Friends With Benefits: A Troyler Story

Chapter Sixteen: The Heartbreak

A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry for the EXTRA long wait, I'm sure everyone will be able to fill you in on the last couple of months in the comments if you don't follow me, but this chapter actually took even more time than I thought it would because my lovely brother managed to (accidentally) slam my hand in a car door, meaning I had to type and edit this ENTIRE CHAPTER with my left hand. Yikes.

Anyway, this is a bit of an awkward chapter to return with because it is by far the angstiest (yes of course that's a word). I am really hoping though that this chapter performs its function which is to shed some light on exactly WHY Troye is so oblivious to Tyler's feelings. A lot of you are being quite hard on him (which I understand) but it's important to remember that Tyler actually hurt Troye quite a bit in the past, absolutely not intentionally, but through obliviousness and by seeing other people, exactly what Troye is doing now. Troye has years of insecurity and hurt to overcome in the effort to see Tyler’s feelings for him, on top of the normal insecurity that people feel when they really like someone, especially a friend. I hope this chapter hopes you empathize with him a bit more : )

Some of you may be mad at Tyler in this chapter but it can't be helped we only have a few chapters left so you know it will be getting happier soon! Love you all, please leave me lots of comments!

TYLER'S POV 

Fuck.

That was the first thought that filtered through my consciousness as I cracked my eyes open the morning after the club. It wasn’t because I was hungover (in fact the only reminder that I had been drunk the night before was a very slight, pulsing headache that I knew would disappear as soon as I ate something) but becauseas soon as I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes, the memories of last night came rushing back.

I almost immediately noticed the absence of a warm body pressed against mine, of an arm flung over my waist or the mouth full of soft, sweet smelling hair, all of which had become part of my morning routine over the last couple of weeks. I turned to look over towards what I exasperatedly realized I was starting to think of as Troye’s side of the bed and found it empty, the blankets and sheets crumpled. When I placed my hand on the sheets next to me I found them cold. Troye hadn’t been in bed for a while. 

I scrubbed my hands over my face and let out a soft groan. Of course he wasn’t here. He was probably completely freaked out.

I couldn’t believe how I had behaved last night, how I had revealed what I had tried so hard to keep hidden from Troye this entire trip because of a couple of drinks and some misplaced jealousy. The combination of alcohol, Troye’s utterly tantalizing appearance the night before, and the substantial proof of just how desirable Troye was to not only myself, but what had seemed last night like the entire gay male population of the club, had completely burned through my defences.

The second we had entered Lost Angels the night before, I had watched as eyes from all over the room snapped to Troye, lingering on his body as we made our way towards the bar. Almost equally frustrating was Troye’s complete obliviousness, a naivety to his own seductive power that instantly sent me into protective mode. But I couldn’t lie and say it was just protectiveness that made me act the way I did when I had come out of the bathroom and emerged through the crowd to see not one, but two tall, gorgeous men crowding Troye back against the bar, leering lustfully and looking at him like a pair of lions staring at a particularly tender looking gazelle. I had felt an anger I’d never experienced before surge like molten lava through my veins, seeing black spots in front of my eyes as I made my way quickly and silently to Troye’s side. My intervention had definitely been at least partly due to protective instinct . . . everything about Troye’s body language was clearly repelling away from these men rather than leaning towards them . . . but it had also come out of the same possessive urge that I had already discovered the night I overheard Troye’s phone call with Stephen.