of paper walls and waterfalls ; tronnor (discontinued)

two : coffee

t r o y e

I don't think it's really necessary to explain what happened before I meet Connor that first day. In a short and accurate summary, it's just a lot of me being exhausted, my phone dying, and a long and extremely quiet taxi ride up to my apartment. Due to a combination of all of these, by the time I reach the complex, I am spent. I had been planning on setting up my apartment with everything I had brought with me, putting clothes in drawers, cleaning a bit, taking inventory of what I had and what I needed, and then getting takeout and passing out at 8:00 p.m. Oh, and I would have to get the wifi sorted out as well, and go to the grocery store, and possibly get more furniture, and figure out a million other things... but I suppose those would have to wait until the next day. I'm sure I'm too tired to do it today.

I'm also slightly nervous as to what it's going to be like in the apartment. David and Maria, the couple that lived in the apartment before me and who told me a few things about the apartment and LA in general, assured me a week ago that everyone is around my age and very nice, good people, but that doesn't stop me from wondering. Anxiety makes it hard to insert myself into social situations. I hate being the odd one out, and I definitely will be here. Why did I ever think this was a good idea?

I'm most definitely not at my best, being tired, anxious, and hungry, but I don't have my keys. Instead, the guy in the apartment next to mine does. David and Maria gave them to him before they left. His name is apparently Connor.

I have to get my keys from Connor, then I can go in and figure out everything important. I can eat. I can sleep.

As I approach Connor's door, I try to remember the number in my mind. 4J, it should be. My phone is dead. I wish it weren't.

I reach the door that is supposedly Connor's door, I double-check the number on the small plaque on the center of the door, raise my hand, and knock quietly.

Apparently-Connor opens the door a moment later. He looks like he just woke up.

"Hi!" He says, running a hand through his hair. His eyes scan my body, starting from my legs and working their way up to my face, and I do the same, trying to memorize what he looks like. It's a natural thing I've done for as long as I can remember; people are so strange in their unique looks, aspects, and mannerisms, and when I meet someone new, I tend to scan them quickly and try to see if I can pick up on anything unusual or interesting about their personalities, just from that one glance.

Connor is wearing jeans and a maroon sweater, the color of which I'm not used to seeing at all. Maroon is such an unusual color in Perth, where I've lived for just about my entire life. However, it compliments his fluffy, honey-colored hair; slightly tanned skin; and bright hazel-green eyes. Green... that's another unusual color. People say that my cerulean eyes are rare, but loads of people seem to have eyes in varying shades of blue. However, I've never met anyone with green eyes before now. I also remember reading somewhere that less than two percent of the people on the Earth have green eyes. Apparently, Connor is one of them.

I snap back out of my daydream, telling myself to focus, and run a hand through my curls, messy and limp from so many hours on airplanes and in airports. "Hi. I'm Troye," I reply, hoping he hasn't said something else that I would have missed while thinking about colors. I wonder if I should offer to shake his hand. Is that what people do here? I've always hugged people, but I've literally never in my life seen Connor before right now, so maybe that's not such a good idea. Painstakingly, I wish Carlos was here; out of the two of us, he has much more social grace and definitely knows how to talk to people.

Well, that's not the only reason I wish he were here. God, I miss him, and it's been barely a day and a half....

"I'm Connor," he replies. "You're- um- you're moving in next door, right?"