Fifteen (Troyler)

Chapter 4

Troye's POV

The next day, I wake up curled in Tyler's bed, a fluffy blanket that I don't remember being there before covering my body. I moved to get up from the bed, before sudden, piercing pain encompassed my body, shooting mostly into my leg. Oh, right. Forgot about the whole malignant-tumor-in-my-leg thing.

I managed to struggle a little more before I was capable of easing myself to a sitting position, fiery pain burning at my limbs as I did so.

There was no sign of Tyler anywhere, but the bag I knew contained my pain medication was at the end of the bed. I cast a glance at my knee, barely revealed through the hem of my rarely worn basketball shorts to be swollen and marked with dark bruises, tender to the touch and very sensitive to any move I made. I winced as I reached out as far as I could to the edge of the bed, attempting not to jar my leg too much. With a few desperate grabs at the handle of my bag, I managed to clutch it and drag it towards me, rummaging hurriedly through it until I got to the bright orange plastic bottles at the bottom of the bag. I pulled out two painkillers, downing them without water, which I knew was bad for you but seemed necessary right then.

I laid back on the bed, although any drowsiness I could have had was washed away by the nap that had lasted who knows how long.

I laid there for a really long time, feeling the pain slowly ebb away until it was bearable again. That's the thing about cancer- it never really gets better (although those cheesy campaign treatment ads will say differently), it just gets tolerable. Tolerable is really all I need to make it through these next few months, the doctor had announced in the first few meetings involving me and my parents. This had panicked my mother, who still desperately ached to believe that her baby boy would be okay, but I was somewhat glad that he had deigned not to sugarcoat anything. Sugarcoating brought my hopes up, and once they get up the only other way they can go is down.

I was just about to attempt sitting up again, when I heard the door open just a meager crack, and Tyler's head peeked around the corner. "Troyeboy? You awake yet? It's been, literally like forever."

I rolled my eyes, forcing my still aching body to sit up and stare at him. "Yes, Tyler, I'm awake."

Before he could say anything else, my phone began to buzz insistently from the nightstand and I leaned to pick it up, not even bothering to check caller I.D. before I answer it. "Hello?"

"Troye!" One of my amazing best friend's voices yells into the phone. "You're seriously back in L.A. and you didn't bother telling me?"

I laugh. "Hi, Con. I guess I didn't even need to tell you, I've only been here for like half a day and you're already pestering me, loser."

Connor scoffed, and I could practically see the insulted look on his face. "I just wanted to see if the rumors were true! And I was going to invite you out for a coffee run-"

I laughed. "Figures."

"-and a movie, but I guess I shouldn't be 'bothering' you, Mr. I-Took-Over-The-World-With-My-EP. Too busy to see any of your friends anymore? Is being famous too much of a burden? Damn, this is like a poorly written fanfiction." A teasing tone filled his voice and I groaned.

"Fine, Connor. I'll go get coffee with you, but only because I miss you and Tyler has no plans for today besides lounging around the apartment not moving for a few hours."

Tyler made a face in the doorway, before turning and wandering into the kitchen. I let my eyes follow his back until he rounded the corner, before tuning back into Connor's chattering. We talked a bit more, arranging a time for him to pick me up from Tilly's apartment before we hung up. I finally managed to drag myself out of the bed and into my favorite black skinny jeans and a cream sweater that I was pretty sure had been Tyler's at some point, brushing my teeth and styling my hair, making sure my quiff game was hella strong.