blue | a collection of tronnor oneshots

the hands of a boy

prompt: only the first three paragraphs rhyme sorry

The hands of a boy are something special, that's something Connor knew. There was no room for second guessing when the hands of a boy always made him smile, jittery, and took away his blues.

Whether it was his father, a kind gentle man, or a close friend wiping his tears and offering a helping hand. It didn't matter. Oh he didn't mind. As long as the hands of a boy stayed by his side.

The hands of a boy are always gentle, that was something Troye never knew, for he had hands calloused, and hands to bruise. His father a drunk, his friends non-existent, Troye was used to the hands of a boy being unpleasant.

When Connor met Troye, it upset him. Anyone could see from the cuts on his face and the constant fear in his innocent eyes, that his home life wasn't the best. He wouldn't speak, his voice failed him on every occasion, and maybe that's why he hated himself. Maybe that's why when Connor told he was pretty, he had run away. That, or maybe because he touched him with a hand that was for the first time ever, gentle.

God, so gentle. So soothing and calm that Troye instantly wanted to fall in love with him in every way. But he couldn't. Because Troye couldn't love, his dad beat that ability out of him and forced him to hate himself.

He forced him to reject Connors affection and make him feel bad so he'd stop making Troye feel good. But it didn't last for long, because one night when his father was particularly rough, he ran to Connor. He ran four miles to the boys bedroom window where he knocked hard and long.

Connor opened the cold glass with a hushed question as to why the hell he suddenly wanted to become buddies at one am on a Tuesday night. Troye climbed through the square opening wordlessly and laid himself under Connors soft comforter, were Connor eventually laid too.

He tried to wrap his arm around Troyes waist, comfort him because he could hear the silent cries, but Troye instantly slapped his hand and scooted away.

This was the first of many nights where Troye would run to Connor in the early hours of the morning, so he eventually left the window open so Troye could help himself.

Sometimes he'd go to Connors fridge and take some food, only to swiftly leave without a muttered thank you. Sometimes he'd come only to sit next to the sleeping boy and watch his chest rise and fall as a form of comfort as he held his knees to his chest, trying to calm his beating heart.

And that's how it was between the two, that was their unspoken agreement, until Connor reached out for more and Troye eventually didn't pull away.

He was laying next to Connor, his hands tucked under his head as he watched the green eyed boy sleep, and then those perfect orbs opened and they were staring at each other.

With wide eyes they stayed on their sides and watched, observed, silently begged the other for a simple touch. Connor was the first to crack.

He slowly brought his hand up to Troyes cheek, hovering over it in fear he'd scare him away. Troye squeezed his eyes shut, noticeably shaking, and let a sigh of relief flood the air when Connors cool skin finally touched his own heated flesh.

Connor began to mutter soothing words as Troye began to cry hopelessly and soon the fragile boy was tucked up in Connors arms.

When the sobs finally died out and Troye was hazily playing with the hem of Connors shirt, Troye began to think. Maybe he could fall in love. Maybe not all guys are bad.

And those were his thoughts as he feel asleep warm for the first time. In the arms of something soft, someone gentle, as if they were made just for him. Welcoming hands locked behind his back, making him feel like a baby again, loved and cared for. Troye felt himself ready to fall, and was suddenly prepared for the choking sensation as Connor continued to rub soothing circles on the small of his back.

After all, the hands of a boy are something special, and Connor was teaching Troye just what that meant.
                                       -x-
a/n

my BN box just got here but it's at my nanas house so I don't get it tell Friday I'm crying