watchful eyes (tronnor)

five; the tears of the cursed

sorry for the lack of updates i had them written but got distracted from publishing them because hamilton. anyways, back to normal updating schedule. (thanks for sticking with this)

the day that bethany is found tangled in the bedsheets of ryan is one of the worst days of troye's life.

the day is dark and blue and gray and angry; drums and guitars and filters over rough and raspy voices. connor is soaked in rain that burns his eyes like acid tears and troye is trying to write away the knowledge that connor is with bethany instead of him. the words aren't right, though - they are wet and angry and angsty and they are not worthy of the memory of connor pressed to bethany, because troye may hate the thought of it but there is no way he can deny that they are beautiful. he can not deny that they seem to be made for each other, even if he chokes on the thought and he tries not to throw up the syllables and he tries to push away the letters.

it becomes much easier to push away the words when connor's tears become rain on troye's front porch.

they are wrapped in each other and connor is shattered glass in the pouring rain: dripping tears and angry thunder crashing against metal skies and sunlight glimmering like gold in the midst of clear water. connor is tangled in twisted arteries and troye is drowning in flooded organs but they are together, intertwined as raindrops and pressed together like ironing boards and frayed stitches.

connor is hurting because bethany was everything and he was nothing. connor, "connor, baby, con," connor, is a broken heart and he is torn muscle tissue and bruised bones and internal bleeding. he has cracks spreading like spiderwebs to which troye and bethany are the spiders, one tearing him apart and one holding him together.

bethany knows to come to troye's house first, because they are nail and hammer and this is the first place that connor would have come (everyone seems to realize this, except for troye and connor). connor is still stuck between troye's steady breathing and quilts and fuzzy blankets and his ocean eyes are almost dry. bethany is pressing repeat on his tears with each ring of the doorbell and troye could kill her for what she did, he really, really, could. he could make her bleed in the way that connor's heart is bleeding and he could rip up her veins in the same patterns as the cracks in connor's fragile state of mind. her insistent knocking is a curse upon troye's brain and her tears are nothing but rain to him.

connor curls in on himself and so troye tells bethany to get the fuck out, but he does not hurt her, because connor hates the sight of blood.

connor officially breaks up with bethany the next day, with troye's hand in his and a quilt tossed around them like a blanket fort of safety.

connor cries, and troye holds him, and pulls the quilt over the backs of two chairs so they can lay under it. the lights above shine through the squares of color like galaxies and troye creates constellations for connor and the two boys manage to smile.