The Selection (Troyler AU)

♔Part XVIII♔

I am Glazed Eyes, Empty Hearts trash.

I literally spent an hour theorizing with TrxylerPhangirl on Twitter and commenting like trash all over the actual story as I looked for clues. You can probably find them on the latest chapter, they're pretty amusing, ( SPOILER ALERT ) BUT I STAND BY WHAT I SAY THAT I DON'T THINK TYLER IS THE MURDERER BECAUSE HE COULD NOT HAVE KILLED JOE OKAY IT'S IMPOSSIBLE BALACLAVA FROM CHAPTER 13 AND 50 BE DAMNED I STAND BY MY THEORY I THINK OFFICER MORGAN IS THREATENING TYLER INTO KILLING PEOPLE BY THREATENING TROYE'S LIFE BUT HE WANTED TO KILL JOE AS REVENGE ON ZOË HE GOT GREEDY.

Okay, I warned you about spoilers on that. Don't yell at me if you decided to read anyways.

A Week Later

Troye POV

The dream was a strange one, one I didn't understand in any way, yet intrigued me to the point where I never wanted to wake up.

There was a lot of white. White everywhere, coloring the walls, the floor, the ceiling, the flowers hanging on the walls with its petals strewn across the ground. Very little color dotted the area, just tiny bits of greenery that showed through the white-dominant canopy hanging over the room. Crystalline chandeliers hung from the rafters above, glittering as the firelight of the candles hanging from them danced across the opaque surface. The rows and rows of ebony stained benches were lined up neatly, leading up to the front of the humongous room, spaced apart just enough to let four or so people walk side by side comfortably down the aisle.

A church, I realized it was.

The church was empty. Not a single person was in the ominous looking room, besides myself, which made it seem even more off. The atmosphere held an air of celebration, be it festive or quiet. The white roses kept tugging at my attention, but I couldn't pinpoint why they would be here now of all times. I've heard once that white roses symbolize purity, and innocence.

Nothing about this spoke of either of those things.

Becoming more aware of myself, and wondering why I was here by myself, I looked down at my clothes: formal attire, consisting of a sleek black jacket buttoned over a collared white shirt, with a crisp red bow-tie; ironed black pants and polished black shoes ( with a bit of a heel, though I didn't mind that too much ) completed the look.

I scrunched up my eyebrows in confusion, as various unanswerable questions danced around in my head. Where was I? Why am I by myself? Why was I wearing such fancy clothes? What am I here for? But there was simply no answer to be provided for the unfathomable setting taking place before my eyes.

Without warning, all of the roses changed color - fading from white to purple.

I gasped, bringing my hands up to my mouth as I pondered the sudden transformation. The white roses were confusing enough as it is; I couldn't see how anything here could be about purity. But purple roses were a sign of enchantment, or even love at first sight.

That's when it hit me.

I'm at a wedding.

And I think it might be my own.

I swing around to face the alter, in wonder at who might be at the other end of the aisle waiting for me. I couldn't imagine who it could be - I've never been interested in someone romantically a day in my life, much less in love - and I was far too curious for my own good as to whom I thought would be there. It could've been anyone at this point, my mind was so blank.