may shatter on impact (tronnor)

24. Fights & Detention

Connor and Adam get into a fight the next day. According to Dan, they were perfectly coldly civil to each other in the morning but then lunch came around and I was standing with Connor in lunch line quietly just getting our food. Next thing I know, Adam is yelling about things I don't want to think about, things I don't want to remember, questions I don't want to answer, things that can be easily Googled, and then Connor is pushing him away and getting pushed back.

I just grab Connor's arm and walk to our table.

"Doesn't it make you angry? All the things he's asking and how fucking straight-up about it he is?"

fighting him wouldnt exactly support the fact that i didnt help him.

"True," Connor admits. "But still."

connor, just eat.

"Fine," he says grudgingly picking up his sandwich as Nora takes his homework.

"Mellet!" Adam yells across the room. I just stiffen and take another bite, wincing as someone drops a lunch tray. "Were any of your friends killed? That'd be awkward," he muses, "if your boyfriend killed your best friend."

My heart stops beating as Connor stands up and walks towards Adam, the lunchroom silent. "Leave him the fuck alone, Adam White."

"I can do what I want, Franta. And I want help on my goddamned World History project."

Four minutes, two senseless comments, one fist swinging through the air twice, and one security guard later, Adam has a black eye and a bloody nose and Connor has detention until Christmas vacation.

After sending a quick text to Mum saying I might be a little bit late coming home, I find myself in Connor's dorm room, watching Pj create a forest and rivers and hills and grass out of cardboard. What's it for? I write on a piece of paper and slip it towards him.

He smiles as he reads it, then turns back to the hot glue gun. "I make videos on a thing called YouTube. This is for that. I'm making a video about a girl in paradise. She's basically going to walk through all of the things that make up people's version of paradise - love, travel, friends, etc. I might do another scene about her finding her one, but I haven't decided yet. Does that look okay?" I nod, glancing over each other tiny details that he had included, the green of her shirt and the slight slump of her shoulder. "You should check them out," he continues, "they're really just little creative skits that I choose to spend my time on instead of math. Or you could go check out Phil's vlog/comedy/things that he does. I'll text you the links if you want?"

I nod, smiling at him and settling into the purple bean bag chair tossed next to the desk.

Pj smiles and continues working, humming a song that I've never heard of and making all the dreams that he always talks about, the ones of being some sort of storyteller or director come true.

The door flies open, and Connor stalks in, dropping his backpack next to his bed before falling onto it and glaring at the bed above him. I let a moment pass before coughing until he looks over at me. "Oh, hey Troye. What're you doing here? Not that I mind, but Adam's coming back as soon as football practice ends, in about twenty minutes."

I scribble my answer onto a piece of paper. Just wanted to make sure you're okay.

He smiles and blushes a bit at that. "I'm okay. Do you want to, oh I don't know, go get some ice cream and see a movie or something? You don't have to, I'm just bored and it's Friday so we don't have to do any homework today..."

I'd love too.

"Great!" Connor exclaims excitedly, sitting up and grabbing his phone from his backpack. "There's a showing of 'The Peanuts Movie' in half an hour..."

I smile at him, not bothering to write down that I had been wanting to see that.

"Let's go now then. See you, Peej!"

Pj chuckles. "Have fun on your date, boys!"

Connor shoves me lightly through the door before either of us can respond, but as we get permission from the house supervisor and climb into the "totally about to fall apart but that's not important until it does" type car that Connor's brother gave him, the thought lingers in my mind like a ghost begging to be noticed, yet unable to be seen.