watchful eyes (tronnor)

twenty five; the end of the daylight and the king

lmao i couldn't leave you on a happy note

connor holds lana's hands.

her fingers are ice cold.

"my father has a new job."

"what - what does that mean? for you?" ("for us" is unspoken.)

"i'm moving."

"w-where?"

"far, far, away, con. does it matter?" (he does not answer.) "california." (it is a whisper. neither want to break the silence and neither want to break the glass that is their relationship today.)

"what does it mean for us?"

connor refuses to cry when the door closes and lana leaves for the last time.

(watercolor tears drip away anyways. the worst part is that somewhere deep inside of him there are blue and white feelings of relief, and they bleed through his skin and paint him gold.)

lana does not cry and her eyes burn orange with the dryness of her sorrow.

they are a bleeding sunset that has been pixelated and split into connor and lana instead of connorandlana. they are white sands against bloody moons. everything and nothing. yes, they are nothing and everything, but they are mostly nothing. 

and now there is not even a "they". 

there is only a lonely king.