Tyler was fairly certain that he was drowning.

A strange, painful sensation crushed his lungs. As for the rest of his body, especially his extremities, there was no feeling whatsoever. It felt as though a million tiny needles were pricking his skin.

Even worse, Tyler was fairly certain people were watching him drown.

His head buzzed with the paranoia of a hundred thousand pairs of eyes silently watching him. Though he had absolutely no perception of where he was, he felt incredibly small and cramped and uncomfortable. His entire body outwardly cringed as his mind ran a mile per minute, listing every single anxiety and insecurity he had been hiding away in the darkest corner of his brain.

Tyler struggled against the immense weight of his own mind and whatever was suffocating him-drowning in the sea, or drowning in the sea of people around him. His lungs were burning like a bonfire inside his chest. Suddenly, immense pain rippled through his arms, his legs, everywhere...until he lost feeling, and he gave up completely. This was what Tyler had been obsessing about and fearing his entire life-death.

"No...no...JOSH!"

Tyler sat straight up in his bed, gasping desperately for air while clawing and scratching at his chest. Without hesitation he threw back the thin white sheet wrapped around his legs and jumped up from the bed, only to be met with a pounding head and black spots covering his vision.

Shaking away his pain, Tyler blindly stumbled through the infirmary he was in, hoarsely screaming out for Josh. He ran his hands through his messy brunette hair like a madman, rushing around the room in a panic. He was alone in the large infirmary room, the only sounds the beeping of machinery and his screaming.

Footsteps pounded against the linoleum floor, but Tyler didn't hear them. He was too busy screaming and panicking and hyperventilating and drowning.

"Tyler!"

An all too familiar voice made Tyler stop short. He stared wide-eyed at the figure standing in the door, mouth agape.

Tyler ran toward Josh so fast he almost tripped over his own two feet.

Tyler practically jumped on to him, wrapping his arms around his neck and his legs around his waist.

At first Josh was surprised, stumbling backwards a bit, but he held Tyler's small, fragile frame as close to him as possible. He repeatedly kissed the side of his head, his lips pressing against his temple.

"You're alive," Josh mumbled between kisses. "You're alive you're alive you're alive."

Tyler burrowed his head in the crook of Josh's neck and nearly wept. His fingernails dug into his back as he clung to him.

"I-I w-was...drowning, Josh..." Tyler squeezed his eyes shut and curled closer into Josh's body. "I was d-dying. I was drowning, Josh!"

"I know, Ty, just...just..." Josh's voice trailed off. He had no idea what to say to Tyler to comfort him after all that happened. He was petrified himself. He couldn't even begin to imagine what Tyler had felt. He squeezed Tyler, gently, as to not hurt him. "Shh."

After a silent moment of Josh simply holding Tyler, he finally spoke again.

"J-Josh?" Tyler asked, his voice cracking.

"What is it Ty, what is it?" Josh replied. He pressed his lips gently against his temple again, kissing him as many times as he could.

"I-I..." Tyler lowered his voice. "I love you, Josh."

Josh blinked, mouth slightly agape.

Did he hear Tyler correctly?

Did Tyler just say that?

Did Mad Gear-the most notorious serial killer, gang leader, and psychopath of this century-just say that?

Did he just say he loved him?

Of course, it was obvious. It was obvious he loved him. Not even mentioning all of the...physical parts of love, there was no denying that Tyler and Josh were closer to each other than they had ever been to anyone else. There was no denying the feelings they had.

It was so obvious, but Josh had never expected it to come out of Tyler's mouth.

"I love you too, Tyler," Josh replied, and he meant it. He meant it more than anything else in the world. "I love you too."

The two simply stayed there in silence for a good, long while, listening to each other's breaths and feeling each other's heartbeats.

The silence was suddenly broken by a second pair of foot steps echoing throughout the dreaded infirmary.

"Sir!" Youngblood rushed up behind Josh and Tyler, his face pale. "You need to be in bed! The medic said-" Youngblood suddenly stopped, shooting the two boys a confused look. "Wait...Tyler? Josh? Are...are those..."

Tyler snapped his head up and glared at Youngblood, who took a fearful step back and held up his hands defensively.

"N-Never mind Mad Gear, s-sir. I-I'll go get a medic. Missile Kid, get him back to his bed, p-please." Youngblood nervously adjusted the hair hanging in front of eyes before rushing out of the infirmary, leaving Tyler and Josh alone.

Josh ignored Tyler's protests as he carried him back to his bed.

"I still can't believe..." Josh shook his head as he laid Tyler carefully back into his bed. "You actually made it. You stayed alive."

"I-I wasn't going to...to d-die on you," Tyler replied shakily. He leaned his head back on the pillow and stared blankly at the opposite wall. "And I sure as hell wasn't going to let Brendon kill me."

Josh carefully sat down in a hard metal chair next to Tyler's hospital bed. He looked down at his rough, calloused hands before anxiously opening his mouth to speak up.

"Tyler?" Josh asked, feeling as sheepish and shy as he did when he first entered the Clique. His brutal initiation seemed so long ago, even though it happened only a few months back. So much has happened since then. So many bad, horrible things.

But despite everything, Josh didn't wish he took another way home.

"Yeah?" Tyler questioned weakly, wincing as his hand brushed over the wound on his side. The bullet was out. The bleeding had stopped. A scar ran across his side and stomach, small black stitches sew into his skin. It hurt like hell, but it didn't faze Tyler one bit.

As long as he had Josh by his side again, he couldn't care less about anything that happened to him.

"I've been meaning to ask you something," Josh murmured. He fixed his eyes on his scuffed leather boots instead of looking up at Tyler. He couldn't bear it.

Tyler remained silent as he raised his eyebrows and looked over at Josh.

"When..." Josh took a very deep breath before continuing. "When Brendon was in my room, he...he said something to me. It was about you."

Tyler shook his head. "Yeah, I'm sure that fucker has plenty to say about me," he muttered.

"No, no, not like that," Josh shook his head. "It was serious. H-He said..."

"What did he say?" Tyler pressed.

"He told me you did something," Josh blurted out all at once. "Something happened. Something you've done."

Tyler's face went pale, and he slowly leaned back in his bed. A bullet of anxiety shot through him. All of the words he wanted to say shriveled up and died as soon as they reached his dry lips.

"He said I didn't know the half of you..." Josh said, quietly this time. He could sense how uncomfortable and shaken Tyler was, but he continued anyways. "That y-you weren't what you seemed. What did he mean?" Josh finally tilted his head and raised his eyes up to Tyler.

But Tyler wasn't looking back at him. He had his eyes closed, his lips parted, silently hoping Josh would just give up and let it be.

He didn't. Josh pressed on, until he said something that finally said something that made Tyler snap.

"Brendon told me Blurry was going to kill me."

✗✗✗✗✗

"I'm glad you finally decided to join us, Tyler," the man standing in front of Tyler smiled at him, but it was not a friendly smile. "Aren't you?"

Tyler didn't say anything. He stared up at him with a blank, emotionless expression.

He didn't have a choice.

The man's fake smile disappeared almost immediately. He scowled down at Tyler and cleared his throat.

"I said," the man snapped, roughly grabbing Tyler's arm and yanking the boy towards him. "Aren't you?"

Tyler squeezed his eyes shut, and a small cry escaped his lips. No, he wanted to say. No. Please.

The man gripped Tyler's arm tighter.

"Y-Yes sir," Tyler stammered, looking down to shield his eyes from the man's menacing glare.

"What?!" The man snapped, pulling Tyler again.

"Yes sir!" Tyler shouted. He was on the verge of tears, but he forced himself not to cry. He couldn't cry. Not here, not now.

The man smirked and pushed Tyler back, sending him falling him to the ground. He cried out in pain when he hit the cement, but the man hovering above him did nothing to help.

Tyler was crying now.

"When I ask you a question," the man said, staring Tyler right in the eye, "I expect you to answer. You don't want to be punished again, do you?"

Tyler gulped and managed to shake his head. His eyes were wide as he stared up in horror at the man. The word again rang through his ears. Memories flashed through his mind.

"N-No sir," he squeaked, sniffing his nose and wiping the tears from his puffy, red cheeks.

"That's what I thought." The man nodded curtly and crossed his arms. He stared at Tyler a moment longer before breaking out into a wide, evil grin.

"Welcome to the Clique, Tyler."

✗✗✗✗✗

Tyler had reached his breaking point.

He was just seventeen years old, and he was already one of America's most wanted criminals.

He was the second in command of the Clique now. Ever since his boss, Gerard, had forcefully taken him under his wing, he quickly became one of the best Clique members there ever was.

But Tyler was slowly breaking apart.

He had enough of the constant abuse from Gerard. He had enough of the abuse from the entire Clique. He was just a kid. A kid stuck in the middle of a gang of psychopathic murderers.

But there was one thing Tyler could never have enough of:

Power.

He was tempted by it. He was controlled by it.

The man-Gerard-was Tyler's first example of power. When he was first kidnapped into the Clique, Tyler was absolutely mesmerized by how terrified he was of Gerard, just because of his power over him.

Tyler wanted people to be terrified of him, too.

He got his first taste of power when Gerard claimed him as his personal protégé, his second in command over the entire Clique.

But Tyler wanted more. He wanted so much more.

One day, Tyler broke.

It was late at night when Tyler sat straight up in his bed, a strange desire running through his veins. It was a familiar feeling. The feeling he had whenever Gerard would make him go on a mission to murder someone.

The desire to kill.

Tyler was silent as he threw back his bedsheets and stood up out off his bed. He moved his arms back and forth, stretching his sore muscles. While Clique training was wearing thin on his mind, it made his body stronger. Even though he was but seventeen, his muscles were toned and matured. Raised veins ran up his forearms. His shirt tightly hugged his chest and shoulders.

He wasn't a kid anymore.

Tyler closed his eyes and inhaled. There was no way he could do this alone.

"Blurry," he murmured into the darkness of his bedroom, "I need you."

Tyler rolled his shoulders back and cracked his neck. His tongue dragged across the front of his teeth as he raised hands and cracked his knuckles. He smiled wickedly at the sound of bone clicking against bone.

When Tyler opened his eyes again, they were as red as the blood that poured from the bodies of his victims.

With Blurry now partially in control, Tyler was ready. He set his jaw and reached for the small handgun setting on his bedside table. He smirked as he loaded it with a satisfying click. His red eyes glowed.

Power.

Power.

Every time a seed of doubt was planted in Tyler's mind, Blurry killed it. He forced Tyler to keep going, to keep taking, to keep killing.

Tyler hummed quietly to himself as he left his room and walked down the hall, the gun in his hand swaying back and forth as he moved his arms.

Headquarters was almost completely silent. Tyler liked the silence. He could hear Blurryface better when it was silent.

Soon, he reached his destination: the boss's office, right at the end of the corridor.

Tyler's heartbeat pounded in his ears as he neared the door. Blurry was getting louder with every step he took. The hallway was eerily lit with three yellow lights. The fourth lightbulb, the one hanging right above the boss's door, was shattered and broken.

Tyler stopped in front of the door. He couldn't do this. His anxiety and doubt were too much to handle. He couldn't do this.

In response, his red eyes sparked.

Tyler took a deep breath, cocked his gun, and kicked down the door.

As soon as the broken door hit the ground, Gerard shot up out of the chair behind his desk.

"Tyler," he snapped, eyes wide. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Power, Blurryface screamed. Power, power, power.

Tyler set his jaw and stared menacingly at Gerard, his chest rising and falling heavily. Adrenaline pulsed through his veins.

"I think you know why I'm here," Tyler said, his voice throaty and hoarse. He slowly circled the room, his eyes locked on Gerard the entire time.

Gerard's eyes travelled down to the gun in Tyler's hand, then moved back up to his glowing red eyes.

"You wouldn't," Gerard said, shaking his head slightly. A single bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face.

The corner of Tyler's lips tugged up into a smirk. He bit his bottom lip and cocked his gun.

"Watch me."

Tyler didn't pull the trigger.

Blurryface did.

✗✗✗✗✗

"Remember the day of your initiation?" Tyler whispered weakly. "W-When you called me by my real name...what did my eyes look like?"

Josh swallowed. "W-What?"

Tyler grit his teeth. "What color were my eyes, Josh?" He asked firmly.

Josh thought back to his initiation. How petrified he was, the unbearable pain he felt.

He remembered before that, in the corridor, when Josh had called the notorious Mad Gear by his true name.

"I said I don't care, Tyler!" Josh yanked his arm out of Tyler's grasp and backed away from him. "Kill me!"

Anger suddenly flashed across Tyler's face. A bright, almost neon, red color sparked behind his pupils. His usual brown iris turned blood red for a split second, like a flame flickering for a moment on a lighter.

Josh slowly raised his eyes to Tyler, who was laying weakly in his hospital bed. He was on his side, facing Josh. He stared intently at him.

"They..." Josh murmured. He hesitantly took Tyler's hand in his. "They were red."

Tyler nodded and squeezed Josh's hand, looking for comfort and support.

"I killed him, Josh," Tyler whispered, his lips barely moving. "I killed him and I took his place."

Tyler was about to cry. He could feel tears pushing at the back of his eyes.

Josh leaned closer and rested his forehead against Tyler's. His lips parted, he closed his eyes and gently squeezed Tyler's hand.

"I was seventeen, Josh, seventeen..." Tyler's voice broke. Salty tears rolled down his cheeks. "I was just a kid. I was so scared. I wanted to stop, but I couldn't. Blurry wouldn't let me. It was never enough. He made me keep killing and killing and killing and it was never enough."

Tyler choked back his tears.

"B-Blurry kept controlling me...he w-wouldn't let go. He kept making me do such horrible things until eventually I..." Tyler lowered his voice. "...I wanted to do them. Blurry made me who I am today. H-He turned that petrified teenage into Mad Gear. The most wanted man, leader of the most wanted gang-"

Tyler suddenly stopped and wrapped his arms around Josh's neck.

"That's what I did," Tyler whispered against Josh's skin. "Blurry took my life away from me. So now I take other people's lives away from them."

And, for the first time since what he'd done, Tyler fully wept.

✗✗✗✗✗
✗✗✗✗✗

End of Act One.

This chapter was extra long, but I really hope you enjoyed.

(And I really like it when you call me Mom)

So we finally learned part of Tyler's backstory!

I was thinking about making a bonus chapter, in between Act One and Act Two, just of Tyler's backstory of how he came into the Clique?

Is that something you would want?

Anyways, Act Two will be published tomorrow. Thanks for reading and staying with me this long. ♡

- Liz.