It's Understandable: A Tronnor AU

5. He's Too Much

Insomnia was nothing but a side effect of depression, Troye once believed. Between the ages of fourteen and seventeen, he struggled through hundreds of sleepless nights. He began to associate them with horror, as it was simply ten straight hours of involuntarily running through everything he'd ever done wrong or that had been done wrong to him.

He was scared to go to bed.

Eventually, he crafted a mechanism that helped with his anxious thoughts. He'd visualize a vault. In this vault, there was a destructive flame so, when he took bad memories that he needed to let go of and put them in, they would be locked up and burned. If the thoughts kept bothering him, he'd repeat that action over and over in his head until he can find something calming to think about.

He didn't really have to do that anymore, since he had found physical fixes to falling asleep. Drinking warm milk, heating his pajamas in the dryer, remembering to take his anti-depressants in the morning. Now, insomnia only really happened when his brain decides not to let his anti-depressants work, or if he forgets them. He rarely had a truly good day, but his meds made sure they aren't out-of-control bad. On a 'bad' day, it was impossible to cope, let alone sleep.

But today wasn't bad at all. It was astonishingly decent, almost worth the word 'good,' so why was he tossing and turning? Honestly, Troye knew why, but he didn't want to admit it. He turned to the empty side of the bed and came face-to-face with a masterpiece of features. Eyes the color of honeydew melons with under-shadows of purplish-grey; chestnut brown hair that flopped endearingly over thick eyebrows, raised and making crinkles on his forehead; pale and pretty yet always-nervous fingers rubbing the edge of the pillow case between them. Troye reached out to enclose Connor's twitchy hand in his, to calm him down, but he blinked and the mirage evaporated. Connor wasn't in his bed. Connor was in his head, embedded into the walls of his desire-station so deeply that it made Troye want to explode. He flipped onto his back and stared up at the ceiling.

"Ugh, why, why, why?" Troye muttered to himself as an image flashed into his mind. It was of Connor earlier that night, when Troye'd shown him the band Oh Wonder. His eyes were these beautiful, intrigued orbs and he sat up like a meerkat, neck elongated and tilted on an angle. His lips had puckered in appreciation of the music, and it made Troye's heart pound even recalling it. "Why does he have to be so cute? It's ruining my life!"

But was it really?

~~~

"Connor?"

Connor looked up from his perch on the kitchen counter to see Brandon, rubbing his eyes as he stumbled from the hallway. "Yeah?" Connor answered distantly.

"It's 2am. What are you doing up? Is that..." Brandon scrunched up his nose, "...ice cream?"

Connor held the tub of Rocky Road closer to him, sheepishly licking some melted bits from the spoon. "Yeah...but why are you up?" He retorted, trying to distract from his late-night breakdown. Brandon muttered something sleepily, then simply left, it being obvious that Connor wanted to be alone.

Sleep usually came easy to Connor, mostly because he cried out all his energy at some point during the day. However, that night, he found himself staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, his brain refusing to shut off.

Blue eyes, blue eyes. It sung maliciously. Pretty lashes and a voice like chimes.

He shoved another cold spoonful in his mouth, defeated. He hated that he was pushed to stress eating but, when his brain wouldn't shut up, he started to feel hungry. Well, he was always hungry, but this was different.

With every bite, he felt terrible, but then Troye's face would pop into his head and he'd eat another. He'd hear singing in his ear; another. Ghost fingers shadowing the small of his back; another and another. Soon the tub was half empty, and Connor's demons finally overtook the need to wash down his yearning.