may shatter on impact (tronnor)

40. Galaxies & Stars

Connor and I find ourselves in the practice room again. I'm talking, about everything and nothing and anything, my voice on speaker and echoing through the room.

"Y-you have every right to say 'I t-told you so' - "

He shakes his head quickly. "I'm not going to." A pause before, "Well, she was an ass, wasn't she?"

I can't help but smile at that. "Y-yeah. Yeah, she was. I-I'm sorry to have dragged you into it."

"It's okay. I'm glad I was there."

"Why?"

He shrugs, staring ahead at the wall and the peeling paint and the white underneath like the glimmers of heaven you can see through the night sky.

"I could be there for you." He pauses only half a second before continuing. "You know it wasn't your fault, right?"

"I guess."

We sit in silence for a moment after that, the noiselessness of the room bleeding into my skin and the lack of sound stabbing my heart.

"Connor," I say.

"Troye," he whispers back.

There's silence again for a moment, both of us thinking and wondering and hoping for something, but I'm not sure what.

"I shouldn't have said whatever it was that I did say back there," Connor says, staring the keys of the piano.

I start to play, just tapping out music to distract me from everything.

"Y-you were just defending me."

"Still."

"Play with...w-with me?" I ask.

He moves his fingers to the keys, delicately tapping out the same melody. "Like this?"

I nod. "You're good."

"My mom used to play," he says quietly. "I remember her playing every morning before I woke up, the same song every day. The day after she died, that was the first thing that I remember noticing. That there wasn't any music in my house."

I don't know what to say so I don't say anything. That's how I've been living: not saying anything because I don't know what to say, I don't know how to express my thoughts, I don't know how to not say that it's my fault when it so clearly is.

"I didn't even remember that she was dead at first, I just remembered that there should've been music playing and there wasn't." He seems to realize how awkward I was being about the whole conversation and he rushes in to change the topic. "It was awhile ago, you don't have to be...sorry or anything."

I nod. "It's strange feeling, not having music where it used to be, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"After, um, after Tyler - " I pause. We're getting into deep waters now, all of our emotions swirling around into a potion turning black and terrifying and beautiful, like all the colors of the universe coming together. Connor is a galaxy and I am only the stars, and our lives and our hearts are spinning around each other, coexisting, needing, wanting, craving, speaking.

Connor doesn't look at me, just keeps playing the same three keys and refusing to meet my eyes.

I continue. "After it was all over, I remember that everyone in my house was scared to move and speak and make any sort of noise. Mum practically refused to let me and Tyde out of her sight. And no one ever played any music. I used to go over to his house, and someone was usually - always - playing piano, and no one was anymore."

"It's strange to live without music," Connor agrees quietly.

"For me it's not really living."

"And so now you are? Now that there's the piano..."

"And there's people to listen and not be afraid. And I'm not afraid. And the world is still trying to hunt me down but I can speak without stuttering over my words because I have people who weren't hurt by the...the lack of silence. And I can play piano without thinking about him." Because I'm too busy thinking about you.

Connor nods and we just play the piano without speaking, together, our thoughts pounding through glass walls to meet each other, the notes filling the silence until it doesn't hurt, our hearts intertwined and our minds on the same level, both unafraid, both alive, both just listening to the music.

"You know, Troye...I think I'm in love with you?" Connor says out of nowhere, his fingers frozen and a blush rushing across his cheeks, his words a question instead of a statement as if he doesn't really know what he thinks, like he's scared of what I might think.

I always thought he was the galaxy, but I was wrong. He is the universe, thousands of galaxies and millions of stars and all the colors that I've only seen in his eyes and all the thoughts I've barely allowed myself to think. I'm not the stars, I'm just a single thought. And now I can't hear my thoughts over my heartbeat.

"Like you mean as friends?"

He swallows, hiding his thoughts and his heartbeat and his words, beginning to play again. "Nevermind."

I stop playing, all my thoughts swirling into one, all my hopes and wishes thrown to the night sky and, "No, Connor...answer me."

"I meant a-as more than friends," he says. "But you don't have to. You just....you just might as well know."

I'm silent for a moment, until my fingers fall to his and the piano music stops and the air is only our words and our thoughts and our secrets and our hopes and dreams and our everything is taking a leap of faith made maybes and possibilities and the words we speak next.

"I think I like you too, Connor."

Somehow our lips touch next. Blood rushes to my head and I block out all other thoughts and his lips taste like strawberries and hope and possibilities and piano music and the salt of the ocean and wind rushing through our hair and the rising sun.

He smiles into the kiss, a smile that sparkles and dreams and hopes and leaves me only to wonder where we go from here but to know that it doesn't really matter because right now, we're happy.