Tronnor : Hostage

Chapter 9.

10th October 2016.

2:00pm.

Troye's POV

After standing for hours, I finally got the courage to go back down to Connor.

I opened the door slowly. Suddenly the basement was a scary place, a place where I wasn't sure what I'd find. Was Connor still there? What had Jc and Sawyer done to him?

I made my way down the steps, carefully, quietly. Why was I suddenly so scared of this boy? Why was I worried for him? I didn't know him, not really.

I wanted to get to know him.

"C-Connor are you here?" I whispered, entering the now dark room. All lights had been switched off again, and the lack of windows meant that the sun couldn't reach this place.

I stepped closer to the boiler, where Connor had once been seated, and I gasped, quickly realising his hands were no longer shackled to the pipe.

I now grew worried. I realised I cared for this boy, even if he did not feel the same for me. Just like last night, that urge to protect him was evident.

"C-Connor where are y-you, Connor?" I spoke again, a more harsh tone leaving my lips. He wasn't in here, not from what I could see.

"T-Troye?" I heard a mumble from behind me, and I quickly shifted my head, turning to look at his now slumped position on the floor.

He was bundled up like a pile of washing in the corner of the room, his eyes teary from what I could gather, and his small frame even smaller, curled up tightly.

I turned the light on.

"Oh my god" I fretted, now rushing to his side, kneeling in front of his outstretched legs, and his ripped jeans.

His face was bloody, his nose slightly swollen as it bled. His eyes stayed open, the blueish mark around them making them puffy, painful. His arms were cradling his stomach, and I assumed he had felt the force of jc's  kicks, just as I had, many times in school.

Overall, he looked awful.

"I-it h-hurts Troye." He whimpered, his hand now leaving his stomach and reaching out for mine. I took it gently, and rubbed circles into his palm. It seemed to calm him again.

"Why do you trust me?" I wondered, studying his hand, that now wrapped itself around mine. It was like he had known me for years, now trusting his best friend. But no. We had known each other for less than 24 hours, a time frame that was so short, but seemed so long.

"I-I don't know" He smiled, pulling himself up against me. "I just need someone, someone to tell me I'm going to be okay. I know you won't hurt me, and I pity you Troye, I pity you for getting involved. But do you really want to know what I think?" He stopped, and proceeded to breathe through the pain.

I nodded, gesturing for him to carry on.

"If you were going to hurt me, you would have done it last night. If you were on their side, you would have shouted them, the second our eyes met, but when you saw me, your eyes softened, they became worried and concerned for me. And that's how I know I trust you. Your eyes, your beautiful blue eyes. They're too easy to read." Connor sounded dazed, drunk in a state of pain, so much that he was just rambling.

One word caught me off guard though.

Beautiful?

"You think my eyes are beautiful?" I gulped, my hand gripping his tighter.

"Yes. Very much so." He replied, looking at them once again. "I often judge people by their eyes. It's easy to read what they're thinking." He carried on, talking as if he were an expert.