Troye pulled at his hair as his boyfriend of three years stood over him with a frown etched onto his face. Tears soaked into Troyes lips, burning where they had previously cracked, stimulating the pain he had been in for about a year now. Connor was beyond worried, sure he had noticed Troyes upset and erotic behavior but he hadn't commented on it or found out what was causing it.
That was the first time Troye broke down, the first time he let Connor see how upset he truly had been. He was suffering and Connor could taste it on his lips every time they kissed.
Connor asked what was wrong, bending down next to the sobbing boy, but Troye didn't answer, only shaking his head and opening his mouth to moan another cry for help. Saliva dripped down his chin and clung to his face like a sloth to a tree. Finally, when he calmed down enough to speak, Troye whispered a plead.
"I-I hate myself." He'd said and Connor was confused, because Troye had always been one of the most conceded people he'd met. But then again Connor could never see a lie from a truth. He waited for Troye to speak again. "My body, it's small."
"Oh Tro-"
"My skin, to pale. I don't want it Connor. I don't want any of it." Groomed nails clawed at pure skin as Troye lived up to his previous statement and tried to get out of the fleshy cage.
"Stop!" Connor pleaded as blood was drawn. He hated blood. "You're going to hurt yourself!" But Troye couldn't hear over the sound of his painful screeches and dry heaving. He just wanted out of his own body, he felt trapped and small and he was tired of feeling so incapable and weak. He wanted out, and it didn't matter how.
Spotting the set of knifes that sat in his and Connors kitchen of their small apartment, he jumped to his feet and ran to them. Connor was quick to realize what Troye had planned, but not quick enough to keep his angel safe. Within a millisecond Troye had the biggest knife of the bunch piercing his forearm. Before any more harm could be done, Connor grabbed Troyes wrist from behind, picking him up and holding the knife still between both of their hands as Troye kicked and screamed, his back pressed to Connors chest.
"Let me go!" He'd screeched. "Let me finish!" He just wanted to be free and he couldn't understand why Connor wouldn't let him do what needed to be done to accomplish the mission. Connor squeezed Troyes hands between his hard enough for his grasp to loosen on the knife for it to slip and clamper onto the counter.
Troye wasn't having it as he only screamed louder and kicked harder, so hard in fact that Connor had to lock his own dainty hands behind his back and push the entire front of his body to the wall in the hallway, pressing his own front against him to keep him in place.
"Let go!" Troye screamed and Connor was sure the neighbors were calling the cops. "Why won't you listen to me!?" With a tear soaked face Connor kept Troye in place and incapable of hurting himself. It hurt Connor (probably not as much as Troye for he was bleeding in several places that Connor couldn't tend to in their current position) to watch his precious boy struggle with himself. He loved Troye with everything in him, and only wanted the best for him. Once Troye calmed enough- or maybe it was the way his voice couldn't go above a whisper after all the screaming- he whispered against the wall, Connors face buried under his chin.
"I don't want to breathe anymore." He said.
"B-but you can't leave me."
"You can find someone like me." Connor guessed he couldn't put up more of a fight and removed himself from against his back.
"Let's rest now." Connor said because Troye wasn't lying. He couldn't find someone with blue eyes and wild curls, maybe even someone with the name Troye, but he wouldn't say that allowed. Connor dragged Troye to their bed and laid them both down, still in their day time clothes, and watched Troyes face as he feel asleep.
It wasn't until 12 pm did Connor wake the next day and when he did, he woke alone. It didn't bother him much at first for Troye loved early mornings, until he remembered the nights before events and he suddenly leaned up in a hast.
"Troye?" He called out to no response. Then more urgently. "Troye!?" He yelled, checking everywhere in the apartment until he found the bathroom. The light was on and the door was locked. Connor slammed on the wood until tears soaked his face once again and his shoulder bruised. It finally opened and when it did Connor though he'd be sick. There Troye sat slumped in the bath tub with his eyes wide open and a bottle of bleach spilt on the floor. Blood sept from his mouth and Connor screamed the loudest he'd screamed in his entire life, getting into the tub and sitting in front of Troye has he grabbed his face, not minding the water that soaked his clothes.
"Troye!? ANSWER ME!" He yelled but he knew it was useless. He was gone. He screamed again. "TAKE ME WITH YOU!" He leaned his forehead against Troyes cold one and felt his throat itch. "If you loved me, why'd you leave me?" He asked quietly as he tugged on Troyes hair harshly.Troye didn't answer, he didn't answer and Connor knew why.
He'd washed his insides clean to get rid of the mess he'd made growing up with such dark thoughts and no one to help sort through them like a middle school filing cabinet. And Connor couldn't save him. He couldn't save him when they were growing up, he couldn't save him when they started dating, and he couldn't save him when the ambulance showed up and took his body away.
As his funeral approached and Troye laid in a casket looking as beautiful as ever, Connor didn't even try to hold back tears. He thought then that maybe Troye was meant to die, maybe he was meant to wash himself in acid, and that maybe he never really loved Connor like he never really loved himself.
"Your love was made for movie screens." Laurelle had said and Connor had cried some more and all he could smell was the stench of bleach.
He never went back home, he didn't answer his phone when sympathizers called, but he did promise himself to find someone with blue eyes and wild hair, someone like Troye.
He laid in bed in tears all night, alone without him by his side. And he decided then that he wanted nothing more than to see him again, and that if he did, he'd die a happy man he was sure.
But at that rate, it'd look like he'd be dying unhappy.
a/n
this made me cry to write
here have a gif:
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