Two - Tyler

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chapter song - Take Yourself Home by Troye Sivan


chapter song - Take Yourself Home by Troye Sivan

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It's quiet.

    Again.

    I don't know why I bother being constantly surprised at being left alone and in the silence. The people that used to be around me, filling the empty spaces in my apartment and making the days and nights less solemn. They're not here anymore.   

    No, they left with everyone else.

    They left with the paparazzi. The fans. The people that supposedly gave a crap. It's just the sad fucking cycle of my life.

    Everyone leaves.

    "Why are you moping about?"

    I look up, catching Kyle staring at me with his eyebrows raised. He has a bag of takeout in his hand and I curse myself at not even hearing him enter the apartment. Great, now someone can come in and murder me without me even knowing.

    "What do you think?" I grumble back.

    Kyle rolls his eyes and I throw my arm over my eyes from where I'm lying on the couch by the wall-length windows. It only takes me until now to realize that this couch is uncomfortable as hell and probably cost a ridiculous amount of money.

    A bag of hot food gets thrown at my lap and I groan louder.

    "Come on, you have to eat," Kyle says, taking a large bite out of his burger.

    I sit up and Kyle huffs out a laugh when I pout. I glance around the living room as I eat a handful of fries.

    Almost everything is gone. A few boxes are left on the ground and piled on the countertops in the kitchen. But the rest is barren and empty. The movers will be coming back in the morning to take the rest of the furniture into storage and Kyle is going to oversee the stuff I'm selling.

    Thank God for the few friends I have left that give a shit.

    My eyes go to the suitcase in the corner by the door.

    "Aren't you excited at all?" Kyle asks.

    I sigh. "I'm sorry. Yes, of course I'm excited. I know I've been...kind of a dick lately."

    Kyle shrugs. "It's fine, I get it."

    And I suppose he really does. He's probably the only one that notices how I slow down when I reach out for something on instinct before I remember my injury. He's the only one that sees my massaging my neck because the area around my shoulder is still too tender to touch. He's the one that visited me at the hospital for weeks. He's the one that watched me crumple when I had to retire from football.

    "You'll figure something out," Kyle says. "There's going to be something that comes up and just happens to make sense. And the change of scenery will do you good. You can just relax and not have to think about anything."

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