Based off of I'll hold your hand by grace vanderwaal
Poetry slams have always been Connors own version of wonderland. His note pad is a warm greeting and his words are the antidote to all sicknesses. So that's where he stands now, on the stage of another slam in his best jeans, ready to share his emotions.
Only this time it isn't on social justice or his mother, but Troye his best friend. And hopefully more after tonight. He looks out at the crowd anxiously as they fidget in their seats waiting for him to begin. He spots Troye sitting on a stool in the back who gives a thumbs up.
Connor takes a breath.
"My name is Connor and this is for my best friend." He can see Troyes eyes widen.
"You think that you know my heart, and you probably do, which is why I'm always with you." The crowd smiles fondly and Connor shuffles a bit. "I can remember when your hand first touched mine in middle school and the first word that came to my head was keep. The second being mine and the third being where has his hand been." Everyone laughs and Troye grins delightfully as Connor becomes more comfortable on stage.
"Fast forward to high school and you've become more supportive than the literal stage under my feet, my other half. Every curl on top of your head another reason to smile. Sometimes I wonder if I could count all the strands but I imagine if I could I'd still have more reasons than even that to love you."
A single tear rolls down Troyes cheek and Connor blushes as they make eye contact.
"And now in college you're still what makes me laugh, what makes me smile, what pulls me back up when I fall down. And to this day I swear something inside of you is triggering. Something inside of you forms a physical hand that pushes through my rib cage and up through my chest to clasp onto my heart and tug.
Maybe it's the gentle touches or maybe it's the fact that you've been to every one of my poetry slams no matter how many ugly metaphors I use. Ugly metaphors that even when they're not about you, are about you.
Whether they originated from the spot on your bed I've claimed as mine or my desk chair where I spend most of my time wondering why you still put up with me, they still come from the ever present thought of well, you.
Which is contradicting as you are anything but ugly, so beautiful in fact sometimes I wonder why you're not the face of every magazine sold in all the world, why your eyes aren't the color that makes up the galaxies why when you touch me I see stars." Connor laughs nervously as he looks back to his feet. This is the moment. He reminds himself that Troye and he aren't the only ones in the room.
"You're a beautiful thing, we're a beautiful thing together. Our skin painting memories onto each other's bodies, your sweaters making stories out of the red tint of my cheeks when you call me angel or baby or honey or virtually anything besides Connor. Or maybe even that too." He laughs again, this time more carelessly. "In fact, if we were to fight I'd be pretty bad because you know all of my secrets. But to be fair I know all of yours too.
We turn hours into seconds together, you are my literal forever and there's something I need to admit even as my heart feels ready to split, and I'm rhyming now because when I'm nervous my mouth freaks out, but you know that don't you? So here it goes, my boy oh so cute, I love you more than a friend and Tro, I hope you do too."
Connor keeps his eyes trained on the ground for a second longer until the crowd erupts into cheer. His eyes search for Troye but he's missing from his spot in the back and he feels as if he could cry but just then a familiar pair of hands turn him to the side to face said boy.
"Troye-" He's cut off by the clashing of lips, Troyes hands settle on his face and Connors wrap around his waist greedily. Finally he thinks but instead of speaking he focuses more on the way Troye tastes of never having to wait again.
Troye pulls away then, smiling brightly at Connor as he sighs.
"I've been waiting so damn long for this." Connor laughs.
"Me too."
"Come on, let's go home." He bathes in the way home sounds more like heaven than heaven does and the fact that Troye wants him to be there. That's when he hears the cheering that as only gotten louder.
Red faced, he turns to the mic.
"I'm Connor and that was for my boyfriend."
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tHIS WAS FLUFF DID U LIKE IT I HOPE U DID
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