"Okay okay give me a sec." Troye says between laughs, the grass grazing his shoulders as he sits in front of Connor with a lovesick smile and a ukulele.
Lovesick. That's what they are.
"Hurryyyy." Connor whines and Troye clears his throat.
"Okay here it goes...
I was alone for a while, you came along and asked for a smile. I guess then the stars aligned, a flower bloomed, the clouds were rushing out of my mind..."
His voice is honey, sweet sticky honey coating Connor in butterflies and promise. They aren't quite dating, nowhere near friends, but Troyes song made just for him speaks more than any label could.
Its summer and they're hiding in there favorite place in town, a field of tall grass and wondrous flowers. Troyes hopeful eyes look up from his ukulele to Connors wonder struck ones.
"Is it okay?" Connor gasps.
"Perfect." With that Troye grins, putting his instrument aside and kissing Connors cheek.
He turns and runs, spinning through the sunflowers. It takes a bit for Connor to react, his hand placed over his check to reserve the heat from Troyes lips.
Then with a quickness he stands, searching the field until his eyes land on Troye. He stands a few paces away, his head bowed and his eyes insecure as he holds out a giant sunflower.
It withers under the heat of the sun and Connor realizes that the flower is him.
His mind travels back to his mother's sweet words spoken softly when he'd told her of the boy with a lazy smile and a ukulele.
"That's how it always is Con, just like the films. The boy meets the girl and they go off to beat the world. In your case it's different but not by much, just remember that lovesick boys will write you love songs and you'll always listen, but don't fail to see that there are plenty of lovesick boys with ukuleles, so keep your petals pointed to the sun and bloom."
Troye holds the flower out, his eyes now wide.
"For you."
And Connor knows that Troye has charm, baby blue eyes and chocolate curls, but he hurts like crazy.
Sometimes he feels like Troyes a thunderstorm, ruining his chance of survival, raining for days on end and cutting off his source of sunlight.
He's a dying flower in an empty field and Troye is the dry soil. His mother's warning doesn't go unnoticed but Troyes eyes are now only inches in front of his, sunset lips almost touching his own.
"Is this okay?" And he wants to say no because there's other ukulele playing, soft lip brushing boys out there who won't take Connors light, but he doesn't. He runs head first into the hurricane because the thrill trumps the risk.
"Y-yes."
And then his lips, lips lit with the fire of a dying sun, open against Connors making him dizzy.
Then slim cloudy hands grab his green-stem hips, pulling him closer while his petal hands rest on Troyes cheeks.
It burns, it hurts, Connor wants out. But at the same time the taste of Troyes tongue and the feeling over his saliva mixing with his own sends him down a long lonely street he doesn't want to stray from.
Their noses brush, Troyes curls tangle with Connors flat sandy hair and thunder claps. Troye groans.
Every sense in Connors body is set on fire, cutting his steam short and forcing him closer and closer to extinction.
He wants to break away, to run and find another source of sunlight- maybe even be his own- but the grip on his hips and way Troye pulls at his bottom lip with his candy cane teeth makes him stand still.
And Connor wonders if this is the calm before the storm, or if he's stuck in the center of one.
-
IM STARTING A NEW BOOK AND ITS GRRAT HERES THE COVER (idk when it's coming out tbh)
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