Blue House | Tronnor

Chapter 18, Troye POV

"Will you give me a chance to explain?" I asked, holding my breath. Connor hesitated, fiddling with his fingers in his lap. He seemed to be teetering on a wall, trying to decide which way to fall. I didn't move for fear of pushing him over the edge. "Alright," he said softly, then looked up at me, his eyes hardening. "But it had better be good," he warned, and I nodded mutely. After a moment of awkward, uncomfortable silence, I began my story. I started with Edsta, saying how he abused me and how it was a forced relationship, then moved on to the album. I loved Blue Neighbourhood, it was like my baby (he interjected to say that Common Culture was his baby), and that I loved touring and being on stage as well as meeting fans. I talked about how I had missed him, and how I missed all of my friends on tour. When I was done speaking, he simply sat there, then asked, "What about Jacob?" I blinked

Jacob?

"Wait... do you think that Jacob and I are like, a thing?" I asked, shocked. He nodded miserably, then muttered, "Everyone ships Tracob now."

I tried to cover it up, I really did. But, try as I might, it still escaped.

I snorted, a huge laugh erupting from my lungs, oozing out of my mouth. I doubled over, shaking with hysteria, tears leaking out of my eyes.

"Ja-Jacob and I are ju" I gasped, cracking up halfway through my sentence. Connor looked at me like I was insane, slowly scooting away from me on the bed, a look of hurt painted across his green eyes. I composed myself, trying to supress the smile that kept darting across my face.

Jacob and I. Ha.

"No Connah, Jacob and I are just friends. I know it seems unlikely," I said quickly, seeing the dubious look on his face, "but trust me. We may both be gay, however our relationship is the most platonic thing out there."

"Ok. I'm sorry to hear about Edsta, but the way," said Connor timidly. The smile that crossed my face was humorless and monotone, and I said in a flat voice, "It's ok. I'm over being pushed around and told that I suck everyday." He swallowed, a look of raw pain on his face, then softly whispered, "I wish I could be over that, too."

I could almost feel my heart shattering into a million fractals for him, cracking like ice and then breaking apart. I thought back on all the times in the past few hours that his face had seemed happy--how could I have been so blind? I could see now that his face was a mask of happiness, but it was flawed and there were holes in the mask. And underneath the mask was a face full of pain and self hatred, and I knew exactly how that felt. The little voices inside of your head, whispering messages written in scarlet ink from little slips of paper known as insecurities. I knew how it all felt, and my whole being ached for Connor. Connor was sweet, and kind, and deserved to be happy.

"You can," I murmured quietly, then louder again when he looked up at me. "You CAN!" I was almost shouting now, so I lowered my volume a few notches.
"Connor, you deserve to be happy," I said, and he shook his head. "No," he muttered angrily, looking at a spot on the floor.

"I don't."