adjacent ➵ tronnor

argument

The morning after Lilly stays is a whirlwind of emotions — Connor's still a bit weirded out (an odd way of putting it) by the last encounter with Troye, and he's definitely high-key worried about his ever-growing crush on the boy; despite his hesitance to actually refer to his feelings as having a crush, it's like it's all he can think about, and it feels like it's growing rapidly as the hours roll by aimlessly.

Perhaps it's not a crush, as such — more of a squidge, or perhaps a squeeze. Crush felt too real; synonymous words instead lightened the blow a little. Not a great deal, but it did, nevertheless.

So, if it isn't obvious at this point, Connor's not the best when it comes to dealing with feelings. Regardless, he somewhat stumbles through and powers on, taking his stuttered words and bad convincing in his stride. Well, sort of, at least.

The night after Lilly leaves, however, is somehow even worse: he actually talks to Troye, and not in a nice way at all. They argue. But the reason why is sort of unknown; Troye just walks into Connor's apartment at quarter to midnight, and gets more than a little bit pissy at Connor questioning him — he tries to keep it polite, but the frown on his lips and the furrow of his eyebrows makes it hard to be civil.

Connor says, "This is getting ridiculous." Really, he wants to add more. He wants to tell him to keep fucking quiet, to stop with the snarky comments, to try to be somewhat nicer. He wants to scream, but he's too nervous. And he knows he shouldn't let fear control his life, but it's definitely better than shouting in Troye's face and dealing with the relentless backlash from it.

"How so?" Troye replies coyly, adding in an innocent smirk just for good measure. He knows exactly what he's doing, and Connor immediately decides that he's not a fan of this side of Troye.

Connor glowers at him. "You know perfectly well why." His words are harsh, practically growled, yet he still wonders if Troye knows that this is just a simple act and really he wants nothing more than to tell him all the reasons why he's found himself with a dumb crush on him.

"I don't think I do. Enlighten me, babe?"

Connor gulps, desperately trying to ignore the pet name, because it meant nothing. He forces a glare, and his words fall out of his mouth at their own accord, "You're too fucking loud. You haven't even tried to make amends with me. You fuck with my mind like crazy." His words, for once, are clear and sound confident, and he's not going to deny that he's a little proud at that. He adds, but can't bring himself to mean it, "And don't call me babe."

Troye rolls his eyes. "You're kidding yourself when you say you won't want me to call you that," he says, and Connor breathes an internal sigh of relief when he realises that Troye thinks he's just bluffing. Then, Troye narrows his eyes a bit. and Connor doesn't expect what he says next in the slightest. "And your mind won't be the only thing I'm fucking."

Connor's jaw drops in a manner that's almost comedic, his mouth making a perfect 'O' shape. Troye laughs at this (and Connor refuses to admit that his laugh is nice), so Connor closes his mouth again, only to open it again several seconds later to spit out spiteful words. "So I see immaturity is your specialty, then."

"I suppose you could say that," is all Troye responds with.

And then a silence that's simultaneously comfortable and uncomfortable drenches the room, soaking the two boys into quietness. Connor's not sure how much time has passed when it's finally broken.