Mishaps (Troyler Fanfiction)

Chapter 11

Tyler's POV

A nurse escorted me back to my room after Troye disappeared in the darkness of the room. I saw the doctors put the breathing mask on Troye, and saw him close his already swollen eyes. After I left I excuses myself to the restroom. There, I splashed water on my face, and stared in the mirror. I thought about what I did, or what I thought I did. I thought about the mistake that shall never be spoken about. I thought whether or not Troye would survive.

I exited the restroom, only to see nurses crowded around me. I was confused, why they would crowd around like that. Then, the grind on their faces left, and they walked away. I raised my eyebrows in confusion, shrugged, then continued off towards my room. There, I had a wonderful surprise. I'd never thought this person would be here. Queen Jackie herself.

She was sitting on my bed, with "Get Well" balloons and a bouquet of flowers. She had a smile plastered on her face as she stood up and ran towards me. I caught her on my shoulders, wincing in pain. "Oh, my baby boy," she pouted. "What happened?"

"Ok, first of all, MOOOOOOOOMMMM! Second of all, it was a taxi crash with this dipshit of a driver. I tried to stop him, Mom, but he kept speeding up. He hit a lamppost, and Troye and I were ejected from the car."

"Wait..." she paused, thinking. "Troye was with you????? How is he doing is he alright?" I didn't answer. "Tyler???!"

"The doctors told me he should be fine. He's in recobstructive surgery right now."

"Reconstructive?!" Jackie yelled, causing all of the nurses to stare at us funny. "TYLER! WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED."

"When we were ejected from the car, I fell on my arm and rib, and witnesses Troye skid his face along the road. He didn't move from then on."

Jackie looked like she was about to cry. Without another word, she stepped out of the room towards the receptionist table. I heard her mumble to the lady sitting in the desk chair, and she got a response. "Tyler, I have an errand to run. I'll be back in 10." She left. Just like that.

"Ok," I called, but she was already gone. Instead of sitting on my bed, putting myself and Troye, I decided to do something I didn't think I'd do. I took out the notepad and pen that was next to my phone, which was all cracked and damaged. I realized my pretty floral case I had on it had been removed, revealing the clean back of the silver phone. I opened the pad, and began to write. I ripped the page out when I was done, then went to the receptionist desk.

"Do you know the taxi driver who was supposedly brought here yesterday?" I asked, hoping she would be able to identify him.

She clicked on her keyboard, a patient name. "Room 7098," she responded.

"Ok, thank you," I called out, walking as fast as my ribs would let me down the hallway. I got to the room, and looked inside. There, I saw a man. The same angry scowl was on his face like it was in the accident. Something was different. His right leg was gone and his eyebrows were gone too. Eyebrows not on fleek this time, I thought, laughing to myself.

I opened the door, and looked hard at the man. Was he the person that almost murdered Troye? Indeed. I remember that exact face. I wrote who the note was from. The note said:

Dear driver,

I don't think you thought about who we were. I don't think you thought that we mattered to each other. I don't think you cared about anyone you decided to drive in that death trap of a taxi. What I'm saying is, you almost killed my friend. You almost put me in critical condition. You almost made millions of fans lose their inspirations. You almost killed millions of people. You almost killed the confidence in LGBTQ youth. You almost killed a what I call, my lover. You should be charged with attempted murder. Honestly, I hope you rot in hell once you give up trying to stay alive. Good luck trying to make a life after what happened yesterday.

From,
One of two victims, the one that you scowled at

***

I laid down on my bed, waiting for my mom to return. It felt like years. Years of Troye being in that room. Years of me laying in this bed, sobbing that Troye might leave me. Years of regret for what I did to him. Years of me being isolated, in my own world of grey skies and my empty heart. I thought to myself, I can't possibly buy happy from shopping carts. I have no time to kill.

When Jackie arrived, she told me to come with her. I told her to help me up, because ribs. We walked down to Troye's room. We set up a huge bouquet of flowers and "Get Well" balloons. We put up a card on his table signed by both Jackie and me. Then, we pulled out chairs, sat down, and waited for the boy with the "bluest eyes in the YouTube community" to return.

***

If you guys didn't notice the four references added in here you are just... WOW. I'm Grace Helbig. WOW. Whelp. I made this chapter longer because it wasn't as early as is should have been and I'M SORRY OK. Also, nobody said we could get to 377 reads. Who did? Not me! But, thank you guys, for everything. Really. I love you so much. Whelp. I'm done.

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OK BYE!!!