watchful eyes (tronnor)

thirty six; bruises (half beats and melodies) and kisses (purple and blue)

troye has a bruise on the back on his arm, one that he's not quite sure where it came from. it's purple and blue and it only hurts when he presses on it.

troye is so, so, in love with connor. he's not always sure why and he's not always sure he wants to be. actually, most of the time he's sure he does not want to be. loving connor hurts and becomes piano songs and violin compositions whether he means it too or not, and it hurts whether or not he thinks about it.

it's always in the back of his mind, hurting, pressing, pushing against the paper thin bounds of his heart and it's always pulling at the strings that hold his skeleton together. bones and strings and blood and love for connor.

troye is starting to think that that's all that makes him up.

bones and strings and blood and love.

at some point, he realizes that he got the bruise the day that connor kissed him. he slammed his arm against the doorframe when he was running away (to nicholas) and he did not realize it then, but now it hurts. (he did not realize it then, but becoming friends with connor was always going to end up hurting him.)

troye's mother has always let connor into the house without comment or suspicion or second thought. there are only lipgloss smiles here for connor, and that has not changed.

troye is singing when connor swings the door open.

"i want you, so color me blue, anything it takes to make you stay..."

troye's fingers hesitate over the piano keys. it feels like the song is slightly off, like a boy without a heartbeat, there but not there at all. troye feels the words coat his tongue as he sings.

this song is not connor, it is troye.

or, it is neither connor nor troye, but it is both of them. connorandtroye. connor and troye.

connor sits next to him on the piano stool. troye feels the cushion sink as connor joins him, and he shifts without thinking. this is them: careless and careful, natural and easy, unthinking and overthinking, music and murals.

"that was beautiful," connor tells him. he is not sure that he was supposed to hear it.

troye is quiet. it's true, he wants to say. i want you. (he was not supposed to hear it, not this one, made of the glittering, burning truth and made of them.)

"thank you," troye says. he stares out of the window. the sun throws brilliant reds across a fading sky as it sinks. the colors look like ropes, holding on to the last bit of light as they die. if connor was the sky, troye would be the single cloud, taking the shape of mourning.

connor stares at the piano keys. black and white. simple and elegant and easy. there is no uncertain gray. if troye were a song, connor would be the critic.

he can hear troye's breathing. he can see the shape of his lips, slightly parted, out of the corner of his eye. he wants to lean over and brush a curl of hair out of his eyes. he wants to kiss him.

but he already did once (and now things are falling). troye did not say no then, but he did not say yes, either. connor cannot (will not, should not, may not) touch him again, not while this flame burns on his lips and decimates troye.

troye puts his fingers back on the keys. connor leans back and they do not touch. troye pretends that that does not sting.

the music is soft and it is meant for the clouds, connor thinks, not for the black and white (truths and lies) keys of the piano.

"i say i want to settle down," troye sings. he does not miss a note and he does not lie.

his voice is the light at haunted carnivals and the waves that lap at glass bottles to turn them to sea glass. it is the touch of their fingers and it is the brush of troye's hand running through connor's hair.

"build your hopes up like a tower..."

this song is the skeleton of connor. this is the cells in his blood and the color in his eyes and the beat of his heart.

if connor were a song, he would be made of troye's words and the sound of his voice soaring to the stars.

the sound of the piano drifts away on feathered wings and connor wants to chase after it.

"i can play the whole song for you, some day," troye says. he does not look at connor but he speaks as if they have a future.

"i would like that," connor tells him honestly.

"i'm sorry," troye says. connor does not need to ask why because troye already knows he is wondering. they have always been on the same island of thought. the waves tear at the sand, but they still think and speak and wish and love the same. "tyler thinks i'm ignoring you. i might be. i'm not sure."

troye loves with everything that he is. he throws himself in head first and he does not look before he lands.

"i've been in love with you since forever," troye confesses. he is jumping, diving, off a cliff and he has no wings. there is no turning back. "there's no point ignoring it now," he whispers.

"i kissed you," connor says.

he is trying to say, me too, but the words cut his tongue into pastel ribbons.

troye looks at him. he is an expert at reading between connor's lines by now. the water blurs the words, but troye has always been able to read them. only there is something different now, something about the sun in his eyes and the warmth of being by connor's side and the uncertainty about this new world.

"i liked it," troye brings himself to say.

he is trying to ask, did you mean it?

"yeah?" connor says. there is a speck of red glitter in troye's hair and it glows. connor wonders where it came from instead of answering troye's unsaid questions.

troye reaches over to brush connor's hair away from his forehead. it is soft and connor's almost smile makes something in troye stop hurting. then his hand is on the back of connor's neck and it is strong and confident (though troye is not) and connor shivers. lightning strikes and the room glows and his face burns.

troye closes his eyes and sees a galaxy of hope.

(they are bruised and broken and hopeful and everything that was never there before. there is a sunrise in connor's eyes and a beautiful thunderstorm in troye's. later, there will be a bruise on connor's collarbone made to match the one on troye's arm.)

troye kisses connor and connor closes his eyes and stops breathing and this is everything he could ever need.