Chapter Text
CONNOR
The light coming out from the window that I forgot to cover yesterday burns my eyes, forcing me to open them a little. I fight with the brightness as I blink tens time in a second. I finally adapt to the morning's sunlight, and roll a bit just to face the ceiling.
Only a strand of my hair destroys the perfect whiteness of the view, but I'm way too weak to blow it away, not to mention moving my hand to get rid of the curl.
I listen to the clock as it ticks constantly and evenly, listen to my breath - inhale, exhale.
My brain begins to work on its own rules, reminding me about the dream I just woke up from. It was colorful, very bright and jumpy. I don't really remember what it was about, I just remember being happy.
Fully happy.
I can't even recall the last time I felt this way. I mean, I am happy, but what does it even mean? I'm happy with most aspects of my life, I'm not happy with the full picture of it. It lacks a lot of things I've lost recently, it lacks the parts that used to form the perfect portrayal.
I move my body fast, but not too fast in order to avoid getting dizzy.
I look at my bare knees, at my hands put on them, and finally at myself in the mirror I once decided to hang on the wall right in front of the side of my bed where I always sit when I get up. I eye my body, my hair, and my eyes that turn out to be shining pretty nice today.
I smile to myself.
I smile, because it's just life. I smile, because there's only one life. One life, one chance.
I smile to warm up my soul and heart, to lose the pain and wipe up the blood pouring from the inside scars.
I smile, because there's so many reasons to smile. I can hear some cars driving by, I can hear some kids walking not so far from my house, I can hear a dog barking, I can remember the way the rain washes our world from what's wrong, I can see the sun shining, because a day is its turn to light up our lives, whilst stars take night shifts.
Still smiling, I stand up and approach the mirror. I make up my hair, amazed that it decided not to get completely ruined during the night and I look pretty decent. With a blink of an eye I turn to my left as I stretch my arms and neck.
After a few minutes of learnt throughout years moves, I sit by the table with hot coffee in my CC mug. It still amazes me how great it looks, the matt layer outside always steals my heart as soon as I see it.
I sip a bit of my lovely beverage as I open my MacBook. Coffee heats me up from the inside, burning my throat a little bit, but the fire turns into a pleasure.
I turn on the notebook app because I know I will have a need to write something as it comes to my head. I do not know how it happens, some words and sentences just appear in my mind when I do anything. Like really, anything. It comes to me when I watch TV, when I run, walk, take a shower, go to sleep, feed the birds that got used to coming to my little garden, lie on the grass, swim, drink coffee. Anything. It just happens completely out of the blue. So that I always have something I can write my thoughts slash ideas down on. Whether it's a napkin or notebook, it's my must have.
I didn't notice him coming back and standing my coffee on the table in front of me. Only when the last words are written down on some cinema ticket I -fortunately- found in my pocket.
"Can I read it?", he asks when his eyes meet mine, and he knows I'm done with writing for now. He always knows.
"Yeah, sure", I reply, and hand him the piece of paper.
He takes it gently as if it was a delicate flower, and starts reading.
I look at him, sipping my coffee. His curls fall down freely on his forehead and eyebrows, his eyes are fully focused on what he's reading, his lips slightly parted as he silently vocalizes the words.
"That's beautiful", he finally says, smiling.
You're beautiful, I want to say, but I don't.
"Thank you", I just whisper and hide the poem in my pocket.
"How is your coffee?". He looks at me with the blue of his eyes eating at me. It happens every time when his gaze lands on me, the feeling like I'm drowning in an ocean.
"Great, as always."
There comes silence, but it's simply comfortable, because it's us. We look out of the big window, we look at people, at dogs, at cars, at trees, at sky, buildings, the sun shining like there's no tomorrow. It's the habit that we share - we love pulling in what's around us. We always try not to be blind on the world knowing it has so much to offer.
I suddenly feel his touch on my hand, he plays with my fingers using his thumb. I turn my gaze on my palm being brushed by his soft skin.
And I don't need more.
The twitter dashboard appears on the screen, and I scroll through it. Down, down, down. The smile on my face gets bigger as I see good pictures and good posts, people being happy, some great performances done during my night.
so so so
so much to say
talk through
and break
the silence
such a beautiful world we live in
so so so
so much to say
so many layers to talk about as i wonder
when it became a mess
so much to say
maybe i should just
keep myself in
a quiet
The letters appear on my screen as I just type, type, type. And it's finished. That's it.
I look at it one more time without any need to change it, because it must be raw. I save it in my 'note to self' folder and open a new page.
I come back to Twitter, and shut it after a few more minutes of scrolling, and turn on Instagram. Yes, I'm one of these people who are too lazy to take their phone and check on Instagram on it. Though I wouldn't call it a laziness. It's more of a "why looking like an idiot with my phone in my hand while my computer is right in front of me". So yeah.
I double-click on these pictures that I like, knowing that it's just a matter of minutes that I see something that I don't want to see.
And there it is, an old photo of me and Tyler. The drawback of following fan accounts.
I look at it, because I'm a self-destruct machine.
It's the picture we took like two years ago. But it's not whole. It's cut, it lacks someone.
"Show me this", I say as I take his hands into mine.
"It won't get off me", he complies using his five-years-old kid's voice.
"Come here". I tug him to the shower where I find a sponge, and I start scrubbing his hand with it in order to get rid of the dirt on them.
"Why do this always happen in the end?", he asks. I don't look at him, focusing on my work. "Like, it's always fun when it's fun, it's good when it's good, but in the end we always seem to see all these drawbacks of what we were doing. You watch a great movie that lasts three hours, but in the end you feel your ass getting numb. You scream your lungs off on some great concert, and afterwards you are speechless, like literally. You play with some dirt doing art, and then you spend an hour in Tyler's bathroom getting rid of this shit."
"But it's always worth it, isn't it?", I finally ask after a minute of silence. "Put your hand under the water", I add.
He nods, and I let go of his palms. He approaches the sink and starts the water.
"It is", he says, looking at me in the mirror with a smile.
"So why bothering about it?"
He keeps quiet for a while, I only hear the water hitting his skin and the sink and Tyler talking to someone on his phone and walking back and forth in the living room.
I look at him with a grin on my face. With all honesty I'm amazed how much I changed within a few months. I can't believe I freely think about boys and not considering it wrong. That I can say "I'm gay", and that's it. And that this very boy has been a part of this process. I don't think I'll ever be able to thank him enough.
"Because no matter how good it feels, no matter how great the excitement is, no matter how much joy and pleasure you have, it always ends somehow bad. In some way, a few percent of the goodness is always damaging you a bit. It sucks, to be frank."
I avoid clicking hashtags, because I know what may come with it. And I'm not ready yet.
***
The sound of the door being shut hits my ears, I pulled the doorknob a bit too hard. Not my fault, why do you look at me this way, stranger? I mean, it's not my fault my thoughts somehow find their way to my motions in every way possible. I hide the key in the inside pocket of my shorts, and start running.
TROYE
The melody kindly strokes my mind, pulling it from the dream zone.
I can't spell the words that the woman is singing, but I know the translated lyrics by heart. I let her sing.
"You sleep, so beautiful,
the silent plays in the corners
no need for words
for the moon will say what's left to say
You sleep, and I try and whisper my breathing
the sheets smell with the fire of our bodies-"*
I slap the phone, and turn down the alarm. Enough.
I moan, breaking the silence.
He's not there, I know. He said he must in his agency early 'cause of some photo shoot, and I didn't ask for more explanation. It's his part of life that I have an access to, but I want to know only the things that I consider needful.
Besides, he'll show me the results as soon as they are out, so I simply don't feel an urge to know more than I know now.
There's no cup on the table when I enter the kitchen. No note, no simple gesture that would remind me of his presence that I missed this morning.
I take the mug that I found standing on the table and I approach the coffee machine. While it's turning on, I turn my body, and start looking for milk. I find it in the fridge with a note stuck to it.
Good morning, Troye, it says. A smile lights up my face on its own, I chuckle silently.
"Good morning, Connie", I whisper. He can't hear me, of course, since he is probably taking his morning run, but I feel like I need to let this words out.
After a while, I sit with my coffee on his couch looking around the living room. Everything here is just so him. The simplicity mixed up with geometry and floral shapes, the whiteness mixed up with pastel colors and dark wood, the perfect smell and the lightness that seems to be coming from nowhere - it's just him.
I look out the window. It's August, the sun is shining happily, warming up skins and hearts, creating shadows that we sometime feel the need to hide in. The taste of my coffee on my tongue brings the pleasure which I didn't know I wanted, but surely needed. His coffee is always perfect. "I hope you'll like it", he always say as he hands the beverage he just made to a person, just as if there was any possibility that someone won't like it.
The time goes, and suddenly I hear the door being opened.
I turn my head left to see him entering the house with his messed up hair, large smile and heavy breathing.
"Hi", he says closing the door behind him.
"Hi", I reply. My heart grows and gets warmer, but it's not coffee this time.
I think love him. I feel some kind of desire, I feel the need to be next to him.
But I can't stop the feeling that my body and mind is capable of living without him. I enjoy his presence, his skin, his energy next to me, but when I don't have him near, I don't complain. I find it a bit strange, but I never really thought about it, because why should I? I have him, I feel good, have fun, get kisses and hugs, get safety in his arms.
But I don't find myself as I look into his eyes. They are beautiful, said eyes. He's beautiful. With his flaws and his perfections. I like the way his hair get messy during the night, I like the way he dresses up, always careful with his clothes. I like many things about him, I can talk and talk.
But I cannot stop comparing. Comparing, comparing, comparing.
I sit with my coffee on the couch. The surroundings are cold. I mean, the flat is furnished really nice, but it's not really my style. It's way too simple and... edgy. I find a few cool pictures on shelves, some paintings on the walls, but it's not enough for me. That place just lacks some heart, a soul. And I know he's got a good taste, and he can create really great things. It just makes me sad that he doesn't show it in the way he lives. Unlike Connor.
Fuck me, please. I mentally slap myself.
***
"Hi."
"Hi", I answer as I close the door behind me.
"Why didn't you pick up your phone? I called you like ten times", he says. I can hear a bit of an anger in his voice.
"I was in the studio, you know that I tend to shut myself in there as if the world didn't exist", I explain myself. Like for the sixty sixth time.
"Yeah. Anyways. What about we go out to have some dinner? Together."
"Sure", I shrug, glad that he can't see me now.
"See you in fifteen minutes then?"
"Yeah", I try and sound excited.
"Okay."
"Bye."
I tuck the phone into my pocket and exit the building. World hits me with its fullest, noises of cars heading to their directions, talks, barking, honks. It's 4 p.m., so there's nothing else that I can suppose to hear. I walk down the street gaining some pitying looks from random stranger. For them I am too skinny - maybe he has anorexia or some shit, they wonder - and too weird - he's got such a weird presence, he looks, they think - and too ridiculously dressed up - what's wrong with him? wearing yellow pants? and white shirt with it? who does this kid think he is?, they ask themselves. Just as if there was a need for it. I also notice a few smiles and appreciation. Lucky me, I stopped giving a single fuck a long time ago.
Proudly, I head the restaurant that we always go to for dinner. With my head up, smile on my face and back straight. I am indestructible. That I know. For as long as you feel good, fuck anybody else.
I open the door, and I see him already waiting for me. I look down at my left wrist checking the time. I made it in 10 minutes.
As I approach him, he stands from his chair and smiles. He welcomes me in his arms.
"Hello", he says. I only nod, and we sit opposite each other.
"How was your day?", he asks checking out the menu.
"Not so bad, but I did nothing productive to be honest", I sigh.
"What do you mean?"
"No new songs, I could only come out with a few words."
"Oh."
And that's it. He doesn't ask anything more. He stopped some time ago. And it hits me every time it happens, harder and harder.
"And yours?", I continue the small talk.
"Pretty good, I have two photo shoots to do in this week and some auditions to attend in the next two days", he replies. "A few of them is in New York, so I won't be home for a while", he adds looking at me.
"Okay. Do you want me to go with you?" I try and not to show how sad he makes me. Not because he goes. Only because he stopped asking if I want to go with him.
"You're always welcome to go with me, and you know that, Tro", he smiles. "But if you feel the need to stay here and work, then it's alright."
I stare at him, a little bit too long. I try to read his face, his eyes that somehow are mirrors for everything but me.
"I probably should stay", I answer.
"That's okay."
"Jake?", I hear myself asking, way too late to get it back.
He looks at me again, his smile already gone.
"Yes?"
Why are you like this? What happened? Are you done with me? Why are you with me? Are you even with me? Can I kiss you? Can you kiss me? Can we go home?
"Nothing, it's nothing", I murmur.
Ask again, ask again.
He doesn't.
"Hiii!", his cheerful voice echoes in my ears so loud that I have to pull the phone away from my face and pat my left ear.
"You'll make me deaf, Con, stop sreaming!", I laugh closing the door behind me.
The streets are getting empty. What's left after the day are people heading their homes after work or going to clubs with friends, which is why I almost only hear young laughters and working engines.
"I'm not screaming", he says trying to make his voice sound resentful.
"You are, Con-Con."
"Go to hell."
"I love you, too." The words leave my mouth freely and softly, with a natural ease.
"Idiot."
"Your idiot."
"That's true. Never have I thought I would have an idiot only for myself. I am constantly being surprised by life."
I roll my eyes, and I know he knows I do it. He always does.
"Is the dinner for me already made? I'm starving", I say playfully.
"I just made it home from quick run, so I suggest we make something together?", he answers questioningly, the smile on his face being hearable.
"Sounds great to me."
It takes me almost thirty minutes to reach his house, but I use them fully looking around, staring at the sky and people, at the darkness eating the day. It makes me feel powerful, this feeling of being saturated with surroundings.
"Well, hello, everybody!", I say loudly as I enter the house. I try my best to make an impression of Tilly. "My name is Tyler Oakley, and today we are making avocado toasts, since it's always a good time to use your breakfast as your dinner."
"Totally agreed". Connor's arms wrap around me from behind. "Good impression, by the way."
"Thank you", I chuckle turning my head to face his profile, and kiss his temple.
"So decided, then? Avocado toasts?" He hides his nose in the crouch between my neck and jawline.
"I don't see why not."
"And I don't see your face, come here."
I laugh silently, turning my whole body this time.
"Hi", I say, losing my mind in the forest of his eyes, and seeing my reflection in the mirror of his gaze.
"Hi, boy."
He kisses me shortly, leaving my lips warm and electricity going through my body.
"How was your day?", he asks, as I take off my shoes. We head to the kitchen with our foots bare, just as we like it, simply loving the feeling of the ground, whether it's some wood, grass or water.
"It was good, we finished next song", I reply. "Sorry for not answering your phone call, but-"
"No, no, it's nothing", he cuts, waving his hand. "I'd forgotten for a while that you were in the studio, and wanted you to buy milk on your way home, but it's okay."
And I don't ask anything more, because his honest face and welcoming eyes are telling me, that he understands.
"Ain't you mad?", I ask, just making sure that he doesn't feel abandoned by my habit.
"Are you mad when I write some shit down all of sudden on a receipt when we're on a walk, and probably wondering where the hell I took my pen from?", he questions me, stopping by the counter and pulling me to his side by my hands. I stand in front of him, studying his expression.
"I'm not", I admit, because it's true.
"So stop asking stupid questions, and let's make some breakfast at 11 p.m., I am hungry as f."
I nod, and hug him in the need to feel his presence as close as possible. He hugs me back, and we stand for a while just like that. I breathe him in, rubbing his back with my hands.
"Tro?", he whispers.
"Huh?". I pull back a bit, his lips reach my ear.
"Can I tell you something?".
"Of course", I answer in a low voice, feeling goosebumps appearing on my neck.
"I'm really, reeeaaally-", he murmurs sounding like a cat. "-really hungry."
"I hate you."
"You're sure you know everything?"
"Yeah."
"If you need to ask something, call me anytime."
"I will", I ensure, though I know that 'anytime' doesn't mean 'anytime' at all.
"Okay."
"Go already, or you'll miss your flight."
"Don't you worry, I'll make it."
He smiles, and kisses me shortly. As his lips leave mine I feel nothing but cold.
"Have a nice time, Jake", I say hugging him.
"You too, Troye."
And in that way he leaves his flat that I am about to live in for the next days. Surprisingly-or maybe not so much- I don't feel any different with this weird lack of his presence.
I am ashamed to admit that, but I feel... relieved?
Maybe.
I lie on the couch that is so freaking uncomfortable with its edgy arms, and I immediately regret it when I hit my head with one of said arms.
"Fucking couch", I say to myself hissing. I reach out for some pillows that lay on the armchair. "Somebody tell me what kind of idiot makes this kind of couches."
When I finally feel comfortable enough, grab my phone from the coffee table.
"Hello, Twitter, whaddup", I murmur, again, to myself. Such entertaining talk. Is this healthy? "Let's see what happened today besides Trump continuing to be a dick, and Lady Gaga slaying as always."
After a minute of scrolling I find nothing interesting, so I click on the YouTube app.
And let me tell you, every time you open some app, make sure to prepare yourself somehow. Because I didn't, and I suddenly feel its results.
The first suggested video is something that I've avoided watching. I've avoided even thinking about it, what hasn't been that easy with Instagram, Tumblr, Twitter and people around me.
But here I am, home alone, with nothing breaking the silence but the clock ticking and making every second measurable. And not only I am alone, I feel alone.
Fuck me, I think, and click on the video.
"This is probably the closest to our collab", I laugh as I look at the camera upon us.
"Actually, it looks pretty cool from this angle", he says and grabs his phone laying on the floor next to him.
I watch his face as he focuses on the screen, looking for good light, angle and placing. He's the first person I know that takes a picture of a camera laying right under it.
And I love it. Correct me if I'm wrong, but there's no way someone wouldn't fall in love with those crinkles on his nose that appear as he tries to take a picture. With these fingers that touch the screen like butterfly's wings hit the air.
"How can you be so good?", I ask, kinda out of the blue.
"What?"
I roll to get closer to him, I lie my head down on his shoulder and put my arm around his stomach. I admire the way he moves his finger editing photo that looks amazing. Who knew that this camera had so much to offer.
"You're so good, that sometimes I can't believe you're real", I say, my voice a bit muffled 'cause of his sweater that I dug my nose into. "You're too good to be good, you're addicting. Is this even legal? Is this healthy? I don't think my body can handle that much. I'm kinda wasted on you, Connor Franta. You should be arrested, but what would I do if you got arrested? I can't make these freaking avocado toasts as good as you, I would die with anorexia. And ho-"
I get caught off guard as Con shuts my mouth, and kisses me pressing my body to the floor, laying on me.
"You're too fat, get off me!", I laugh.
"I'm just too good, you silly", he says and kisses me again.
And I still can't believe his kisses are legal. They should be forbidden, they steal, they break into, they kill.
And yet I still find myself breaking this unwritten law.
I stare at the words changing on the screen, not even trying to remember the names belonging to random people who made the video. Random for me, but how much random for him?
Are these his friends? Does he like them? Do they make him happy? Do they make him smile and laugh, do they make sure he eats properly?
They probably don't.
I feel broken at times, too.
CONNOR
"Hiii!"
Tyler hugs me tightly as always, cheerful and loud.
"Hello", I laugh, and pull out a bit.
"What are you up for?", he asks when we sit next to each other by the table.
"I feel like eating some grilled chicken. And vegetables."
"You're so boring", he complains rolling his eyes.
"I know you love me, stop denying it."
"I'm not. I just cannot believe I love someone so boring."
"If I am so boring, why bothering to meet up with me?", I tease handing him one of two menus.
"Because there's only one of you, and I can't find anyone else whom I would like to eat my lunch with. Even though you're boring. Sometimes."
Now it's my time to roll eyes. Our conversations almost always don't make sense, but they don't have to. It's just us being comfortable with each other, feeling each other's presence and cherishing every moment. I don't see why we always have to talk with sense.
"I think I'll take the same shit you've chosen."
"Hypocrite."
"Nah." He puts the menu away. "I'm just lazy to the point that I don't even want to read it."
"But you know the menu almost all by heart."
"Connor. Don't you dare come for me, ok?" He looks at me squinting. I laugh at his expression, and he joins me after a few second giving up trying to look intimidating. "I heard they have a new waiter. The woman behind us says he's got a nice ass."
"Ty!"
"What?", he asks with puppy eyes. "I'm sorry, I forgot that we shouldn't be getting horny in public. But is there even any law that says we cannot? I actually wonder if there is. Connor?"
I don't think there's a scale that would show how much done I'm with him.
"But think about it", he continues despite the lack of an answer from me. "Do you think Trump wouldn't like us getting horny in public? Is this illegal? Like having a boner while walking on a sidewalk? I can easily imagine him trying to cover me with a sign that says something like DON'T BE A SILLY, PROTECT YOUR WILLY or some other shit and-"
His mouth shut. I feel his eyes on me looking for any sign of... something. Anything. Any reaction.
"I'm sorry, Con, it just came out."
"No problem."
I swallow slowly.
Sometimes we still fail at not using phrases that he was using. Because it's hard. Really hard.
"I thought about it, you know?" he ask with his voice so low that I must really focus to realize what he's just said.
"About what?"
"This all." He waves his hand before him sideways, and leans back. I follow suit, the soft material comforting my back.
I can't say what I feel. Do I want to talk about it? Am I ready to hear him out?
"What do you mean?", I ask after a while of silence.
"That I don't understand. Like why did he..."
"Good morning."
We both look up to see the waiter standing by our table. He's new, for sure, but I don't find him anything more that just pretty. He's tall, with short blonde hair and dark eyes. And he's just a boy, maybe a men in my age.
"Mooornin'", I hear Tyler's voice which he turned into the seductive mode. "A new face, I see?"
I let him make our orders leaning forward, I rest my elbows on the tabletop and my chin on my hands.
I don't understand, too, Tyler. If only I could understand, maybe it all would be easier. Maybe this understanding would make my pain go away. Maybe I would be fully happy, and with purest honesty I would wish him to be happy, too.
Not that I don't want him to be happy. But I can't stop wondering how he makes it. Did he forget? Did he throw away our time? Did he refreshed his mind, and started from a new beginning?
Does he feel this disability to take a breath? Does he have someone who would take it away and let him breathe?
Does he ever miss me?
Because it feels like he doesn't. It's like I wasn't in his life at all.
Does he see my in his dreams? Does he want me to be in them?
"There's no going back, Connor", I whisper to myself.
"What?"
I realize that the waiter is gone, and Tyler sits so close to me that I feel his arm being pressed to mine.
"I said that there's no going back to what happened. It happened." I shrug, even though I want to scream.
"I know it happened, and although it's been months, I still can't get it. It's like we were nothing in his life, like, you know, like we were never there. It makes me freaking sad."
I couldn't agree more.
Besides the 'sad' part. I don't think what I feel is sadness. Sadness is just a part of this compilation.
"It's his life, to be honest. If he doesn't want us in it we ca-"
"Connor, I know you don't mean it, stop lying to yourself and to me. I miss him as much as you do, though I realize you miss not only him as friend, but as someone who was making the other half of you." He hugs me with one arm around my waist, and I try not to break into pieces right here and now.
"It's so hard", I say, swallowing the tears that block my throat.
"I know, Con-bon. And I'm so freaking sorry that I believed it was you fault. That it was you who was spreading lies, even though they didn't exist. I'm constantly amazed by the fact how stupid I was."
"Don't be sorry", I say, sniffing. " It wasn't your fault."
"It kinda was, but I'm glad I figured out myself being lied to right on time. Right when you needed me."
"I cannot thank you enough for being there for me, Ty."
"This is what friends are for, right?"
I look at him, and he smiles slightly.
When did this lunch even turn into that kind of talk?
"He left, and it's not your fault, Con. He was gone with no word, leaving you to relapse. I was so afraid about you." These are words I haven't heard before. Somehow, we've always avoided talking about the weeks when Tyler was trying to make up my life, being with me as I was doing every video, making sure I was eating, attempting to make me smile. "I was more afraid than after you came out to me. 'Cause even though I knew it was terribly hard for you, you could make it. And you did, which I'm proud of. But when he left, I though I was about to lose you. I didn't feel sad, I didn't feel bad, I wasn't scared. I was lost. Because it all happened so fast. Just in something that seemed to be seconds."
"Thank you", I say simply. I can't force myself to say anything more. Words are just not enough, words are words. They either hit right, or make no affect. Not to mention no words.
"And I thank you", he chuckles.
"What for?". Now I am surprised.
"For being here with me today. And yesterday. And I hope tomorrow. For being my friend. You're great, and do not forget about it." He hugs me again, just like he always does.
"We're both great, and I believe we'll make it through whatever."
pieces
just like pieces I lie in the shadow
that sun forces our tree to lay on the grass
we used to share
I feel myself in the pieces as shallow
as the raindrop gone away from glass
so clear and mere
it doesn't hurt you like it should
seemingly I guess
and you seem to be all good
perfectly I guess
TROYE
The day is gone, sooner that I thought it would be. Jacob left two hours ago, it's 8 p.m. and I don't know what to do. Usually, I would call my parents or siblings, but I don't feel like it's what I need.
So I thoughtlessly lie down on the carpet in Jacob's living room. I try to focus on everything but what's on my mind. I force myself to think about the ceiling, about shelves that are stick to the walls, about anything else. But everything in this apartment is so boring, that I can't even find a scale for it.
"Sing, you idiot", I murmur to myself.
Yeah, idiot, but what? 99,99% of songs in this world is about love, so what can I sing?
About how much I miss him? About how much I wish he was here with me, because with him I could lie on the floor forever? About how much I want him to drink with me one more coffee? About how much I wonder if he thinks of me? About how many times I've seen him in my dreams?
About how many times I wanted to speak, but I've kept quiet?
I feel my eyes getting wet as I finally let myself ask these questions.
It's been so long. Too long. I've been trying not to let these feeling touch me, but now not only they scream to me, but also take my breath away, and stab my heart harder with every second.
I feel so bad, physically ill.
Sick. I have a headache, I have shivers, tears are running on my face uncontrollable. I sit as I feel revolutions in my stomach. In maybe five seconds I find myself hanging over the toilet and emptying my body from all I've eaten today.
I cry harder, and harder. I want to scream, so I scream. I wipe up my lips, I hit the wall, and I shiver so much, that I start getting worried about my health.
"Stupid! Fucking stupid!", I yell standing up. I don't feel my knees, my body seems to be made of jelly, but I fall on the floor just where I was laying before.
"I'm so sorry. So fucking sorry you have no idea", I say harshly. I wish someone could hear me. He. Them. Anyone. "It's not going the way that I thought it would be. It's not, it's not, it's not. But why should I be angry? How can I be mad? It was me who left you, and it was stupid."
I press my palms to my eyes, I don't want to see anything anymore. Not unless it's his smile, that I immediately remember. I can see his face in the darkness under my eyelids. I can see his sandy curls, his green eyes, his perfect smile, crinkles around his eyes that tend to appear as he laughs.
And I can't, I can't anymore.
I can't pretend there was nothing, I can't live without him, I can't live like that.
I wanted him gone, because I thought it would make my life easier. His life easier. His mind clear. I thought that we weren't meant to be, because we were so far away from each other.
It's so weird to think that my friends and fans think that because I write meaningful songs then I understand everything, and I have an ability to interpret every metaphor.
I don't.
I only now realize, that the distance doesn't matter. I only now realize how stupid I was, thinking that it was distance that was maleficent. It was me. It was me and my overthinking. It was me lying to Tyler that Connor had been spreading rumors that did not even exist. How could I even think that lying around leaving him would make me feel better?
And more important, how could I be so careless about what he feels?
***
"I can't sleep."
I swallow. I close my eyes, breathe slowly inhaling the smell of the pillow I stole from the couch. The candle I found hidded deep down in some box is putting flashing lights on my face.
"Neither can I", he whispers.
CONNOR
The candle smells like always. Like forest right after rain. Homely, similar.
The silence lasts for a few seconds. I listen to his breath wondering if he could hear me. Inhale, exhale. Even his breathes are beautiful, I think despite the pain growing in my heart.
"How was your day?", he asks in a low voice, but I hear every word, I almost see his lips saying them. I know them by heart, more then my own ones.
We talk so silently as if we were scared that we would wake up someone laying next to us.
We both know there's nobody next to us. I'm home alone, laying on my bed upside down. He's home alone. I just know he is.
We always knew it somehow. We were a good team.
"A bit weird. And empty", I finally answer. "And how was yours?"
"A bit sad."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"I'm sorry, too."
And I listen to his breathes again as the silence falls between us.
Don't ask me why I picked up the phone. Don't ask me what I feel. Don't ask me what I think. Just don't, because I have no answer.
"Tro-"
"No, listen to me now", he cuts. His voice is louder but I can hear it being harsh, just as if he was crying or screaming. Or simply singing, Connor. "This time I want you to listen, because this time I'm gonna speak, unlike I did when I left you. I'm an idiot, Connor. It all felt so good that I thought I would lose is as soon as my music career starts taking me away from you. I thought that if I let you be where you are, and let myself not forcing you to keep in touch with me or taking you with me everywhere, that maybe it would be okay. We would be ok. And guess what? It wasn't. It isn't okay, Connor. It's more than not okay. It's wrong, it's worse than being alone, because being alone means being on the level zero, and I feel like I'm on the levels under the fucking zero. I feel as if I was made from just a half of me. The half that performs, sings, is there for family and Jake, but the other half, the one with proper feelings, the half I left with you. Not only I left it with you. It is you. You were part of me, and I ripped you off just like a piece of wallpaper, and threw you on the floor. And I just can't anymore. I can't. And I apologie. I apologie for everyday I wasn't there for you. I apologie for every moment you felt bad because I left you. I apologie for being such a dick and not speaking even a word to you or Tyler, who God knows did nothing wrong. I apologie I left you. I'm sorry, Connor Franta."
It's here.
It's something that I've not let myself to think that I needed and wanted to hear, but I let it pour into me like a medicine.
I cry, trembling a bit. I look at the ceiling listening to Troye's uneven breathes and sobs.
One, two, three. I can only hear my heartbeat, the air that lets out of my and his lung, and his sobs.
I just realize he's crying.
"I want to hold your hand so bad right now", I whisper.
"What?", he asks as if it was not the thing he thought he would hear.
"I don't know, Troye. I just want to hold you." So bad.
"I- I want it, too. I need you, Connor. And I don't want you to forgive me just because you feel like it's a good thing, just because you're a good person. If you ever forgive me, I want you to forgive honestly. If you ask me to, I'll never call you again. If you want me to, I'll never talk to you and never bother you. But I will never stop until I'm sure you are good. That you have someone by your side, that you're smiling with all your heart, that you sleep good and eat properly. I want you to be happy."
"I can't be happy without you", I say, and it's true. It's all I needed him to know, and I put my heart on this one moment, one card right now. It can be given me back, or taken and played on.
And I'm not sure I can take again the pain that heartbreak brings.
"I can't be happy without you, too", he says, and I let out a sigh of relief. Tears run down my temples and land on the floor. "I need you. I'm sorry, but I need you. I'm done with being alone."
"What about-?"
"Oh, no, don't, Connor. You really think that I would get over you just for someone else? I was trying, Con. Trying so hard it hurts. I was trying to go on with him by my side, but he just... He isn't you. It's not love that I feel for him. I feel like I want to take care of him, I feel like being with him, but it's not love. It's never been. Love is what you are."
I chuckle a bit, just because it's so unreal. Just because I don't know what to think, I only want to scream and jump, even though my body is weak due to everything that happened.
"Will it be okay?", I simply ask, wiping up my tears, and rolling on the bed so I lie on my side, the phone laying next to my face.
My ribs hurt a bit as I move, but they won't anymore. They won't.
Will it be okay? It's the only question I need an answer for.
"It will be okay", he answers. "Everything will be alrgiht. From now on. I promise."
_ _ _ _ _ _
* The Moon Song, Varius Manx
© alert - the poems were written by me.
Hello, dear reader.
First and foremost, I'm Polish, so forgive me any typos I missed and grammar mistakes. I hope it wasn't so bad that you couldn't understand shit.
This thing was a burden on my brain and chest for over a month. I couldn't make myself write anything, but, to be honest, I knew I wasn't able to write. Not until I had it all figured out. And I wrote it in 5 hours during my way home in train.
Thanks for reading,
love you.