Attachments (Tronnor AU)

Tangle

noun

       • a mass of hair, string or wire knotted together confusedly; a complication.

intransitive verb

       • to become tangled or complicated; to become involved in argument with.

Connor's not really sure what they are.

They're friends, he knows that much, though it's a strange kind of friendship he's never had the oddity of experiencing before. They're okay, that much is evident, even if he still finds himself rushing to decimate the silences that he wants so badly to fill with unwelcome questions.

More than anything, though, they're different. It's a fact that resonates resolutely in everything they do, in every purse of Troye's lips where Connor finds the energy to smile, in every frown on Troye's face where Connor's relaxes into a grin. They're two different people with two very different outlooks on the world, living two very different lives.

Sometimes, Connor wonders if maybe Troye's had it better after all. He feels bad when he thinks it, catching the flinches the frail young man gives at every passing stranger, but at the same time he can't help but wish he were a little more like Troye. Troye's so much stronger than Connor's ever had to be, stubborn and opinionated and distrustful but firm in his standings and confident nearly to a fault. He's got a way with his words that's careful and precise, like he never says anything without value, and his smile on the rare occasion it arrives is the most genuine quirk of chapped lips Connor's ever seen.

He feels kind of ridiculously grateful to have stumbled upon something so incredible and managed to keep it a relevant factor in his life all this time.

So they're friends and they're okay and they're different, but Connor admires Troye in a way he's never admired anyone before. The flash of his camera caresses the pale boy's face as sweetly as any lover, the brush of their hands as he passes him his regular coffee each morning carrying the same quantum of affection as his parents' routine peck on the lips.

To be honest, Connor's not entirely sure they haven't already crossed the line from being friends to something more.

To be honest, it doesn't really matter when Troye's eyes flicker just that single shade brighter the moment they land on his approaching form. What they are doesn't need a solid label just yet, it's perfect no matter its inability to check off all the little boxes in permanent red pen.

Connor's content to remain what they are for a little while longer, even if it's impossible to explain to his mom the next time they talk.