Duck and cover. (On hold. Do not start reading.)

Stop keeping secrets

"Troye, baby, come on. Calm down. Talk to me! What the hell should I do?!" I knew Tyler was panicking, but I couldn't do anything. It was a miracle I was breathing. "Troye!" Oh god, no. He was crying again. Snap out of it, Troye. Your boyfriend needs you! Boyfriend. I don't think I'd never get use to that, it's just been so long since that labels been in my life. Not that it was a bad thing, just new. God, I want to be wrapped in his arms right now. "Troye!" He sobbed out again.

"T-Tilly... Arms.. Me.. Please.." I managed to get out. It took him a moment to sort through my words, finally wrapping his arms around me again.

"Shit, Troye, you're fucking shivering. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," He sobbed into my neck. I shook my head, nuzzling my face into his chest. "Troye, please. Tell me what happened."

"I-I.. N-not yet," He began rubbing soothing circles on my back, rocking us back and fourth.

"Who hit you?" He whispered after a few minutes of nothing but our ragged, panic ridden breaths.

"I-I, uh, no. You'll be- you'll be mad at me."

"No baby, no. I won't be mad at you. Just tell me. Open up, Troyeboy," He begged.

"I- can you go get me some Nutella?" Nutella always helped. Always. He chuckled lightly before walking into the kitchen, returning a few moments later with a jar of Nutella and two spoons.

"You're such a twink," He giggled.

"Am not!" I replied grumpily, taking a spoon full of Nutella into my mouth. God, I loved Nutella. Everything about it made me calm down. It was a sweet distraction that I thought everyone should have.

"I've actually never had Nutella. You wouldn't even let me eat the Nutella smothered toast."

"There is no way I'm dating someone who has never had Nutella!" I shrieked. He smirked at me, his eyes filling with mirth. "What?"

"I guess I'll just have to have some," He huskily whispered, leaning towards me. He licked my bottom lip, cleaning away some Nutella.

"God, that was hot," I giggled, feeling slightly hot and bothered by his actions. I definitely liked the sexual side of him. Suddenly, his eyes were serious and hard, staring at me with a look of expectation.

"Troye, you need to tell me what happened," I was so not ready to have this conversation.

"Tilly, I can't," I admitted.

"You need to trust me, babe. There can't be secrets, especially if they make you act like that. I don't know how to handle you when you're like that I don't know what to say or what to do. I need to know so I can better understand how to help you next time," I could already feel the tears beginning to form in my eyes, threatening to spill out at any moment.

"Tilly, please. I can't."

"You have to. Please, I was so scared. I thought I'd hurt you. I didn't know what was going on. Hell, I still don't know what happened. Please, just tell me," God, I was beginning to hate how often this kid was right.

"Fine, okay. Yeah, okay. I can do this. I can tell you. But you can't get mad at me. Okay?" I whispered at a few minutes of consideration.

"Of course. I promise," And so, between my sobs and cries and pleas, I managed to tell him everything. I told him how my dad and I always had a rocky relationship, but it only managed to get worse when I finally told him I was gay. He started drinking, saying how he didn't understand where he went wrong and why couldn't he just have a normal child. Then, he'd yell at me for hours on end, telling me how worthless I was. After about a month of yelling, he hit me. He'd slap me and punch me, only getting worse the more I tried to get away.

I told him how my mom never tired to stop him, not even when he threw me down the stairs and broke my arm in three different places, or when he kicked me so hard I had a few broken ribs. She never stopped him, and he only got worse. I told him how, one day I finally believed his words, telling myself how worthless I was. That was the day I picked up that stupid razor blade and began cutting. Never anywhere obvious, just hidden places like my thighs and my back.

I couldn't, however, tell him that, one day I pushed back. I pushed my father down the stairs and he ran back up after me with a kitchen knife and I ended up running outside to my neighbors house, where he protected me. My father was sent to prison, my whole family went to counseling, and now things were kind of okay. Besides the occasional letter from my dad, continuing to tell me how worthless I was, he's not in my life anymore.

It was only after I managed to get out the last few facts that I realized how quiet Tyler had been, fearing to look up and see his reaction. Maybe he was mad at me after all. Maybe he thought I was disgusting. Maybe he-

"I love you."

"You- what?" I asked, astonished at his words.

"I love you. Fuck, it's only been three days, but you've proved to me just how strong and powerful you can be. Maybe I'm not in love with you- yet, but I love you. I respect you more and more with every fact you tell me about yourself, because that's something that you trust me with. But for you to go through all of that, and still be the amazingly happy person you are, yeah. I love you."

"Tilly, can we just- just go to bed?" I asked, suddenly feeling exhausted. He smiled, closing the jar of Nutella and wrapping me in his arms again. Sleep quickly took over my mind.

--

"God, he really is fucking pathetic, isn't he? You were right. It was easy," He let out a deep chuckle. "Totally disgusting, just like you said," That voice was so familiar. "I don't know. He had too many scars for me to count," Okay, it was Tyler. "It took him a fucking hour to tell me his side of the story. Pathetic little shit," Who was he talking about? "Wait till I tell Casper and Zoe and Alfie. Oh god, it'll be a laugh. 'Troyes traumatized from his father because he's gay', I can just see it now," Troye? Who was that? Wait, wasn't that my name? "He's waking up. I'll talk to you later, Shaun," No. No no no. God no.

I tensed up when I felt him slid behind me, back into the position we'd fallen asleep in. "Troye, baby? Are you awake?" I tried my hardest not to move. I didn't even want to breathe. He slid his cold hand over my waist, beneath my boxers. He began tracing my scars. "Fucking pathetic as hell," He grumbled quietly before quickly moving to my cock, wrapping his hand around it. "Baby, wake up!" He cooed, his breathe hitting the back of my neck.

"Don't," I whispered.

"Don't what, babe?" He whispered, a bit too innocently.

"I just heard everything you said, you bastard- fuck!" I yelled when he practically flung himself on me, ripping off my boxers and grinding onto me. "Tyler, I said don't!"

"You will hold fucking still, you worthless piece of meat!" He yelled, pulling off his own boxers.

"Tyler! Please, stop! No!" I screamed before he thrust into me, pain spreading throughout my whole body.

"Troye, wake up!" He yelled. What? "Troye, it's okay! I'm right here!"

--

I opened my eyes, trying to push off my assailant. "Ow! Fuck, Troye. God damn it," I heard a yelp when my fist came into contact with something. I looked around, finding Tyler holding his nose.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" I scrambled over to him just as blood began to drop down his chin. "Shit, I'm so sorry, Tilly! Here, come with me," I grabbed his free hand, pulling him upstairs into my room, crossing over to my bathroom. I sat him down on the edge of my bathtub and searched through my first aid kit, finding gauze and turning towards him. "Bare with me here, this might hurt," I warned before tipping his head back and gently pushing the gauze up his steadily bleeding nose.

"You have one hell of a punch, Troye Sivan," He said, causing me to laugh at how nasally his voice was. He glared at me before his eyes softened again. "What happened?"

"Not right now, Tilly. Please?" I pleaded. I didn't want to open up again, I was still physically and mentally exhausted and I couldn't handle it again. He simply nodded his head in acceptance.

"Let's order sushi?"

"Yes!" I giggled, my childish side coming out again. Next to Nutella, sushi was second best.