TRONNOR ONE-SHOTS

11. "youre worth it; pt2"

PROMPT; connor is with a douche, and troye has feelings that need to go away

I lay in bed sporting a red puffy face with dry tear tracks. I'm however slightly relaxed-slightly- knowing Matthew won't return to our home.

No. It's not home.

Home is somewhere that you can be comfortable, somewhere you can possibly share with your lover, somewhere you can sleep a full 8-10 hours without waking every half hour to feeling like you're being watched.
Home is not somewhere you dread every waking second of being in it, it's where you're suppose to want to spend every waking second. It's where you're relieved to be away from everything an everything, just so you can cuddle in the warmth of your home, you shouldn't hate being in it even for 5 minutes, you should want to hide out in the comfort for 5 years with no interaction.

Perhaps my home isn't an actual home.
Perhaps it's a metaphor for something.
For someone.

Perhaps it's a metaphor that translates to this someone providing me comfort, security, and making me feel loved, wanted even when we are only watching documentaries on Netflix about the largest avocado.

Perhaps it's a metaphor that translates to this someone that I can be my quirky, lame, confident, poetic, creative self around, that I can make the most terrible puns but laugh it off with them, instead of being afraid to get a sideways glare, or glance from it being too dumb or weird, or even too childish.

Perhaps it's a metaphor that translates to this someone being the only pillow, blanket, and roof I need to feel safe, welcomed and all fuzzy inside.

Perhaps it's a metaphor that translates to this someone being the only one that can managed to put a huge smile on my face even when my heart feels like it can practically be drowning.
Perhaps it's a metaphor that this someone is my home, not some small apartment, but them.

Perhaps it's a metaphor that Troye Sivan Mellet is my home. He is the only one that can make it possible to turn my day from rainy and down right pouring, to drizzling and parting clouds, to a sunny pure blue sky, that matches his eyes, with a rainbow by its side.

Well what am I waiting for? Although I am a lost boy, and it sometimes feels like I'm not quite ready to be found. I think someone found me. I practically out the door, only to turn back around and decide it would be a good idea to put on a shirt..and pants..

I then again run out but this time with a red hoodie that says in a somewhat scripture font, undefeated, which ironically Troye bought for me, and green joggers along with my black and white trainers. Not important though. Next thing I know I'm sprinting towards his apartment.

I reach his apartment breathless, it was only then that I realize, what the actual fuck am I doing here? What will I even say? Will he even let me in? I basically stood him up-even though it wasn't my fault I still feel bad.

Without thinking anymore I raise my fist and give 3 shaky knocks. I look down at the concrete, is he even here, is that a good thing if he's not? Possibly.
It-

"Connah?"

An Australia accent rings through my ears cutting of my previous thoughts.
I look up at him, only to have him gasp.
What the, is there something on my fa- oh wait. My bruise. I immediately look everywhere except his eyes.