Flushed (Troyler AU)

Chapter 11

(Story will be updated during weekends, only*)

Tyler's POV

I run around the apartment tidying the place as I await my roommate's arrival. I shove my scattered clothes into the laundry basket, reminding myself that I now share the cramped living space. I still don't know much about the guy considering I've only talked to him twice to sort out the arrangements. He wasn't a complete stranger though; I was desperate and he was one of my friend's girlfriend's brother, who seemed in dire need of a place to live. I was hopeful that everything would go along smoothly and I wouldn't have to go to the extent of putting up an Ad on Kijiji.

As I finish setting the last item in its place a knock sounds through the wooden door, instantly making me turn my head in its direction. Smoothening out my shirt and glancing at myself in the mirror, I walk towards the door, unlocking it and plastering a wide smile onto my face. The door flies open and I am met with a smile similar to mine on an extremely good looking guy, with suitcases surrounding him.

"Hi Noah!" I say cheerily, stepping aside to let him walk through the entrance. He nods his head meekly at me, completely disinterested and wheels his suitcases in behind him. Not one for conversation, I gather. With his back turned to me, I let my eyes travel up and down his figure. I take in his muscular arms clad in a plaid flannel and the light wash skinny jeans hugging his skinny legs. Suddenly he turns to me and I can make out his features clearly in the bright sunlight, previously distorted by the dim light of the hallway. His plain brown hair and brown eyes combination somehow suit him well, paired with the olive undertone of his skin.

He raises his eyebrow at me, cocking his head to the right, probably questioning my prolonged staring. I couldn't deny his good looks; he was exactly the type of guy I usually went for. Even though I have Troye, I was still allowed to look, right?

I chuckle under my breath, immediately straightening up and meeting his eyes.

"Your room is the door on the left."

Without replying he made his way over to his bedroom door and began unpacking his belongings the moment he stepped inside. I was rather confused by his lack of conversation, thinking he would want to ask some questions. I leave him to it, hesitant to seem meddlesome and decide to find a movie to watch.

Grabbing a bag of Doritos, I plop down on the couch, shifting around to find a comfortable position. Skipping through the channels, I sigh as nothing worth my while appears on the screen in front of me. Instead, I grab my phone from the coffee table, unlocking it and tapping on the "messages" icon. A nostalgic feeling weaves its way through me as I read through Troye's and I old texts. There is nothing I wish l more for than to be surrounded by his appeasing presence. My heart gapes and void fills it to the brim. My eyes skim over the few messages exchanged in the past couple of days, the number decreasing with every passing twenty four hours. Between both of our bustling schedules and the inescapable time difference, the meager amount of time we spent together did not suffice. It had only been two weeks and I already missed him. His sweet kisses, comforting hugs, bad jokes and cute face. Words spoken through a camera could never duplicate any of these things, not even close. His electric touch could not travel through a computer screen. I needed Troye next to me. It was selfish of me to think this way, well aware that he was in Australia to produce his next album, which could potentially be even bigger than the previous, his works excelling the norm, way ahead of their time.

No, I wasn't just saying this because I was his boyfriend. I had read over some of his compositions, listened to his ideas and was left blown away by their intricacy and brilliance. Although Troye always refused to sing to me, his angelic voice left me breathless and in complete captivation the one time he did.