watchful eyes (tronnor)

twenty three; the reflection in the mirror is not a king, but a fool

question: if a tree falls in a forest, and no one is there to hear it, does it really make a noise?

connor stared at himself in the mirror.

he looked the same way that he always did, his eyes like trees and his skin like white sand, but he did not feel the same way that he always did.

connor shut his eyes.

lana's face swam in front of him, her voice like piano notes and her fingers like the dying notes of a song on the violin. troye's face joined her, and he was like the sun and the ocean. he was all the colors of the rainbow dripping down the canvas; his smile was a thousand suns.

(lana may be the stars, but troye will always be the sun. problem is, one cannot get too close to the sun for fear of being burned.)

i am broken

in the blackness of his closed eyelids, nicholas had his lips pressed to troye's cheek and troye was laughing. a rose blush spread across his cheek like the sunset falling onto the glittering ocean. connor thought of the smile in troye's voice when he called the night before. he thought of the heart pink and the sun yellow and the olympic gold that thread through his words.

connor's reflection smiled, but it did not feel like him.

in his mind's eye, lana laughed.

she is whole

her hands itched for amelia wood's soft skin and ember red lips. connor was not ignorant of that fact, but if lana would not mention it, then connor would not. he could still feel the taste of her lips on his when she she said goodbye to him after school. he smiled when he thought of her, but his stomach seemed to turn when their lips touched. (he bet that when troye's lips had met nicholas', he had not felt sick.) lana and connor held hands and his mother's smile felt right, but lana's fingers burned. his hands yearn for something that lana cannot give, and they both know it.

her laugh still echoes in his ears and the sound is a ringing white, pure and innocent and nothing. she means everything, yet nothing at all. her laugh is white and connor's tears are red, cold and hard and angry and hidden. bright and hidden and unseen.

troye is not broken

connor opens his eyes and does not look at his reflection when he leaves the bathroom. the boy in the mirror does not feel like him. nothing feels like him. he is an oragami nothing, folded into an invisible boy who does not think and cannot exist.

i am nothing

the reflection does not exist if he is not there to see it.

nothing

(the imagined taste of troye's lips does not exist if he does not think about it.)

answer: no.