hey so um I'm reading Connor's book atm and I really like it. I didn't really know Connor that well before, but now that I'm learning more about him, he's probably going to be in the fanfiction a lot more. ok carry on 🌸
~Tyler's POV~
"I'm coming home with you."
"Excuse me, what?"
"You heard me. I'm coming home with you and we're going to talk, Tyler."
"Maybe I don't want to talk to you" I mutter, refusing to look at him.
"We need to talk about what happened in Florence" he seems to get choked up "please."
"Fine" I mutter, letting Connor Franta in my car. This little twink is not the one I want in my life. I want my little twink, Troye Sivan. We're currently at LAX, and we just happened to take the same flight home. Con's been so different since everything. The only time I've ever seen someone as broken as him, was when I used to look in the mirror.
"What do you want to talk about so bad, anyway?" I question as I begin to drive out. I hate LA traffic. It causes me to grow tense, and that's really not helping, considering the conversation we're about to have.
"You know what" he retaliates bitterly "Duncan. And Troye."
"Duncan I guess I get, but what the hell does Troye have to do with anything? He's in a fucking asylum right now, so I'd really prefer not to talk about him" I mutter, my voice wavering. Not going to lose it in front of him; I reuse to.
"We can't tell Troye. If he's got these underlying issues that have put him in the hospital, we can't tell him the gory details about what happened" Connor says slowly.
"You think I'm stupid? I wouldn't fucking tell Troye, or anyone, the details." I roll my eyes as we stop behind eight or nine vehicles.
"I need to get it out, Ty. And I thought, y'know, since you've been through it, you'd understand. And you'd help me. I'm ready to function now, and I want to work at being a better version of myself" he says, almost like he's thinking out every individual word to say to me.
"That's what therapy's for" I mutter under my breath "but okay. Fine. I know how you feel. And hell, if there was someone to listen to me all those years ago, I would have talked about it too."
"Just-" I start, biting my lip "don't talk about it in the car. Wait until we get back to my place. So I can-process it."
"Okay" he breathes "sorry."
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As we reach my apartment, I notice Connor is very hesitant to make himself at home. He stands in my doorway the longest time, until I eventually say "get in here, twink." He then sits down on my couch, nervously fumbling with his fingers.
"Want some coffee?" I question, waltzing into my kitchen.
"Y-yes, that'd be nice. Thanks" he says slowly. I'm surprised he's letting me make it, considering how Duncan tricked him by making him drinks. But, I mean, he trusts me; he has no reason not to.
