Yours Truly, Me (Troyler)

✉️Chapter 16✉️

Tyler POV

Looking back on our argument, I should have just kissed Troye right then and there.

When he muttered bitterly questioning why I would look at him sadly because he doesn't have a love life really surprised me. And it was then and there that I realized he wasn't looking for love because he was terrified. Terrified of what, exactly, I have no idea.

Then like the idiot I was, I told him he was missing the love right in front of him.

Yet, no matter how blatant my confession was, he didn't even seem to have heard me. As soon as I told him he simply wasn't even trying to look for happiness, he stiffened, and I knew I hit him right on the nail.

I never knew that this was such a sore subject for Troye, honestly. He never seemed to care before, but that was just a facade. He cared a lot. That's why he was scared. After I finished my yelling at him, he looked extremely overwhelmed. It was as if no one had ever cared enough to tell him these things, and it was like a slap in the face for him.

He ended the conversation right there, going inside our room to go to bed, but I didn't miss his voice cracking when he said goodnight.

I may have fucked up, but I meant every word I said. It was the truth, after all.

I end up standing there for a few minutes, going over the events of the day, ending after Troye and I's going at it, when I finally decide that I may as well go to bed too. With luck, Troye's already out. He actually did have jet lag, as far as I could tell.

I quietly opened the door, grabbing some sweats and a long t-shirt to change into for bed. Five minutes later ( my jeans are getting too small on me ) I left the bathroom, wrinkled clothes in hand, and stuffed them in my suitcase, knowing I wouldn't be wearing them again during this trip. I packed enough clothes to change my outfits twice a day, practically.

I glance at Troye's sleeping figure, wondering how he is one of the few people on Earth that actually doesn't snore when I hear a slight sniffle come from the bed. I guess he's not sleeping after all.

Now, see, I really have no idea how to comfort Troye when it comes to things like this. He's never actually cried in front of me, really, and I don't he intended to right now, either. Because of that, I'm not sure if I should comfort him right now or leave him be, since he seems extremely upset with me.

Then again, I really don't want the night to end on the wrong note. I can't have Troye mad at me during this trip, I just can't. Especially since the others will be wondering what happened-

Screw it, I just can't stand the thought of him being mad at me. There, I said it. Call me selfish, but I'm more concerned about how this effects me than everyone else, except maybe Troye. It's natural. I've always believed that no matter how much you love a person, you have to put yourself first. Not selfishly, but for your well-being.

"Troye, you awake?" I ask, breaking the awkward silence, other than his sniffing. He doesn't answer, but he stops breathing for a moment, so I know he heard me.

"Troye, I can hear you crying. I know you're awake. Please, just talk to me Troye. I want to know why what I said affected you this much."

I hear a light sigh from the other bed, and Troye finally decides to sit up and face me. His eyes are rimmed with red and there's light tear streaks on his face, but other than that he looks like his usual self, with messier hair. He takes a shaky breath, and says,"Tylah... I just, I don't know. No one's ever really just given it to me straight like that, you know? My family's told me that I should try dating and stuff like, that... But I can't. It would feel like I-" he cuts himself off, his voice cracking with raw emotion.

I shuffle to his side of the room, sit next to him on the bed, and wrap my arms around him, resting my head on his shoulder. (( I really like these head-on-shoulder hugs, don't I? ))

I can't see his face, hugging him like this, but I can almost feel him fighting himself on keeping the tears back and finding the right thing to say. "I dunno, it would just feel like I was lying to myself, if I kept looking," is all he says.

"What do mean, kept looking?"

He shrugs, still holding on to me, but his arms have gone limp, no longer trying to support me and letting me hold him up. I wonder if it's the first time he's been in a hug like this. "I don't know..." he hesitates, and I can practically hear the gears inside of his head working as he decides what to say next. "I guess I don't want to keep looking for happiness when I'm already perfectly content."

I chuckle slightly. "This is what you call content, Troye? I'd hate to see what your state of depression looks like."

He stiffens slightly, but it goes away so fast I could've imagined it, especially when he starting laughing lightly against my chest. "Well, I'm sad now because you've made me face the possibility of going from happiness to pure bliss, with a huge risk involved. I could suffer lots of heartbreak for Elysium or for nothing at all, but either way I'd never forget the heartbreak. If I don't suffer, then love will always be my biggest what-if." (( So. Many. References. ))

I ponder his words, and suddenly I see things from his point of view. He's thinking about venturing into the world of love and heartbreak, but trying to decide if it's worth the risk. Most people have began exploring without a second thought, but he is holding back, watching, waiting, seeking the safest but most desirable chance.

I squeeze him tighter for a second, then let go of him, resting my hands on his thin shoulders, before continuing. "Believe me when I say this, Troye, it's worth it. You can fall in love more than once, just not at the same time. I learned that from a friend once." Honestly, I just quoted TSM. But Troye doesn't need to know that. "And no matter how temporary that feeling is, it's worth it."

We lock eyes, and it takes every ounce of my self control not to grab him once again and show him just what it feels like to be loved. But this isn't the right time. Not right now.

His blue irises have so many mixed emotions running through them that's it's far too hard to focus on one, let alone all of them. He nods, letting me know he understands what I told him. He shoots me a small smile, letting me know that we're alright. I get up to leave the bed, when he grabs my wrist. "Tilly," he says quietly.

"Stay with me?" he asks tentatively and nervously and quietly.

"Always." (( REFERENCE ))

I settle down next to him on the bed, laying my head on the pillow next to his, wrapping my arm under his waist and resting my hand on his stomach, just above his navel. His leg and hip are pressed against mine, and his head is resting on my shoulder. I press a gentle kiss against his temple, like he did to me at that airport so long ago.

"You remind me of someone, Troye," I tell him, though I'm unable to identify who he reminds me of. He doesn't respond, and I wait for him to say something, anything, when I look down to see that he fell asleep, his breaths even. I've never seen anything as beautiful as this man sleeping with his head resting on me, and that's the truth.