Flushed (Troyler AU)

Chapter 13

"I should have just taken up all the generous offers."

For a few moments I sat there, completely dumbfounded and unaware of what had just gone down. The once ghosting thoughts in my mind were eradicated and replaced by a low buzz, incoherent, but oddly familiar. If I had attempted to describe the feeling, I would not be able to. My lips would not form the incoming letters prying to tumble out, instead coming out as a low hum, in a way questioning. It was as if my lips had been sown together in those mere five seconds. Perhaps I was still shocked by Troye's previous words, my mind still striving to process the sudden outburst.

I gulped down the remaining air in my lungs, my face now profusely red from holding my breath in for so long. My jaw dropped and I immediately inhaled, the oxygen traveling back to my brain allowing me some input on the situation as soon as my gears begun to turn. I had been so detached, the ringing of the dial tone in my ears not even slightly agitating. If I were honest the monotonous din, side by side with the pricking numbness felt comforting. At this point I had not yet realized the line was dead, the prolonged ringing acting as a fair distraction to my sensitive ears. The time I had spent sitting like this was indefinite, but as the minutes dwindled off, one by one, second by second everything slowly came back to me. It was impossible to comprehend and I struggled to put the pieces together. The harsh remarks pierced through my skin, like poison injected against my will. A part of me wished I had gone along with his demands, the aching strain on my heart unbearable to the max. If I had tried to lie and say this didn't affect me in the slightest, I would be lying through my teeth, because it did exactly that, more so than I was prepared to admit.

It had been twenty minutes since the call had ended, or so I believed, and I was definitely late for my class, it being the reason of this mess. I walked over to the cabinet, and placed the phone back into its charging pad as soon as I pressed the end button, the dial tone cutting off. I decided the best decision for me right now was to simply stay home and overthink the entire situation. Noah had left for his morning class about an hour ago to stop at Starbucks for breakfast, inviting me to come with him. I had rejected his offer then, as calling Troye had been the only thing that mattered all morning. And now I was left with no coffee and about a quarter less of my heart. I didn't care that Troye was drunk as he spoke and incapable to think clearly. No excuse could justify the empty feeling he had permanently dumped on my chest.

People were always saying "think before you speak," but why would such a statement be necessary if you always thought before you spoke. It's not as if your mouth moved against your will, as if it had a mind of its own. It's not like you spoke without thinking as the two were connected; you could not have one without the other. Because no matter how much you tried to speak before thinking, it was unachievable, even if the phrase formed in your mind milliseconds prior to tumbling out, it was still a thought. To piece together a sentence, thinking was inevitable; such acrimonious words were already present, just building, unresolved and lingering. "It just came out," was one of those lame-ass excuses used by everyone who was too arrogant to own up to their mistakes.

I told myself it made no difference if the alcohol had taken its toll on Troye's actions--his destructive past was no news to me. His daily hook ups were not a temporary thing, he had made a habit of it. Even though I had never heard the words come from Troye's mouth, the whole world knew. He was still sleeping around the day before we met, at least I hoped, or it would be a real setback if it had still occurred after that day. I would never know. My trust in him had slightly diminished, even if his exact words were "should have." I could never be entirely sure that he hadn't taken up any, as he put it, generous offers. I was aware that there would always be men throwing themselves at Troye, though the past two and a half months had somewhat reassured me he only had eyes for me. Boy, was I wrong. I wouldn't be surprised if he had after all gone back to whichever club to find another young guy to strip of his innocence. Apparently, he was into that sort of thing.