The Good Life ~ Troyler AU

fifteen - troye

an actual rat appears in this chapter, feel free to heckle him 

I hated everyone in this building but Tyler.

All my old friends were, tonight at least, utterly dead to me, especially Caspar. Because he was so much bigger than Tyler, his hands and his height and his shoulders, and so much stronger. The worst part about watching Tyler being choked was how completely helpless he looked. Tyler wasn't exactly a weak person, but I'd forgotten how powerful nearly everyone in the Family was - he never stood a chance.

The doctor had come and gone, leaving painkillers and spare bandages and slightly calmer atmosphere behind him. When I'd first half-carried, half-dragged Tyler to by room - Caspar had tailed us and offered to help, but like I would let him - he'd panicked and fought against me and for one terrifying moment spat blood onto the carpet. Now he was lying on my bed, his head bandaged and ten ton of painkillers swimming through his system, but I knew he was awake. 

I sat down next to him, running a hand through his hair. "You can sleep now, it's fine." I reassured him, but his eyes stayed open and fixed on mine.

"Are they going to kill me?" His voice was raspy and rough like sandpaper. 

I opened my mouth, but then closed it. He'd asked me this question before, and this time I almost wished the answer was yes for his sake, because they'd keep him here for the rest of my miserable life. Maybe when I'd been fully cowed back into submission, they'd ship him off somewhere else, but - I shuddered slightly. I could think of a hundred places they could send him, and all of them would be horrendous. 

I should have just shot the gun, but the mere feel of it in my hand had sent me reeling, even though it had only been targets they'd wanted me to shoot. And I should have listened to Logan when he'd said he'd make me watch, but my mouth had been so dry and my head had been spinning so much that I could barely hear him, just the thud of the gun hitting the ground. 

"No," was all I said, "They're not going to kill you, Ty."

His gaze remained on me. He could hear every word I wasn't saying, but instead of addressing them he just asked if he could take a shower.

I hesitated - the en suite in this room was the size of the closet and only had a tiny toilet and sink, so I'd have to take him to the showers down the hall, and we could run into anyone on the way - but the pleading in his eyes was impossible to say no to, so I just grabbed a towel and clothes from the chest of drawers against the wall and helped him to his feet. I needed to get him there and back as fast as possible so he could rest, and hopefully not be seen.

Luckily, there wasn't anyway around, because it was about eleven at night at this point, but I still guided him along as quickly as I could and then locked the door of the shower room. There were five or six of them against the wall, so I turned the water on in one and turned around to see Tyler pulling his t-shirt, and saw his destroyed body.

His stomach was fading from blue to a nasty sort of purple, while all over his chest and arms were yellowy bruises and small cuts that lent splashes of vivid color. As I watched, he swayed on the spot, face draining, and I rushed forwards to help him. I pulled off his trousers, the severity of the situation eliminating any awkwardness, and stood with my back to the shower as he cleaned himself slowly, hissing painfully every now and then. I didn't ask if he wanted help because I knew he wouldn't want any. He deserved to regain some of his dignity. 

When Tyler was done I helped him into the new clothes and unlocked the door, only to find Carter Reynolds with his fist raised, about to knock. Without a second's thought I pushed Tyler behind me and went to go past him without him noticing the boy trailing me, but he called my name.

"Troye, wait up. Is that your boyfriend I've been hearing so much about?"

Tyler looked confused. I could feel my blood boiling. "Get lost," I snapped, but Carter had this look on his face that I remembered, and he was looking straight at Tyler. 

I pushed Tyler further behind me, taking his hand, and slipped past Carter into the hallway. "Go away," I snarled, and after a long moment Carter dropped his stare and I rushed Tyler back into my room so fast he stumbled.

"Who's that?" he asked uneasily, and I just kissed his forehead gently.

"You need to rest."

"Troye -"

"Look just, just don't let anyone leave you alone, okay? Whether it's Caspar or Phil or anyone, you tell them I said to stay with you. Okay? Don't be alone, and if you are lock whatever door there is." 

Tyler's forehead furrowed. "But what's so -"

I hugged him, hoping he wouldn't feel that my heartbeat was still way too fast to be normal. "It's gonna be fine," I lied, and Tyler buried his face into my neck, and I could feel him not believing me.

Hours later, when Tyler was sleeping like the dead, I untangled our arms and tiptoed to the en suite, shutting the door behind me, and splashed tinny water from the sink onto my face, trying to wash away the worry I feared had already been carved permanently into my face. The cheap mirror was spotted and dirty and distorted my reflection a little, warped it into something that wasn't quite right. A slightly different person.

There was the Family's Troye in this mirror, and there was Tyler's Troye back home in our bathroom mirror, and I didn't know which was which - the difference between them got more blurred and more  faded with every passing day.