Troye's POV
He's been missing for days now.
I can't count the hours that I have been searching, but I still feel obliged to continue. There's a niggling pain in the pits of my stomach, still urging me to look further. My heart can't stop beating, so rapidly that I can hear the drumbeat sounding amongst my ears.
It's all my fault.
It was my fault he got into the fight.
It was my fault that he was without a home.
It was my fault that at 2am, I was staring into miles of pitch black space, searching for the one I loved.
Why was it always my fault?
-Flashback-
"Troye, we can't be together anymore." I watched as my boyfriends face reddened with anxiety, his lashes acting as weak barriers for his incoming tears. He was gripping the palm of my hand, stroking my fingers as he wriggled with nerves.
I couldn't focus, not on those words. I stayed frozen, motionless as I tried to process it. I tried to understand his sentence, but my jaw locked unnervingly, my heart pumping with my on coming whimpers.
Why?
"Troye you have to understand, I can't let you get hurt." He was rocking in a manic motion, and he shuffled uncomfortably on his single mattress. He didn't have much of a room, but his homely little space seemed so distorted all of a sudden, and I just wanted to cry.
Why would he hurt me?
"Troye, say s-something p-please!" He bowed his head, his brown hair landing in my lap. I instinctively comforted his shaking form, even though I sat dumbstruck. The phrase was so out of the blue. I didn't understand.
"Why Con, Why now?" I let out a long breath, talking for the first time in minutes. He still sat whimpering, and I could no longer see his face. I rubbed his back, watching carefully as his shirt continued to ride up.
I wasn't expecting what I saw, my sudden gasp causing him to rise from his shaky position.
"C-Connor..." I whispered, gulping hard as I came to terms with the sight in front of me. There on my boyfriend were black covered bruises, lining his spine, traveling up to his shoulders. He looked battered, emotionally unstable in fact.
"Who did this to-" As I spoke my mouth was quickly shut again, blocked my the palm of his hand. The front door had sounded, signalling the incoming of his family.
His eyes widened.
"You have to go, you have to go right this second Troye." He was pleading me, begging as I sat still.
I was just so confused.
"CONNOR JOEL FRANTA!" My breath hitched as I heard a shout from down the stairs. Connor stiffened, and quickly pulled me from my sitting position.
"He knows you're here Troye, he knows." He was grabbing me by my collar, pushing me bellow his bed as the footsteps drew closer. "Quiet Troye, no matter what happens." He said.
I just nodded, because what else could I do.
"HE'S IN HERE, I KNOW HE'S IN HERE." I could hear his dad verbally abusing him, calling him homophobic names as he searched for me. Why would he search for me?
"YOU!" I was suddenly dragged from under the bed, and held by the scruff of my neck. I had never met his father, but on our first encounter I was now screaming, evident tears rolling from my cheeks.
I was terrified.
I was pushed against the wall, watching as his fist rose in anger. Connor looked furious, ready to pounce at his own father.
"YOU DID THIS TO MY SON YOU, YOU-"
"DAD!" Connor bolted for him, taking my hit as his father was pushed to the ground. I couldn't stop my shaking, causing me to stand frozen as they brawled on the floor. Connor used the last burst of energy he had, and pinned his own flesh and blood to the ground, obviously struggling as he looked up at me with red rimmed eyes.
"GO TROYE, RUN!" He was screaming at me, pleading me to leave as his dad pushed against him. He was still shouting, lashing out at his baby.
It made me feel sick.
I thought I would pass out.
"C-Con." I cried, taking a step forward, getting one last look at his emerald orbs.
"GO!" He roared, his strength failing him as he collapsed in a heap of exhaustion and anguish.
And just then, in a moment of pure selfishness.
I ran.
-End of flashback-
I had called him later that night, but my attempts to get hold of him had no avail.
I rang the police, begging them for their services, but as they checked Connors house, his dad was calm once again.
There was no evidence.
There was no Connor.
He had just disappeared.
I was starting to give up, I was starting to accept that maybe he wanted to be free. But there was something, something telling me that he wasn't alright.
He was in danger.
I never thought in a million years, as I stood with my torch, crying at 2am, I would find what I saw, lurking whimsically in the alleyway.
"T-Tro?"
There will be a part two...
