His After The Heartbreak (BL)
Chapter 217: Weren’t You Busy Five Minutes Ago?

Chapter 217: Weren’t You Busy Five Minutes Ago?

Chapter 217- Ooooh No

TYLER’S POV

"Not funny, Mom. You’re not supposed to mock me," I snapped, already pulling off my shirt as I stormed toward the bathroom.

Behind me, I heard her gasp. "Eww, Tyler! What a gross sight! Can’t you take off your clothes inside the bathroom like a normal person?"

I turned halfway and smirked. "Hmmm... because this is my room, that’s why!"

Before she could throw a slipper at me, I shut the door behind me and turned on the shower.

The cold water hit me hard, waking me up instantly. My thoughts were racing, bouncing between the trip and the fact that I literally almost missed all of it because I slept like a dead log.

I scrubbed fast, muttering to myself.

"Thank goodness I packed my bag last night," I said, rinsing off. "If I hadn’t, I swear—I would’ve just curled into a ball and canceled life today."

I finished within minutes, stepped out of the bathroom dripping but relieved, and wrapped a towel around my waist. I dried off, got dressed, and stood in front of the mirror like I was about to enter a battlefield.

Hair: decent.

Face: tired but alive.

Outfit: clean and unwrinkled.

Breath: minty.

"Alright," I whispered to myself. "I’m ready."

I sprayed my perfume, adjusted my collar, took one last deep breath, and headed downstairs with my bag dragging behind me.

And then—

Boom.

There he was.

Declan.

Standing in the kitchen.

Making breakfast.

I paused. My feet froze. My brain froze.

Am I dreaming?

Did someone drug me?

Why the hell is he here?

Declan flipping pancakes like he didn’t ruin half of our life? Like he didn’t once yell at my mom in front of me or leave us hanging more than once?

Why did my mom let him in? Was she going soft again?

Are they... trying to reconcile?

No way. No freaking way.

I narrowed my eyes. She would never let that happen... right?

"Good morning, son," Declan greeted me, flashing a warm, fake-ass smile like we were some happy family.

I didn’t even blink. "I’m not your son," I fired back.

But he just smirked. "Didn’t seem like that the other day when you called me... asking if I was okay."

His words stung more than I wanted them to. I rolled my eyes so hard they nearly got stuck. "Whatever."

I didn’t have the strength to argue.

I turned to Mom. "I’m off to school. And you better cut whatever crap is going on between you and Declan. He’s got a young wife at home waiting for him—he’s not some lost puppy who suddenly found his way back to you."

She didn’t even argue.

She just stared at me with this tired, amused expression and said, "Yes, sir."

I sighed and grabbed my luggage. My hands were trembling a bit. Maybe from the rush. Maybe from anger. Or fear. I didn’t know anymore.

I headed to the door.

"I’m off for the trip," I called out one last time.

But then...

"Be a good boy, Tyler," my mom said sweetly. "And don’t forget to send my regards to whoever your roommate is on the trip."

I froze.

My heart dropped.

Roommate.

Roommate.

My brain started connecting dots like it was a damn crime show.

I remembered.

Logan.

LOGAN.

How could I forget something so important?

Why didn’t anyone slap me awake last night and remind me?

I closed my eyes and exhaled.

Logan came to the hospital to check up on mom but I thought he came to the hospital to ask for my forgiveness after he read the letter.

And I blurted it out loud that he came for me which he proved my wrong and got me embarrassed.

Now I have to live in the same room with him. For a whole week.

This trip was supposed to be fun.

Now?

It’s starting to feel like a trap.

I adjusted the strap on my bag and opened the door slowly.

"Is this week going to get any worse?" I muttered.

————

"I’m on my way, Mom," I called out, trying to shove every last thought of Logan out of my brain like stuffing dirty clothes into a closet.

One week.

Just one week.

I could survive this trip.

Right?

"Alright," Mom said from behind me. I nodded, pulled the door open, and just when I was about to step out—

"Tyler?"

I paused.

Why did she call me like that?

I stopped mid-step, my hand still on the doorknob, and slowly turned around to face her. She looked like she had something serious on her mind.

Like she was about to drop a bomb.

"What?" I asked, already impatient.

I didn’t have much time. The clock was ticking, and traffic wasn’t going to wait for me.

"So..." she started, her voice shaky. "You’re really going to school... without me?"

I blinked.

Wait, what?

I stared at her like she just asked me to jump off a cliff.

"What does it look like, Mom?" I asked slowly, confused. "Of course I’m going without you. You literally can’t come. Don’t you remember what the doctor said?"

She folded her arms and pouted like a five-year-old who didn’t get candy. "But I’m strong," she muttered.

I sighed. "Mommy... I know you’re strong. I’m not saying you’re not. But not everything has to be a battle. It’s just a school trip. One week. I’m not disappearing forever."

I gave her a reassuring smile. "Don’t act like I’m being sentenced to death by hanging. You’ll be fine."

But apparently, fine wasn’t in her dictionary today.

Because just like that, she started crying.

I froze.

And I mean real crying. Not the usual guilt-trip sniffles.

Her eyes turned red in seconds, her lips puffed up, and her voice cracked like she was in the final round of a heartbreak audition.

"Oh my God," I whispered under my breath. "She’s serious."

"Mom, stop crying," I said quickly, dropping my luggage like it had caught fire and rushing to her side.

She didn’t stop.

"I won’t stop crying until you allow me to come with you," she sobbed dramatically, wiping tears that just kept falling. "I’ll cry and cry until the place the doctor did surgery on rips open and I’m rushed back to the hospital. And then the doctor will blame you for letting me cry!"

I stared at her, jaw on the floor.

"...If this isn’t gaslighting, I don’t know what is," I muttered.

She was a pro. An absolute legend.

And the worst part?

She wasn’t even ashamed.

"Okay, okay, Mom! Stop crying!" I panicked, running a hand through my hair. "Ever since you came back from the hospital, you’ve become worse than before."

Instead of being sorry, she just gave me a mischievous little smile.

Like she won.

She didn’t need to say anything. Her smug face said it all.

Her technique was getting stronger. She manipulated me with tears like a master negotiator.

"Alright, son," she said, wiping her face and standing tall like nothing happened. "Let’s go. I’m driving."

"What? No way. I’m driving," I protested.

Then out of nowhere, Declan showed up, wiping his hands with a towel like he belonged in this family sitcom.

"I’ll drive," he said casually.

I turned to him slowly. "Weren’t you busy cooking... heaven knows what... five minutes ago?"