The Good Life ~ Troyler AU

five - tyler

Troye was on the phone again, and I was sitting with my back against the wall staring at the ceiling, listening to him shouting at the airline and trying and book new flights and failing.

"We are on the system - our passports are up to date, you can't just leave us stranded here -"

I shivered. This Family seemed to be all powerful, and it was more than a little terrifying. When Troye finally hung up, his face was grey. "They fucked up our passports somehow," he groaned despondently, sitting cross-legged across from me. "I don't know when we're going to be able to leave - I'd say we should move hotels, but I don't think there's much point."

I played with his fingers and tried very hard not to think about what was happening. "Tell me about the Family." I said quietly. I was desperate to know, but I had a feeling that at the same time I wouldn't like what I heard.

Troye seemed to fear the same. "The Family controls Perth." he replied finally, after a few long seconds of deliberation. "I thought by now they would have stopped looking for me but -" He coughed out an ugly laugh, rubbed his hand over his face. "They don't forget." His eyes were too bright to be tearless.

"Why can't they just leave you alone?" I whispered like someone was listening in on us, the words bitter in my mouth, and he sighed so deeply I thought his lungs must hurt.

"Because I know too much, and they don't ever leave you alone."

The peace lasted about three hours until we ventured out of the room to ask the hotel to extend our stay, and I turned around as Troye talked to the receptionist and someone shoved past me too hard to be an accident and lingered.

Something sharp pressed into my gut, just shy of breaking the skin, and I felt one of those sticky labels slapped onto my hand, the stranger's fingers folding over my wrist. The whole encounter lasted less than a second - I didn't even get a chance to look at their face - and then Troye came over with a worried half-smile, oblivious to my encounter.

"I got another week, but hopefully we won't be stuck here that long -" He paused when he saw how utterly still I was, afraid to even breath, stuck on the feeling of what must of have been a knife millimeters from puncturing my shirt. I fumbled for his hand, and he saw the label and inhaled sharply.

"Fuck." he snapped, voice broad and shaking, and I saw the words that had been plastered onto me like a price tag - don't leave your pet off the leash.

Without another word, Troye took my wrist and pulled me back up to the room. He locked the door and pulled the curtains and then pulled me to him, and we shook and shook and shook.

"Oh my God," he kept saying, over and over, "Oh my God, oh my God, not my Tyler." But if he was expecting a reply - from me, or from the Family, or from the deity that he didn't believe in but still petitioned - he received none.