It's Complicated (Troyler)

Mommy

*Tyler's POV*

It's been a week without him, and I'm not doing any better than the second he walked out of the door. So far I've yet to find anything that even begins to numb the pain, to fill the void he left in my heart.

"Fuck!" I cursed, swerving the car when someone pulled out in front of me. I angrily smashed my hand against the horn and let it hum a long annoying blare. The woman in the other car gave me the finger but I just returned the gesture before driving off in the opposite direction. I guess one could say I've been a bit more irritable since he left as well. But how could I not be? Everyone else is going on living their lives, being happy. While I'm stuck being half the man I used to be.

I can't film videos, I don't want to even talk to people much less go out with them, hell, I don't even have an appetite any more. That's really saying something. There has never been something that mattered to me more than a good meal before now, well, before him. I can't even think his name, it's like an arrow to the heart, and not in the cute cupid way.

I pulled the car to a stop in the familiar driveway and took a deep breath. This was not going to be a pleasant experience in the slightest. The entire reason I left him was for my mother, and now she won't even take the time to return my calls. I'm not sure if it's pissing me off or the reason I'm so miserable, well, one of the many reasons. Regardless, I've decided to take matters into my own hands and therefore, I'm currently sitting in her driveway. Is it too late to change my mind? I seen the door open a crack and bit my lip. Yes, it is.

My mother walked out onto the porch in her nightgown and made a confused face at me, like it bewildered her that her son would show up in her yard. I got out, not before grabbing the cheesy flowers I'd bought as a suck-up gift for her, and strode across the grass to the bottom step.

"Hey, Mom!" I beamed, using the most cheerful voice I could manage. I didn't bother with a fake smile though. She'd see right through it, if I could even manage to pull one off.

"What are you doing here?" She snaps, placing her hands on her hips and reminding me I had to get my sassy personality from somewhere. I guess she isn't into the whole play nice thing, I guess I'll just have to jump right to the point, as much as the point kills me to talk about.

"We aren't dating any longer. I called it off, you were right, it wouldn't have worked out between us anyway." That's a lie and you damned well know it, Tyler. I hurriedly gave her the flowers and shoved my hands in my pockets, so she wouldn't notice that I'd balled them into fists. She looked like she was pondering over my words, probably not sure if she should believe me yet.

"Look, do you really think I'd lie about something like this?" I spat, glaring up at her like it could fix everything I'd done. She took a deep breath before looking up at meeting my eyes.

"You want to come inside? I have soup on." Well, it's no forgiveness speech, but what had I really expected? That woman cares more about her pride than, well, her own son. I just nodded and followed her into the house. It was weird how something so familiar could feel so different. It wasn't like when I normally came home and everything was all laughter and celebration, it was cold and hostile. It was like I was walking on eggshells around my freaking mother.

I watched her sit down at the table, but unlike normal I didn't automatically join her. I hovered in the doorway and cast her a questioning glance. She shrugged in response and I decided it wasn't really all that important to sit down after all. I just wanted to leave, why had I come to begin with? She would have answered my calls... Eventually.

"Tend to the soup, Ty. My show's on in the living room." She got up and left without so much as a please and thank-you. I scoffed but listened to her request, considering I was trying to get back on her good side. Though, it really did bother me that her show was more important than the pending good relationship with her son. I walked over to the pot on the stove and wrinkled my nose. Her goulash of foods she referred to as soup was hardly my cup of tea, with more meat in it than vegetables, but I'd given up on fixing her diet long ago.