adjacent ➵ tronnor

awkward

Connor's pacing in the hallway — the one outside his and Troye's doors — working up the courage to just knock on Troye's door; it's such a small, irrelevant thing at the end of the day, but he somehow can't bring himself to do it. Taking everything into account, including his abrupt exit and the texts and the drink, he can't help but let his nerves swallow him whole, consuming his entire existence.

He doesn't think he's ever been so clueless in his life before about anything (and that's saying something, because he's sat countless exams where he's known fuck all on the paper), and it's literally just a door. A completely not intimidating, simple door, its sole purpose to be knocked on, and Connor can't do it.

He lifts a hand up, forcing himself to do it, but it drops weakly by his side once more along with a defeated sigh. What will he say? He can't possibly try and talk to him without knowing what to say.

"Hey, I know you did nothing wrong and I ignored you for a few days and I have no idea how to express any emotion whatsoever besides lamely moping about like a pathetic GI Joe, but how would you feel about dating me?"

Yeah... that doesn't seem like it's going to get him anywhere.

But, similarly, neither is standing aimlessly outside in the familiar hallway to Troye's apartment — quite literally at that: he's not going anywhere standing still. It's almost as if he's paralysed to the spot, now; he's not even pacing about anymore, in unsteady, rapid motions laced with stress and a gut-twisting sense of worriedness. He's just staring at the door as if doing nothing will get him somewhere.

And accordingly so, he does go somewhere. He turns quick on his heel and opens the door to his own apartment, slamming it shut more loudly than he'd have liked to. He leans back against it, sliding down so he's sitting on the floor, and lets out a profound groan.

Why did he let himself do that? Here he is, complaining that he like likes Troye, that he wants to date him, that he doesn't want to let him go, and yet when the opportunity comes to secure a relationship, he lets it go and just... wimps out. Connor isn't usually all that fond of self-deprecation, though as of lately it seems like he can't stop putting himself down.

And it's all because of one crush. One stupid, goddamned crush that likely won't even matter in five years (God knows Connor can't commit to anything for extended periods of time. Not that he doesn't want to — it's just that for some unbeknownst reason, he can't). It's not even that important, and it's not worth the painstaking thought Connor is giving it. It's not as if he's proposing, or asking him to move in, or even meeting his parents — it's an apology, and perhaps a date if all goes well.

Connor is an idiot.

He stands up again, smooths out his shirt, and strides out his door again, closing it much quieter this time. He takes a sharp intake of breath, steadies himself. Knock, knock, knock, he goes, in a dumb, uneven sort of tune.

Troye opens it, rolling his eyes in what Connor hopes is a fond way. "So do you want me to pretend like I don't know that this is your second time trying to do this, or...?" he asks, tone amused yet with a serious edge to it.

"How did you—"

"Heard you pacing in the hallway, then the door slam. You know, you should really work on your subtlety," Troye answers before he even finishes asking the question.

"Oh..." Connor tenses, blush spreading across his cheeks. "Yeah, you— you're probably right."

Troye gestures vaguely towards the inside of his dwelling. He says, as if he wasn't aware of what Connor's answer would be, "Do you wanna come in?"

"Sure."