blue | a collection of tronnor oneshots

symphonies

heat. heat that comes from the source of a sunburn on a boys back. a warm sensation that, if he was wearing one, would be able to radiate through the fabric of his shirt.

freckles blending into the redness of careless fun, skin burning as the science teacher plays another history show.

backwards. it's backwards for a smart boy to sit in the back of a dark class with a boy not so smart as science is taught through history and three question quizzes.

boys in love with boys and girls in love with boys who love girls who also only really care for long hair and big breast. backwards.

heat. heat that takes physical form as it wraps around the hands, nimble hands, of another boy who wishes to relieve the pain of someone he loves.

heat of the passion he has as he rubs the tender skin, making it burn as much as it feels nice but he doesn't stop because the way Connors head rolls back and his eyes close let's him know it's worth it.

cherish. not a name of a distant relative who smokes cigarettes and has three kids but what Connor does with Troye because you can never be too grateful for someone.

the way he walks, the way he comforts, the way he kisses. the patterns his hands draw onto sore skin and the way his lips sometimes make contact as well. cherish.

heat. the bright red that leeks into the cheeks of both boys when the teacher yells for Connor to put his shirt back on. everyone's eyes burning into them as they giggle nervously.

Connors hands brushing Troyes where he sits behind him, Troyes hands skimming his thigh.

distance. the steps they take when parting for another class, the way Connor counts them as Troye chooses to ignore their existence completely.

distance as in Troye going to Australia for summer break and coming back different.

no more back rubs, no more counting steps, and skimming legs. his hands are thicker as his lanky forms now buffer.

inferior, the way Connor feels when he realizes he's the exact same as when they parted. the way he'd counted down to the day of his return only for him to lock his front door with strict orders to his mother to not come in.

inferior, the way Troye feels when the boys back home tease him and push him around for becoming like one of them. not only is he gay but he sounds like an American too. inferior.

heat, the anger Connor feels when Troye doesn't speak to him for a week after returning. heat is Connor climbing up to his window without worrying if he looks weird for doing it.

banging on the glass and pushing inside when Troye opens it.

soft. Troyes voice as he tells Connor that if he's going to barge in at midnight than the least he can do is whisper.

soft is the way Troye tries to comfort him for the first time with a simple hand on the arm only for Connor to push him away.

harsh. harsh is Connors words as he silently yells as him for breaking his heart that's full of nothing but his name written in tragedy.

Connors fist flying as Troye says he wasn't doing it 'on purpose'. his tears falling as Troyes eyes widen. harsh.

heat. the hot blood that drips one single drop from Troyes plump, pink lips. lips sent from god to Connor to caress and to hurt him.

the equally as hot tears that Troye collects from Connors face with said lips after the single drop of blood is wiped onto his fingers. fingers no longer nimble. they don't fit with Connors like they used too.

"angel? I'm sorry okay?"

fear- Troye telling Connor he didn't want him to see the parts of him that those boys had changed. that he was afraid of disappointing. afraid that if he saw he was different that he'd want to leave.

"never."

forgiveness. laying in bed and crying happy, sad and tired tears as Connor starts the long journey of relearning his best friend. as they start the process of molding back together in a perfect stream of symphonies.
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THIS BOOK HIT 100K ??? IM HONESTLY SO THANKFUL FOR YOU GUYS THANK YOU SO MUCH

ily all and I hope you liked my 100k reads chap!

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