adjacent ➵ tronnor

anguish

A quiet, tentative sounding knock can be heard from Connor's living room at perhaps 6PM, while he's busy deciding which takeout to order from (he's in one of those unfortunate 'too lazy to cook' moods which he despises with a burning passion — he'd very much like to be productive, thank you very much!), and he instantly knows who it is: Troye. After all, Lilly never knocks (she has her own key), and who else, besides maybe his family, who only ever visit once in a blue moon, would want to come inside?

He stands up slowly, but walks to the door rapidly, flinging it open quite carelessly. "Troye," he greets, after his suspicions are found to be correct. Connor smiles widely, but it falters when he notices the panicked expression on the boy's face. "Are you OK?" he asks gingerly, a slightly brooding look on his face. He gestures lamely towards the inside of his apartment, "Come in."

They sit adjacent on Connor's couch, little distance between the two. Connor can feel his heartbeat in his ears, thump, thump, thump.

"I—" Troye starts, sighs. "I have to tell you something. Or, rather, you supposedly have something to tell me." Well, that doesn't sound particularly promising. Connor's stomach twists unpleasantly out of nervousness.

"What do you mean?" Connor asks, confusion washing over him.

"Never mind," Troye says. "It's hard to explain."

Connor notes, "Judging by the look on your face, I don't think I'm going to like this, am I?" Troye shakes his head. "Great," he mutters sarcastically. "Get it over with, I guess."

Troye looks at him hesitantly. "You like me, don't you?" he blurts out, blunt as ever. Connor's heart stutters. Shit. He freezes, does a double take. Was he that obvious? Well, Lilly and Ricky had both picked up on it, and likely Troye's friends, too, so he's clearly not the most discreet person in the world, but still. He thought he had everything under control, thought he was managing his feelings well enough, but apparently not.

"How did you—" he starts, emerald eyes wide, but is cut off.

"Lilly told me," he confesses. His heart sinks. What? "Last night. She knocked on my door, and at first I was all 'oh, shit, not her again', but then she started rambling on about you, you and me, you liking me, and I was so confused but then it all made sense and I was happy and all but then I felt so bad for having found out without — I presume — your permission, and I just," he pauses, breathes, "I just had to see you. I'm sorry."

Connor doesn't know what to think. Instead, he makes a shitty, haphazard joke out of the situation: "that was probably the longest sentence to ever be spoken in human history."

Troye glowers at him. "Take this seriously, will you? I just announced that your best friend went behind your back, for fuck's sake! React properly."

"I wasn't aware that there was a proper way to react when you're told that—"

"Connor."

"I'm sorry, OK? I don't know how to react. It's just— it's so overwhelming, I can't deal with it. With her. With you. With me." He hangs his head in shame, fiddling with the bottom hem of his hoodie. "And you don't need to be sorry, either. It's not your fault. It's Lilly's." He tries not to grit his teeth together as he speaks her name. Either that, or cry.

"Oh," Troye says simply. "But can I ask you something?"

Connor looks up, raises an eyebrow. He doesn't see how one more question could make this situation any worse than it already feels, so fuck it, he thinks. "Sure."

"Where do we go from here?"

Well, clearly he thought too soon.