Careful (Troyler)

Twenty-Eight: Support

~Zoe's POV~

"Is he okay? What's wrong with him?" Troye asks me as I hopelessly watch Tyler exit the hospital.

"I don't know, I have no idea-" I cut myself off "I'm sorry, Troye, but I have to go-"

"No, I understand. Just please, fix him while I can't."

I grab my purse and Tyler and I's bags, rushing out of Troye's hospital room without another words. When I reach the elevator, that is when Troye's words really sank in.

"Just please, fix him while I can't."

To my knowledge, Tyler isn't broken. I know him as a happy-go-lucky, sassy, goofy, all around positive person; is there something I don't know? I begin to grow paranoid as I rush outside, looking up to the sky to see dark clouds forming. Great, my hair does not need this. Neither does my outfit, really.

While I'm lost in my thought, I see a cab begin to rush by. If I didn't snap out of my thoughts when I did, I would have missed the cab. Thankfully, the driver sees me with a bunch of luggage, so he pulls up to the curb quickly.

"Where you heading?" He asks, his Italian accent strong. I'm thankful he's spoken English, because if it wasn't for my faint knowledge of the Italian language and Google Translate before, I wouldn't have known how to speak to the previous driver.

"Hotel Calzaiuoli, please" I say, after much hesitation. I almost forgot the name of the hotel, considering all the thoughts rushing through my mind.

When we finally arrive, I rush out, without even thanking the driver. I rush in the hotel, nodding to the hotel clerk. He tells me a number in Italian; I just hope I can translate correctly.

Thankfully, I translate correctly, because when I knock on the hotel door after three flights of stairs, I instantly hear:

"Go away, Sugg."

"Tyler" I say, my voice pitiful and small "please, let me in. We have to talk. Troye is worried sick about you."

"No."

"He told me to fix you while he couldn't, so I first need to figure out your problem. Please, just let me in" I sigh, my breathing coming out choppily.

I hear shuffling behind the door. He suddenly opens the door just a crack, to where I can see his bare feet.

"He did? Really?"

"Really" I say, forcing my way in. After I'm halfway in the door, Tyler doesn't object anymore, and he just gives in. He plops down on one of the queen beds he's apparently claimed.

"Alright, Tyler" I say, trying to sound firm "please, tell me. Just let me in."

He looks up at me, and my heart completely shatters.

That strong, positive man I knew before was entirely gone. His whole demeanor has changed. He looks like a sad, insecure little boy, engulfed by the queen sized bed. He's obviously been crying, because his face is as red as a cherry and his eyes are swollen. He's shaking, which is another sign he's been bawling his eyes out. But yet, he still looks up at me with a grin. A grin so obviously fake it hurts like a knife to the back.