✓ ❘ 𝐄𝐌𝐎 𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐓 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 ─ 𝐌𝐂𝐑. 𝐏!𝐀𝐓𝐃. 𝐅𝐎𝐁. 𝐓Ø𝐏.

A Song To You Is Not Just A Song To Me. (Tyler Joseph x Reader)

I watch him on stage. I watch his movements, his mouth, his facial expressions, the way he glides spectacularly from one side of the stage to the other with such confidence. Such ease. As if all of this just came naturally to him. As if this is all he's been used to his entire life.

I know that's not true. I know that he had to fight to get to where he is today. He had to fight to be comfortable enough with himself and with others to be able to reach the point where he could let go.

I know that he almost died in the process.

He's singing Car Radio now. I think back to when we used to drive in his car; music blaring, windows down. I remember his adorable smile and how his face would light up instantly whenever his favourite song came on. Of course, that was before someone stole his car radio. After that, the car rides were silent. He hated it. Music was his escape. Without it, he was forced to think. He wasn't fond of thinking. He said that his thoughts suffocated him until the point where he felt like dying.

Migraine is next. I remember the day he called me to tell me that he couldn't take it anymore. That everything was too much and he just wanted it to end. The pain, the suffering, the thoughts. He felt alone, like no one could ever understand what he was going through. I cried a lot that day. I remember the 3 hour long phone call vividly. I remember telling him that we'd made it this far, and we could make it the rest of the way.

Kitchen Sink. Every time I hear this song, everything about that night comes flooding back; I can still hear the thumping of my heart in my ears and I can still feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins as I ran towards him. I'll never forget the way my hands trembled with fear as I cut the rope tied around the tap, and the way I whispered a prayer that he would be okay over and over. The way his almost-lifeless body fell on top of mine is still fresh in my memory to this day. I sobbed harder than I ever had in my entire existence for those next 3 and a half minutes. I was so sure that I'd lost him, and it was the worst pain imaginable.

He's at the chorus of Can't Help Falling In Love. A smile tugs at the corners of my lips as I watch him strum his ukulele. I think back to when I bought it for him and how happy he was when I gave it to him. He'd spend hours playing and I would spend hours listening. I loved Elvis, so he learned how to play my favourite song to surprise me on my birthday. I cried a lot that day too.

He finished the song and looked over at me standing in the stage wings. He smiled at me. I loved that smile. It was the smile he had when he'd told me that he started writing music to help him cope. It was the smile he had when I gave him the ukulele. It was the smile he had when he told me he was starting a band. The smile he had when he told me he was getting better. The smile he had when he met Josh. And the smile he had when twenty one pilots got signed to a record label.

I smiled back at him with tears threatening to spill over my lower eyelids. It's always incredible to watch him on stage. Not just because of his phenomenal talent but also because I get to see him battle his demons. Those thoughts and insecurities that haunted him for so long. He beats them more and more with each passing moment. And I couldn't be more proud.

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Thank you for reading x