It's Understandable: A Tronnor AU

7. Unintentional Sleepover

The night was weird. Weird, but only from an outside view.

Through Connor and Troye's eyes, it was the epitome of perfect friendship. As soon as they got into Troye's room, they closed the door and sat on the bed. They watched a couple movies, perused Tumblr for a while, until they found their bodies lying next to each other, simply...watching in a comfortable silence. Their hands were up by their own faces, until they slowly inched closer to the other; until Connor tapped his knuckles on Troye's collarbone, and Troye's fingertips were dipped shallowly in the front pocket of Connor's jeans. Their eyes bore into one another's, the blue overlaying the green, blending into a soothing, aquamarine connection until both their heartstrings played tunes identical to each other's voices. Obviously, these two boys hadn't had enough true friends to know that platonic relationships don't typically work that way. 'Just friends' don't look at each other like that. Their bodies don't tingle as they lie close to each other, nor do they speak in soft, low, sweet voices, like Connor did when he suggested,

"Tell me about your family."

Troye smiled, but then it faltered slightly. "Oh, you don't want to hear about them." He said, his fingers gently playing with the hem of Connor's jumper.

Connor shimmied a little closer, "No, I really do. Tell me."

"Okay, uh, well..." Troye gulped. "I have a mom and a dad, an older brother and a younger brother and sister."

"What are they like?"

Troye chuckled at Connor's intrigued expression at such a simple topic. "Well, my siblings are pretty okay as far as siblings go. Steele, my older brother, is in uni right now, and Sage and Tyde have pretty busy social lives, so they aren't around much."

Connor nodded, totally engulfed in Troye's every word. "So Steele, Sage, Tyde and Troye with an E? Your parents must be really creative people."

"My mom named us all." Troye explained with a soft smile. "She's pretty awesome. Before we were born, she was an opera singer."

Connor's eyes widened adorably. "Wow, really?" He gaped, imagining a thin, blue-eyed woman with Troye's curls, standing on stage in a red satin dress, belting gorgeous Italian tunes with the strength of a lion. "Is that where you get your voice from?"

Troye chuckled. "I guess so. I watch her old tapes all the time, and she was absolutely amazing. Like, she could've been so, so famous."

"What stopped her?" Connor asked innocently, blinking his lime eyes with interest.

Troye licked his lips, his heart beginning to beat strangely. "Um...well..." He didn't talk about this. He hadn't ever, not even with his mother, but somehow he found his throat relaxing for Connor. "She met my dad while touring in South Africa. They got married Johannesburg and had me and my brother, before they moved back to Australia. After my youngest brother was born, Mom got an offer to sing in this really big opera, but...my dad..." He lowered his eyes, feeling bitterness cling to his voice "...he wanted to move to America. He wanted her to stay home and cook and clean for him because he was oh-so important. That's one reason why I, um...why I hate my dad."

"Troye..." Connor cooed, kind of expecting something along the lines of that, but pretending to be ignorant of that for Troye's sake. He rubbed his friend's arm. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Troye hesitated for a second, before holding Connor's waist fully. "Actually, yeah, I do want to talk about it." He said, surprising himself. He cleared his throat and braced himself, harnessing all his pushed down anger. "My dad, he's a plastic surgeon." He began. "Because of this and the money he makes, he puts himself on this pedestal, where everybody must look up to him no matter what. He thinks his job makes him God, but he's not saving anybody. He's a man who subtracts natural humanness for God's sake, replacing it with plastic for no good reason. He's not even the kind of surgeon who heals burn victims or kids whose faces are ripped up by pitbulls; he's nothing but an empty-hearted Barbie manufacturer, Connor!" Troye took a deep breath, trying to reign back his hectic throat. "I'm sorry, I mean, I guess being a plastic surgeon doesn't make him bad. I'm sure there are lots of plastic surgeons who are great people, it's just...he...he is always at work. I never see him and, when I do, he never has anything...fatherly to say. He just talks about work and points out the things he'd gladly change about us, as if he's offering a gift. He doesn't care about anybody but himself, and I feel...it's like I don't even have a father, you know? He's a complete stranger to me and it's..." He scrunched up his face as Connor kindly pushed a tear from his cheek. "...it's hard."