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Tyler Joseph was not territorial. No. Not in the slightest.
He gave open ways to strangers on the street. He was cordial with stage crew. Hell, he would often let Mark steal something from his personal space and never ask for it back.
But there was only one thing that was off limits to anyone else and that was the one or two hours he would have alone with Josh. The calm before the storm, before the excitement that would glow underneath their skin and ignite everything in their paths with a blazing fire that would amaze hundreds. Before all of that, there was the ignition, the starter, the kindling that would be a smoking bundle and carried with careful hands towards the giant pillar called the stage, ready to become a blazing force.
It was in these few precious hours that it would be built between gentle laughs, stupid talks of who would win in some silly fight (Josh always says Mecha Godzilla could beat anything, while Tyler would always say any alien could beat the daylights out of whatever was thrown their way), and even quieter voices talking of the future, where it would go. Would they ever go past the stars, or would they settle on a planet with just the two of them (and Jim)?
Tyler worshipped these moments with such grace and fragility and everyone knew this, whether he said it out loud or not one day.
Tonight was extremely different, and he had to fight himself from glaring at an uninvited interviewer for a drumming magazine. He glanced at his phone and felt his mouth twitch at the fact that the minutes were counting down towards showtime and they were being held up by this guy with stupid shorts, an even dumber haircut and even more ridiculous sunglasses. It was night time and indoors, in a green room nonetheless. Who actually had the gall to wear sunglasses indoors?
He could only scoff when the interviewer asked some question that could have been easily answered by a quick Google search, but his brows furrowed together hearing Josh, his Josh, laugh with his chest, something that Tyler would hear between the two of them rather than with a stranger. But, he supposed, Josh was just being polite and wanted their guest to feel comfortable on the very too small couch that could barely hold the both of them, making them connect in an awkward way where their hips were colliding together and their knees were bumping constantly.
Whereas Tyler was stuck on a fold out chair that looked like it had seen better days. He put his phone away and used his fingernail to scrape at the barely noticable (but not to him) rusted eyes on the hinge of the chair, feeling the paint expose the rust and lift where the tip of his nail caught the rugged edges. He could only do so much while the interview was going on, as warmups were done.
He debated on going back to his phone, maybe putting in an Air Pod to watch some reels on Instagram until he saw the interviewer place his large hand on Josh's knee. Tyler's eyes locked on the gesture as the man held his tiny microphone close to his mouth with one hand, but kept his hand on the drummer's knee. As he continued talking into the mic, but then began to caress the sun-kissed skin there with gentleness, then formed to making small circles with his thumbnail.
His lips pursed tightly into a thin line as he glared at the gesture, wondering what the actual hell was this guy's deal. Why is he even here? Isn't this supposed to be an interview? It pissed him off greatly to see someone else waltz into their green room, their temporary sanctuary that bordered on liminal and declare the space and time as their own. Who gave this motherfucker that amount of power to wield that over their heads? And who gave this fucking guy permission to touch Josh so intimately, with his thumb hovering over the very tattoo Tyler gave him?
It was absolutely sickening.
Tyler lifted his eyes for a quick second, only to have his gaze locked onto Josh's, who looked at him with wide, brown eyes and a mouth held in a relaxed state. His eyes, however, said otherwise, that he didn't like the interviewer touching him like that.
The singer interpreted this as 'please help me get this guy out of here'.
He didn't hesitate, raising off of the chair and reaching over to tap the guy on the arm, giving him the fakest, polite smile that didn't reach his eyes. Fishing his phone out from his pocket, he showed the time to the guy. "Hey, I'm so sorry, but could we wrap this up? We need to take some time to prep for our show, and uh..."
The interviewer paled as his eyes widened at the view of the time. "Shit! Oh fuck, I'm so sorry, dude! Ah, knew I should've come here earlier."
The man turned to Josh, smacking his knee without malice and lifted himself off of the small couch. "I've got enough great answers, at least. It was great interviewing you, Josh!"
Josh tilted his head quickly and raised his hand in a polite offering of respect, to which the interviewer took graciously and shook it with a one-two motion, then waved to Tyler in a show of humility. "Thank you both for your time! Hope you two have a great show tonight!"
Tyler could only keep his eyes locked in a quiet rage as he followed the guy until he walked out of the door and closed it behind himself. It was the singer's turn to have Josh to himself and did so immediately by flopping onto the couch and wrapping his arms around his favorite person, locking his arms around the drummer's shoulders and burying himself in his neck.
"Hey, it's okay!" Josh chuckled. "It was just a weird touch, nothing to be upset about."
"It was still weird and I knew you didn't like that," Tyler said, his words muffled as he smelled the clean smell of his lover's neck. "I needed him out of here as soon as he walked through that door."
"I know, I know," The drummer sighed as he patted Tyler's arm. "I was thinking...what if Mecha Godzilla *and* aliens teamed up together against a million birds?"
The singer laughed. "There's no way a million birds could beat those two…”