our lives don't collide (but our hearts did) Tronnor AU

chapter eleven (troye)

Bath bombs are pretty fucking expensive, you know.

They're completely and utterly useless, too, and you're kidding yourself if you don't think a few drops of food coloring and a spritz of frilly perfume wouldn't mimic the phenomenon to a t.

But, I bought one nonetheless. One that smelled like lavender and beach flowers, the aroma seeping into my pores as I sunk my body into a prune-like state. It covered my naked body in a sheer layer of annoying ass glitter (as if I wasn't gay enough already) but somehow this little sphere of tinted chemicals managed to calm me down. Once I managed to underwhelm my senses and let my subconscious breathe for me, I actually felt at ease. For the first time in my goddamn miserable life, I was without worry, as if my demons finally took a well-deserved vacation.

And then, with suds in my hair and a breath of exhalation between my lips, the abrupt sound of a marimba ringtone slipped me out of my trance.

I wiped my hand on the fluffy bath mat that sat beside the bathtub and hoisted myself over the edge of the tub, the porcelain edge digging into my ribcage as I frantically searched for my phone.

Finding it in the folds of my disheveled t-shirt, I'm set aback by the caller name printed in bright white letters.

I slide the call open and press the phone to my wet cheek.

"Connor?"

"Troye." he answered, in a far too quivery voice.

Oh, fuck.

"Are you okay? What's going on?"

"My, okay, this is gonna sound so childish and dumb because it really is but, ugh, my tree house? It- it got destroyed in the storm and, it's like- it's my literal only safe-place right now and I spent so much time and effort building the dumb thing and it's literally a metaphorical embodiment for how my life is getting torn apart and, and-"

"I'm coming over. I'm gonna help you rebuild that goddamn tree house and it's gonna be even better than it was."

"Troye, you, you don't need to do that, I only called you because I needed to rant, I don't want to trouble you or anything-"

"Do you not want me to?"

"No, no, that's not what I mean, it's just-"

"I'm coming over right now, text me your address." I say, with more confidence than I ever knew I had. Fuck.

I hang up the phone and slide it across the floor to a safe (and dry) corner of the bathroom. I get out and pull the draincap, my entire fucking body still covered in glitter and soap but I couldn't care any fucking less about it.

...

His house ended up being surprisingly close to mine.

Because my townhouse complex was super conveniently built right by a big ass fucking forest, all I had to do was slip through the woods in my backyard and follow a trail. (An extremely dilapidated and shitty trail, but a trail nonetheless.)

10:17 a.m.
i'm here?? i think??.

10:18 a.m
I'll be right there, in the barn rn

This boy, oh my god.

I sat on his doorstep, scrolling through Twitter and hoping to God that his family wouldn't find me perched in front of their house like a fucking vulture. God, I'm such a mess.

"Hey, Tro."

I look up and see him, holding the goddamn goat, and wearing a (hopefully) mud-stained white t-shirt, dark jeans, and an expression that would've looked completely at ease if I hadn't heard his ragged voice not twenty minutes ago.