Letters: A Troyler FanFiction

Chapter 9

Troye's P.O.V.

Nothing.

No sights.

No feeling.

No voices.

Nothing.

That's all it was. A dark void, empty of anything and shrouded in a cloak of black.

It was nice, the dark sleep I had been put into. It's never-ending presence made the pain dull and the fire in my veins stop burning so badly. It was a state of perpetual bliss that I never wanted to leave. There was always something, though. Something that made me yearn to come back to consciousness. But I couldn't really remember what that something was.

Maybe that's what dying feels like.

In all actuality, I could be dead and have not even realised it. I could be in that place people go after they die and be there for eternity, and I would have never gotten a chance to say goodbye to all the people I love.

Then I feel it. A slight tugging sensation, pulling me out of the darkness that promised security and comfort and into a bright white light, telling me I'm not dead. Not yet. No. I don't want to go. I beg silently, trying every futile subconscious attempt to stay submerged. Eventually, the light wins.

I open my eyes for the first time in nearly 2 months.

At first, it is bright. Every colour of the spectrum rushes into my eyes in an exhilarating whirlwind of images and settings. It takes a while for my eyes to adjust, and they ache furiously. After they stop throbbing, I look around. Still the hospital, but a different room. The usually soft beeping of the machines is a deafening roar in my sensitive ears. I can feel a strange sensation in my veins, like the liquid of the IV only stronger. Chemo. It's not unpleasant, just strange. I feel a bit stronger, and I don't hurt anymore. The bruises have lost their tenderness; the fever isn't as bad, and I know I'm getting better. Weakly, I turn my head to the side. Wherever I am, I see they decided to bring everything I received while was in the coma, and it is all piled in a haphazard heap on the nightstand. A little golden box catches my eye in the mass of other wrapped boxes. The shiny paper glints in the fading evening light filtering in through the slit in the curtains. It has a little tag on it, but I can't read it. A pile of half withered roses is stacked close to the box. Who brought me those? I wonder to my self. Then it hits me.

Tyler.

His name triggers a reaction in my chest, my heart fluttering uncontrollably. It's being displayed by the change in a rapid series of little green arches and valleys on the heart monitor. I groan at myself, knowing that it will call a nurse in. But Tyler. He was the one I wanted to wake up for. He was the one I kept fighting for.

"Tyler," I croak, my voice so hoarse and soft I can barely hear it, but the way my lips form his name is so delicious and wonderful.

I take the flimsy blankets in my hands and pull them up to my chin, moving my stiff and aching limbs so that I am curled up into a ball. My eyelids still feel heavy and I want to fall back asleep. My arms and legs feel tingly and light, like I am weightless, and I drift off again, Tyler's face in my head.

~•~•~•~

I am only asleep for what seems like nanoseconds. "Troye!" A delighted voice exclaims from the doorway, and I immediately recognise it.

I open my eyes instantaneously and look over to see my mum, joined by Tyde, my dad, and a nurse in the doorway. Tears glisten in their eyes as they take in the fact that I am awake. My family rushes over, but the nurse scolds them and tells them they can't overwhelm me until I get my bearings. I am about to tell her that its fine before the look she gives me shuts me up. The nurse checks me over, and finally declares me fit for hugs from my family. My mum throws her arms around me and immediately starts to cry. My dad gently hugs us and Tyde joins in.

"Oh God Troye we missed you so much. I'm so glad you're okay," Tyde says through tears.

"I missed you guys too," I whisper, choked up by my own tears. "How long was I under?"

"Almost 2 months. It's July 29th." The nurse says before walking out.

"Oh,"

After a lot of crying and hugging and reminiscing, my parents bombard me with news and stories of the events outside of my coma. Not much happened--apparently Zoe, Caspar, Connor, Alfie, and Joe all flew in for a little while and visited me a few times. A few little family events, but not much. My dad smugly hints that there wasn't a day when Tyler wasn't by my side or talking about me.

"You missed your birthday party. Everyone was there and we sang to you," my mum says with a sad shake of her head. "Tyler stayed with you after we left," his name sends another flutter through my stomach and heart.

"Oh," was all I said.

Everyone was quiet for a few minutes, and I took the moment to open and read a few cards and letters from family. The gifts I left untouched for now. All of the notes were sympathetic and well-wishes, which made me smile. After all of them were safely tucked back into their envelopes and stacked, I leaned back, exhausted from the small amount of physical exertion.

"We have to go back today Troye," Tyde mumbles quietly. "But we'll come back as soon as we can,"

"It's alright. I'm okay here besides. After all, I am 19, right?" I joke weakly, rubbing my temples to dull the ache that's steadily grown there.

They all smile and embrace me, saying their goodbyes and stalling their departure. After they finally leave, I lay back into my pillow and let my eyes wander toward the ceiling. Will Tyler come today? I ask myself, furrowing my brows in frustration. I would give anything to see him after two months. I hate to think about the constant pain I pt him in. I just want to scream at myself. All I can manage is to groan aloud, then push the call button for a nurse. I ask her for some food, and she gives me a precarious look.

"The chemo may make you a little sick with solid foods. I'm not sure its such a good idea yet, Troye--"

"I don't care," I snap, leaving her to scramble out of the room and bring me a plate with a sandwich, milk, and red Jello, and a bucket.

At first, I am fine, and I eat the food hungrily, but slowly. It all tastes wonderful, even though it's all plain. I lean back with a smug smile at the empty plate, and I guess I spoke too soon. A wave of nausea overtakes me and I snatch up the bucket just in time. After I clean myself up and return to IV liquid food instead, I run my hands through my unusually flat hair, completely and utterly bored. Then I hear a sharp gasp from the door, and a voice thick with tears and high an octave with shock.

"T-Troye?"

Tyler.