Home // Blue Neighbourhood [Tronnor]

Epilogue

The sun would rise in a few minutes, casting light over everything. The way everything changed in the morning was miraculous.

Someone would wake up with a smile, and hurry to have warm breakfast prepared by their cheery mother.

Someone would jump out of bed, grumbling, because they weren't morning people, but still gather their stuff up haphazardly to get ready for something.

Someone would lie in bed, hungover, and wake up after noon with a pounding headache.

Someone would wake up with tear tracks on their faces and a damp pillow, and climb out of bed with crumbling resolution, to face the world for another day.

Someone would wake up in their lover's arms, watching them still sleep, savoring the close contact and the feeling of being secure and loved.

Someone wouldn't have slept at all.

Troye sat with his legs crossed on the small wooden chair at his desk. He stared out of the window, his eyes dry and focused without taking in anything. His limbs felt heavy and stiff, from sitting for long hours in one spot from the past several days, but his mind paid no heed. It had stopped turning the wheel, it had stopped the incessant pounding of the waves, it had stopped the trembling of the leaves. The screaming demons inside had fallen silent with shock. They hadn't gone away; he could feel their horns poking the inside of his chest when either of them moved.

Inky black darkness still refused to move its cloak outside. The same colored pen moved slightly on the table, nudged by Troye's elbow. The ink was completely used up, to the last drop. It had not been exactly new, but its life had ended perfectly, with it fulfilling the purpose most satisfactorily. Troye picked it up gently, turning it over and over in his fingers. The fingers that were currently craving something. Something that they would never quite get.

I have so many names for you that I couldn't quite decide what to use, so I ended up skipping the salutation all together. Sounds weird, huh? Me, saluting you? Well, that's what I should do. You need a salutation and a standing ovation for doing what you've done. So just imagine me standing in front of you, clapping.

You have always said that you're not good with words, and prefer to be blunt. I feel the same now, and I won't beat around the bush. Whatever I say now is from my heart to yours. Con, I won't deny that I'm beyond mad at you right now. If I see you now, I'll probably punch your face a couple of times, and then break down in your arms. I badly want to do that right now. But I'm sitting at my desk now, with not even my shadow for company. I really could have done with you being there, but then again, if you were there, things would be entirely different.

I remember the one time we made breakfast together. We were alone at my place, at a time when we didn't know how fucked-up the world is. All you did was follow me around with your head on my shoulder and arms around my waist, while I did all the work. We were trying cinnamon rolls, and they didn't turn out to be so bad. I suddenly find myself craving cinnamon rolls right now, but I know it's all in my head. I don't know if I can ever get anything down my throat.

I'm not crying, Connie. Even my tears know that there's no one to wipe them away. They have been totally well-behaved since you went away. It's like everything about me has been well-behaved. I stay in my room the entire time, sitting in one spot, without talking to anyone, without troubling anyone. I'm not going to throw a tantrum, or rebel against anything. I'm being a good little boy, because that's what I'm without you. It was the way you looked at me that made me want to be so bad. (Don't make innuendos out of this; I certainly don't mean it that way, you perv). That cheeky smile, quirking of the single eyebrow, green eyes always sparkling with some planned mischief, made me step out of my shell, and crawl into yours. And for that, thank you. It's been amazing.

Why the hell am I being so formal? I can almost imagine you rolling your eyes, but I stop, because it hurts. Con, I'm being totally honest. It hurts so bad right now. It's like a thick blanket has numbed all my feelings, but I'm totally conscious of them, even though I can't essentially be impacted by their magnitude. I totally understand you, though, and a very small part of me is not mad at you. I won't dwell further on that, because both of us know the fundamental answer to the 'Why.'

Now that I think about it, I almost had an inkling that something like this was going to happen, which is why I was subconsciously prepared for it. Prepared to accept it, not agree with it. I know you too well, Con. We're like pieces of a jigsaw, and without you, I'm incomplete. You've taken away a large chunk of me, and there's a gaping hole there, which stings whenever the memories brush against it.

Con, my Connie, my Con Bon, I love you. Forever and always. You made me the luckiest person on this planet, just by allowing me to call you mine. You make me complete, in a way nobody else can. I'm yours, baby, and you're mine. We all come without labels, but from the moment I began to see you differently, that changed as well. Those were the crazy days, and I'm confessing now, Con, I've lost more sleep over you than you can imagine. Your slightest touch sent currents through me, and I've spent countless nights tossing and turning in bed, just imagining the feel of your lips, your hands touching me differently, and to see my feelings in your eyes. It was the best day of my life, when we forgot our platonic relationship, and began a new journey together. Each day was like a stolen moment, craftily mocking us in retrospect to the future. Two years seems like a long time, but it's not. But you made them the best years of my life. I see every moment flash by like photos in an album, and every joke shared is part of a link that bound us closer.

This pen writes really smoothly, and I'm glad for that. Now that I've begun, my words are beginning to flow, and I can't bear to be stopped till I'm done. It's really dark outside, and there's no moon, although I can see a few stars sprinkled about. Reminds me of the night we went skinny dipping, in the summer hols of sophomore year. The water was freezing, but you dunked me anyway, and then fretted over me when I almost caught a chill. I twisted my ankle over a rock, as I tried to chase you, and you carried me home. I lied when I said I couldn't walk for a couple more days, just so I could have you carry me. It was cute to see your face all scrunched up seriously, and being in your arms was just like being a toddler. You used to tease me that, and I secretly loved it. I loved how my small body could fit in your arms so perfectly.

I never really fell asleep during the times we watched movies together at my house. I just pretended to, so you would hold me, even though you would have done that either way. It was just another of my quirks, and yeah, I heard everything you whispered to me, thinking I was asleep. Seeing your vulnerable side was something rare and heartbreaking, and it shook me every time, in a very positive way. You kept me on my toes, baby, even though I was anchored firmly to you, if that makes any sense.

I'm choosing to filter out the negativity, and I know you would be proud of me. You were always the strong and silent person, choosing to hurt inwardly rather than inflict it on ten other people. I have been reckless and untactful that way, but you taught me that sometimes, if a person stretches a rubber too much, it bounces back and stings his own hand. It's better to let go sometimes, for our own peace of mind, if not for them.

Connor Franta, you goddamned asshole, how dare you fucking leave me to write letters at four in the morning? I can't bear to look into the mirror, because I see my blue eyes, and they remind me of your forest green orbs. Azure and green make aqua green. Screw the formalities, all I want right now is you. I need you, you idiot, my love, my baby, my Connie Frannie. Did you fucking think I would let you off so easily? I can be really stubborn when I want to be, despite the times I let you override my food choices and clothes combinations.

'We'll never leave each other, no matter what happens.'

Remember this? I'm sure you do, and so you should remember what I replied to that as well.

'As if I'd let you go away from me.'

I won't. I'll be with you even if you don't want me to. Maybe the earth has begun to spin up to down, maybe time has started going backwards, maybe everything has changed outside. But my feelings and my decision haven't.

The pen is almost out of ink, and I think I can squeeze in no more than a couple of sentences. It's a perfect metaphor, showing that this time the Big Forces are on my side too.

Wait for me to come home.