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minteemochi · 5 days ago

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A Lesson in Honesty - Josh Dun x Reader

Pairing: Josh Dun x fem!bandmember!Reader Era: Trench (2019) Genre: angst to fluff / hurt/comfort Word Count: 7 003 Warnings: no use of (y/n), descriptions of pain, misogyny, Tyler has a small crisis (nothing bad), jealous!Josh, Tyler not minding his own business, mentions of pregnancy (Jenna) and Tyler as a dad, Josh’s in a bad mood Summary: You haven’t had a good week on tour and to make matters worse, Josh is behaving weirdly Prompts: playing matchmaker, one-bed-trope A/N: Okay so. I started this account right after I had to drop out of university because of depression. Back then I left everything behind that I had built for myself and returned to my hometown. I haven’t been back to that city since, not even that country. Until last week. I went to see twenty one pilots, who I started listening to while living there, and being back there, seeing the familiar streets, how little had changed… it was surprisingly easier than I had expected. But I thought since I’m having top brainrot rn, might as well write something in honour of being brave enough to go back there. And to starting my (hopefully) last semester in the BA-degree at my hometown university. Coming full circle? Whatever. Enjoy reading.

“No! I will not continue playing!”

This had to be the finale of this disastrous week’s events. From a twisted ankle on Monday night, over strange interviews and an unusual amount of Tyler’s antics to tonight being the third evening in a row that you were playing with a broken in-ear, it had been a week.

“You’ve played the last two nights like this, you can do it,” the stage manager encouraged, trying to dismiss your pain.

“Maybe having played the last two night like this, and today’s soundcheck, and having said multiple times that I need my in-ears checked, is the reason why now it feels like my brain is leaking out!”

Your patience was running thin. You had made it through the first two songs before the pain had become unbearable. What was maybe worse, was that you had no real idea what exactly caused the pain. It was not just the loud noise and the anxiety of only hearing the dead mic instead of also the music. It almost felt like there was a tone in your earphones, outside your hearing range, that caused the pain. You had pointed it out close to a dozen times, to different people, asking them to help fix it, but the pain was still there, and you just couldn't take it anymore. You had signalled Tyler, who had been closer, that something was wrong, and gone backstage, hoping to get your set of back-up in-ears. Except that the new stage manager was apparently a real asshole.

“I either get my back-up, or I’m not going back out there,” you threatened, trying to establish some semblance of dominance towards the man, who was a head taller than you and at least twice as broad.

“Oh, come on,” the stage manager rolled his eyes. “You’re being a bit overdramatic right now, don’t you think. Just get back on stage and do your job.”

For a moment you just stared at him in disbelieve, before reaching for his dead mic without breaking eye contact.

“Tyler, Josh, I need one of you guys back here,” you spoke into the mic.

You hated doing this, asking your male band members to stand up for you, but even though the thousands of people in the arena were here for you as much as for Tyler and Josh, there were still crew members who thought it would be okay to pay you less respect than them.

It only took a few seconds for the familiar form of Josh to come jumping down the stairs.

“What’s up,” he shouted, while jogging to your side.

“I need my back-up in-ears,” you answered. “These ones are still hurting my ears.”

Josh turned to look at the stage manager with raised eyebrows.

On stage, Tyler seemed to try his best to keep the crowd entertained.

"And there goes Josh, too," he commented. "Keep it PG13, guys! Why do I never get invited to these things…"

Any other day, Tyler's harmless jokes would have made you roll your eyes playfully, maybe even earned a chuckle. But these kinds of comments had been going on for the whole week already, and maybe, if there wasn't a seed of truth behind his words – you wishing it were actually true what he was teasing about – then it wouldn't have bothered you. Instead, now his words brought you close to blowing up, which definitely was not helped by the stage manager’s refusal to acknowledge your distress.

“So?” It was subtle, the way Josh was pushing himself to stand between you and the stage manager, and for a moment you were not sure if you were flattered by him displaying his protective side, or annoyed. You decided on the former. “Where are her back-ups?”

“I’d take us a few minutes to set them up-”

“Then you better get going, people are waiting for us,” Josh offered his unapologetic demand, something he had learnt from Tyler over the years.

The stage manager stared at him for a moment, before gesturing to a technician, who stood by his side and quickly scrambled off, doubtlessly to search for what was needed.

“You okay?” Josh turned around to you, bringing his hands up to your shoulders. His dark eyes were soft and full of worry, as he leant in a little closer.

The usual response threatened to make its way over your lips; a ‘yeah, I’m fine’ almost on the tip of your tongue. But you had made a promise, the three of you, never to lie when it was about your health, be it physical or mental.

“No,” you admitted, your throat suddenly closing up. “It fucking hurts.”

“Oh, baby,” Josh gently grabbed your chin, looking into your face before pulling you into his arms. He was warm, and already a little sweaty, but you didn’t mind. You had been hugged by both him and Tyler, when all of you were dripping with sweat; years of touring together had gotten you used to it. What you were not used to, was the nickname, that sent your heart racing, and you quickly buried your head against Josh’s neck to hide the embarrassment.

A few seconds later, the technician came back, and Josh had to step away, so he could work on you.

Less than a minute later, you were good to go, your ears not feeling like someone had thrust red-hot wires through them straight into your brain anymore, and the show continued.

From there on, things seemed to go smoothly. Tyler was his usual upbeat self, commanding the crowd effortlessly to sing along, use their phone-torches or sit quietly. Josh, behind his drums, seemed as confident as ever, matching his expression to the music, his eyes either on the crowd, Tyler, or you. Whenever you felt his gaze, you walked over, to interact with him, and each time he broke character, a bright grin on his face as he adjusted his pace and energy to whatever you were doing. Things were like always, things were good. Until ‘Neon Gravestones’ came on.

Maybe you should have seen it earlier, the way Tyler’s shoulders were a little too tense, but when you stood on his platform on B-Stage that night, you could see that something was troubling him. You loved sharing quiet glances with Josh, loved looking out over the crowd during the calm song, loved taking in the faces of the people who connected so deeply with the music.

But tonight, your attention was on Tyler. He was a professional, brilliant at letting the crowd see only what he wanted them to see. But you knew him too well to be fooled by his acting. It was the way his shoulders were a tiny bit too drawn up, the way his eyes skipped over the piano keys.

You shot Josh a look, who glanced between you and Tyler and back to you. He had noticed it, too. Since Josh was on his own platform, trapped behind his drums, there was little he could do. So, it was up to you.

Hoping you were not drawing too much attention to Tyler’s quiet turmoil, you stepped behind him, close enough to press your side against his back, careful not to hit him over the head with your instrument.

Standing like this, you could feel his shaky breath as he fought his way through the end of the song before the lights dimmed and the last accord rang out in the arena. As soon as the big spotlights were turned off, Tyler turned around on his seat and hugged you around the middle. Unaware of Josh’s furrowed brows at the sudden display of affection, your hugged him back, running your hands through his hair.

“What’s wrong,” you asked, hoping he heard you over the crowd.

“What if my baby ever feels this way?”

It wasn’t public yet, that Tyler and Jenna were expecting a baby, but obviously Josh and you were already in on the secret. You weren’t surprised that these kinds of thoughts were the ones plaguing Tyler during a show; it wouldn’t be the first time.

“Then they’ll have the best parents in the world, who will make sure they get all the support and love they could ever possibly need and want, right?”

Tyler’s arms tightened around you for a moment, and you glanced over at Josh, who was watching closely, but with an unfamiliar tightness on his face. Just as the lights went back on, Tyler let go of you and turned back to the piano. A stolen moment of weakness in the middle of thousands of onlookers. Neither of you were oblivious to the smartphone cameras that had been pointed on you, but Tyler had developed a certain skill when it came to hiding his true vulnerability.

As he leant over the mic to announce the next song, you shot Josh another look. He was still watching, still tense. Cocking your head at him, you wordlessly asked what was wrong, but he just pressed his lips together and busied himself with a screw on his drums before you had to join Tyler for the next song.

That was the second incident of the night. The third one followed only a few minutes later, when all of you were supposed to head back to the main stage. Usually, you unplugged your instrument and carried it back to where you would plug it in again, but this time Tyler, who had semi-recovered from the emotions from earlier, stood up from the piano and just as you had made it off the platform, grabbed you by the wrist. A moment later, he had taken your instrument, and placed it down on the platform, before jumping down to join you.

Before you knew what was happening, he had wrapped his arms around you in a hug, lifting you up as if you weighted nothing, and begun walking. It wasn’t the first time he had done something like that, even though it was the first time in the middle of a show, but you didn’t pay it much mind, just let him drag you around, thinking he would place you back on your feet after a few meters.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he carried you all the way to the stage before he set you back down, laughing and flicking your nose before running up the steps to his piano.

Josh, who had been walking right behind Tyler and you, just walked past you, not looking at you, which made your heart sink. First, Tyler had been off, and now something was going on with Josh. Reaching out for him, you grazed your fingers over his arm, a short gesture you always used in the middle of concerts to assure him of your presence when you had the impression he needed some comfort. Normally, he leant into the contact, a short but defined moment of acknowledgment, sometimes he even reached out back, but today he drew away.

Yes, something was definitely wrong. And knowing Josh, he wouldn’t be as open about it to you as Tyler was, even if you had promised each other.

If Tyler had noticed, he had opted to ignore the tension, instead waiting for the two of you at the foot of the stage once the show was over, and throwing an arm around your shoulder.

“Thanks for earlier,” he said, nudging his forehead against the side of yours, like a cat.

“Anytime,” you grinned, patting his back, while trying to subtly keep an eye on Josh. “Just next time, try not to squeeze me to death if you want to carry me around, okay?”

Tyler laughed. “Bridal style next time, roger that. Hey, Josh, you good?”

Josh shot the two of you a glance, his eyes lingering a moment too long on the way Tyler had his arm slung over your shoulder as if he weren’t used to the sight.

“Yeah,” he answered, and you didn’t have to look at Tyler to know you both didn’t believe the drummer.

“Good,” Tyler nodded, but he didn’t sound convinced as he stiffly drew his arm back.

“Guys, I’m so sorry-”

You were just accepting a bottle of water from a stagehand, when your incident number… three? Four? – you had lost count – begun developing in the form of your tour manager sprinting along. One might think the day was over and done for you once the music ended, but even though you were not responsible for clearing out the stage or loading the bus, there was always more happening. Some days it was interviews, other days it was meeting fans, and today it was whatever had your tour manager’s brows in a deep furrow. If there was one thing you had learnt over the years of being a member of Twenty One Pilots, it was that you didn’t want a situation where the tour manager had a furrow in their brow and you certainly didn't want to be the cause for that furrow.

“What’s wrong?” Tyler – a moment ago happy, goofy, cheerful post-show-Tyler – immediately turned serious and went straight into problem-solving-mode. You watched him for a moment longer. Oh yeah, you could see it. He was already working on his dad-mode, and the baby wasn’t even born yet. Good.

“The hotel messed up our rooms,” the tour manager admitted, running a hand through his sparce hair. “The rooms for the crew are all okay, but instead of three singles they gave us one single and one twin.”

“That’s three beds, where’s the problem,” you asked, quickly chugging down the contents of the water bottle you had been handed.

“I know you usually prefer your own rooms,” the tour manager said, glancing between Tyler, who was already relaxing as it was no world-ending problem you were facing, you, who screwed the empty bottle shut and handed it back to the stagehand, and Josh, who looked as brooding and dark as if he had just been told someone had stolen their equipment.

“That’s okay,” Tyler shrugged. “We’ll just pair up.” Encouragingly, he patted both yours and Josh’s back.

On the way to the bus, having made only a short stop at the changing rooms to grab your jackets, you agreed that Tyler and Josh would share the double room, so you got some quiet time, especially after the unlucky incident with the in-ears from the beginning of the show.

You had half-heartedly hoped Josh would find an excuse to let Tyler take the single room, so you and him could join, but he kept quiet, too quiet, throughout the whole conversation, and you knew better than to keep poking at him. He and Tyler were very different in that matter.

When something was wrong with Tyler and he didn’t tell you immediately, a safe way to get him to talk was to continue asking. Eventually he would blow up a little before confessing to what was on his mind. Josh, on the other hand, just shut you out. Either he talked because he wanted to, or not at all. Both Tyler and you had learnt that the hard way over the years, although you couldn’t remember the last time Josh had felt bad and not actively sought you out to share his thoughts.

The ride to the hotel took almost half an hour, and you desperately wished you would have taken a shower before leaving the venue. But Tyler seemed tired and with Josh being in that weird state he was in, you thought it was better to get both of them to bed quickly.

On the bus, you checked your phone, when suddenly a message by Tyler came in. He had sent a video from a fan account, and quickly putting on your headphones, you turned on the sound. It turned out that it was a video collage, cut together from an interview the three of you had given earlier that week. You still remembered a few of the questions, and the stupid stories you all had responded with to questions you hadn’t fancied answering honestly. What you also remembered were the comments Tyler had made, similar to the one he had shared with the crowd while Josh had helped you discuss with the stage manager. Almost every second sentence out of Tyler’s mouth had been something that implied that Josh and you were an item in the romantic sense.

The video was done in an admittedly funny way, cutting between Tyler’s shit-eating grin, Josh’s eyerolls and your embarrassed retorts.

While watching the video, you couldn’t help but notice the way Tyler’s comments that day hadn’t left Josh entirely unbothered either. You hadn’t seen it at the time, not having dared looking over to him too much, but on the video it was quite plain that he had blushed sometimes and – contrary to your assumption – looked over to you several times as if to check your reaction.

When you clicked back from the video, you saw the message Tyler had added.

“You’re sooo subtle”

You took off your headphones and selected the middle finger emoji as a response, earning a delighted giggle from deeper inside the bus before turning off your phone and glancing over to Josh who sat with folded legs on the sofa. He was typing around on his phone, the occasional pausing making it look like he was chatting with someone. Was he texting Tyler or maybe someone from his family? Or a woman?

Pushing the bitter thought out of your mind, you focused on the way the white light from his screen danced over his face, catching at his lips and lashes, painting long shadows on his skin. He was beautiful, you thought to yourself, with his dark curls, brown eyes, that soft smile that more often than not tucked on his lips.

Now it was replaced with varying stages of confusion, almost annoyance as if whoever he was communicating with was upsetting him. If he was texting a woman, maybe he should forget about her. No, that was a selfish though, driven only by the hope that he would pick up on your interest in him. Which in and of itself was weird enough. For years you had worked closely together with him, had shared the narrow backs of vans while driving through the country, had confessed secrets and crushes to each other, had teamed up against Tyler and given your heart and soul for the band. And for what? To fall in love with him after almost ten years? Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid-

“What the fuck, man,” Tyler poked his head out from the bunk bed area, shooting Josh a playful glare. “That’s so out of line.”

Josh seemed not as amused as Tyler. Apparently, it had been Tyler Josh had been texting with, and not some secret girlfriend.

“I told you to mind your own business,” Josh protested, still obviously in a bad mood.

“Alright, alright,” Tyler sighed, making his way over to sit next to you at the small table. “Change of topic: Jenna wants to call later and honestly I feel like I might need some alone time. You wouldn’t mind…”

He trailed off, expectantly looking at you.

“Change rooms,” you offered. ‘Alone time’ was pretty much the code word in the band for asking for a single room.

Tyler nodded, visibly relieved that you had caught on immediately. “That would be great-”

“Tyler-,” Josh sighed, sounding annoyed from where he was sitting on the sofa, as if Tyler had done exactly what Josh hadn’t wanted him to do.

“That is, if you’re willing to sleep next to Mr. Grumpy over there,” Tyler teased.

Looking over to Josh, you found he was already waiting for your reply. Something about him was different now from before, as if he were uncertain about our response or what he should hope you would answer. If it came down to you, you knew you would prefer sleeping next to Josh over your own room for the night. You still remembered all the nights you had spent more or less on top of one another on the backseats of vans or sharing sleeping bags on the living room floors of some family friends who happened to live in the city you were playing at. And sometimes you missed it, the way he had wrapped his arms around you casually, as if you were a plushie he needed to be able to sleep, or how you had watched his eyes flicker underneath his closed lids while sleep evaded you.

Raising your eyebrows at him, you signalled him wordlessly that it would be okay for you, and he shrugged back.

“Not like I get much of a choice,” he grumbled, averting his gaze.

His reply lodged a sting in your chest. Whatever had happened between him helping you to get your back-up in-ears and now seemed not to go away any time soon, and where you usually would have looked forward to sharing a room with him, you now wondered how much worse his mood could get.

The hotel was one of the big business hotels that looked the same in every city. Tyler got off the elevator a few floors before you, leaving Josh and you as the last ones in the enclosed space. He wore an oversized hoodie, night bag slung over his shoulder while avoiding your eyes.

“Did you have a fight with anyone,” you asked carefully. “You usually are only this quiet when you had a disagreement with Tyler…”

Josh exhaled loudly and shook his head. “No, we’re good. Just… some thoughts.”

“Wanna share?”

“Not now.”

“Fair enough,” you shrugged, watching the electronic numbers counting up the floors. “I’m here if you need me.”

Josh hummed and for a moment silence fell between you, before he spoke up again. “Were your ears okay for the rest of the show?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “The back-ups are never quite as good as the real ones, but at least I didn’t feel like my brain was seeping out through my ears.”

Josh scoffed. “That stage manager though- what’s his name?”

“Uhm…”

“Can’t wait until he’s gone. I hate that they just switched him in without any of us knowing who he is. And honestly, he should learn how to respect you more.”

“I agree with you there,” you sighed, completely understanding Josh’s frustration, both about not having been taken seriously and having been assigned a stage manager without ever meeting him before the first show.

“I was so close to blowing up in his face,” Josh admitted, a hint of shame swinging in his voice.

“You and me both, Josh, you and me both.”

Gently you boxed his arm, too late remembering that he hadn’t been in the best mood before. But instead of pulling away, he turned to look at you and sent you a tight smile; tight not because of you but because of the manager.

Your room was on the highest floor of the building, allowing you a nice view over the city through the huge window, before Josh turned on the lights. The moment of wonder at the lights glittering beyond the glass was only short lived though, when you saw the size of the bed.

“I thought they said it was a twin bedroom,” asked Josh, standing behind you in the door, glancing over your shoulder.

There were in fact not two beds, as the description of a ‘twin bed room’ would have suggested. Instead, it was a double bed, and not a big one at that.

“Should we- should we go ask for a different room,” you asked hesitantly. If you were being honest, the idea to share a bed with Josh made you giddy with excitement, but at the same time you hated the thought he might be uncomfortable.

“’s okay for me,” he offered, walking past you into the small room.

“Well, then.” You followed him, dropping your own bag off on one of the chairs, and hung your jacket up on a hanger.

“Do you want the door or the window side of the bed,” Josh asked, looking around the room. There was hardly any place to stand, the bed so close to the outside wall of the building that the window side was hardly accessible. Other than that, the room offered little more than a table with two chairs, a mini fridge and a small tv.

“Window,” you decided, and he nodded, throwing his own bag on the side of the bed closer to the door.

Sneaking a glance into the small bathroom you asked: “Do you wanna shower first?”

Josh looked back at you over his shoulder, his eyes flickering momentarily to the bathroom door.

“If that’s alright with you,” he asked back, and when you just nodded, he quickly pulled some sleepwear from his bag and headed for the bathroom.

While you heard the shower being turned on, you began grabbing your own clothes from your bag, and sat down on one of the chairs, looking out of the window as good as the reflection allowed. For a moment you considered turning off the ceiling lights, but you felt too tired to move around much more.

Instead, you allowed the racing thoughts in your head for a moment to scream as much as they liked, drowning out even the sound of the shower and the air conditioning.

The week had been exhausting, and you were grateful that there was no show tomorrow, even if that meant you had no real outlet for the frustration in your system. After Tyler had sent you the video earlier, you couldn’t help but replay all the other comments in your head, which he had made throughout the week.

There were countless teases about Josh and you, about how you made a good team, about how cute you’d be together. Then he had suddenly removed himself from situations, leaving Josh and you alone over breakfast or in the lounge of the bus. You had enjoyed these times, the conversation between Josh and you always flowing smoothly, and the first two days you hadn’t thought much about Tyler’s sudden disappearances.

Until the interview where the video had been taken.

He had been bolder then, suggesting time and time again that something was going on between Josh and you. You had almost forgotten about these interviews, the one where the video had been taken not being the only one where Tyler had been in this mischievous mood. But the first evening with your broken in-ears had made things difficult to focus on much else. Then there was Josh’s strange behaviour ever since you had comforted Tyler after ‘Neon Gravestones’, and Tyler once again making sure Josh and you were spending time together by making you stay in the same room.

Was he setting you up?

The idea was ridiculous for so many reasons. First of all, you were bandmates. If something happened between Josh and you, and it ended badly, the integrity of the band was at risk. Secondly, he was doomed to fail from the beginning on, considering you were the only one interested.

Admittedly, you had no way to check if Josh might feel the same. God forbid, you would simply ask him ‘Hey Josh, are you interested in me romantically?’ Then again, you wouldn’t put it past Tyler to have asked that question for you.

Your thoughts got interrupted by Josh calling your name, and a moment later the bathroom door creaked open.

“Already done,” you asked, turning around after seeing him poke his head out.

“I forgot my shampoo,” he admitted. “Could I borrow yours?”

“Sure. Wait-” Getting up from your spot on the chair, you quickly grabbed the bag with shampoo, shower gel, conditioner and all the other small things you needed in the shower and walked over to the bathroom.

Josh stood half behind the door, towel wrapped around his hips, water dripping out of his dark curls and running over his bare chest. It was stupid, really stupid, just as stupid your little crush (haha, little, as if) on him was, but something about him coming from fresh under the shower was more attractive than it should have been.

You had seen him shirtless countless times. He made sure to remove it several times each show. You had seen him with nothing on but pyjama pants. You had seen him in the swimming pool, as wet as he was now, wearing only a pair of colourful swimming trunks. But now, seeing him standing in the bathroom, dripping wet like a puppy that had fallen into a pool, that was what made your heart skip a beat? You could only hope your thoughts weren’t displayed too openly on your face.

“Feel free to use whatever you need,” you offered him, holding out the bag, and he shot you a quick smile, taking the bag, but he didn’t close the bathroom door before you had turned around.

You tried going back to your thoughts, trying to sort them further, but their insistent screaming from before had dimmed to a consistent humming that now got overshadowed by the image of Josh, dripping wet, standing in the bathroom door. How pathetic could you be, getting thrown so out of your train of thoughts simply from seeing one of your best friends shirtless after having seen him shirtless the majority of nights for the past months? Then again, to your defence, objectively speaking: Josh was hot. That wasn’t just you. That was a fact.

Josh only took another few minutes before he was finished in the bathroom, leaving you to take your turn with the shower. You almost regretted a little that Josh had forgotten his shampoo, because now the bathroom smelled like your products instead of like his.

Just like Josh you quickly rinsed of, cleaning yourself enough to wash off tonight’s sweat and dust without taking too much time, before you dried off, brushed teeth, and joined Josh back in the room. He seemed to have rubbed his hair dry, because it was almost completely dry and very tousled by the time you packed your bathroom bag away.

Josh was sitting on the bed, legs folded, fiddling with a string from his pyjama pants. He had done you the favour of throwing on a t-shirt as well, one that was almost a little oversized, even for him, and made him look uncharacteristically lost. When he glanced up at you, there was an unfamiliar vulnerability in his eyes, but you knew that he wanted to talk about whatever he hadn’t been ready to share before. One look at him was all it took for you to understand that.

“I know it’s late,” he began, as he watched you pack your bag to the degree that would allow you to quickly change your clothes tomorrow morning and leave without much more packing to do. “But… can we talk?”

That was what you had been waiting for.

Abandoning the bag, you joined Josh sitting on the bed, and for a few moments he just looked at you.

“Do you wanna turn off the lights,” you offered, knowing how sometimes it helped Josh when the lights weren’t quite as bright. He had told you once, dimmer lights made him feel less exposed.

Instead of answering you verbally, he leant over to his bedside table and turned on the small lamp there, before he switched off the main lights. Immediately the room got bathed in a soft orange hue, but Josh still seemed as tense as before.

“How’re your ears now,” he asked suddenly.

Distraction. Easing into it. You knew he’d ask something like that.

“Didn’t you ask me that already,” you reminded him, keeping the tone light, but not denying him an answer either way. “They were humming a little bit for the rest of the show, but I’m good now.”

Josh nodded, keeping his eyes on your face as if he were trying to memorise it down to the last detail. Without warning he suddenly reached out, cupping your chin the same way he had done earlier that night backstage, reminding you of the nickname he had given you then. His hands were warm, and a little rough, but his grip gentle as he slightly turned your head, first to the left, then to the right, as if he expected blood to seep from your ears.

“You sure you’re okay,” he asked again, and you nodded.

“Are you?”

Slowly his hand fell away from your face, leaving a rapidly cooling imprint of the feeling of his fingers on your skin, and his eyes fixed back on his hands.

“What was going on with Tyler today,” he asked, instead of an answer.

So, he did want to talk, you concluded, he just didn’t know how?

“He suddenly got worried about his little one,” you answered, closely watching Josh’s face.

His mouth twitched and he looked up to your eyes again.

“He’s so concerned already.”

“He loves the little one,” you told Josh, who only hummed. Again silence settled over you and again it was Josh who broke it.

“Tyler and I had a conversation recently.” There you were. This was what had been weighing down on Josh. Nervously he focused back on the string that he now twisted around his index finger. “We were talking about the band, and our future, and he said something I never thought about, but really agree with.”

Expectantly you watched Josh, noticing how shallow his breathing was. He was almost panicking, you realized, so you reached out a hand, leaving it hovering over his knee, not touching him until he nodded, even though he didn’t meet your eyes. Gently you placed your hand on his knee, his warmth immediately seeping through the soft fabric of his pyjama pants into your palm.

“What did you agree on,” you asked carefully, hoping your own nervousness was not audible in the way you were talking. But being able to provide an anchor for Josh, being able to help him in some tiny way helped you distract from yourself.

“We were talking about how we’ve always been a band that was honest. And if we couldn’t be honest as ourselves, we put on masks. Oscar Wilde style.”

“Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth,” you recalled the famous quote.

Josh nodded. “But some parts of ourselves, that stop us from being honest, can’t be hidden underneath masks, you know,” he continued. “I asked, how we should deal with these things, especially if they become a threat to the band.”

“What kind of threat?”

Josh thought for a moment, untwirling the yarn from his finger before wrapping it around another one. “Like breaking up. If there were a problem so big, we couldn’t keep going, wouldn’t it be our responsibility to avoid creating such a problem?”

“Generally, yes,” you agreed, “unless it goes against who we are as people. If avoiding this problem means, we’re no longer true to ourselves, wouldn’t it be the honest thing to do, to walk up to the problem, admit we can’t solve it and if the band breaks because of that, then at least we stayed true to ourselves and the fans.”

Josh inhaled shakily. “That’s what Tyler said, too. That’s what I think, too. He said, we as people can’t tell our fans to live life on their conditions, only to throw ours away to obey whatever expectations the world places on our shoulders as a band.”

“That wouldn’t be very honest, no,” you agreed.

“So, do you think, if there is something I feel I should do, even if it might risk the band, I should do it?”

Biting your lip you considered Josh’s question. He was still not looking at you, still playing with the string in his fingers. It almost sounded like he was trying to hand over the responsibility of the decision to you, although you were certain he had already made his choice.

“I think,” you said slowly, “that we’ve been playing together for almost ten years now, and I’ve known you for even longer than that. We’re not so easily torn apart, and if you think you should do it, then do it.”

Josh didn’t answer, just stared at his hands before suddenly looking up to you. The light from the bedside table hit him from behind, making his messy curls glow golden while casting a shadow over his face. But the intensity in his beautiful brown eyes was not lost on you, actually made you hold your breath. And then, as if the words were so easy to admit, he said: “I’ve fallen in love with you.”

You stared at him.

It would be a lie to claim you hadn’t secretly dreamt of hearing those words from his lips, but being faced with a wide-eyed Josh, who so obviously feared rejection, made things so much more difficult. You wished you could simply tell him you felt the same and that you wanted to try what being with him would be like, but after all the time, months, almost years, of keeping your growing affection locked away, it was impossible to find the right words now.

“I told Tyler about it,” Josh continued, averting his eyes once more, but now his fingers had ceased their fidgeting. “He said I needed to tell you.”

Deafening silence settled over you. The rushing of blood in your ears drowned out the humming of the air conditioning. You needed to say something, or do something, anything to signal Josh that you were not rejecting him, but all you could think about was that it didn’t make sense for someone as gentle and warm as him to fall in love with someone like you.

“You’re in love with me?”

His eyes snapped back to you. “Yes,” he confirmed. Simple. Clear. Leaving no doubt. “Is that so hard to believe?"

You blinked at him, your mind feeling like a car that had raced onto an ice patch at full speed: surprisingly quiet, and completely out of control.

“It is to me,” you admitted. “I’m not the kind of person people fall in love with.”

“I did,” Josh immediately disagreed. “I do.”

Slowly it began feeling like you were regaining control over your limbs, so you carefully lifted your hand and brought it up to Josh’s cheek. There was no hesitation in his expression as he closed his eyes and nuzzled into your palm. His skin was soft and warm, a little scratchy where he needed to shave tomorrow, but familiar and safe.

“I’m in love with you too,” you admitted quietly, leaning in closer until your forehead rested against his.

Josh’s breath hitched and he shifted, nudging his nose against yours sweetly.

“Can I kiss you,” he asked, sounding out of breath, his voice barely a whisper between you.

You couldn’t help the smile that tucked at your lips as you whispered back: “Yes, please.”

He didn’t hesitate to close the gap, pressing his lips to yours while bringing his hands to your waist, holding onto you. His kiss was demanding, but soft, and you could feel him shiver when you ran your hand along his jaw, down his neck and into his hair. It made you feel better about the way your heart was hammering in your throat, and the heat that crept up your neck and into your cheeks.

Kissing Josh felt exactly like you had imagined it to feel, safe and warm and like he actually cared for you, but at the same time it was nothing like you had imagined it either. He tasted of mint from his toothpaste, leaving the sweetness of his lips seem like a second layer, hidden by the first. You could smell your body wash on him, and a surge of possessiveness flashed through you, making you press closer to him, grabbing him a little tighter and earning you an appreciative hum that you swore would have almost made you faint.

When Josh pulled away, his cheeks were flushed and his pupils blown wide.

“I didn’t expect that to actually ever happen,” he admitted slightly breathless and with a fond grin on his face as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you to lay down next to him. On the narrow bed, you were grateful he held you this close, keeping both of you from falling off the edge on your respective sides. At least you could use the size of the bed as a valid excuse to stay in his arms.

“Tyler did,” you suddenly realized. “Tyler expected it to happen. You told him in the beginning of the week, didn’t you? He’s been weird ever since. And you’ve been jealous.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” Josh denied, burying his face into your neck. His warm breath made goosebumps raise on your skin.

“You definitely were jealous, when I checked up on Tyler today, and when he carried me back to stage,” you reminded him, unable to supress the teasing grin that pulled at your lips; lips on which you could still taste his. “And in that interview on Wednesday, when that guy complimented me.”

“Okay, maybe I was a bit jealous,” he admitted.

“No need to be,” you smiled, shifting to press a kiss against his hair. “I wasn’t really paying attention to anyone but you anyway.”

You could feel Josh smile against your skin, and his arms tightening around you a little more. And when you fell asleep, you couldn’t help but think that this development maybe made up for the week you had had. Perhaps you should thank Tyler for his obnoxious but eventually successful attempts to get you alone-time with Josh. How soon he would get to hear that thank-you depended entirely on how smug he’d be about the news though.

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minteemochi · 25 days ago