St. Chastity (read note at the end!)

Chapter 7: I'm Not Your Own Personal Choir and Night Swims

Tyler's POV

"You're horny... let's do it... ride it, my pony!"

Tyler couldn't handle it. It was just so ironic, that heavenly voice singing such a sexual song. On his top bunk bed Troye was snapping his fingers and swaying with the beat. Tyler clutched his stomach laughing, holding onto the doorframe for support.

Troye noticed and rolled his eyes, but surprisingly, he continued singing, except with less dancing and passionate expressions than before.
Tyler caught his breath again, smiling and shaking his head, and flopped down onto his bed.

"Can you sing 'Turn Down For What'? I'd love to see your dance to that."

"I'm not your own personal choir." Troye said flatly. Tyler shrugged, unlocking his phone.

While Tyler scrolled through his phone, Troye sang a total of nine songs without missing a beat. Eventually the clock rolled around to ten p.m., and Troye's voice was becoming more tired with each song. Tyler's eyelids were drooping, but he tried to stay awake; as he had to leave in an hour and a half.

Tyler glanced over at the boy in the top bunk to see if he was tired yet. Troye looked sleepy, but he was still humming along softly to his iPod music whilst reading. Crap.

"Aren't you tired?" He asked. "It's fifteen minutes past curfew."

Troye looked at the clock as well. "Oh- yeah, you can turn the light out if you want."

Tyler internally cheered, hopping up while Troye extracted something from the bedside table, having to bend down extremely dangerously to reach it from the top bunk. When he'd gotten whatever it was, Tyler flipped the light switch. He crawled into his bed, waiting excitedly for Troye to fall asleep.

There was a shuffling noise for a few moments, and Tyler was surprised when a small, dim light invaded his field of view. Troye had clipped a small lamp-ish contraption on the edge of his book and was calmly continuing his reading. What the actual fuck.

Tyler sighed. Maybe Troye would fall asleep before eleven thirty. There was still almost an hour left.

Forty-five minutes came and left before Troye succumbed to sleep. Tyler heard the soft thud of his head against the pillow, and, by the dim light of Troye's lamp-thingy, he saw Troye fast asleep, book still open in his hands and headphones in his ears. His mouth hung slightly open, the book following the steady rise and fall of his chest. Tyler grinned in triumph.

Hoping it wouldn't cause him to stir, Tyler got up and turned the light back on. Troye showed no signs of waking. Tyler approached the boy's bed and watched him for a moment, taking in how beautiful and peaceful he looked when he wasn't calling him an asshole and stomping off.

Tyler gently pulled the book from Troye's hands. As soon as they flopped back down, Troye pulled them up to his chest, rolling over on his side and curling into a ball. Tyler giggled and put the book away, as well as the lamp, and put Troye's iPod on the bedside table.

After that was done, Tyler wasted no time grabbing his gym bag and stuffing a crumpled school towel into it, swinging it over his shoulder and walking excitedly towards the mahogany door.

"Where're you going?" A quiet voice murmured.

Startled, Tyler whipped his head around, and saw Troye propped up on his elbows, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"Oh, uh... to the bathroom." He lied.

"What's in that bag?"

Tyler hung his shoulder and let the bag fall, catching it by the straps. "Oh, this? This, um, actually..." You know, Tyler didn't need the towel that badly. He'd just borrow one of the other guys' towels. "Huh, would you look at that, I must've been so tired that my brain thought I was going to school and I grabbed it. Oops."