may shatter on impact (tronnor)

86. Less Broken & A Song for Him

I call Connor as soon as we get to the house and I've stolen away to my bedroom.

"Hey!"

"It's five in the morning," he groans, the sound of him shuffling around his room barely reaching me.

"Is it really?"

"Yes!" He sighs. "Sorry, it's been quite a week. What's up?"

I shrug, for a moment forgetting that he can't see me. "I don't know. I just wanted to talk," I tell him, once I remember that I can't see my expression. "I'm feeling...normal right now. I just needed to share that. You can go back to bed if you want."

I can hear his smile in his words. "Normal?"

"Yeah. Less...broken than before."

"You were never 'broken'," he corrects, "but that's amazing, Tro."

I smile, unable to hide my joy at the sudden realization that everything might actually be okay. "Yeah. Yeah, it is."

"The trip's been good, then?"

"Absolutely. Well for me, anyways. I don't...."

"Don't what?" Connor finally asks after I don't finish the sentence.

"Something happened to Tyde and I can't figure out what, no one will tell me anything. Kayla said she would text if anyone told her anything but....I don't know, I'm worried."

"Hm," Connor says.

We sit in silence for a moment, two boys hours away from each other lying in separate beds but somehow together.

"Connor?"

He doesn't say anything.

"Connor!"

"What?" he exclaims loudly. "Oh, oh, sorry. I kind of almost fell asleep."

"It's okay," I tell him honestly, smiling at him, picturing Connor falling asleep and jumping up at my voice. "I probably shouldn't have woken you up at five in the morning for no reason other than to talk."

"Nah, there are worse ways to wake up."

I laugh at that, closing my eyes. "Still, you should go to bed now."

All I can hear for a second is his soft breathing, in, out, in, out, in, out. "Stay on the line?"

"If you want me to."

"Stay, then."

"I'll stay."

Our breathing is all that is heard between us for a while, our thoughts finally quiet, like all of the math equations between us and all of the unbalanced scales and all of the unspoken words have been solved and finished and locked away to matter another day.

"Troye?"

"Connor."

His breathing is quiet, but steady and still, like a clear brook running softly, bubbling across the waves, a pause in the green of the woods, a small, simple, piano tune being played to an empty theatre.

"Will you sing for me?"

"Would you like to hear my music project?"

"I'd love to," he whispers.

"This is love, this is paradise, this is what it means to take second chances. To forgive and then to try for love twice. This is for him and this is for you, for in the dark night of crystal skies, when angels fall like butterflies, it's the rate of the sunset and then sunrise, in the circle and the system of life, oh yes, if this is love - then this is paradise..."