prompt: you don't talk and I talk to much or we're best friends sorry if I hurt you
It isn't that Connors insane, no not really. He's just a bit quiet, a bit insecure, a bit scared.
And it's not that Troyes seeking attention, he's just a bit talkative, a bit seemingly confident, a bit unstoppable.
In a school of 230 students Connors the "special boy". He's not mentally unstable or challenged, he's brilliant actually, he's just never confident enough to say it.
People give him freebies and treat him different when in his head he's screaming at them to stop, but the words never flow from his mind to his lips.
In a school of 230 people Troye is the loudest, the most out going. People want to be around him and make him happy because when Troyes happy everyone else is happy and everyone knows it. Even Troye himself.
Out of all 230 said students Troye is Connors favorite. And it's not because he's the prettiest (which he is) and it's not because he's the smartest (which he isn't), it's because since the first grade all Troyes ever done is hold his hand.
In the hallways, on the walk home where they live next door to each other, or when they're laying in bed trying to escape the world.
And out of all 230 said students Connor is Troyes favorite and not because he's smart (which he is) and not because he's the prettiest (which he isn't) but because since the first grade he's trusted Troye in a way no one has ever and it all started with a simple question.
"Why don't you talk?" First grade Troye had asked. Connor had shrugged. "Are you mute? Mummy says mute people belong in the crazy house, but I don't think you belong in the crazy house because you're so cute! Sometimes my aunt Susan-"
But there's no story there. There's no story in a boy who's pretty and a boy who's quiet.
Instead, there's a story in a boy who's pretty, a boy who's pretty but despite what he's said, doesn't know it. A boy who hates himself secretly, not even in the comfort of a boy who can't speak to tell someone of the times he could of cried and gotten silent comfort.
There's a story in a boy who's quiet, who hasn't talked since kindergarten because he was scared of saying the wrong things. There's a story in a boy who makes straight A's and spends late nights starring at a wall in silence.
Silence, always silence.
And there's a story in a note, a horrid realization, and a warm Thursday.
It's said Thursday, said warm Thursday, when Connor walks home alone. Troye didn't show up at school today, making the day more silent than usual.
So instead of taking the cobble stone path to his own front door, Connor takes Troyes, opening the door to a hysterical Laurelle.
Connor waves his hands wildly to grab her attention as she's yelling into the home phone, something along the lines of "please" and "my baby" that can't be made out between sobs.
"Connor!" she cries as she puts the phone down, hugging the boy to her chest. "Do you know where he is?" Connor can only pull away and give her a confused look. She sobs again.
"Of course you don't! No one does!" Then she's turning away from scared confused boy and to the phone, dialing another number. Connor makes his way to Troyes room to ask him what the problem is.
Only he doesn't find him. Instead, he finds a thrown over desk and a note laid neatly on his perfectly made bed. Troye was always neat.
im sorry i hate myself, and im sorry I can't tell you that i do. ive kept it all a secret, kept it as my personal struggle. ive been dying and no ones noticed and it's all my fault. tell connor i say bye? love you guys bunches and ill see you all again im sure
Connor then cries and he cries and cries and cries and it sucks because for a boy who never says a word, crying becomes painful.
It's not tell Sunday night does Connor get news of Troyes whereabouts. They've found him and Connor can't be more happy until the next words leave his mothers mouth as they sit on his bed.
"They've found him...his body I mean. He's been dead for two days."
Connor screams, he screams louder than any scream to every breach the ears of a boy and a sad mother.
He feels his throat open for what feels like the first time as he hugs his knees in tears and his mouth opens for more than food or the occasional laugh.
"No!" He yells to which his mothers eyes widen. "You're lying! You're a liar! Troyes not dead he can't be!" Cheryl tries to comfort him but he pushes her away stubbornly. He doesn't want anyone's touch, no body's but Troyes.
So Cheryl leaves. She gives him time to grieve as he shuts his mouth again, abandoning all sound completely for what will be a long time.
And Connors as mad as he's sad because he's left. Troyes left Connor alone with his own darkening thoughts, his own pain, his own silence.
Silence, always silence.
-x-
this is lightly based off of "Talking (just to breathe)" by agenderhurley on ao3. it's a joshler fic and everyone should read it.
shout out to 21pilates for recing it to me thanks loser
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