the boy they called troye

23

Hello- Adele
Purple and Blue, and Connor is cold. The water he's floating in is icy and the December morning shows him no mercy, but that's not what's bothering him. There's no more memories. Nothing left to recall, nothing left the bathe in, and no more can be made.

He had heard it on the news, when he would have rather heard it from someone living, breathing, someone who could of held him. Or rather he would of not heard it at all if it was his choice. There where sirens, and Connor didn't hear them because they weren't in his reach. Just like Troye wasn't in his reach. Not when he needed to be that is.

The sirens, they sounded where Connor wasn't, and Connor wasn't in his normal Suburbia. But a new one, made up of a beautiful girl and an innocent boy.

The sirens, the ones in the Suburbia that Connor left behind, made everyone aware that the time had finally come. Troye had finally done it, just like the old lady down the street, just like Mathew, and in some ways just like Connor.

He had jumped, he had jumped from that place in his head were everything was grand and everything was fine, and he was pretty. His body, arms to long and eyes to bright, hit rocks and as he bleed a color that matched the paint on his fingers and the paint on his lips, dampened.

Connor remembers putting his son to bed and walking into the den and turning on the dreaded tv to pass time, Andrea wouldn't be home for a while. The screen flickered on and it happened all at once. The images, the voices, the sirens.

LOCAL TOWNS BOY, TROYE SIVAN MELLET, FOUND DEAD AT BOTTOM OF CLIFF. ANOTHER SUICIDE FOR THE SMALL TOWN OF PERTH, AUSTRILIA.

And Connor cried. It was a silent cry, he wouldn't dare wake up the boy upstairs, but he did cry. For 16 years Connor had watched this boy, the boy with blue eyes and curly hair. The one they called insane, the one who wore makeup, the boy they called Troye.

And Connor, the one who never smiled, the one who always said no, the one who still had a blue crown painted black, fell in love with the boy they called Troye and that was his first mistake.

The next few days are a blur for the feathery haired boy, and now he's floating, numb with sadness and maybe ice water. Andrea took Caleb after accusing Connor of caring more about a dead psychopath than his own son. He doesn't remember why she had said that, even though it was only a few days prior. But what Connor does remember is the feel of Troye's hand the first time they touched, and how happy Troye looked while spinning in a patch of daisy's.

So, I guess Connor was wrong. He still has memoires, he still has things to recall and things to bathe in. So the real problem would be not living in them the way he used to. They way he would in college, or the way he would while laying in bed next to Andrea. He couldn't fake happiness anymore and it was because now he has nothing to pretend.

He can't picture Troye laying in the field of flowers outside his window, but instead at the bottom of what they now call 'Suicide Hill'. He can't imagine him sitting at a vanity putting on lipstick, but being lifted onto a stretcher like a bag of bones.

Connor heard about his funeral, how no one but his mother showed up and how the coasts put them in debt. That made Connor sad, because for someone so magnificent the whole town should have gone. But how are supposed to convince a thousand people that their normal is wrong when all you are is half a man?

Connors head goes under when his body doesn't have the energy to hold him up any longer. He didn't know, Connor thinks, Troye didn't know that he loved him. He died thinking that no one could love a boy like him. No one could love a boy with eyes that big or arms that long, and certainly not a boy who lives in a broken home made up to be grand. But Connor did, and that's why he's floating, or I guess drowning, in freezing cold water but numb with sadness.

Connor wonders if he's looking down on him now, he's never been to religious but if anyone deserves Heaven its Troye. Stars glow brightly and Connor closes his eyes, he used to see these same stars but now he's seeing them alone. He doesn't want to be alone. Water enters his nose and he doesn't flinch, doesn't move so he can breathe.

This would be it for him, no legacy to leave behind, no one to care, not the way Troye could have if he had given him the chance. Troye never had the slightest clue of what Connor wanted, if anything he was just someone else who judged him and Connor hates the thought Troye dying thinking he was alone. Because he wasn't, even if it felt like it.

It would be grand, Connor thought, if he could fall where Troye did. But Suicide Hill was miles away and Connor didn't want to see the place where the boy laid last.

The water pulls on Connor until he hits the bottom and his eyes burn with dirty water and he's numb. His eyes trace the darkness and he thinks of only one string of things.

A plain white ceiling, a white duvet, a field of flowers, a little boy named Mathew, Susan, suburbia, flowers painted black, and the boy that finally got his chance to jump. And now it was Connors. Oh, and of course the haunting thought, the last one he could grasp consciously.

He didn't save the boy the they called Troye, and that was his last mistake.
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Right well hello. This was a short story that had no particular plot or conflict really. Just a story of two boys, one sad, one empty and how stinginess and numbness kept them apart.

Sorry if this was super sad or anything, I just wanted to write something sad.

On that note, I have to go. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed. I'll be returning to my other book For Him now.

Bye!
- Baylee, the girl who's common.