kitchen.

Tyler looked like he was holding himself together with a band-aid and a dream.

Josh played with Rosie while Tyler and Jenna talked. Her latest version of fun was throwing a toy off her tray and laughing when Josh had to pick it up and give it back. She kicked her feet in excitement, clapping her hands and showing off her gummy smile. Even with her bright blue eyes, Josh saw so much of Tyler in her.

Tyler was crying when he came back and sat beside his daughter, giving her a kiss on the top of her head. He sat down in the chair on the other side of her and put his head on her tray, letting her put her hands all over his face.

“Hey, Rosie Ro,” Tyler said gently. She hit him in the cheek with a squeal.

“She loves you,” Josh murmured with a soft smile.

Tyler had life back in his eyes again. He sat up straight and stared at his daughter. She beamed up at him, holding her arms up.

Tyler pulled her out of the high chair and held her in his arms. She was still getting the hang of holding her head up so he cradled it and brushed her hair out of her eyes; it was getting longer and lighter with each passing day, it seemed.

“You don’t have to be perfect,” Jenna said, sitting beside Tyler with a teary smile. “I don’t want you to be perfect. Just be here for us.”

Tyler kissed Jenna’s temple. “How could I ever leave? I’ve got my whole world right here at my kitchen table.”

Josh looked at his best friend fondly. He had no doubt that there would be more challenges to come, perhaps some nights slept on the couch, but at the end of the day, Josh could look back and see the lengths they’d both covered.

This Tyler wasn’t the same scrawny twenty-something year old Josh knew when they had first met. This Tyler had a family, a successful career, and had built himself a multitude of reasons to stick around. Fatherhood wasn’t about being perfect. It was about pushing through the tough times and being present, for family, friends, and for himself.

Push on through.