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hello! my name is steph, and i am a trash fangirl. i live for dan, phil, and dodie. my favourite bands are panic, mcr *sobs*, twenty ΓΈne pilΓΈts, ect. i am a soft emo (: . i don't like bananas.
^^ and i'm always late
thank, and yES
but don't burn tyler and his treehouse because i'll be T-E-R-R-I-F-I-E-D
oh wait tyler burned the treehouse i forgot
^^ if you don't get the references, sorry
(it's references to a book called 'the forest fic' and also the song forest.)
READ IT
IT'S VV SAD
the smΓΌt?
i can copy and paste it and remove the smΓΌt if you want?
i can! be right back.
"The rain," Tyler says. Josh nods, slowly. "It's like..." Tyler pauses, searching for the word. "Crisper," Josh says. "Exactly," Tyler says, nodding. "Almost like..." Josh frowns, "red? Maybe?" "Mostly," Tyler says. "With a hint of orange." "Orange, right." Josh points at Tyler. "That's right. I keep forgetting that one." "A lot of things are orange, though," Tyler says, frowning. "Not where I'm from," Josh says darkly. "Everything's just blue-black there." Tyler winces. "I can't even imagine that." "Don't," Josh says firmly. He shakes his head. "Don't even try." Tyler shudders a little. "Believe me, I don't want to." Josh nods. "Good." He sits up straighter suddenly, cocking his head. "My mom coming?" Tyler asks. Josh nods, standing up. "Keep it short, yeah?" Josh asks as he closes the closet door. "Okay," Tyler replies to the now-empty room. There's a soft tap on the door before his mom pokes her head in. "What are you doing, Tyler?" Tyler's mom asks, looking in. "Talking to Josh," Tyler tells her. He immediately regrets saying anything. "Tyler," his mom says, sighing. "Josh isn't real, remember? We've been over this before." "Right, Mom," Tyler says, nodding. "I'm sorry." "Tyler, I..." His mom pauses, looking unsure. "Don't apologize, okay? It's just that Josh doesn't exist." "Okay," Tyler tells her, waiting for her to leave so Josh can come back. His mom looks at him, something yellow-blue-red in her eyes. He forgets what other people call it. Josh would know. "Tyler, you have an appointment tomorrow, remember?" Tyler's mom says. "With Dr. Paulson." Dr. Paulson has lots of markers, a checkerboard, and a liberal use of a drawer full of candy so Tyler won't tell anyone about the one time everything tasted like metal and soap and magenta dipped in candle wax. "Okay," Tyler says, nodding. His mom bites her lip. "All right, Tyler," she says. "Remember to eat, okay?" "Okay," Tyler echoes, and she closes the door. Josh immediately opens the closet door. "Dr. Paulson," he says with a tone of distaste. "Why don't you like him?" Tyler asks as he watches Josh settle himself on Tyler's bookshelf. "He sounds so..." Josh bites his lip, searching for the words. "I would say purple-green, but I'm missing something, aren't I?" "Pink," Tyler says immediately. "Right, right," Josh says. He makes a face. "I don't like it when you go there." "Would you rather I go back to Dr. Craig?" Tyler offers. Josh recoils the best he can while perched precariously on a bookshelf. "No!" Josh exclaims. "No, no, never!" "I was kidding," Tyler says as he sprawls back onto his bed. "Some joke," Josh mutters, sounding irritated. "Don't kid about that, okay?" "Okay," Tyler says, suddenly reminded by his conversations with his mother. The sound of butter being spread on toast, bland, and purple-red acceptance. "No, really," Josh says, hopping off the bookshelf so he can grab Tyler's hand. "Don't joke about that. That was... bad." "It was," Tyler allows, and Josh presses his lips to Tyler's hand. "Please don't joke about that, Tyler," Josh murmurs. And Tyler is so charmed by the way Josh's mouth forms his name that he agrees automatically.
Tyler can tell Dr. Paulson has had a long day. "Everything all right with your wife, Doctor?" Tyler asks politely. "Peachy," Dr. Paulson huffs, flopping down onto his chair. "Chocolate or lollipop?" "Lollipop," Tyler answers. He likes to suck them as obscenely as possible once in a while, just to check Dr. Paulson's priorities. The lollipop is red, tasting green-red-yellow, like cherries. Tyler's careful to rub it across his lips, making them as red as possible. "Last session we discussed books," Dr. Paulson says, not paying attention to Tyler's treatment of his lollipop. "And headaches." "Those two may as well be synonymous," Tyler says. "Yes, you mentioned that many times," Dr. Paulson says, sounding tired. "And the Bible-" "-has such small print you may as well be looking at a rainbow," the doctor finishes. "Although the first part-" "-of Genesis is almost entirely green, so you can read it," Dr. Paulson says. "I take very good notes, remember?" "I remember," Tyler says in the same tone he uses with his mother. Dr. Paulson, who is entirely familiar with Tyler's vocal tones, sighs. "Tyler, I'm sorry I'm not at the top of my game today," he says. He leans forward, and Tyler jerks back so quickly that the lollipop almost goes down his throat. "Sorry, sorry," Dr. Paulson apologizes. He takes off his glasses so he can scrub his face with his hand. "I'm so sorry, Tyler." Tyler doesn't say anything. He thinks that if he opens his mouth, nothing but the 'gibberish' only Josh seems to understand would fall out. His heart's pounding in his chest, and he places his hand over it. Dr. Paulson follows his movements and winces. "I'm so sorry, Tyler," he repeats. "I didn't mean to scare you." "I'm okay," Tyler says, pleased when he hears them come out as 'normal' words. "You're not, Tyler," Dr. Paulson says with a sigh. "You're not okay." He shakes his head slowly, as if to clear it. "What do you want to talk about today?" Tyler shrugs. "I don't know." "Have you been writing?" Dr. Paulson asks. "A little," Tyler mutters, picking a loose thread on his jeans. "Have you written about anything particularly interesting?" "The treehouse," Tyler says, before wishing he didn't say anything because Dr. Paulson's eyes go blue-orange-green, all interested and almost hungry-looking. "What treehouse?" Dr. Paulson asks, jotting something down in his notebook. "We- I found a treehouse in the woods," Tyler murmurs, scowling down at the carpet. He feels oddly exposed now. "What was the treehouse like?" the doctor asks, not looking up from his notebook. "I dunno. Woody." Yellow-purple. The way wet chalk feels. The lowest B on his piano. "Do your parents know about the treehouse?" Dr. Paulson asks. "Does it matter?" Tyler says, a little more defensively than he intended. Dr. Paulson blinks. "I suppose it doesn't," he says slowly. "I just wanted to know if you've been talking to them." "You could've just asked them that," Tyler points out. "You could've just asked me that." "You're right, Tyler. I'm sorry," Dr. Paulson says, sounding genuinely apologetic. "Have you been talking to your parents?" Tyler snorts. "I thought so." The doctor leans forward slowly, so Tyler has time to prepare for his presence. "I think you should talk to them, Tyler. They really care about you." "They don't." Tyler knows he sounds like a child, like the smell of orange peels, but he doesn't care. "They do, Tyler. And they were so, so upset when they found out what had happened to you." "They never believed me." "Tyler, you weren't very easy to understand then," Dr. Paulson says gently. "You still aren't, honestly." "You seem to manage." "I've known you for a long time now, Tyler." "So have my parents." "Have they really?" Tyler is silent for a moment. "No." He pauses. "They don't know me at all." "Tyler, have you ever thought about making peace with your parents?" Dr. Paulson asks. Tyler scowls. "They should be the ones making peace with me." "They're trying, Tyler, really," the doctor says. "I guess you haven't noticed, but they're trying to make amends." "Well, they're doing a heck of a job," Tyler mutters. Dr. Paulson ignores that comment. "They said they've been trying to take you out more and participate in family activities." "I hate crowds," Tyler tells his doctor. "I hate board games. I hate TV." "They don't know what you like, Tyler," Dr. Paulson says. "But I'm sure they'll be happy to do whatever you do like with you." "I..." Tyler pauses. "There's nothing that I like to do." Dr. Paulson goes quiet for a moment. "You like Josh." Tyler blinks. "What?" Dr. Paulson has never willingly brought up the topic of Josh before. "I'm not saying that Josh is real, Tyler," the doctor says quickly. "But maybe you could try telling someone in your family about him." "And what purpose would that serve, other then to cater my delusions?" "It'll help you open up," Dr. Paulson says, ignoring his sarcasm. "You're much easier to understand when you're talking about something you're passionate about." Tyler thinks about this. "You'll have to tell my parents that it okay for me to talk about Josh." Dr. Paulson sighs. "I didn't mean for that to happen when I told them about Josh, Tyler. I'm sorry." Tyler shrugs. "Whatever." Dr. Paulson nods slowly to himself, jotting something down in his notebook. "I'll talk to them."
"What are you going to say about me?" Josh asks as he picks at a piece of splintering wood in their treehouse. Tyler shrugs. "I dunno. There's a lot to say." "You could tell them how pink-red-orange I am," Josh says, flashing Tyler one of those smiles that make Tyler melt. "How sexy I am, how I sound like melted marshmallows, how my lips are the key C major, how I can-" "Oh, shut up," Tyler says, pushing him playfully. Josh laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he grins. Tyler looks away before Josh can see him staring. "My parents think I'm crazy," Tyler says suddenly. Josh sobers immediately, frowning. "You're not crazy." "I know," Tyler says. "But telling them about you isn't going to convince them of that." Josh is silent for a moment. "What are you going to do?" "Talk to them about you anyways," Tyler says. "**** what they think." Josh grins. "You're really pink-red-orange when you swëÀr." Tyler blushes. "No, I'm not." Josh looks at him thoughtfully. "You're pretty pretty, Tyler." "Pretty pretty?" Tyler says. Josh laughs. "Not my best word choice." "Why do we talk like this, anyways?" Tyler asks. "If we just used our words, nothing like that would happen." "You asked me to talk 'normally,'" Josh says. "For practice." Tyler frowns. "Why did I do that?" Josh shrugs. "Something about better communication." Tyler nods slowly. "Sounds like something I'd do. Back, y'know." "Well, yeah," Josh says. "You were all-" he makes a few indiscernible hand motions, "blue-purple. Jumbled." "Mixed up," Tyler says, nodding. "Not exactly," Josh says. "Sort of... I can't remember the word for it. Orange-green-purple." "Confused," Tyler translates. Josh nods. "That's it. I keep forgetting that one," he says. "Confused. You were confused. And like the letter M. The way August smells." "Confused, maybe," Tyler allows. "I don't know about lost, though." "You were lost," Josh says, sounding certain. "Maybe," Tyler says again. He watches Josh flick the lighter he always has on and off. "Why do you even have that? You don't smoke." Josh shrugs. "You never know when you'll have to set everything on fire." Tyler furrows his eyebrows. "What? What are you talking about?" Josh just shrugs agains. "You'll get it some day."
He dyed his hair the other day," Tyler tells his mom. They're sitting on the steps outside, watching the wind blow through the trees in their backyard. It sounds like a cool pillow on Tyler's skin, and he smiles. "What color?" his mom asks. "Blue. Bright blue," Tyler says, grinning a little to himself. "It was red for a while before, actually." "That's neat, Tyler," his mom says, still looking rather uncomfortable. "He has these really dark brown eyes," Tyler says, choosing to ignore his mother's discomfort. "Coffee eyes. That kind with coffee and hot chocolate. What's that called again?" "Mocha," his mom supplies. "Mocha eyes," Tyler says, nodding. "Tyler," his mom says, biting her lip, "who is Josh to you?" "What do you mean?" "Is he your friend?" his mom asks. "Boyfriend?" Tyler splutters a little. "What? No!" "It's... y'know, okay if you want a boyfriend," Tyler's mom says. "Just so you know." "Great," Tyler says, still wide-eyed. "What brought that on?" "You always have this goofy look on when you talk about him, Tyler," his mom tells him. "Yeah, but that automatically made you think I'm gay?" "Well," his mom shrugs, "you've never seemed very straight, Tyler." Tyler blinks. "Thanks, Mom." "It wasn't an insult!" his mom begins to protest, but pauses when she sees Tyler laughing. "I'm gay," Tyler assures her once he's done giggling. "I just never expected you to notice." "I do occasionally notice something about you, Tyler," his mom tells him. Tyler immediately sobers. He frowns, and his mom sighs, carefully taking his hand. "I'm sorry, Tyler," she tells him. "I know that an apology won't fix anything, that it won't change anything, but I am still so sorry." "Why-" Tyler swallows hard, "why didn't you believe me?" "I-" His mom sighs. "Dr. Craig seemed very professional, Tyler. He was supposed to be top of the line. And he was very smooth, very reassuring that there was absolutely no misconduct." She sighs again, squeezing Tyler's hand gently. "I regret not listening to you more than anything, Tyler." "Don't we all," Tyler mutters. "Don't we all."
"How do you feel?" Josh asks one day. "Who are you, Dr. Paulson?" Josh rolls his eyes. "Come on, Ty," he says, passing him his pocket knife. "Show me. In 'normal' words." Tyler stares at the knife, warm and heavy in his palm, like silk on dewy grass. "Show me," Josh repeats. Tyler flips out the blade, pressing it to the wooden floor of their treehouse. "'Normal' words," he whispers to himself, trying to recall one for how he feels. T-E-R-R-I-F-I-E-D. "Terrified," Josh reads. "Why?" Tyler shrugs, wiping the wood shavings off the knife before flicking it closed and handing it back to Josh. "I don't know. Always am," he says. "Why?" Josh repeats. "Of what?" Tyler shrugs again. "Of what's next, I guess," he says. Josh frowns. "That's nothing to be scared of," he says. "Why am I scared, then?" Josh smiles in that small, gentle way of his. "Orange-green-purple," he says. Tyler sighs, tracing his thumb over the carving in the wooden board. "I'm not," he murmurs. "Not really." "You are," Josh says. "Like stretched orange cotton. Not knowing what's around the corner is one of the best things ever." "Terrifying," Tyler says, shaking his head. "Maybe a little," Josh allows. "But maybe what's around the corner is the best thing you could possibly imagine." "What if it's not, though?" "What if it is?" "What if it isn't?" Josh leans forward, taking Tyler's fingers away from the carving in the wood. "But what if it is?" he whispers.
(and okay)
"How are things with you and your mother?" Dr. Paulson asks as Tyler slides a peanut butter cup into his pocket. "Fine," Tyler says. Fine?" Dr. Paulson repeats, eyebrow raised. "Better," Tyler amends. Dr. Paulson nods slowly. "You talked to her about Josh, then?" Tyler nods. "She didn't look too happy." "As expected, Tyler," Dr. Paulson says, still looking down at her notes. "It can't be comfortable for a woman to hear her seventeen-year-old son talk about his imaginary friend." "Who she thinks is imaginary," Tyler corrects before he can stop himself. Dr. Paulson pauses, finally looking up from his notes. "Tyler," he says softly, "Josh is-" "Yes, okay, whatever," Tyler says quickly. The doctor sighs, running his hand through thinning hair absentmindedly. "He's not real, Tyler," he says softly. "I'm sorry, but he just doesn't exist." "Yes, fine, whatever you say." Dr. Paulson rubs his face with his hands. "Tyler..." "Look," Tyler says, suddenly feeling ready to fight, "I know you think I'm crazy because of this, but Josh is real, okay? You're not going to convince me otherwise." Dr. Paulson chuckles dryly. "I'm seeing that, yes."
"It's all blue-black," Josh says. "My home, I mean. That's why I like it here better." "You've told me that," Tyler says. "Lots." "That doesn't make it any less true," Josh points out. "I know," Tyler says. "I'm just saying that I hear you whenever you tell me." "But I don't want you to hear me," Josh says insistently. "I want you to listen." Tyler frowns. "What's the difference?" Josh makes a frustrated noise. "Some people- philosophers, mainly- say other people never hear each other," he says. "But I don't think that's true. I think everyone hears, but I don't think most people listen." Tyler's frown deepens. "I still don't get it." "It's like..." Josh shifts, taking Tyler's hand. "Okay, when I say 'take my hand,' you think of holding hands, right? Not of taking my hand someplace with you. Unless we go somewhere hand-in-hand, but that's a different story." He shakes his head to clear it. "What I mean is, you hear 'take my hand' but listen to 'hold my hand.'" "Oh." Tyler pauses, thinking. "I get it." He frowns again. "I think." Josh cracks a smile. "Well, at least you're honest."
won't let me send the next part whoops
is it okay if i skip a part? pic collage is being weird and not letting me post this part
okay.
"Mom?" Tyler asks, walking into the kitchen. "Tyler?" his mom responds, turning to him with an expression of mild surprise. "I have something to tell you," he says, cautiously taking her hand and leading her to sit at the kitchen table. "What is it?" she asks. "I..." am in love with the boy you think is imaginary what do I do, "...uh." Tyler scratches the back of his neck. "Um." "Yes?" his mom says. "What's for dinner?" comes tumbling out. His mother blinks in surprise. "Spaghetti and meatballs," she says. "Why? Do you want to eat with us?" And for some unknown reason, Tyler nods.
"So, let me get this straight:" Josh begins, "you tried to eat the spaghetti with a spoon, called your brother a periwinkle dust mop when he tried to give you a fork, listened to your sister talk about her basketball tournament, fell off your chair when your other brother kicked you under the table, watched your dad drink a nonalcoholic beer, listened to your mom talk about your sister's basketball tournament, and burst into tears when the brother who kicked you asked why you don't go to school." "That just about sums it up," Tyler says, nodding. Josh raises an eyebrow at him. "And why did you even go to dinner?" Tyler blushes. "It was sort of an accident." Josh raises the other eyebrow. "How do you accidentally wind up eating dinner with your family?" "I- ah..." Tyler runs a hand through his hair. "Well, I was going to ask my mom something, but, uh, I ended up asking her what was for dinner." Josh's raised eyebrows lift even higher. "What were you going to ask her?" Tyler feels his face flush even darker. "Nothing," he says a little too quickly. Josh's eyebrows rise so high that they almost disappear into his mop of bright blue hair. Before Tyler can stop himself, he's reaching out and pushing Josh's eyebrows down himself. They stare at each other for a moment before they both burst out laughing. They end up with their foreheads pressed together and fingers intertwined, and they're both still giggling as Tyler looks down at Josh's soft, C major lips. It would be so easy just to... "Tyler?" Tyler snaps out of it, looking back up into Josh's mocha eyes. Their foreheads are still pressed together. "Can I, um..." Before Tyler can think about it, he's shifting himself oh-so-slightly for their lips to touch. It's brief, but Tyler can still feel those perfect, C major lips unresponsive on his when he pulls back. "Oh," Josh says, looking startled. "Oh," Tyler echoes, standing up. "Oh, oh man, I'm so sorry, I- I'll..." He practically slides down the ladder. "No, wait, Tyler-" Josh calls, but Tyler doesn't look back.
and pic collage is doing it again
AND PIC COLLAGE IS DOIBG IT AGAIN SMH
i skipped the smΓΌt tho
He hopes Josh will understand why he hasn't been out to make amends yet. His mom has only left his side to call a few people and to talk to his dad. "I'm just going to go say hi to your siblings, okay?" his mom says, when they hear the garage door open. "I'll be right back." Tyler nods slowly. He can hear his mom greeting his brother and sister when there's a tap on the living room window. He looks out to see Josh standing there, waving cautiously. Tyler runs to the window, opening it. "Hi," he says cautiously. "Come on," Josh says, gesturing out to the woods behind them. Tyler bites his lip. "My mom'll freak out if she comes back and I'm not here," he says. Josh sighs. "Please?" he says. "I'm sorry, Tyler. I didn't mean to yell. Please. I'm sorry." Tyler sighs, looking out. "Fine," he murmurs, climbing out of the window. "Hi," Josh says softly, cautiously taking his hand. "Can we talk?" "Okay," Tyler says, and they walk, hand-in-hand, into the forest. "I'm sorry that I blew up at you like that," Josh apologizes once they're safely hidden in the trees. "I'm sorry I said I understood," Tyler says. "I don't understand. I don't know what I was thinking." Josh smiles, C major lips a little sad. "Everybody's ******* sorry," he whispers, and Tyler leans in and kisses him. Josh's eyes are closed when he pulls back, and he looks peaceful. "Sing," he says, eyes still closed. "What?" Tyler asks, taken aback.
AND PIC COLLAGE IS DOING IT AGAIN AGH
So?" "So, maybe you're not real." Josh freezes, looking at Tyler. "What?" "Maybe you're not real," Tyler repeats. Josh is shaking his head. "No, don't say that." "Everyone tells me you aren't," Tyler says. "My therapists, my psychologist, my parents-" "Don't listen to them," Josh says firmly, staring into Tyler's eyes. "Don't listen. You can see me, right? Hear me?" He squeezes Tyler's hand. "Feel me?" "Hallucination?" Tyler offers. "One that kisses you?" Josh retorts. Tyler shakes Josh's hand off in favor of burying his head in his hands. "Tyler, I'm real," Josh snaps. "Do you hear me?" "Let me think!" Tyler yells back. "I told you to remember me!" Josh growls. "Did you think that up yourself? Am I really just your imagination?" "Shut up!" Tyler screams, hands over his ears. "Shut up shut up shut up!" Listen to me!" "You're not real!" Yes I am!" You're not real!" "I am! Tyler, listen-" "Not real, not real, not real-" And then Josh backhands him across the face.
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