might be triggering
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amnesia [am-nee-zhuh]
noun. medical: a condition in which a person is unable to remember things because of brain injury, shock, or illness. memory loss.
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TS
Troye doesn't mean to take the wrong turn.
He really doesn't. It's a few minutes past midnight and the sun had long been set, disappeared behind rows and rows of houses and hills from far west, and the streetlight that usually hovered above the sign that pointed to Cornbrook Avenue was burnt out as was the one pointing to the direction of their street. He should've known better than to turn off the upper headlights whilst driving through narrow intersections overtaken by darkness, but Tyler is sat strapped beside of him, chatting animatedly of his new ideas for his and Sawyer's next big film production.
The smile on his face is bright and the dust of red on his cheeks are evident and there are still M&M shells on his button up from their food fight hours ago (it's Saturday and thus the movie night Saturday planned from years ago still persists), and Troye feels his heart throb for his best friend.
It's his number one mistake, he would think five hours later - to fall in love with Tyler Oakley and be so fucking caught up with admiration that he fails to see the offending truck's headlights bathe the damp streets just ahead of them.
Because by the time he does, it's also too late to stop.
It comes at a surprise, from behind the thick bushes blocking the sight of the other interconnecting street. Troye only sees it seconds after he's passed the stoplight beaming green—two blindingly bright lights coming from a towering height, and to his horror Tyler's outline is emphasized directly through the lights as it's right in front of him.
There is the last desperate attempt to swerve out of the way, and a yell of surprise, before metal rams against the skin of the door right behind Tyler's seat, sending their disadvantaged car tumbling and skidding down the road and into the waiting area a couple of feet away. Troye hits his head hard against the steering wheel as the crumpled metal of a car screeches to a halt, and within what seems like forever of haunting silence and agonizing pain there is the sensation of blood trickling from atop of his head.
Darkness comes swiftly attacking his vision and before Troye could fall into oblivion, he feels a hand grasping his own, weak but enough so that he could feel the metal ring on Tyler's hand brush against a similar one on his own finger.
There is a rasp of his name through the darkness and he keeps awake long enough to find richly coloured eyes slipping close, purple hair strewn everywhere and partially covered in pooling red that Troye feels the desperation of a shout bubbling up his throat but he can't because it's painful and every move feels like a torment but Tyler is lying under a crumpled sheet of metal, rammed inward by the force of a truck and oh god, what if his ribs are fractured, what if his skull was hit, what if his back was crushed, what if the sound of half the syllable of his name is the last thing Troye hears of Tyler's breath and what if Troye's chance to tell him he's really loved him has slipped and what if—what if Tyler—oh god oh godohgod—
Troye is beaten and frantic and despite the horrible pain of what feels like something solid punctured into his shin, he struggles to unbuckle the seatbelt underneath broken shards of glass. And as he struggles out of his seat with withheld saltwater springing into his eyes from agony, he remembers the intense look on Tyler's eyes before he lets go of reality, and Troye's throat starts to scald at the thought that it might be the last one.
It would be a lasting memory of Tyler that Troye would hang onto for days onward.
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TO
The room is sickeningly white.
He's always hated hospitals, even as a child. They smell disgusting, like antiseptics and drugs and sanitizing towels, and it never doesn't smell like it had when he'd stood by the side of his father's deathbed and a friend's crumpled, pained form as she let herself lose to the last stages of cancer. And now.. he finds himself on the same type of bed with his whole body covered in cuts and bruises, wrapped in gauzes and bandages, and Tyler has not a single clue on know how he got here.
The light is painful against his eyes and the tightly wrapped bandages makes it unnecessarily difficult to lift his head, but when he finally manages to peer up from his bed, he catches sight of a man who had his side turned onto him. The pale skin of shoulderblades is shown through a thin hole at the back of his hospital gown, and a lace is dangling delicately from the ribbon made at the curve of his neck. His hair is curled and messy and he's perched onto the couch of Tyler's room like he'd been there for days, and it strikes Tyler that he has no idea who he is. Couldn't have been the doctor, Tyler thinks, as the lad is also hooked up to his own IV, holding onto a cane, brown hair tangled into similar white gauzes wrapped around his head.
The bed makes a squeak as he shifts and it catches the lad's attention. As the man finally takes notice of him, their eyes meet and the stranger's own goes wide, hauntingly blue and breathtaking and flickering with so many cutting emotions; so painfully familiar but not at the same time.
Tyler panics a little bit at the alien thoughts and alien people and alien everything and clutches onto the bed's metal railing as a hand stretches out from its grip on the cane, towards him, metal ring glinting under the lights. "Tyler.." breathes the man, and Tyler's own breathing stops.
The quickening sound of the heart rate monitor drowns out the rest of Tyler's name as he hurries to his elbows, backing away from the unfamiliar person. Confusion and fear stirs up his gut and Tyler feels nauseous being stuck into a situation he had no recollection of getting into, nauseous over watching a man he didn't know, approach him, knowing that there should be warning signs going through his head but there aren't.
The hand held out quickly crumbles back into a fist and blue eyes searches his, filling with questions the man's lips were itching to part for, but Tyler beat him to it.
"Who are you?"
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one, bc im slacking off on denial. two, bc its literally the only good thing summoned at my fingertips. three, bc i love you guys. four, bc im a bit older now. (ayyy) i know this is diff from my writing style (when ever is my writing style the same tbh) and it's clipped and short, but i hope you lot still liked it :) comment, vote, love if enjoyed <3 thank you in advance!
ps. there are so many people id like to dedicate chapters to, but emmy (@itsonmymind) comes first on the list for this bc have you seen the cover??? it's fricking awesome. she makes the best covers and fanfics (*chants* GSS) and if you've never checked her out literally what are you (not) doing
love, sachie
YOU ARE READING
Amnesia: Troyler AU
RomanceA near fatal collision, a week long coma, and a man who wakes up with no recollection of what had happened six nights ago. Or the past five years of his life, for that matter. "You're my husband.. aren't you?" minor trigger warning, possibly smut. u...
