The Boy Upstairs /tronnor/

four

Troye

I can not believe he just did that. 

My heart monitor beeps rapidly, but I know that the only reason my heart rate is up is because of him. I bite my lip anyways, not being able to suppress my smile. I check my phone for the time, and see Connor has already texted me. I open the notification eagerly.

Conbon: Had fun tonight, Sivan.

Me: Right back atcha, Franta.

Conbon: Same place, same time, tomorrow?

Me: Sounds like a date :)

Conbon: Sure does :)

I put my phone on my bedside table and turn my music on, drifting off into a dream as "Drive" by Oh Wonder softly trickles out of my speaker.

I open my eyes and I'm not in my bed anymore, but I'm on the beach. I'm out of my hospital gown too, I'm in jeans and my favorite jumper. As I begin to wonder how I got here, I become mesmerized by the gorgeous sunset in front of me. The sky is a brilliant orange-pink, and I am hypnotized by the beauty of it.

"Pretty, huh?" I recognize the sudden voice beside me as the mystical Connor Franta, and turn to see him next to me. He smiles at me as I survey his ensemble. Jeans and a white t-shirt that seems to be glowing as if he isn't earthly, but an angel. He smiles, sensing my worry. "Don't worry, silly. We haven't reached the end, yet. This is all just a dream." He holds my hand and pulls me to the water, and as the tide rises, I feel the cool water against my feet. "See? You're just imagining things. All just a dream."

"A dream, hmm?" I suddenly recognize this beach as the one my family used to come to when I was younger, before the breathing problems started. "God, I've missed this beach."

"I haven't been to a beach in forever."  Connor inhales deeply through his nose, his soft lips curving into a gentle smile as the strong scent of salt water hits him. "It smells beautiful here, doesn't it?"

"It looks beautiful too." I mutter, but I'm only looking at Connor. Everything else seems to have faded away.

"What are you smiling at me about, silly?" Connor looks at me, and I know this is my one and only shot. Connor's eyes suddenly grow full of understanding, and his face turns beet red. We each bite our lips, tilting our heads and leaning in to finally let our lips meet and get acquainted...

"Troye?" My doctor shouts, alarmed, waking me up. My heart sinks. Why did he have to wake me up tonight?

"W-What?" I whisper, nearly letting out a scream at the sharp pain in my lungs. My heart monitor is beeping like crazy.

"Your lungs are gaining liquid again, we have to get you intubated to drain the fluid."

"Shit." I gasp as I feel a sharp pain in my side, one of the interns, whose name I blank on, stabs me with a needle to numb my skin. "Is it bad?"

"Not as bad as the first time, but pretty close. Can you rate your pain for me right now, on a scale of one to ten?"

I groan loudly, nearly screaming, as the tube gets inserted into my side. "An eight." I let out a whimper, reaching out and clutching my phone for dear life. 

My mom comes running in, Tyde by her side, both of them looking sleep deprived. The poor things. I hate doing this to them.

"Mom." Is all I breathe out, taking deep breaths as the pain begins to subside. I hit the morphine button a few times as the warm drugs enter my system and I begin to not feel the pain anymore.

"Hi, hi sweetie." My mom smiles, Tyde just standing there, tears in his eyes.

"Mom, what's happening to me? Am I gonna die?"

But then I realized how stupid of a question that was. As stupid as why is the sky blue? or a small child repeatedly asking but why not? when his parents won't give him a second chocolate chip cookie for lunch. Of course the sky is blue, of course the kid isn't going to get what he wants. Of course I'm going to die. It's all just common sense. 

Still, either way, my mother pats my shoulder lovingly and I take in a sharp breath as the doctors poke me with more needles. It's as if she doesn't know that I'm going to meet my demise far before she does. Far before my father or Steele, or Sage, or even Tyde. She doesn't even need to tell me. I'm 18. I already know this year might be my last.

"No, Tokky." My mother's choked up voice is all I hear before the morphine begins to put me to sleep. "No, you aren't going to die."