Letters: A Troyler FanFiction

Chapter 8

Tyler's P.O.V.

I wake up the same as always. Considering I barely slept, it's more like I layed in the dark until the sun filtered through the window enough for me to see. The darkness has started to feel different. Without Troye in the bed, the darkness feels like a thick weight, making it hard to breathe. And the silence. The silence is so loud.

I realize I'm drenched in my own sweat. Another nightmare, I guess. I don't remember it much, but I don't want to remember anyway. My throat aches with the need to laugh again. But it's hard to when the only reason I ever would laugh was because of Troye. A permanent frown seems to always be on my lips. Not only would it be nice to smile again, but it'd also be nice to see Troye smile, just one more time.

Without even glancing at my phone, I know it's early. The light of the sun is just barely enough to tear its way through the lifting night sky.

I swing my legs over the bed and toss the thick comforter off, while sliding my glasses on and running my hands lazily through my hair. I jump into the shower and quickly get out and dress myself. Like always, I throw on a t-shirt and some shorts. I swiftly run my hands in my hair, just barely managing to make it decent.

Once I sneak back to the bedroom, careful not to wake Zoe, Alfie, or Joe on the way, I finally check my phone. It's 6:42. Then I force myself out of the room, not daring to look at Troye's side of the room. I'll only get upset again. The drive to the hospital is familiar now, but I wish it wasn't.

I practically jog to Troye's room, feeling a little more hopeful today. "Hey Troye. It me, Tyler," I say. "I brought your rose."

I place it next to the others, a frown tugging at my lips when I notice they are starting to crumble and get more sad looking. I smile weakly when I turn back to Troye. "So," I awkwardly mumble. "Your parents are coming to see you today. They said they'd bring Tyde." Before I allow my eyes to water again, I slide into my chair and grab his hand. I kiss his hand, and brush my lips over his fingertips. He's so beautiful, even when he's lying in a hospital bed and gown. I can't help but notice the way he looks slightly more pale, and slightly skinnier.

I shake the thoughts out of my head when I hear the door open behind me. I don't even need to turn around to know who it is. Just by the sound of the careful footsteps I know it's a nurse. When I look up at her she flashes a small smile and greets me with a hello. I just nod and begin tracing the edge of Troye's still and fragile hand with my thumb.

She changes out a syringe and replaces a bag filled with a dark, thick liquid which I assume is blood. I clear my throat. "Um, so, how is he?"

Her voice is small as she speaks. "He's looking okay, although he seems to be having a little trouble adjusting to the chemo." I squeeze Troye's hand lightly and before I can say anything she continues. "I wouldn't worry, though. Some others just have a little better reaction to it than some. I'm sure he'll get better soon. "

"Oh, okay. Thanks," I say, but my voice wavers more than I expected it to. After an awkwardly silent minute passes slowly, she leaves and I scoot closer to Troye.

"You'll be okay," I whisper into his hand. "It'll be okay. We'll be okay."

I press the back of his hand to my forehead while my fingers are still threaded through his. The dull noise of the machines seem to fade and after what feels like forever I sit up and grab more paper. I scrawl a few sentences onto it before tiredly setting it down and my phone buzzes. Swiping my phone, I see it's from Troye's mom, Laurelle; On our way, be there soon. I smile and turn my phone screen towards Troye. "See? Told you. They miss you, a lot, Troye."

The next few minutes are set into a comfortable silence. I settle back into my chair after putting my phone back into my pocket while regaining my weak grip on his hand. "We all do," I say, my voice trailing off, hearing the door creak open quietly behind me. I shift, seeing as the nurse has come back, except this time Troye's parents, along with Tyde are following closely behind.

Standing up, I lean over and hug each of them while the nurse leaves and closes the heavy door behind her. Shaun and Laurelle take a seat at the chairs on the other side of the bed, and Tyde comes up to Troye's bedside next to them.

"How's he doing?" Tyde says.
"Uh, alright, I guess."
He shoots me a confused look.
"The nurse, um, said he was doing okay. But he's having a little trouble with the chemo. I think he'll be fine, though," I quickly explain.
"Oh." He studies Troye for a second, then his gaze catches the paper I've been writing on. I lean back and grab the one I wrote on today.
"Here, you can write something for him if you want," I say, passing the paper and pen to Tyde with my free hand. His face lights up and he sits next to his parents, excitedly writing a message for Troye. He passes it to Shaun and Laurelle, each of them writing something before Tyde passes it back to me. I don't look at what they wrote, and instead put it back on the table.

For a while, we all have a small conversation about Troye, and then talk about his progress. Then Tyde talks to Troye for a bit. It's nice. A couple hours pass before they all either hug Troye carefully, or place a kiss on his forehead.

After they leave, I pull myself even closer to Troye. I know visiting hours will be over soon, so I lean closer, pressing my lips to his cheek. "I miss you," I whisper against his cheek before pulling away and hold his hand against the side of my head, our fingers curled in my hair. I miss when he'd brush his fingers through it. "I miss you, Troye Sivan," I mumble again.

~•~•~•~

The next days passed painfully slowly. Every day without Troye crushed me a little more. I brought in his roses.
I visited whenever I could, and every once in a while his family would come, or our friends would come too. The days stretched into weeks.
June 30th passed.

He still hasn't woken up.