Locked out of heaven | Zoey
Tyler let out a groan of frustration, slamming his computer shut and pressing his face to his hands. "Fucking christ," he swore, embarrassed and irritated and angry and offended and hurt, and pushed away from the counter, dropping to the balls of his feet on the floor and pushing his chair back considerably harder than necessary. At least he still had enough control to remain human and made of flesh, though he flexed his hand where the ring sat - having moved it to his ring finger moments after realizing that neither he or Zoey wanted to end what was, really, a mistake, but a happy mistake; at least, he thought it was one. Even if he didn't remember it, and he was trying to remember it, desperately wracking his brain for more than a flash of brightness or Zoey's drunk, happy giggling.
"It's not my fault I don't remember!" He shouted suddenly, surprising and unsettling himself. With the vocalized realization, however, he suddenly felt considerably more confident and went to the bedroom where he knew Zoey was, repeating his words as soon as he was in the door frame. "It's not my damn fault I can't remember!"
