The Selection (Troyler AU)

♔Part XXXIV♔

So I see you guys liked the last chapter.

Also Ingrid Nilsen came out so that's cool.

Also I just reached 66.6k reads after the last chapter I love life.

Um, I don't think there's really anything triggering this chapter, but if you don't like descriptions of blood and scars and things of that nature, I'd either skim or skip this chapter. Also at one point, Tyler gets an injection, but it's really vague and lasts about one line, starting when Troye counts down from three.

Troye POV

I opened the door to let Tyler in, a million thoughts flying through my mind as I observed his tortured appearance, but soon realized that he was too injured to come inside on his own. He took a slow step forward, wincing at even the smallest movement, and I asked quietly,"Do you need help?"

I heard a slight quiver in my voice, and immediately chastised myself; judging by the look on his face, whatever had just happened was obviously something he was having a hard time processing. I couldn't be distressed, not now, not when it was clear he was incapable of taking care of himself at the moment.

However, he just shook his head, as if not even hearing the tremulous tone. "I can walk fine," he uttered,"It's just my back."

I looked at him uncertainly, noticing the careful way he wrapped his arms around himself, gripping his own waist as if to support himself. He carried himself tensely, his shoulders set in a rigid gait, and hung his head low - though whether it was because he had to, or because he didn't want to be seen in such a ruined state, I wasn't sure - yet, his face wasn't contorted with pain. Instead, it was slack, like gravity was pulling him down. I was startled to see that the whites of his eyes had little to no contrast to his skin, his coloring wan from the overwhelming amount of blood he'd lost.

Eventually, I nodded, forcing myself to look at him directly, despite how awful he appeared. From the ashen skin to the shallow breaths to the lifeless expression, I would've thought he was a corpse, if he hadn't been standing in front of me.

No, not a corpse, not exactly. More like a ghost. Haunting, as if there was still a presence lingering, however melancholy it may be.

He shuffled inside, and I closed the door behind him, waiting for the faint click to sound, before returning my attention to Tyler. He was just sitting down on the edge of my bed, a labored sigh letting loose from his lips, and I had to swallow my nausea as the sight of the crimson stains seeping through his black robe.

I padded over to him, clasping my hands together behind my back. He still wouldn't meet my eye, making me feel as if I was being buried alive, dirt and debris filling my lungs at the simple notion because I just felt so helpless, not having any idea what to do, or how to help him, or how to care for him without just making things worse.

I didn't know the depth of what's happened to him. I didn't know how bad his wounds were. I didn't know what had caused them, or how deep they went, or if this was even his first time experimenting this. I didn't even know if it was something reparable, much less within my personal capability. I had no idea if I'd be seeing a few bloody scratches, or if he'd been cut with something so sharp that it went down to the bone. I didn't know.

And that didn't even account for what was going through his head right now.

"I've only taken a few medical classes before," I blurted out suddenly, fighting to keep my voice steady. "I know how to stitch and apply medicine, and things of that nature, but I'm not sure if I'm qualified to-"

"It doesn't matter," Tyler grunted, retrieving a small syringe from the pocket of his robe. "The morphine should handle the worst of it. I just need help getting patched up, is all." He attempted a smile, but it faltered instantly, never white reaching his eyes.