Perhaps it's just my misery talking, but I feel like I can no longer breathe.
It's strange. It's almost like I lost the right to breathe in the first place. Every gasp of air I take in feels forbidden. Every drop of blood in my veins feels wasted. It belongs to someone else. All of me isn't really mine; it's his, and the worst part is that he doesn't want any of it.
If this is what it feels like to be in love then I don't want it either.
What is this?
This is Eden's Apple, the forbidden fruit. The fruit of knowledge my ass. It isn't that, it's the Fruit of Love. I am certain now. Man was not meant to take a bite of the fruit, for he would suffer, and suffer he has...
Oh, but how I wished to have a bite. Well, I did, and here I am. What did I get? Nothing good, for sure. Now I'm all alone in this struggle again.
And to think that I believed for a second that I had finally found something good. Something that could be kept together. How much do I love fooling myself? For how long will I keep living in fantasies and daydreams? The night of the storm meant nothing. I know that...
Even if I still don't want to believe it. Even if there's something in my gut that say's I'm wrong... but there just isn't a way. If that night had meant something real-and only if, then I wouldn't be here right now. I wouldn't be escaping, running away. I would be going back. I would go back to him.
Back into the daydreams and the plains of evergreens... back into the days where I heard his voice and he loved the smell of my cologne. Back to... that happiness.
But it's gone.
I can't fix it now.
He told me himself.
He can't love me.
Then why can't I stop... feeling this way?
What's wrong with my head? Does it like when it hurts? Maybe that's it. Maybe it enjoys the pain. Maybe it's gotten so used to pain that's all it will take from anyone anymore.
Maybe I'm just bent like that.
I keep telling myself I'm broken hearted. How do I even know if it's true? What if I was mistaken? When have I ever been broken hearted before, or in such a way that I would know how this feels?
Names for feelings... yeah that's a science I do not master. Add it to the list. To my list of monsters, never ending, never seeing the light of day.
I can't just feel sorry for myself forever. There must be something I can do. Something. Anything.
I can write again. I can try to compose. I can take the piano and press the keys... something will surely come of it.
What about Kayla? What about my best friend? Should I tell her? I don't think she'd take it the right way, it's most likely she'll scold me for making such a fool out of myself... she has always worried so much for what I go through...
I would give anything to be fixed again. To be good, to be working properly.
I have to try.
I have to stop needing him.
Do not write words of love when you see his eyes.
Do not let him be all your joy.
Do not fear the way he says goodbyes.
Do not crave for his touch, for his voice...
Do not let your heart be fooled for a toy.
... Way to go, Troye boy...
Back to where he had started. Ever still and vibrant, home called for the young lost boy, back in the city of sunsets and into the valleys of crimson sand.
How long had it been? It was hard to tell. Probably less than what it seemed, at least to his understanding. But it didn't matter, not really, at least not for him. What is done is done, regardless of when.
Funny, how time can become such an insignificant thing, especially when you compare it to the bigger picture. Like the one described by his eyes in that very moment. The bright colored sunlight adorned the tall green grass and the red sand, and made the pavement glisten like black marble stone. With sunglasses on, it almost seemed like a moving photograph taken through his eyes. The movement of the car ride was smooth and fast, and the streets were marvelously empty in comparison to the ones in LA. A song was playing on the radio, he wasn't sure by whom, but he wasn't really listening to it from the backseat. His mind was on the sky and on the road, and his eyes looked towards the distance. If he stretched his eyesight far enough, he could make out a little bit of blue from the seashore.
It was starting to Dusk, and it was particularly warm. He had forgotten how it was summer around this time of the year here, unlike the winter lived in America and the UK. Yeah, it was kind of hard keeping up with the climate and the time zone changes. But he wasn't really affected by it. At least not this time.
-"Sir? We're already across from the street you requested."-said the taxi driver, a man in his mid-fifties with ashen skin and a thick eastern European accent.
Troye's attention went towards the front windshield. He could see the avenue that crossed with his. He knew this neighborhood like the back of his hand after all.
-"... Take the next turn to the left."
-"The one with the palm tree?"
-"Yeah. It's the fourth house."
The driver did as he was told and turned left. At the fourth house, the car stopped. Troye looked at it like it was out of a long lost memory. Even though it hadn't been that awfully long since he had left, it still seemed different. Emptier, for sure, but different otherwise. Its white and grey walls hid the greenery of his front yard, and he remembered how his mum had asked him to water the plants.
-"That'll be 13 dollars..."
Troye handed the money to the driver and exited the car, taking his luggage with him. In the end he hadn't really taken as many clothes as he had thought, and that was a relief when he did his bags back in Brighton. One of the few reliefs he could spare himself of as of late.
The taxi driver gave his farewell and drove off, and the blue eyed boy was left alone to enter the Mellet household.
The first thing Troye did was drop his bags on the lobby's floor, close the door, lay on the floor himself and then take it all in. The wooden tile floors, the cerulean walls, the scent of sea salts that his mom like so much. There really is no place like home. Even when you're away from everyone you love.
But this loneliness had been intentional. He felt like he needed to be away. At least for a while. Away from his parents being worried, away from his siblings asking questions, away from the responsibilities he had with the studio and the label record, away from Emma's calls and away from the internet, most importantly.
That's why he decided to return to Perth to spend some time on his own, while his family was spending the Holidays in the UK like they had planned.
It was the first year that Troye would spend that time all alone, and his parents were quite worried that he had requested to do so. But he was nineteen years old, they considered him mature enough to make his own choices in regards of that. Of course they demanded explanations, but he promised to give them once they returned. And once he had come up with something half decent enough to tell them. At least that's what he hoped.
Troye's phone rang. Without checking who the caller was, he answered in almost automatic fashion and not caring much for the consequences.
-"Hello?"-he said, barely speaking.
-"Troye? Sweetie, are you home?"
Troye sat up, trying to compose himself so that his mother wouldn't worry from the sound of his voice.
-"Yeah... yeah I'm home mum. I just got here."
-"Oh, I'm glad you're there already... your dad and siblings have been dragging me around London all day! I miss you a lot, you don't know how much."
Troye's lips formed a sad smile.
-"I miss you too, mum..."
-"There's food in the freezer, you will have to defreeze it first though. But if you don't feel like doing that you can always order in, but pleaaaase try to eat home food? You've probably not eaten anything but junk food back in America..."
-"That depends on your perspective of what is and isn't junk food, mum..."
-"Don't go to bed too late, and please if anything comes up, let me know, ok? Don't keep things to yourself Troye. Oh God, I'm so worried..."
Troye felt a lump of guilt form in his throat.
-"You don't have to be worried mum, I told you, I'm fine. Just... very tired."
-"We will have a proper talk, when I'm back. We'll be there sooner than expected. There's no way you are spending the Holidays alone."
-"But... but mom-!"
"It's not up for discussion. We'll be there in a week's time. Please take care of yourself while we're gone?"
Troye just sighed. At the end of the day, he knew it was best not to discuss his mother. She usually had the last say in things anyway.
-"Ok, mum... I'll be waiting here."
-"Good. Oh, and one more thing-just in case, you know."
-"In case of what?"
-"That you might feel lonely... there's something I'd like to suggest."
-"Ok, we're home."-Troye said, opening the front door of his house wide-"Happy now?"
Jagga barked happily and waved her short tail, entering the house with her limping steps and with her tongue sprawled out. She was definitely happy to be back in her castle. All the Mellets agreed that she was the actual queen of the house, and it wasn't up for discussion really.
Troye sighed again, and closed the door behind him. Jagga was his family's pet dog, who was tiny and cute and black fured, but most importantly incredibly spoiled. Troye did love her for that, but it also meant that taking care of her was almost like taking care of him: the management of a diva.
His mum had suggested him to pick her up from the Vet's house, where they had left her before they left on their trip. Troye thought that, why not, it might not be such a bad idea after all to pick the grand duchess and take her back home with him. Of course as soon as she sat on her forelegs and looked at him, probably expecting to be fed, he realized just how little he knew about taking care of dogs.
-"... You're lucky I love you."
-"Woof!"
After serving Jagga a bowl of her favorite Dog Cereal (Troye called Dog Food that because well, that's pretty much what it looks like) and seeing her to bed, he himself felt extremely tired out of the blue.
It was already night time already. Troye texted his mother letting her know he was safe and at their house, and then walked upstairs into his dark and rather smelly bedroom. Without even bothering to change into underclothes, the Australian collapsed unto his bed from exhaustion. For the first time in days, Troye could really, finally sleep.
D flat, C, high A, C, D flat, A, B, B, high A, C...
The sounds were there; but that was about it. All else felt so empty. Usually it wasn't this hard for him, it used to come naturally. Guess that after all one had to take a look at the circumstances.
D flat, A, high A, C, D flat, B, A, A, high C, C...
Imagine a canvas in blank. You can paint it with all the colors of the world, and any of the ones you choose to imagine. It can be anything you want it to. It can be all your sadness, all your joy, your fears, your friends and your enemies. You're free to do with it as you please. You are the maker of the canvas. You are the creator.
E, E, A, high A, C, D flat, A, B, B, high A, C...
Music is the same. Any sound, any rhythm, you can take and mend to your liking, to your ability. You can tell stories just as you can destroy them. You can sing about great heroes or the love of your life, or even a rose. You can do anything your imagination holds, and even more if you're lucky. All of that power with your fingertips and the strings. And Troye had lost all of his.
A... A... D flat... A... B...
It was almost as if the piano had been murdered by Troye's hands. Such a sad way to die, not being guilty of any crime. The living room was silent, and it was around noon the next day of Troye's arrival in Perth. He had taken a sandwich of air and bread for breakfast, and had managed not to get hungry. That in itself was something to worry about. His parents hadn't contacted him, but he intended to call his mom a little while later.
Troye didn't even know what day of the week it was anymore. All he knew is that today was December eight. He wore his favorite articles of clothing: grey sweatpants and an oversized white t-shirt. His messy hair was of course unattended and he reeked of not showering in two days, which was absolutely true. Not like he cared. There wasn't anyone to watch.
A silent whimper coming from his left took Troye's attention. Jagga was there, watching him play. Or rather waiting for him to play. She had always loved the sound of his piano, and Troye felt bad he wasn't able to give it to her then.
-"Sorry, Jagga... Not feeling my best..."
Jagga's puppy eyes made Troye feel even worse, if that were any possible.
-"... Ok, fine! Let me come up with something... I'll try, ok? You happy?"
Troye rested his hands over the keys, and sighed one more time. He tried to focus, remember the notes to a song. Any song. And then, one came to mind. Swiftly, he started playing the keys.
-"... It's hard... letting go... I'm finally at peace, but it feels... wrong..."
Troye sung in silence, as the words slipped from his mouth along with the notes. Jagga listened carefully and in silence, mesmerized by the act. This was one of her favorite songs, and so was Troye's.
-"Slow... I'm getting up... my hands and feet are weaker than before..."
And then, the chorus.
-"And you... are folded on the bed... where I rest my head... There's nothing I can see... darkness becomes me... but I'm already there... I'm already there... Wherever there is you... I will be there, too..."
RING. RING. RING.
Jagga growled, clearly annoyed that her little private concert had been interrupted so all of the sudden. She then whimpered to Troye, as if asking for one more piece.
-"Sorry, girl, that'll have to wait."
Troye patted Jagga's head, and walked towards the kitchen counter where he had left his phone. Once again he picked it up out of habit and answered it, without checking who the caller was.
-"Hello?"
-"About time you picked up, Tro Tro."
Shit, Troye thought.
-"Marly! I... I am sorry I haven't been able to check in with you, it's been crazy lately for me..."
-"Yeah, yeah, save that for later. Are you even alive? Where in the world have you been? Emma thought you ran away at first or something. Well at least she did until you decided to e-mail her saying you were going back home-oh, by the way thanks for sending one to me as well, nice touch there hun."
Troye frowned in frustration.
-"Marly I'm really sorry I didn't tell you it's just that things have literally been... just insane..."
-"Well, at least I'm glad you are feeling whole enough to talk with me again. I'm happy to hear from you."
Troye felt a bit guilty. Marly was his friend after all, and he valued her a lot. He had been trying too hard to push people away so that they didn't see him hurt, but he should have known that by then she was probably already up to speed.
-"I'm happy to hear from you, too."
-"So? How has it been? You went to London, right?"
-"Brighton, actually... but yeah, it was nice. I went with Zoe, you know, from YouTube."
-"I figured as much."
-"... Aren't you going to ask... anything about... you know...?"
-"About what, Tro Tro?"
This was very strange. Marly was never one to let go on a chance to tell people stuff like "I was right" and "I told you so", so why didn't she brag Troye's heartbreak to his face? Perhaps he was thinking that was because he always expected the worst case scenario, but it still seemed weird she wouldn't bring up a certain "Green Eyes."
-"If there's anything you want to say to me, you know you can, right, Troye? But if you don't want to, I'm not going to make you."
Even weirder. But even so, Troye accepted Marly's verdict and decided to go with it.
-"Yeah... thanks. I think I'm good for now."
-"Good! Now, I hate to be the one who has to bring business up this early in the conversation..."
-"Augh... Marly, you can't be serious!"
-"I swear it's just a quick thing! You're home, right? I swear, I just need you to check an e-mail with me. I've resent it to you and I would like you to see it with me on the phone. I want your honest opinion."
Despite how frustrated Troye felt at Marly's request, it was better to get it over with at the time so that later it wouldn't have to come up again. It wasn't long until he had to return to LA so it was definitely better to have all things ready for whenever the studio needed him again, and that also meant checking all the incessant emails.
Followed by Jagga, he headed towards the second floor and into his bedroom, where he kept his laptop and all the other stuff that mattered, like of course his phone charger.
-"You know, I was actually hoping to get some rest while here"-Troye said on the phone-", I deserve as much..."
-"Oh, don't complain with me Tro Tro, this is seriously so small... but it's really important you see it through to the end. Can you put me on speaker?"
Troye moved over to his bed, putting Marly on speaker mode. He opened his laptop and turned it on, waiting for his mail to load. He sat cross-legged, and Jagga, who had always had the nasty habit of getting on people's beds, had jumped over to his lap and he patted her head, caressing it.
-"What is this even about?"-Troye said once the mail had opened-"It's a just a link, there's not even a subject."
-"Open it."
-"Marly..."
-"Please, Tro Tro, trust me on this one, ok? You won't regret it..."
Troye clicked on the link, opening a new tab on his computer. Jagga whined, taking his attention away from the screen as he patted her head.
-"Hey, it's no big deal, Jagga, just some sort of contract I have to read or something..."
Troye didn't see what was going on in his computer, focusing entirely on the dog. That was, until he heard the first words of an all too familiar voice.
-"Hehe, kid you not, as soon as I turned on the camera my heart just like immediately started beating really hard. But... ugh, ok."
Troye's eyes darted into the screen.
Connor.
Connor was looking back at him from his computer, on a YouTube video. Troye didn't even remember it was Monday.
Suddenly the world went silent. There was nothing besides the video and the sounds of it. Connor was on the screen. He was wearing a green plaid shirt and a grey t-shirt underneath it. He was alone in his living room, as usual. But there was something strange.
There was something... different.
-"Hey, what's up you guys, so today... I want to talk to you guys about something."-Connor said, raising his hand in a wave like he always did in his videos-"Two-thousand fourteen has by far been the biggest year for me. I've done a lot of things and gone a lot of places, and you guys know all about that, but... you don't know the biggest thing that's happened to me this year."
Troye felt like he was going short on breath.
No, it can't be, he thought.
I couldn't be...
Connor went on.
-"... So I'm sitting here, in front of you, with no script, no... plan, no fancy editing and I'm just gonna be really honest."
Troye could hear the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his ears, like the drums of a powerful anthem.
Could it be?
-"... Two-thousand fourteen is truly the year that I have accepted who I am... and become happy with that person."
This has to be a joke. This has to be some sort of joke.
-"So today, I want to talk to you guys about that, and be open, and honest... and tell you that..."
Connor stopped talking for less than a second. Inside Troye's head, that less than a second lasted a lifetime.
Don't say it.
Once you say it out loud, it becomes real.
-"... I'm gay."
Troye clicked pause on the video.
There.
There it is.
This is it-it's over. The end of the line. Show is over, curtains close. Take a bow, accept the glory and leave. Just leave.
But Troye didn't leave.
He stared deeply into Connor's eyes, crystal with tears and emerald with glow from the other end of the screen. Even Jagga had stopped moving to listen. But Troye didn't move at all either. He just sat there, and watched the frozen image of the video.
A voice from a certain someone who was still on speaker was heard about a minute after the pause had extended.
-"... Tro Tro, sweetie..."-Marly said on the phone-"You promised you would see it through to the end, remember, boo? Come on, just this once. Play the video."
Without even answering to her or looking away from the screen, Troye clicked on the play button with his shaking index finger. Connor went back into motion, and into speech.
-"And this may come as a shock to a lot of you... And it may be confusing, so... I'm gonna backtrack a little bit."
Troye leaned in closer to the screen, his nose almost touching it. He laid on his belly to feel like he was almost touching him through it. He wanted to be as close as possible. Near, proximate.
-"Growing up, I always knew I was a little bit different than everyone else. I always just had this feeling that I wasn't... the same. But it wasn't until I was twelve years old until I really had pin-pointed what that was. For some reason, my seventh grade year... I had this thought in back of my head: what if I'm gay? And, I immediately was SO terrified... I'm from a small town in the Mid-West. That's not a normal thing there. I didn't even know what that word meant! I'd only met a couple gay people in my entire life! It was... terrifying to me to think that I was something that I knew nothing about. So I immediately pushed it away and tried to not think about it. But, as anyone who's gone through this knows... you CAN'T not think about it. I was up all night for I can't tell you how many nights, just... thinking, like, looking at the ceiling and just... thinking about this. And I was so scared that I never told anybody."
Troye remembered what it had been like with him. All of the wounds that had been healed had left scars of sorts, and it wasn't easy for those to fade. The feeling of loneliness, of fear that Connor described from his early teen years... he still remembered how those felt.
-"So fast forward into High School, I tried to avoid it by... dating girls. All I wanted to do was be... like everyone else. So I date girls! I would kiss girls, but I would feel... nothing. I just wanted everything to be... like everyone else said it was. I just wanted to be normal! I just wanted to talk about what I wanted to talk about and be who I was, but I didn't feel like I could be that. I felt so isolated... Because I had this secret... That I couldn't even talk to myself about, let alone other people. And it wasn't until my sophomore year in college that I... really THOUGHT about it."
Connor's eyes were going watery, and Troye could feel his going as well. Every single thing he said, Troye remembered. Every word, every feeling. Like it was going on all over again.
-"I thought about it... SO much that I became OBSESSED with it. And having that thought to myself... for so long, started taking over my life and I started feeling... depressed! And I thought like, there was no escape from my own thoughts. But I thought to myself 'maybe I can continue to avoid this if I just don't act on it, it'll never be a thing.' And I don't know what it was but, one year ago... I kept trying to get myself to... look in the mirror... and say it. I just-I was tired of running! I was tired of hiding who I truly was, so... I just tried to say it. And I don't think you'd understand unless you've gone through it but... I couldn't say it. Like I was not capable of saying it. My mouth could NOT utter those words. Until, one time... I did. And I... felt... like, a mixture of every emotion possible. I was really relieved that I finally said it but I was also SO terrified that I'd finally had admitted that to myself. Then the next step was to tell... a person. So in January of this year after keeping one of my friend up till like five a.m. on his couch... I told him. And... I felt great."
So it was true, I was right. Troye thought.
A quick memory of the first day he spent in LA flashed through his head. He visiting Tyler when he still had the bruise on his eye. He sitting down on Tyler's living room purple-ish blue couch, and Tyler looking at the scene weirdly and saying something. What had that been...?
That couch just has seen too much lately. I've just realized. I think I'll have it washed.
Connor continued to talk on his video, and Troye watched and listened. He talked about how he had told his friends, his parents and siblings. Did that mean... he had told them when Troye was gone? Was that it? Or was he lying? Had all of this happened just in the last week and half? Had Connor truly come to terms with this and told everyone? Had he... given up hiding?
Connor said how he had spent twenty two years building up a huge deal out of all this on his head, and how now, at the end of the line, it wasn't a big deal at all, and nobody treated him differently.
Troye didn't understand, he didn't understand one bit. It was like a flash of information, a huge wave that was thrown unto him all at once.
I'm sick of censoring myself, Connor said.
This is just one little part of who I am, he claimed.
He said how he never felt comfortable talking about this subject to anybody, so he researched on his own, on the internet, on chatrooms... and that this video, his Coming Out video, was made for anyone who would need it, like he did.
-"It's okay. It may not seem like it right now; but you... are gonna be fine. I know it's scary but, don't be afraid. You are who you are, and you should love that person. And I don't want anyone to go through twenty-two years of their life... afraid to accept that. And three... I just want to set a precedent: race, gender, religion, sexuality... we are all people. And that's it. We're all people, we are all equal."
This time in the video, Troye could tell that Connor had already paused several times to wipe off tears. The lightning was dramatically changed and he could see the stains on his face. Perhaps nobody else could; but he did.
-"I don't want anyone to have to be afraid... I don't want anyone to hold back who they are... it's not okay... It's not, a good thing."
By this point Connor wasn't even trying to hold back the tears anymore, but he remained strong. He looked so vulnerable, so sensible... just like the night of the storm, when he showed up in Troye's hotel room door, dripping wet from the rainwater...
This is just another video. It's just another video where you found out a little more about me.
Soon, the video was over. And Troye was still in shock. It was even titled "COMING OUT", and from what he'd seen, thousands were already seeing it. People from all over the world; Connor's fan base, as well as other YouTuber's, and all kinds of people, too. There was so much support, and so many messages of thanks sent to him.
Troye just sat frozen. The shock was too great. The emotions were too many, and the space was so little.
Marly was still on the phone, and she cleared her throat to make sure Troye remembered that as well. With a sweet tone to her words that seemed oddly alien on her, she broke the silence.
-"... Tro Tro, you have to talk to me. Please say something. Please tell me you're still there."
Troye's throat was dryer than the red desert, but he made an effort to respond. His numb senses managed to get out a vague noise, but it was enough to Marly.
-"A-augh..."-Troye mustered.
-"Troye, please... what did you think?"
-"... What... what is this about, Marly? What... what are you trying to do to me...?"
Troye could hear Marly sigh from the other end of the line. Jagga whined in worry, seeing the sudden change of complexion of her master.
-"Troye, I'm trying to help you... there's just one more thing left to do now... could you please... go outside?"
Troye looked towards his closed window. The blue curtains didn't let him see anything at all, but he could tell there was still sunlight beaming from the outdoors. With the same clothes he was in, plus a pair of loafers, he picked up his phone and started descending the stairs, with Jagga right behind him.
His palms were sweaty.
His head hurt.
His chest ached.
He reached the front door. Whatever was on the other side... whatever it was...
-"Troye, are you at your front door?"-Marly asked-"Please, let me know..."
-"... I am."
-"... Open it, Troye."
-"... Marly, I'm scared..."
-"There's nothing to be scared of. You have to trust me. I promised I would help you, remember? We are both in this together."
Troye's shaking hand touched the doorknob, feeling the cold. With a swift ease motion, the door was open and Troye exited into the sun.
It was a bright day of summer in the afternoon. The sky was already painting itself orange. The breeze blew sweetly on Troye's face and on the leaves of the palm trees around him. There was also a sweet smell in the air, something that Troye thought he recognized...
And then, he saw him.
In front of him, a couple of steps away. With a bouquet of a million white, tiny flowers on his hands, which Troye immediately recognized as cinnamon, and looking dreadful from what had probably been a long journey. Connor's eyes were with tears. Real tears. And his entire body was shaking. But when he saw Troye, he smiled nervously, and tears were streaming down his face.
The smell of cinnamon and mint came from the bouquet of flowers, and it was sweet, refreshing... it was lovely.
Marly's voice sounded one last time from the other end of the line.
-"Good luck, Tro Tro."
And then, she hung up. Connor didn't move or dared take a step. Instead, he just stood there, and said one single word.
-"... Hi."