***Trigger warnings for mentions of suicidal thoughts and brief mentions of past suicide attempts, mentions of emotional abuse, mentions of child neglect, survivor's guilt, PTSD, and mentions of attempted sexual assault.***

Start the song. It's Hangman Hands by Flower Face.

Josh read Tyler's letter several times, trying to commit as much of it as he could to memory before Frangipane returned. There was so much to take in at once, but Josh wanted to wrap his hands around the things that had hurt Tyler in the past so he could crush them into tiny innocuous pieces. He studied every line of the letter bit by bit, hating the bad things and relishing in the good.

Dear Josh,

Chapter one of my Tragic Backstory: I hate orange too. The more I think about it, the more I realize that orange always seems to cling to the bad moments in my life. That sounds dumb, but hear me out.

My mom and dad are both lawyers, but they're not the kind that works a case and then comes home to do family stuff. They'd take on huge cases that made them fly around the country for months at a time, and they always told us we'd have to do the same thing when we grew up-us being me, my two brothers, and my sister. Anyone who isn't a lawyer isn't doing anything in their opinion. I have one brother who's only fifteen, but apart from him, I'm the only non-lawyer in our family. My parents pretend it doesn't bother them, but it does.

Since my parents weren't around very much, we had this nanny who was always around. She cared more than my parents, but it still kind of sucked to never spend time with them. She made freshly squeezed orange juice every morning though, and to this day I can't drink the store bought stuff because it sucks in comparison. When I was fifteen, my parents fired her and had me take care of my siblings instead. It sounds weird, but it kind of felt like losing a parent. She was the only consistent parent we'd ever had, and then she was just gone. We all dealt with that in really different ways.

My youngest brother was only five, so it wasn't a big deal for him. He just leaned on me more. My other brother got really distant. He still is. It's hard to tell how he's feeling, and he never talks about things that bother him. My sister is like that too. They don't touch people, they don't talk about personal things, and spending time with them always feels like a business meeting.

I was different though, and I don't know why. I took it really hard. I started to get really depressed and anxious about everything. I was pretty much raising three kids while trying to be a kid, and it went really poorly. I didn't really know how to tell anyone what was going on or how I was feeling because my family didn't talk about things like that. I hid it for as long as I possibly could before I just fell apart.

You probably don't want all the gory details, but I wound up in the hospital a few weeks before I was supposed to turn sixteen because I genuinely had no clue how to tell my parents I needed help apart from putting myself in that position. Since my parents are like my siblings though, they just let the hospital staff do whatever they had to do, brought me home, and never talked about it again. Then they just left for work again like it was nothing. By the time I turned eighteen and could just get out of there, I'd put myself in the hospital three more times, one of which I almost didn't walk away from. I can distinctly remember eating orange jello in the hospital while my mom and dad took turns leaving my hospital room to answer work calls.

Josh could understand that. He could understand repeatedly being hospitalized while his family pretended everything was okay. He could understand not knowing how to tell anyone what was going on in his head until it was too late. He'd been there too.

When the opportunity came for me to leave for college, I jumped on it. I went to one year of law school, wound up in the hospital again, and switched my major to psychology. My dad has never been as mad at me as he was when I told him I wasn't going to be a lawyer. He cut me off in every conceivable way for a year, so I was working two full-time jobs and attending college full-time with no support system to fall back on. By the end of the year, I was so burnt out that I came home for the summer and didn't leave my room at all. My dad got mad about that too, and I think that's the only time I've ever yelled at my dad. I argued with him for hours, and somehow I convinced him to pay for my school and to act like my dad again. I'm still not sure how I did that.

I went to my first semester of college as a psych major who didn't have to work every second of the day, and it made things a lot easier. I still had issues I wasn't dealing with, but it was easy to pretend they weren't there at the time. I wound up dating this girl named Kennedy Davis, and I don't really know why I'm telling you her name except that she is probably about 60% of my Tragic Backstory. She was a ginger, so there was orange in this part of my life from the start.

Anyway, I dated her for two years even though I knew two months into the relationship that she was cheating on me. She cheated on me multiple times a week for almost the full two years, and that isn't an exaggeration. I know it makes me sound really stupid that I kept dating her even though I knew she was doing that, but she was really clever in how she cheated on me. Every time she cheated, she would find something about me that could justify her doing it, and that made me blame myself.

About six months in, she started just telling me it was because I wasn't trying hard enough, that I wasn't enough, that I needed to do better. I believed that. I really did. I spent so much time and energy trying to be a better boyfriend only to come home and find some other dude sleeping with my girlfriend and for her to tell me that was my fault. I put up with that for two years, and I would probably still be putting up with that if my brother's wife hadn't forced my entire family to help convince me I was in an abusive relationship. I know that sounds so dumb, especially since it's my literal job to help people get out of situations like that, but I didn't want to believe she was abusive. I wanted to believe that it was possible for me to someday be good enough to deserve to be loved by her.

Josh filed the name Kennedy Davis away in the back of his head, hating her more than he'd ever hated anyone in his life. He wanted her to be as far away from Tyler as possible, and he wanted to make sure Tyler knew without a shadow of a doubt that what she'd done to him wasn't his fault. She was no better than Frangipane's husband, and it didn't take much for Josh to know that Tyler deserved more than that.

I think everything with Kennedy left me feeling kind of helpless. I couldn't trust my own judgment anymore, and I couldn't imagine ever finding anyone who actually loved me because I still didn't feel like I deserved that. That's why it was so surprising when I met Jenna, who I dated for years before I trusted her enough to ask her to marry me. I don't even have the words to describe how much I needed her when I was trying to heal from everything Kennedy put me through, but she helped me to finally get to a place where I felt safe in being myself and being open to letting someone else love me.

The fiancé. Jenna was the fiancé. She was the person Tyler was going to marry, and Josh wasn't sure why that made him instantly resent her. He barely knew Tyler, and he didn't have any right to feel like Tyler belonged to him in any way, yet he still felt distrustful of her before he'd even read the next part of the letter.

I think I knew as soon as I saw orange again that something was wrong. I came home from work early because I had a migraine (I get those a lot.), and there was this giant pair of orange sneakers by the front door. I knew as soon as I saw them, I think. I didn't really have to walk any further into the house to see the clothes everywhere else, but I did. I definitely didn't have to go into my bedroom to know another guy would be there, but I did. She tried to make me feel like it was my fault, just like Kennedy. I didn't fall for it this time though. I took the ring back and told her she had twenty four hours to move out. I still don't know if I'll ever actually go back to my house or if I can even handle living there anymore, but it's a step I guess.

I know that none of this even remotely measures up to the things you've had to deal with, and I'm not looking for sympathy or trying to dump my problems in your lap on top of everything else. I just wanted to make sure you knew my story since you didn't have any say in me knowing yours. It seems to me like it's easier to trust someone who's up front about their own issues instead of trying to convince you their problems are yours, so I wanted you to know that I'm a deeply flawed human being.

I'm not perfect. I'm not better than you in any way, and I'm not trying to make you feel like some sort of sideshow attraction or anything like that. I'm not interested in profiting off of your struggles, researching you, changing you, talking to you in order to boost my own self esteem. I just want you to know that you have a friend outside of that prison who cares about how you're doing and wants you to have the support you need to heal and grow without someone cutting you down. You don't have to write me back or to carry my problems around for me or anything like that. I do like hearing from you though, and I hope things are going well for you. You deserve to have good things in your life.

Best wishes,
TJ

Josh read the letter over and over again, clinging to every word. It was hard not to trust Tyler when he was this willing to be vulnerable in exchange or Josh's vulnerability. There was some safety in that for Josh. He was used to constantly being the person who was at the mercy of others, but Tyler had made things even between them. There was no pity, smugness, superiority, or anything like that at all in this letter. It was just...honest. It felt honest. It was unlike any letter Josh had ever received before, and he was so grateful for it.

There was one part of the letter that stuck out to Josh though, and he wasn't exactly sure why. He read the story of Tyler's first terrible girlfriend again and again, trying to identify why it seemed so familiar to him. The only connection he could think of was Frangipane and her husband until it hit him, and he almost couldn't believe it.

It took a lot of digging through the mess of what had once been a very well organized box of letters and keepsakes from home before Josh found the single most hilarious letter he'd ever gotten. It was one of the pathetic ones he got from strangers who tried to convince him he was their soul mate or something. This one came with a picture of a red headed woman that had made him laugh out loud the first time he'd read it, and it was signed Kennedy Davis. Clearly, she hadn't fared as well as Tyler had after the breakup if she was begging for love from an inmate who was 1) underage at the time, and 2) not likely to ever give a shit about her. Josh set that envelope on top of his desk on the off chance that Tyler ever came back to see him. It might help Tyler to know that she'd hit rock bottom after him.

Frangipane opened his cell door and peeked in about that time, whispering, "Can I come back in yet?"

Josh smiled, sitting back down on his bed and nodding. "Yeah, I'm good."

She smiled gratefully at how relaxed he looked now. "I take it the letter wasn't too overwhelming?" She asked hopefully.

"He's definitely been through a lot of shit, but I think he'll be okay eventually," Josh reported. Before he could stop himself or even give her time to prod about it, he blurted out, "He's not engaged anymore."

Frangipane squealed, climbing back onto his bed with him and hugging him tightly. "Oh my god! I'm so sorry for squealing, but this means you have a chance, dude! You have the full green light to scoop him up. That's amazing. Also, I'm really proud of you for not flinching this time when I squealed. You're amazing, and I love you, and did I mention that you're amazing?"

Josh laughed. "Dude, chill. I think you're more excited about this than I am."

"Well, duh! I'm your best friend. It's my job to be your one woman hype crew. It is my number one priority to boost your self esteem whenever possible. That's my job," Frangipane insisted, whining when he rolled his eyes. "I mean it! You deserve to be happy, and I'm fully committed to helping you be as happy as possible."

"Ashley, I love you, and I appreciate that, but I need your energy level to decrease by like a thousand degrees so I don't get overwhelmed again," Josh reminded her as he lied down again and tucked Tyler's letter beneath his pillow carefully.

Instantly, Frangipane took a deep breath and tried to calm her excitement. She spread out beside him, trying to force down her wide smile but ultimately failing whenever he so much as made eye contact with her. "Give me a minute. I'm trying really hard to be zen about this," she told him.

Josh laughed. "Take your time. Thanks for trying."

"Josh, there are very few things I wouldn't do in order to make you happy," Frangipane reminded him seriously, covering his face with her hands when he smiled at that. "Stop! I'm gonna smile if you smile. Give me a fucking second to chill out."

"Okay! Fine," Josh replied amusedly. "I'm chill."

She was quiet for a moment before asking him, "You're smiling again, aren't you?" She let out a snort when Josh laughed again. "You're making this very difficult, Joshua."

Josh laughed again. "Ew. You sound like my mom."

"Ew," Frangipane agreed through a laugh.

Josh snickered tolling over to look at her with a grin. "Hey, guess what."

"What?" She asked interestedly, smiling widely at him.

Her nose scrunched up when Josh poked it. "You're my best friend," he told her.

"You're a fucking dweeb," was her immediate reply.

Josh sighed dramatically, rolling to face away from her. "You're so mean to me," he mumbled.

She hummed. "Yes, that's true. Would you forgive me if I played with your hair and let you snuggle with me until you fell asleep?"

Without hesitation, Josh rolled over and curled up against her side, resting his head against her shoulder. "Mmhmm," he hummed cheerfully.

He beamed when Frangipane pressed a kiss to his forehead before wrapping him up in her arms. Her fingertips soothed along his scalp as her fingers combed through his hair. His eyelids immediately became heavier.

"Do you think he'll really come back?" Josh asked her quietly.

"I think he'd be an idiot not to," Frangipane replied simply. She pressed another kiss to his forehead. "If he doesn't come back, he isn't worth your time. If he does, he's not an idiot, and that's a plus."

Josh nodded sleepily. "Can I tell you a secret?" He whispered conspiratorially.

"Absolutely," she whispered back.

"I don't think he'll come back," Josh whispered to her. "I think he knows I'm not getting out of here after the riot, so he knows I'm a dead end."

"Why wouldn't you get out after the riot?" Frangipane asked curiously.

Josh squeezed his eyes shut, feeling phantom blood spray across his face. He swallowed nervously, shifting to be closer to Frangipane. "I just keep thinking-" He stopped talking when his voice broke, but he felt Frangipane hug him closer.

"Hey, it's okay. You're safe. I won't let anything hurt you. You can talk to me," Frangipane told him gently, no mirth left in her voice.

Regret pooled inside of Josh alongside shame, anxiety, guilt, and terror. He found Frangipane's hand and squeezed it right before whispering in a splintered voice, "He died because of me. That was my fault."

Frangipane sat up, looking at him worriedly. "What? Who died, Josh?"

Josh shook his head, climbing off of his bed despite Frangipane's gentle protests. He was shaking, and he kept hearing the collision of a metal pipe against a broken skull. He couldn't breathe properly.

"What he did was wrong, but he would still be alive if I'd just...if I'd...." He couldn't bring himself to say the horrible words that had been scratching against the back of his mind since he'd come to in Jude's cell. "If I'd just let him."

Realisation flashed in Frangipane's eyes. "Oh, puppy, no. Don't say that. No. You didn't do anything wrong. He attacked you. He's in the wrong. He got what was coming to him. That isn't your fault."

"He's the seventh person who's died because of me, Ashley. That's too many. It's too fucking many. How am I supposed to live with that? How could I ever expect anyone to love me when I'm a fucking monster?" Josh demanded, not exactly sure at what point he'd started crying.

Frangipane shook her head. "No part of you is a monster, Josh. You didn't kill him, and even if you had, he was attacking you in some of the worst ways. That's self defence. Come here, okay? Just come lie down for a minute and try to breathe."

Obediently, Josh stumbled back over to his bed. He let Frangipane tuck him in beneath his blankets before wrapping her arms around him. He spent the whole night drifting between nightmares and panic attacks, but she remained resolute beside him until Hoppus took over again at five in the morning. Only when his dad was there to rub his back and tell him stories about his new family was he able to drift off to sleep for a couple hours. Josh had no idea how he was going to heal from this. How had Tyler survived the things he'd survived? Josh hoped he'd get a chance to ask him soon.