The Tattoo (Troyler AU)

Chapter Eleven: Tyler

My alarm blared, rousing me from the comfort of nothingness. I sat up slowly, the events of last night replaying in my thoughts. Troye running out of the door. The heated phone call. His voice. My god, his voice. I honestly don't understand how he doesn't have a record deal yet, he was better than half the people on the radio. His voice was just so raw and honest, it was captivating.  

Once again, my alarm sounded, telling me that I had around 15 minutes to get to work. I scrambled out of bed, rushing to the bathroom to make myself semi-presentable. Despite having absolutely no time to spare, I stood in front of the mirror for five minutes, giving myself an internal pep talk.

I was going to get through this day. It didn’t matter what crappy jobs Caspar threw at me, or however many times I thought of Troye, I was going to get through the day without committing suicide or homicide. I would not think of the ever-looming deadline that hung over me. My birthday. I had 146 days. T.S.M. Troye Sivan Mellet? Probably not. He was too young, too different, too in love. In love with a different T.O. Tristan What’s-His-Name.

 Yet my mind still wandered to him. His laugh. His smile. The way his eyes lit up when he was talking about something he was truly passionate about. He was beautiful. Not even in  the way he looked, even though he was a stunning human being, but in the way he existed. He was addictive, and I didn’t even care.

 Oh god.

 I’m, utterly, completely and uncontrollably in love with Troye Sivan Mellet.

 I couldn’t deny it any longer. I was in love with the way he looked, the way he talked, the way he laughed, but mostly, in the way he was. He was different. 

 And yes, he has a boyfriend. Possibly even a soulmate. A soulmate who isn’t me. And yes, I knew that he wasn’t in love with, had never been in love with me, and would never be in love with me.

 But I’m in love with him. If I die loving him at 26, I die a happy man at 26. Everything about him made me happy, and, considering the fact that I’m going to die in exactly 146 days, I wanted to die knowing that I’d found someone, possibly not my soulmate, but someone pretty close. 

Sadly, as much as I would’ve liked to stand there all day and revel in the knowledge that I was in love, I had to go to work. And I had three minutes to get there. Caspar was going to kill me.

I practically ran out of the door, flying into the bustling streets of LA. With less than a minute until I was due in the office, I knew that I’d be late, but it didn't help my mood when some dodgy-looking guy spilt some unknown liquid down my shirt. My favourite button-down ruined, thanks to some druggie 

The glass doors parted, making way for my tired form stumbling through the lobby of the building to the escalator. I made some unintelligible gesture towards Niomi as she thrust a coffee into my hands. I drank the scalding liquid desperately, having not drank my usual cup before I left home due to my brain being otherwise occupied. Probably by a South African-Australian hottie.

I tried to casually stroll into the office, keeping my head down and making a beeline for men and Zoe’s office. It didn’t work.

“OAKLEY. You are late!” Caspar screeched right down my ear, obviously disregarding a common courtesy known as personal space.

“Oh, I am ever so sorry for my tardiness, I am aware that it is unacceptable, and it will never happen again Caspar, you have my word.” He seemed happy with my apology, blissfully oblivious to the sarcasm practically oozing from my tone. As if I would say such an ass-kissing apology for being literally two minutes late. He was such a tyrant, but thank god he was an idiot.