The last strands (#Tronnor)

Chapter 16: The monsters and the men

At least the rain was over.

The sweetest escape had never been so bitter, and inside the restless mind of Connor, it formed pain in ways that he didn't comprehend. In many ways he knew that what he did was wrong, and that there was no way he could forgive himself. But there was nobody around him, and still he couldn't help but to feel in danger.

What if anyone sees him?

What if they ask him where he is coming from?

Or where he's going?

The further away from Troye's hotel he went and the closer he got to home, Connor hurt more and more. The sad part is, though, that he didn't comprehend it at all. It was an entirely new way of hurting, one that was the most immaculate. His gaze was pasted to the ground, following his very footsteps, and his own voice resounded within his mind.

Coward...

Coward...

Coward...

What happened last night is something that Connor knew that should never have happened, and leaving right after before Troye woke up is something that he knew he would never forgive himself for.

What was going to happen now?

The sun was already out, and the familiar neighborhood brought Connor's attention back to reality. He looked up, and saw his apartment just across the street. Standing still for a couple of seconds, he let go of his shame and walked across. Noticing that the main door was actually open, he entered tentatively and turned on the main living room lights on. Even though it had already dawned, it was still pretty dark and foggy outside.

The living room was pretty much a mess wherever you looked at; there were toilet paper rolls, several spilled drinks and empty plastic glasses and bottles of booze, and there were even some cutlery laying around. Connor didn't mind, and for most certainly couldn't care. He walked a couple of steps in and closed the door behind him. The place reeked of dirt, and it surprised him how it seemed strangely empty.

That is, until Ricky appeared from within the hallway towards the bedroom. He was wearing one of his ten thousand (if not more) tank tops, along with shorts and sneakers. He looked like he had just showered, and greeted Connor with a dubitative smile.

-"Con da bon!"—Ricky exclaimed, keeping his distance—"Where have you been? I have called your phone, but I think it has died..."

Connor took out his cellphone from his front pocket, and effectively it had discharged through the course of the evening. He hadn't even taken time to notice. Ricky was standing awkwardly on the spot, trying his best to form the questions he needed, but Connor's look wasn't inviting at all. Still, he gave it a shot.

-"So... guess what? Shelby's already here! And she has a hotel room booked, and I can stay there, but I told her that I'd go over there after today because well... I figured you might need some help cleaning up and... well dunno, maybe talk?"

The last thing Connor wanted to do was talk.

-"Most of my stuff is in the car, so yeah... you don't have to worry about that... so, have you had any breakfast? Do you feel like eggs?"

Ricky turned on his heels and went towards the kitchen, getting out some plates and silverware.

-"Or would you like some cereal?"—he asked—"I think that's more of your liking... though you look like you need a meal..."

Connor's gut clenched, and a sudden feeling of fury ran through his veins. He felt the anger collide within him, unexplainable, relentless. With fisted hands and firm teeth, he managed to spit in almost hateful manner.