The last strands (#Tronnor)

Chapter 4: The taste

Connor was going about his daily routine. Waking up early in the morning, brew himself some coffee, get some cereal for breakfast, and then heading out to jog with the sunrise, a couple of hours before it had gotten too hot for his taste. The previous day with Troye and the rest of the O2L boys had been quite uneventful. Except maybe for the fact that he couldn’t help but be nervous during the entire afternoon. It hadn’t even lasted that long, because Troye was in a hurry to the studio as soon as they arrived the O2L house, so there was just enough time for a mini house tour led by Jc and a game of Mario Kart, in which he had lost shamefully, as usual.

But he had been shaking, sweating and dreading every second he had been in the same household as Ricky. Ever since his dream, Connor can’t think about Ricky without feeling guilty, ashamed or even filthy. He couldn’t forgive himself for the desire he had felt. He couldn’t allow that feeling to creep over again, and the sole idea of the possibility terrified him profoundly.

Coward.

In his thoughts, Tyler kept accusing him and his farce. Connor jogged alone within the park’s path, tracking by the street on his left with all his fury and his rage. He was wearing headphones but the music was lost to him. He wasn’t able to remove the accusations from his mind, it was everything he could hear.

This is what you want, don’t you?

Ricky’s body flashed before his eyes, just like he had imagined it in the dream. No, he couldn’t let that happen again. Ricky was his closest friend in the city, and the one of the very few people he could trust lately. He wouldn’t allow his deception transform Ricky into an object of desire. He would first die rather than letting that happen.

You are one of the funniest, most authentic, most talented and most good hearted people I know! And you are also my best friend!

Who was this?

You are not such thing as a coward! You have earned so many things by being the amazing person you are, and you must stop punishing yourself for whatever it is that…

This voice… was it Troye?

Yes, it had to be Troye. Only Troye’s voice could soothe Connor in such a way. Then again, when had he told him that? Connor didn’t remember, he couldn’t remember. It had definitely been soon, though, or else it wouldn’t be coming back like that.

Troye’s voice made Connor’s chest ache, and not in a way that Connor understood, or was willing to understand. So, to fight it, Connor ran. Connor ran with a speed and a wrath that allowed his mind to escape, to avoid understanding. He ran away from Troye’s voice, from the aching. He didn’t care if anyone saw him, or if anything got in his way. He didn’t mind the sun scorching against his skin.

Eventually his legs gave up on him, and he collapsed on the grass. He closed his eyes, and allowed the breeze to blow over him.

The smell of autumn filled the air. It reminded him of home, of the leaves turning in colors of million colors each. He thought about the winter winds from the north, coming forth closer every day. Here in Los Angeles, were it was sunny all year, they didn’t know how that was like. They didn’t have the privilege to experience the bliss of cold. And even so, there was something in his memory that made him remember what autumn was like.

Something strange, something vagrant, less than a thought but more than a feeling.

A taste.

A strange taste that remained on his mouth and he hadn’t noticed until then. A mixture, or rather the perfect matching of cinnamon and sweet mint. What was this? Where was this taste from? His mind didn’t let him remember, but he cherished every second he remembered the taste. This was a new found treasure, and he wouldn’t let it go now. It didn’t matter where it had come from, what mattered was that it was there.