adjacent ➵ tronnor

anomalous

It's been a few days since Connor's confrontation with Troye, and it's been oddly peaceful. Well — minus the harsh glare he receives any moment he does so much as even look at Troye, that is. He recalls only a mere week ago looking into those ocean eyes with a glance of welcoming friendship; now all he gets is cold glares from ice eyes. A small encounter in the corridor that once would've made him smile at the memory of is now replaced by sustained emptiness.

Connor's beginning to think that when Troye referred to Connor as his newfound enemy, he really didn't mean much by it — it seems that Connor's expectations were set too high. He was anticipating some sort of torturous prank, or a variation; the dreaded silent treatment was not on his list of presuppositions. Fair enough, quiet, venom-filled glances weren't exactly pleasant either, but were definitely more tolerable.

(And despite the fact that he's still in Troye's bad books, it's still hard not to admire him and his beauty all the time. Glower stares only gave him more opportunities to appreciate just how God damn pretty those eyes were. Besides, likelihood is that Connor doesn't even notice/acknowledge he's doing it, but perhaps Troye does — he can't be sure of that, however; after all, he's not Troye himself.)

Troye's creative, isn't he? Connor often will hear piano keys pressed in time to melodies he's never heard before, and presumes are original, through the thin walls; he's talented, at the very least, and talented usually is synonymous to creative, right? As Connor's logic follows, he has the sufficient skills to construct a stunt, and he apparently isn't using them.

He's also very aware of the fact that Troye is good in arguments — intimidating, witty, quick to think — and could easily have insulted him an unfathomable amount of times by now, yet hasn't.

Connor spends a solid twenty minutes of his time (that he's supposed to spend eating — his food has gone quite cold when he's done) evaluating each point and eventually decides upon the assumption that Troye can't properly or successfully hold a grudge. Like, at all. After this revelation, he spends the rest of his day in a peaceful state, relaxed and unaffected by the thought of the pale boy.

But then the night comes, and it's an entirely different story.

It's perhaps 12AM when Connor finally rolls into bed, burrowing his head into his cool pillow and snuggling into the comfort of his cocooned duvet. It's perhaps 12:15AM when Connor actually begins to attempt to fall asleep. It's perhaps 12:30AM when he hears it: groaning. Unmistakably, it's the kind that isn't out of anger or boredom or anything else of a similar matter — it's sexual, and it's coming from Troye's apartment.

Connor has multiple thoughts initially: most revolve around such delights as what the fuck and this is not happening right now, but said thoughts are interrupted by the sounds growing louder.

God, how long is this going to last?

Connor sighs heavily and turns swiftly around as if it would somehow help conceal himself from venereal noises.

(It doesn't, he learns.)

And just when he thought it couldn't get any worse—

"Fuck, Troye!" he hears an unfamiliar voice say in a breathy moan, and Connor rolls his eyes. Unbelievable. Is this part of his grudge plan? Because Connor knows from expedience that Troye isn't one for hookups and one-night stands (they've literally had a conversation about it before). If it's specifically to keep Connor up, it's definitely working well.

And, as time passes on and Troye and his partner don't seem to stop, Connor finds himself in a pissed off state, and he's also rather unfortunately in a very uncomfortable predicament.

Connor ends up running himself a cold shower at about 1AM, and when he falls asleep, he's haunted by the ghost of Troye's glare.