The last strands (#Tronnor)

Chapter 1: The bruise

When Connor woke up that morning, he knew the rest of his life would never be the same. This was the day he was leaving, the last day he would spend inside that house with the three people who had become closer to him than any other friends could have even attempted to in the past year. He was sad, to say the least. But there was nothing he could do. He had made that choice with one and single purpose in mind: he wouldn’t let anyone else hurt him.

Connor woke up, opened his curtains and observed the nearly empty room. His life here had been so simplistic, so minimal to an extent: his room was empty except for a large bed he had never shared with anyone, a couple of shoes lying around, a skateboard he didn’t even bother to return to one of his roommates (at the time he wasn’t sure if it was Jc’s or Kian’s) and his laptop, plugged to the white wall with not paintings, portraits or TV. The room had always been this empty since he had moved in, and he never gave himself the time to fill it up with bits and pieces of himself. He had always wondered if his photographs would look good clinging at the wall, or if a mirror would have been a nice detail. But every time he thought about the things he wanted to do, his stomach cringed in pain and his thoughts made him dizzy. Because he was afraid to let go, afraid that if he acted the way he wanted to, everyone would find out.

He did his morning ritual of going towards the mirror, splashing water on his face and repeating to himself on a low, steady voice.

-“I am Connor Franta. I am twenty two years old, as of last September. Today I move out of the O2L house. I have a secret. I don’t want anyone to know my secret. That is why I have to leave. Because Ricky…”

The took a deep breath and allowed the thought to sink in before he could face the mirror once again. He did this every time there was this one detail that hurt to recognize.

-“Because Tyler told Ricky my secret.”

In less than thirty minutes his things were packed. He didn’t even bother in waking anyone up. They all knew he was leaving. Last night it had been pretty emotional, and even though he hadn’t given any explanation to any of them, they had all accepted his departure way better than what he could have expected. The only one who did not agree was Ricky. It was reasonable, but still Connor would not respect his wishes for him to stay. Because if he did… oh boy, things would go wrong straight away.

And then the door to Connor’s room opened, letting in his friend Ricky Dillon, who was awake and sweaty, wearing gym clothes. He had apparently been to work out early. Connor was hoping he wouldn’t need to say goodbye to anyone, but that had just backfired, like everything he had been doing lately.

-“So… this is it.”—Ricky said, panting a bit from the exhaustion—“You’re really leaving.”

-“… I didn’t want to wake you Ricky. But I see that you’ve done a fine job of that on your own…”

Connor did not want to have that heart to heart with Ricky, because he knew that if he did he would break down immediately. Ricky however was not intending to leave without at least talking about the issue.

-“Connor… if… if the reason you’re leaving is… is because… of what happened with Tyler, then…”

-“Save it Ricky. We both know I have to go.”

Ricky was not expecting that. In a way he felt relieved because he had no clue on how to bring up the subject, but this wasn’t the ideal case either. But it had to do.

-“Connor…”

The thing is that it is when you need to say something the most—when you know that there is a lot to be said, you have no idea on what to say at all. Ricky hadn’t faced this problem before, not to mention with someone as close to him as Connor. And Connor had never had to tell anyone about this either—besides Tyler of course.