A/N:
TRIGGER WARNING.
This chapter kind of wraps up the plotline with Mike (Ty's abusive ex) and provides more info about the night he was raped.
IF YOU'RE NOT READING THE CHAPTER, HERE'S A SUM-UP: Mike gets out of jail bc there's not enough evidence against him, but he ends up going to rehab for his drug problems. sawyer is at tyler's and tyler remembers when the mike thing first happened and how worried sawyer had been. troye and sawyer figure out ways to keep ty safe while ty sleeps in troye's lap (restraining order) and yeah. OKAY.
TWO MORE CHAPTERS.
It is not completely "necessary" for the entire book, so please don't read if you will be triggered.
Also, this chapter was created by an idea from the lovely @TroylerSivann. So, I'm starting this thing (thanks to this cutie @TroylerSivann) where you guys can send in ideas about chapters/events you really want to see happening in my books. Not for "Love on Broadway" anymore bc it's literally over in like 2 chapters, but we can do it for "Grease"!
okay yes well i hope you enjoy and sorry ive been m.i.a for so long im like crazy overloaded with school rn so idk when another update will come ur way so im v sorry bubs <3
okay i love u nuggets + u better behave <3 <3 <3 x
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- TROYE -
It was late at night when I began to leave the theater, my work days growing longer as opening night grew closer. My mind had been wandering in every direction except for acting the entire day, mostly focusing on the fact that Tyler hadn't come to work today. He usually always comes to the theater, even if he was just going to nap on the couch in his office. Not to mention, he wouldn't answer any of my calls or texts. I knew something was bothering him, but I didn't know what it was.
At the moment, Zoe was driving me home, complaining about how cuddly Alfie was at night. I was only half-listening, watching the dim streetlights illuminating spare patches of Zoe's car. My mind was still stuck on Tyler's withdrawn personality today. Even though I barely saw him, I could tell that something was wrong. Finally reaching our apartment complex, I thank Zoe for the ride and exit the car, swinging my backpack over my shoulders.
I wave goodbye to Zoe before heading up to our apartment, fishing the keys out of my jeans pocket to unlock the door. To my surprise, our apartment was flooded with darkness only a single lamp lit in the corner of the living room. Confused of the somber mood in the apartment, I drop my bags and slip off my shoes, closing the door behind me.
"...Tilly?" I question, vaguely making out the outline of his figure on the couch. He doesn't respond, further emphasizing the strange mood. To my surprise, I hear rustling in the kitchen. Someone else was here.
I wander into the kitchen, my confused eyes not leaving Tyler's still body. Entering the kitchen, I see Sawyer cleaning shards of glass off the floor.
"Sawyer?" I ask, surprised as to what he was doing here. "What's going on? I thought you were still at the theater."
He looks up at me, shocking me with his angry eyes and disappointed face.
"I thought you had come home...I came to give you some script revisions," Sawyer begins. "Then, I heard Tyler crying and he...he told me..."
"He was crying?!" I exclaim, my worry increasing. "Sawyer, what's going on? Is he okay?"
"Troye...," Sawyer whispers. "They let Mike out of jail."
My mind blanks, allowing for the sound of my heartbeat to resonate in my head.
"Th-they what?" I breathe, unable to process the new information.
"They couldn't find any solid proof that he had ever raped Tyler. So, they let him go," Sawyer says, shaking his head at the ground.
I shake my head, refusing to believe that monster was freely roaming the streets, completely capable of ruining Tyler's life again. Suddenly, an image of Tyler's frozen body on the couch flashes through my brain, and I quickly turn around, hurrying towards the couch.
Tyler is sitting on the edge of the couch, staring blankly at the half-empty beer bottle in his hands. "Ty...?" I say, softly. Gently sitting down on the sofa next to him, I take the bottle out of his hands and put it on the side table, surprised to see numerous, empty bottles already surrounding Tyler's spot on the couch.
"Oh, Tilly," I sigh, grabbing his hand.
"Th-they let him go, Troye," he whimpers, turning to look at me with tear-filled eyes. "They said tha-that they didn't have any pro-proof."
"I know, Ty," I say, brushing his messy hair out of his face. "I'm so sorry."
"Wh-what if he comes back? I can't do th-this again. I can't do it," he sobs. I wrap my arms around him, trying to sooth him with rocking movements.
"He won't come back. We'll make sure you're safe. You're not alone in this anymore, Ty."
- TYLER -
It's like I detached. As if the second I heard the news, my soul drifted away from my body, leaving a hollow shell in it's place. My movements seemed robotic, no feeling in my fingertips.
I remember grabbing a beer out of the fridge and picking up the phone when it rang.
I remember hearing her tell me that my abuser was free.
I remember the bottle slipping out of my hands and crashing onto the floor, sending shards of glass everywhere.
After that, I don't remember much.
I can vaguely feel Troye's lanky arms wrapping insistently around my trembling body. Sawyer's angry yelling into the phone is filling the apartment as he shouts at an innocent worker at the police station.
All this feels too familiar for my liking.
/FLASHBACK/
It's been about a week since I woke up with the sickening feeling of Mike buried inside of me. I'm still sore, a painful reminder of my stupid mistake.
Some nights, I have nightmares of his drug-filled body lying heavily on top of mine, my heart burning as I try to push his heavy figure off of me.
Other nights, the memories haunt my consciousness, forbidding me from falling into the peaceful oblivion of sleep.
I've never felt so disgusting...so stupid.
I couldn't bare to look at myself in the mirror, let alone let others see me; hence, the reason I refused to go in for work. The worst was when Sawyer called me, his voice filled with concern as to why I had been missing so many work days when it was well known that I loved my job. I couldn't bring myself to tell him why I couldn't get out of bed in the morning or go to work. Instead, I came up with the stupid excuse that I was sick.
Today, however, I was flooded with a newfound guilt. Sure, I was used to feeling guilty about what had happened, but now I also felt guilty about missing work when Sawyer needed me. Covering up as much of my face and body as I could, I head to the theater for the first time in days.
When I reach the familiar parking lot, I sit in my car for minutes, staring at the building with nervousness. Channeling the minimal bravery I possess, I force myself out of the car and walk into the theater.
The bustling of the theater takes me by surprise, and I find myself flinching away from the people. It hits me then that the last physical contact I had was that night with Mike. A touch as small as someone's finger on my skin makes my body burn, images of Mike touching me flashing through my brain. I curl into myself, my arms crossed tightly across my chest while I expertly dodge peoples' bodies. Deciding to work the rest of my day through my office, I hurry into the privacy of my office and shut the door behind me. I hadn't realized that I had tears gathering in my eyes or that I was trembling.
Needless to say, the day did not pass easily.
After the most uncomfortable, emotionally stressful day I've had at work, I finally sneak out of the theater to hide in my car. My mind is replaying the day on loop, stressing over every almost-touch and awkward situation. No matter the person touching me, my brain was convinced that it was Mike's scavenging hands on my body. Remembering the feeling of his burning fingers on me, I find my skin crawling and my hands trembling in fear. Instantly filled with anger and disgust, I bury my face in my hands, allowing myself to fall apart.
Tap tap tap.
I jolt upwards when I hear someone knocking on my window, whipping my head in fear to see Zoe looking into my car with a concerned look on her face. It is at that moment, that I realize that she must have sensed my despair, given the way I was holding myself and the tears streaming down my face. As a weak attempt, I give her a sad smile, hoping that it'll convince her that I'm okay. She shakes her head sternly at me, crossing her arms across her chest until I unlock the doors. Sliding into the passenger seat, she immediately asks me the question I had been avoiding answering.
"What's wrong?"
Now, of course I could have come up with an excuse like I had with Sawyer, but I couldn't stop more tears from puddling in my eyes. All I wanted right now was my mom, and Zoe was the closest I would get.
"N-nothing," I stutter, turning away to hide my tears.
"Tyler, I'm serious. What's going on?" she asks, bringing a hand to cup my shoulder. I flinch before she can touch me, and her expression grows more confused.
"H-he touched m-me," I wail, wrapping my arms around my waist.
"What? Who touched you?" Zoe gasps.
And, so, the truth comes out.
Given, it comes out in the span of 3 hours, Zoe practically begging me to tell her when I paused for too long. We both cried after that, Zoe struggling to keep her arms from wrapping around me in a comforting embrace. By the end of our talk, I was so broken that Zoe forced me to let her drive me home. She also stayed the night, sleeping on the couch and soothing me to sleep everytime I woke up crying.
The next morning, I woke up with my eyes swollen and stinging, my limbs so heavy it felt as though sand was filling ever corner of my body. I wasn't too surprised to see Zoe in my room, cleaning up the mess that had accumulated here over the past week.
"Can you promise me something?" I croak, refusing to put my glasses on in hopes of preventing more pain in my eyes.
"What?" she asks, hurrying towards me.
"Could you...um...c-could you not tell Sawyer about this?" I ask, nervously picking at my blankets. "He just...he gets so u-upset and I...I can't tell him."
She nods convincingly, promising to keep her mouth shut.
As expected, Sawyer showed up in 20 minutes with a pocketknife and pepper spray in his bag.
"Where is that son of a bitch?!" Sawyer hisses, slamming open the door to my apartment.
"ZOE!!" I exclaim, burying my face in the pillow.
"Sawyer! You weren't supposed to show up here!!" Zoe says from somewhere in the apartment. I roll my eyes at her lame-ass excuse, deciding not to deal with Sawyer until he forces me to.
"Where is he?!" he demands, shortly showing up in my room. "I'm going to kill that bastard."
"Sawyer, calm down," I tell him, sighing as I finally put on my glasses and turn to look at him. When I see him, I find him whipping open my closet door and checking all the rooms in my apartment before returning to my bedroom.
"Sawyer, he's not here!" I say when he begins looking under my bed. "Sawyer, stop it!"
He stops his angry, frantic searching and sits down on my bed next to me, burying his shaking head in his hands.
"I just don't understand why you didn't tell me," Sawyer says, turning to look at me with sad eyes.
"I didn't want to worry you just because of some stupid relationship thing," I shrug, sitting up in my bed.
"Are you insane?" Sawyer says, looking at me disapprovingly. "This isn't just some stupid relationship thing. He's a monster. He touched you."
"I know what happened, Sawyer. I don't need you to remind me," I snap.
"I know...I just can't stand the idea of him doing that to you," Sawyer says, standing up with a frustrated sigh.
"It's fine. I'm fine," I say, softly.
"Are you sure?" he asks me. I nod in response, trying to convince myself that I was in fact okay.
"Is it...can...can I touch you?" Sawyer asks, hesitantly.
I hesitate as well, unsure of what my response would be. Strangers made my skin crawl, but this wasn't a stranger. This was my best friend. I nod, slowly, trying to calm myself down as he walks towards me.
Closing my eyes before he reaches me, I release a deep breath when I feel his strong arms wrapping around my shoulders. Surprising both of us, I break out into tears when he hugs me. He immediately begins to withdraw his arms in fear that he caused my outburst, until I grab his arms and pull them around me again.
He gave me a comforting feel of security, knowing that he was here and would protect me.
"I'm so sorry," Sawyer says through clenched teeth. "I will never let anyone hurt you again."
/END FLASHBACK/
I feel my eyes opening and realize that I had drifted off to sleep in Troye's arms. My head was resting on his thigh, and I turn to look at Troye with blurry vision, as my glasses were sitting on the sidetable.
"Hey, beautiful," Troye says, softly, his fingers combing through my hair.
"Hi," I respond, nuzzling into his leg again. "Where's Sawyer?"
"I gave him the guest bedroom. He was exhausted, but he found out that Mike's going to be in rehab for a while for the whole drug thing," Troye tells me.
"Really?" I ask, a tingle of relief in my chest.
"Yeah, he won't be back for a long time. Plus, I looked into getting a restraining order against him. Hopefully, we won't be hearing from him for a long time," Troye said, happily. "I had to force Sawyer to go to bed, he's so stubborn."
"Yeah...he just cares...a lot," I sigh, feeling guilty to be the reason for so much stress.
"You okay?" he asks, shifting down on the couch so he could hold me closer to his body.
"I just feel like such a hassle. I keep making everyone so worried," I pout, frowning as I trace the seam of his pajamas.
"Tilly, that's just because everyone loves you too damn much. You can't keep people from being worried when you get hurt."
"I just feel bad. Sawyer gets so worked up, and now I have you too. And you get worried. And I'm just worrying everyone I care about."
"Well, you can't keep us from caring about you, Ty. No matter how much you want that to happen," Troye tells me, kissing my temple.
"But I care about you guys too! And I hate being the reason that all of you are stressed out," I admit. "Plus, you and Sawyer already have so much stress with opening night coming up and everything."
"You're worth the stress."
"I just want you to know how much I care about you," I tell him, circling around the outline of his knee. He sighs in response, massaging my head gently.
Of course I still felt bad, but I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't grateful that my two favorite guys in the whole world were here with me tonight.
"I love you," I whisper into Troye's thigh.
"I know you do," Troye replies, pulling a blanket onto our entangled figures.