Yours Truly, Me (Troyler)

✉️Chapter 20✉️

Tyler POV

Well, at least he admitted it.

I mutter,"Yeah, I'm sure that's why you don't want to talk," under my breath when he whines about wanting sleep, not wanting him to hear, but I feel like this is some sort of confirmation for me.

He admitted to kissing me.

He was embarrassed by my comment.

He didn't discourage the kiss.

I hear even breathing, and realize that Troye actually has fallen asleep, so I feel bad for saying what I did earlier, even if he didn't hear it.

Against my better judgment, I crawl out of my sheets and into Troye's bed, right next to him. He opens one eye at me, but otherwise says nothing, just closing it again. Since we already spent a few nights in the same bed, he probably didn't care that much anymore.

"So... I guess we're sharing the bed from now on?" he asks me sarcastically, breaking the silence. I know he didn't mean it in a rude way, though. Just giving me a hard time.

I pretend to yawn over-dramatically, and wrap an arm around his shoulders. He giggles at the obviously cheesy gesture, and encouraged, I pull him closer to me, smothering his face against my collarbone and neck.

He's still chuckling a bit, when he says,"This was my bed, Tilly. I thought I was supposed to be in charge of initiating the cuddling." I realize he's still a little drunk, even if he really didn't drink that much. Pfft, lightweight alert. Then again, I guess there was no other way he'd be so blunt about us cuddling.

"So, my first make out session was a success, then?" he whispers into my chest.

I chuckle at his stupidity. "Obviously," I say, pouring as much sass into the word as possible.

He chuckles drunkly, and I start to wonder if he had a lot more to drink tonight than I originally thought. Maybe I was too intoxicated to really keep track of that kind of thing, I guess.

"I love you too, Tilly, you know that, right?"

He heard me.

Oh God, he actually heard me.

But he's saying it back.

What even.

A million thoughts are running through my head, trying to find anything that could make this mean the opposite of what I think it means.

He could be drunk, but alcohol opens him up if anything.

He could mean it platonically, but that didn't explain how seriously he said the words right now.

He could take it back, but he hasn't.

He looked up at me, our eyes meeting, so many emotions going through his. Then without warning, he grabbed my neck and pulled me to him, so our noses were brushing. He gives me a small, sad smile, and whispers, his breath tickling my lips,"I'm sorry about that, considering the circumstances."

What the fuck?

He looks at me sadly, and I realize I spoke my thoughts aloud. "If you knew the truth, you wouldn't forgive me. And for that, I'm sorry. I regret that."

Everything he was saying didn't make sense, but before I could question him on it, his head slumped back against my chest, and he started snoring faintly. I was honestly too overwhelmed by his words to really process everything, my thoughts going so fast that they didn't even exist anymore.

With a blank mind, I ended up falling asleep out of boredom.

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