Oh, Ms Believer, my pretty sleeper Your twisted mind is like snow on the road Your shaking shoulders prove that it's colder Inside your head than the winter of dead
Troye watches as Connor spins in a circle under the falling snowflakes that land in his hair softly.
It's a beautiful sight, one that warms hearts and brings tears of joy to your eyes, only it can be better.
It can be better if Troye can look away when Connor catches his glance of himself in the window of their small house and frowns.
He's so beautiful, how can he not see it? Troye thinks.
But if he knows one thing in this world it's that the only opinion that matters to Connor is his own.
Sadly that opinion is tainted with sour words and poorly gave insults. Troye wishes more than anything to go back in time and be there for him when those things were said. Every single one.
Connors heavy petticoat rests on him perfectly, his hands shoved into his pockets as his boots stay in the same spot. He gazes at his reflection, shaking slightly.
If Troye asks, he'll blame it on the cold that bites at them both.
"Con?" Troye speaks up and Connor quickly looks away, composing himself and plating a fake smile on his thin pale lips.
"Yeah?"
"Wanna go in? We can make coffee and watch some documentaries on Netflix?"
Connor nods, approaching his boyfriend of three years and intertwining their frozen fingers.
I will tell you I love you But the muffs on your ears will cater your fears My nose and feet are running as we start To travel through snow Together we go Together we go - -
Oh, Ms Believer, my pretty weeper Your twisted thoughts are like snow on the rooftops Please, take my hand, we're in foreign land As we travel through snow Together we go
Troye soothes some of Connors hair as he lays on his side, his hands tucked under his head and his knees bent as he sleeps on the couch soundly.
After coming inside, they made it half way through the movie before Connor flopped over and fell asleep in his Carmel colored turtle neck and a pair of tight black jeans.
Troye can tell he's getting a fever, his foreheads hot and his body shaking, but he leaves him there to sleep, watching him take in deep breaths peacefully.
It hurts to see the sadness that wears him down constantly, and even more so to see him hide it. Troye knows this is more than just him, more than just their jobs at the local newspaper, and more than their little cabin in the coldest part of Canada.
It's Connor himself, it's his body, his heart, and his mind. And Troye can't do a damn thing to help him. It has to start and end with him.
But what scares Troye is the possibility of Connor not being able to end it when all of his energy is being used to start.
We get colder As we grow older We will walk So much slower
-x-
idk what this was but I hey hello hru guys
here's a gif:
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