Blue House | Tronnor

Chapter 16, Troye POV

I stepped off the plane, still thinking about all the people that I had seen on tour. I could hardly believe that many people would want to see me live, let alone follow through and actually buy a ticket. I felt pretty cute today with my dark skinny jeans and maroon sweatshirt, but my sweatshirt reminded me of something that I couldn't quite place my finger on. Then it hit me--I looked a bit like Connor. He had a maroon sweatshirt, and used to wear it often. Of course, I hadn't seen him in a long time, so he could have definitely changed. I still felt horrible about the Edsta incident, but I had tried calling and texting him many times. I had given up when I got a new phone and new number, not even bothering to keep his contact. I walked through the brisk Brighton air, grabbing my luggage and heading towards the exit. My eyes scanned over the crowd, finally settling on a cluster of people that looked roughly my age. They were standing in a cluster, and I peered closer to make sure it was them. It was. A grin appeared on my face and I ran towards them (which says something because I never exercise, and I was dragging a suitcase) in an clumsy, bumbling manner.

"Lads lads lads lads lads!" I shouted, snapping my fingers at them. They turned, and Alfie tackled me, whooping in excitement. Tyler covered his face with his hands and laughed loudly, complaining about how I gave him a heart attack. I was hugged from all sides, but the only person I really noticed was him. He stood back awkwardly, away from me and the crowd. His hair was curly now, like mine, and it draped over his forehead in a brown wave. I noticed the little piece of hair on the left side of his head that didn't cooperate. I noticed how he was blushing. I noticed his yawn, and I noticed how under his large Common Culture sweatshirt he was thin and looked weak. I noticed the bags under his eyes, and the sad air about him. I noticed how he flinched away from the slightest noise or touch. What had happened to him? I approached him and leaned in, pulling him close but not too close. Even though it was a quick hug, I could feel how his once muscular frame had shrunk. It seemed like he simply didn't have as much flesh anymore. "Troye! I didn't know you were coming! I'm so happy you're here. I've missed you so much. How do you like being on tour? Is it scary? I imagine it's a bit like Vidcon... We're so proud of you!" Zoe rushed, running into my arms last. I smiled and buried my face in her shoulder, relieved to feel the dull ache I had felt the whole time I was on tour slowly begin to fade. I answered her questions one by one as we walked slowly back to the car and drove back to the Zalfie household.

It was around dinnertime when we got back, so we all lounged around, snacking and bantering like the old friends that we were. Although we were offscreen, we did various YouTube challenges just for fun. Joe and Zoe, of course, always won, as they were seemingly good at everything. Joe won the chubby bunny challenge, and Zoe (obviously) won the blind makeup challenge (suggested by Tyler, who got very into it and ended up grabbing a mirror just to look 'fierce'). After said challenges, the majority of us lounged around and watched films while Zoe, Alfie and Joe built a fort that I would probably end up sleeping in as we would be too lazy to take it down. The benefits of sleeping in the living room. Which I was, of course, sleeping in the living room. People gradually started to drift off at 12, and the last person (Tyler) left at 1 am, leaving me to grab my computer and crawl into the fort that the Suggs and Alfie had built. Time for my nightly Tumblr browse until I couldn't stay awake.

It was two thirty in the morning when my laptop died. I sat in the fort on the cushions, twisting the bottom of my white cotton shirt, feeling the anxious bubbles rise up inside of me. Abruptly, I crawled out of the tent and into the room that I remembered Connor walking into. I didn't know why, but my impulse pushed me to talk to him. We had barely spoken all day. I knocked, and after waiting for almost a minute still got no reply. I cracked the door open, whispering, "Connor?" 

Silence.

 My eyes swept over the dark room, adjusting slowly. A vase lay on the floor in the middle of the room, smashed to pieces. That's when my heart started beating rapidly, thumping faster than ever before. I scanned the floor, my eyes fixing on a thin sliver of light. A doorway, maybe? I tiptoed slowly forward, making sure I didn't step on any shards of broken glass. My hand brushed against the door, pushing it open slowly. My eyes took a second to readjust to the bright light, but when I could see, I wished I was dreaming. Connor sat on the floor, the heels of his hands pressed firmly against his temples. Blood ran from various cuts on his wrists and forearms. His hair was a soppy mess, and his breathing was loud and hitched, laced with shaky hiccups. His green eyes were red and puffy, and he was hunched over against the wall. Without a moment of hesitation I knelt next to him, then stood again and grabbed a washcloth, dipping it under cold water. He flinched away from me, but I shushed him and squatted down beside his thin frame. Gently, I grabbed his hands and wiped the blood away, staining the clean white cloth with terracotta spots. I wrapped his lower forearms in ace bandages after applying numbing ointments from various cupboards in the bathroom. It was then that I realized he was unconscious, or at least asleep. At some point in my process, he had slipped away from reality. Great, he can't  spend the night on the floor, I thought to myself. I had to get him to the bed. Although he was scrawny right now from what I now assumed was not eating enough and not getting exercise, he was still a great deal larger than me, and I didn't know if I could get him safely to the bed. Might as well give it a shot! One of my hands went behind his back, the other hand under his knees. I lifted, grunting, and staggered out of the doorway of the bathroom, shaking from the strain. The bed, go to the bed, I though. My feet carried my three steps and collapsed, barely making it to the bed, carefully laying him down. Shutting the main door quietly, I turned on a small lamp, extinguishing all other light. I crawled onto the bed in front of him, our toes touching, and waited in the silence.

When I looked up, his green eyes were staring back at me. His hand moved to claw at the fresh bandages on his wrists, but I reached out and grabbed his hands, shaking my head. I looked at him from under my lashes and whispered, "Don't." He closed his eyes again, stopping the struggle. I watched his shoulders move up and down with each breath, then moved my eyes up to his face. My eyes studied his brown hair, his sharp jawline, and his chiseled cheekbones. I rolled forward on the balls of my feet until I was kneeling face to face with him, my knees in between his. I pulled Connor close to me, burying his face in my shoulder. At first he stayed limp, but then slowly hugged me back, sighing softly. I felt his steady heartbeat through his thin ribs. Under all the despair and anguish he was feeling, his heart kept beating. I felt his muscles, all tensed up, start to relax as I rubbed my hands gently up and down his back and whispered quiet things to him as he had done to me during my panic attacks. I ran my fingers through his wet, sweet smelling hair. His right hand fell behind him, supporting us and dripping a little bit of blood onto his sheets, his left hand clutching my shoulder. He trembled a little as I held him tighter, starting to sway a tiny bit. I breathed into his hoodie and whispered, "I've got you." I drew my head back to see a tear trace down his cheek, and I wiped it away carefully with my thumb. "It's ok. You're alright," I murmured to Connor, laying him down so he was flat on his back. I gently pulled the sheets over him, running my hand over his cheek. I inhaled heavily and stood, turning to go. "Wait..." he whispered. I barely caught it, but he spoke. "Yes?" I replied softly, turning back to him. His pale face was tinted with a tiny touch of red against the pillow, as he swallowed. "Connor?" I persisted. He took a shuddery breath and asked in a barely audible voice; "Stay?" I nodded, padding over to the bed and sitting down beside him. To my pleasant surprise, he snuggled up to me, resting his head on my lap. I blinked, then smiled, twirling my fingers through his curls and closing my eyes. Then I opened my mouth and softly began to sing.