***Trigger warning for mentions of past abuse and a panic attack.***

Start the song. It's Dodged a Bullet by Greg Laswell.

Zack was the one who unlocked the front door to Tyler's house the next day. It was well into the afternoon by the time Tyler finally plucked up the courage to tell his little brother that he was ready to go back to his own house. Still, Tyler felt like he was going to throw up as he followed his brother inside, already noting the absence of Jenna's shoes and coat in the mud room. The house was eerily silent as the two men kicked their shoes off and wandered inside.

Perhaps the strangest thing about being home again was how normal it looked. Jenna had clearly straightened things up before she left, not leaving a throw pillow out of place. It looked like she genuinely hadn't taken anything, not even the blankets she'd brought home from Target in hoards to tuck into every free space in their living room.

Zack was looking more closely than Tyler was, the analytical part of his brain not letting a single detail go unnoticed as he continued to scope out the living room instead of following Tyler into the kitchen. Tyler stopped in the doorway, his chest aching as he looked around at the naked countertops and empty shelves. Of course she'd taken everything from the kitchen. That had been her favourite part of the house, and Tyler barely even knew how to cook. She'd left the microwave, but all other small appliances were gone.

It was on shaky legs that Tyler approached the cupboards, opening them up to find all the baking supplies missing. The plates, bowls, cups, and silverware had been left untouched, including the mugs Jenna had filled with coffee and Red Bull just a couple weeks ago. There was still food in the cupboards and fridge, and Tyler felt tears burn his eyes when he realized she'd prepped enough meals for him to last a couple weeks without her, stuffing the fridge and freezer full of plastic and metal containers with oven temperatures and cook times written out on them for Tyler's convenience. He closed the fridge immediately, feeling sick just at the thought of eating something she'd prepared.

"Ty, come here for a second," Zack called from the other room. "I have a question."

Tyler left the kitchen as quickly as he could, wanting to be as far away from Jenna's territory as possible. His brother was staring at a barren wall that had once been covered, and Tyler's heart sank into the pit of his stomach. How had he not noticed as soon as he'd walked in?

"Didn't this used to have pictures on it?" Zack asked him in much too professional a tone for how convinced Tyler was at the moment that his world was ending.

Tyler didn't answer, digging through drawers a bit too frantically before leaving the room in search of the missing photographs. He didn't look at the new bed his parents had left for him, didn't have time to feel sick at the thought of sleeping in that room alone, didn't have time to care that her side of the closet was empty. All he cared about was that she'd taken all of the photos that proved he'd ever even known her. Years of photographic evidence that she'd ever even existed were gone. Even the picture from his little sister's college graduation was gone because Jenna had been in it, so she'd claimed it as her own.

By the time Zack made it to the bedroom, Tyler was already knee-deep in a panic attack that no amount of psychological training could help him cope with. He was practically curled up in a ball in the corner of the room, as far away from that stupid new bed as possible, as he hyperventilated and sobbed against his knees. Within seconds, his brother was sitting next to him, not touching him or talking to him as he quickly typed something into his phone. It beeped after a moment, and he set it aside.

"Hey, Tatum says you need to focus on taking deep breaths and relaxing your muscles. It's gonna be okay. Just try to breathe. How can I help?" Zack asked, looking equal parts terrified and uncomfortable.

Tyler shifted to rest his head on Zack's shoulder as he sobbed, knowing full well that nothing was going to be able to calm him down for a while. He needed to cry. He needed to be angry. He needed to feel how badly this hurt. He needed to not be okay for a minute. Zack's arm wrapped around his shoulders, stiff and uncertain but giving every effort to be comforting. Tyler appreciated that Zack was trying. He really did.

"I can get the pictures back, Ty. I can have them back by tonight," Zack insisted.

Tyler squeezed his eyes shut so tightly that it made him feel like his head was spinning. "I can't do this again," he coughed out pathetically. "I can't."

For a moment, Zack didn't seem to know what to do with that, but then he was resting his head on top of Tyler's and telling him, "You can, and you will, but you don't have to do it right now. What we're going to do right now is order pizza, hang out for a bit to remind you that this is your house, and then you can decide if you want to sleep here or at my house. If you happen to need to cry during any of that, it's cool. You can do that."

As much as he knew his brother would hate him doing so, Tyler grabbed Zack's hand and held it tightly as he tried to ground himself enough to stop crying. Surprisingly, Zack squeezed his hand reassuringly and didn't say a word about it.

It took at least fifteen minutes for Tyler to calm himself down enough to stop sobbing and find a way to stabilise his breathing. Even then, he didn't feel ready to stand up or try to pretend he was okay. Instead, he stared at the new bed that stood in the same place as the one he'd seen Jenna and that man lying on.

He'd asked her to marry him on that bed. They'd stayed up until three in the morning that night, talking about their goals and dreams and aspirations. Somehow, the question had just slipped past his lips. He'd been planning to do something extravagant and exciting to ask her, but in that moment, he hadn't been able to wait any longer to put that ring on her finger and make it official. That ring was now in Tatum's possession, hidden somewhere that he'd never accidentally stumble across it.

"Zack, what if I really can't live here anymore?" Tyler whispered, feeling stupid for even worrying about that but not being able to convince himself it wouldn't be the case.

His brother sighed. "Then you can stay at my house until we find you somewhere else to go."

Tyler sighed, wiping tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. "She filled the fridge with meals I just have to put in the oven because she knew I wouldn't want to eat after she left, but she somehow didn't realize I'd need those pictures. How is it possible for someone to know me so well but to not know me at all at the same time?"

Zack shook his head. "She isn't your Tatum," he reasoned simply. "When you find your Tatum, they'll know you, and they'll love even the lamest parts of you."

"Maybe I don't have a Tatum, or maybe Jenna was supposed to be my Tatum, but I fucked it up by working all the time," Tyler thought out loud, wanting to cry just from saying the words.

"I work all the time, and Tatum's still willing to help me make our relationship work," Zack pointed out. "If Jenna was really your person, she'd be willing to meet you halfway. And you know what? She would appreciate how much fucking work you've put into being able to afford this house and spoil the fuck out of her while she doesn't have a job. You didn't let Mom and Dad help you buy this house or anything in it. When things break, you either fix it yourself or use your own money to hire someone to fix it. You work really fucking hard to have a good life, and it's her fault that she doesn't get to be a part of that anymore."

Tyler shook his head, lifting it off of Zack's shoulder to lean back and rest it against the wall behind him instead. "I really thought I'd figured everything out for once. Everything just seemed so perfect. I don't know how I overlooked all of this."

"We all did, dude. She was clever in how she did things, and she knew how to play you so you wouldn't realize she wasn't who she said she was. And you know what? Kennedy was the same way. None of us had any idea what she was doing to you until you outright told us. She put herself on such a high pedestal that it didn't occur to any of us to question her intentions or whether she was capable of hurting you. That's how she convinced you to blame everything on yourself too. She made you think she was too perfect to do anything wrong, so it was easy for her to convince you it was your fault she kept cheating on you and rubbing your nose in it."

"What am I supposed to learn from that then?" Tyler asked, feeling completely hopeless.

"If the person you're with can't admit when they're wrong, get the fuck out. If they try to blame their mistakes on you, get out. If you ever tell them something they've done upsets you, and they twist it around so you walk away feeling like you've done something wrong, get out. Don't tolerate any red flags. Just get out of there and come find me so I can protect you from that," Zack instructed as if it was completely obvious. Maybe it was.

Tyler sighed. "The only way I could find another place to stay is if I let Mom and Dad buy one for me. I don't want to give up having a house I worked so hard to get on my own. I did this for myself even though Dad didn't think I could, and I don't want to have to come crawling back to him for help. I don't want to have to admit defeat."

"So don't," Zack replied simply. "You worked for this house. You earned this house. You can't let some traitorous skank take it from you. Besides, why would you buy a new house when Tatum can make this one look and feel like a completely different house within a couple months?"

"I can't afford that," Tyler admitted quietly.

"So it'll count as our birthday and Christmas presents to you for the year. You can even pay us back if you feel more comfortable with that. Look. I'm not like Dad. I'm not asking you to let me help with this just so you'll owe me something later. I just want the house you earned to reflect how hard you've worked to have it," Zack insisted calmly. "And you can always tell me to fuck off if you want to, but I want to help."

Tyler glanced at his little brother, who genuinely looked like he wanted to do this. It didn't seem at all like he felt forced to or obligated to. Tyler sighed.

"I'll think about it if you let me buy the pizza tonight," Tyler suggested.

Zack smiled. "Deal."

Tyler nodded, sniffling as he stood up. Zack followed suit, following him back into the living room. They plopped down on the couches, getting comfortable as Tyler ordered the pizza from an app on his phone, and Zack clicked through channels on Tyler's TV to see if anything was even vaguely entertaining enough for them to waste their time staring at. Tyler looked up when their order was placed, setting his phone aside before freezing.

"Wait. Stay on this channel for a second," He said quickly, his wide eyes glued to the screen in front of him.

That reporter with the plastic face was on the screen again, this time standing beside the headline "Riot in Franklin County Correctional Facility Leads to Deaths of Eight Inmates." Suddenly, Tyler could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears and feel the blood rushing too rapidly through his veins. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the screen as the plastic man spoke.

"Yesterday morning, a riot broke out at the county's high security prison when the guards changed shifts. The riot was allegedly so explosive that not only was extensive damage done to the building itself, but the lives of eight inmates were lost as well. The names of these inmates have not yet been released, but our sources say that the families and friends of these men have been contacted," the man reported without being able to move his face at all to show any kind of emotional response to this tragedy.

Tyler felt beyond ill now. Was Josh safe? Was he one of the inmates who had lost their lives?

"Due to the damage done to the prison itself, a large percentage of the general population of prisoners have been relocated the the medium security facility not far away. Prisoners currently on death row and in solitary confinement are still being held at the main facility, however, as less damage was done to this section of the prison," the man continued. "The amount of injured inmates greatly exceeds the number of lives lost, but there are not enough medics in either facility to give all of the men affected by this riot proper treatment in a timely manner. The same is true for therapists and counselors, leading many convicts' families to express concern about how their loved ones might be coping with the aftermath of the riot."

Tyler's chest hurt, and it took him a moment to realize he'd been holding his breath this whole time. He tried to let it out without his brother realizing how bizarrely he was reacting, especially given that he didn't technically know anyone in the prison. It felt like he knew Josh though. It felt like he was waiting to find out if a friend or family member was safe, not a stranger he'd exchanged letters with exactly once. Then his heart felt like it was being yanked out of his chest. He still had a letter to send to Josh. If he mailed it today, Josh could have it in a couple days. If he mailed it today, Josh wouldn't have to feel alone if his family didn't try to contact him again even after such a traumatic event.

Zack looked up from his phone when he saw his brother suddenly go back to the mud room and pull on his shoes. His eyebrows raised. "Where are you going?"

"I'll be right back. I have to get to the post office before it closes," Tyler insisted, knowing full well that he wasn't being logical at the moment.

"The post office? What?" Zack asked, looking dumbfounded.

The man on the television was still talking. "Despite the reconstruction already taking place, the prison has reopened their doors to visitors. The warden, Barney Henson, stated in a press conference this morning that the decision to allow visitors once again was made due to the lack of psychological help available to inmates at this time. Officials within the prison, Henson included, hope to promote a feeling of safety amongst inmates by allowing them to see their friends and families at this time."

"I just have to drop off this letter, and then I'll be back. I swear," Tyler insisted as he pulled his coat back on.

"In other news, it may be easier than you think to get season tickets to see the Browns next season! All you have to do is-"

The door slammed shut behind Tyler as he ran down the icy front steps and to his car. His letter for Josh weighed a million pounds inside of his coat pocket, but he knew he'd feel better once it was in the post. This letter was the only thing he could do to help Josh in any way, and he had to do it. He couldn't live with himself if he left Josh to cope with this all alone. He couldn't even imagine how afraid Josh had to be right now. He needed to know someone was thinking about him-that someone cared.

Tyler didn't fully comprehend just how much he cared until he realized he wasn't driving to the post office at all. He'd passed the post office already and was headed straight for the prison. A strange feeling washed over Tyler. He was expecting his mind to start screaming at him to turn around or to suddenly know he was making the wrong choice, but that didn't happen. Instead, Tyler felt a sense of security, like he was exactly where he needed to be.