"Is it me or this is kinda disturbing?" Troye heard Joe mutter under his breath, as they stared at Connor, who was sat in the armchair with Joey balancing on its elbow rest.
Troye chuckled, "Yeah, it's like from this movie, what is it called?" he frowned in contemplation, "The one with the weird evil guy who had a midget and called him mini-me."
Joe snapped his fingers, trying to remember the name, but failing, "I see what you mean, but I can't think of the title."
Indeed, Troye found the picture of Connor and Joey together almost unsettling. It seemed like Joey was just a slightly larger version of Connor, his hair styled in the same quiff, smile just as bright and even some of the mannerisms the same.
They shared their passion for hiking (which made Troye roll his eyes) and animals (which made Tyler roll his eyes), obsession with healthy eating (eye roll from Troye again) and fashion sense (this one nobody seemed to mind). In fact, Troye really enjoyed the sight of Connor in a dark patterned dress shirt for a change, and he could have sworn that he hadn't seen a snapback on him for a few months. He liked both these facts a lot.
What he didn't like was the fact that Connor's knee repeatedly brushed against Joey's thigh, but Connor, instead of moving away, remained in the same sitting position, smiling up at his conversation partner and nodding eagerly to something he was saying.
Troye snapped out of his mental rant, remembering something he wanted to tell Joe for a long time, and turned to face him, "This is kinda random but I'm sorry about your parents."
Joe gave him a perplexed look, which then transformed into a warm smile, "Thanks, I guess. I mean, it has not settled in with me yet. Since Zoe and I are here, we are gonna see them only at Christmas, and for now it seems like everything is the same."
Troye reached over to give Joe's hand a squeeze, "It's gonna be alright, mate. If you ever need something, you can count on me, you know that?"
"Sure," Joe hid a smile in his glass and fell silent for a moment. "Okay, enough with the sappy stuff, I hate it. Tell me something funny instead."
Troye thought for a second, his eyes wandering around the room, "Do you know that we call baby kangaroos in Australia?" He waited for a reply and, upon receiving none, continued, "Joeys."
Joe snorted, glancing at the chair where the guy in question sat, and shook his head at Connor, who having caught up on their laughter, looked up at them questioningly.
"What are you two laughing on about?" Zoe asked from her place on the couch inquisitively.
"Just banter," Joe shrugged dismissively, then pointed at an album in Zoe's lap, "What is that?"
"Oh, a scrapbook," she replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, and threw it into Joe's hands.
Troye wrinkled his nose, "A scrapbook? Are you eight, Zoe?"
He felt someone plop into the seat next to him, crushing him a little bit, and, as he turned, he was met with Connor's curious stare, "What's all the fun about?" he asked, eyes never leaving Troye's face.
"Apparently, Zoe has a scrapbook," Troye complained, "How lame is that? It's like she's in kindergarten."
Connor's eyes twinkled a bit at that, "Yeah, I actually made it. For Tyler." He paused for dramatic effect, furrowing his eyebrows, "Are you insinuating that I'm immature?"
Troye's face fell, "Shit, sorry. I didn't mean it that way," he hurried to explain himself.
Connor looked at him coldly for a straight minute, before giving away to laughter, his poker face failing miserably, "I'm just messing with you, Troye boy," he teased, poking Troye's side, "It is kinda lame though, isn't it? Besides, I probably am immature."
"No shit," Troye mumbled, as he tried to avoid tickling. He noticed slightly inebriated Tyler stumble into the living room from the bathroom, eyes roaming, and waved him over, "Tilly, come here!"
Tyler complied, before laying down clumsily across Joe's, Troye's and Connor's lap, "What's up, motherfuckers?" he asked, addressing no one in particular.
Connor frowned at him, putting a hand on his head, as one checking child's temperature would, "Will you be okay in the morning? I mean, you're gonna have a pretty intense drive. And we have yet to move the couch."
Zoe cocked an eyebrow at Tyler incredulously, "You are taking your couch with you?"
Tyler rolled his eyes, "Of course, it is a part of my heritage."
Troye eyed him suspiciously, "You know that heritage is something you are supposed to leave behind, right?"
"Don't get smart with me, Troye," Tyler scolded irritatedly, "Connor doesn't want it anyway."
Connor looked at them all, raising his arms placatingly, but with a little smirk of his own, "I mean, this couch has seen a lot of things I'm not sure I'm comfortable with."
"That's because you are a prude," Tyler countered somewhat menacingly, but the words lacked his usual bite, "Where's this little bitch Marcus? He said he'd come."
Zoe looked down on her phone, "He's seeing Niomi off at the airport."
Tyler scoffed, "Of course he is. Korey has also blown me off."
Joe looked unimpressed, "Well, excuse him for attending his brother's wedding. He promised to come visit you soon though."
Tyler grumbled almost unintelligibly, pointing at Connor, "Your guys also left already," he pouted.
Connor nodded, "They literally spent the whole day here, Ty."
"Where's Joey?" Troye asked.
Connor turned to look at him again, "He's taking a work call."
"Caspar is gonna be here in 5," Joe announced, reading the text from his phone.
Tyler sighed grumpily, "Finally, someone who actually gives a shit."
Zoe reached over to tap Tyler's foot, "Hey, we all do."
"Do what?" Joe smirked, knowing perfectly well that his sister preferred to avoid swearing as much as she could.
Zoe glared at her brother, "Give a damn."
Catching up on Joe's antics, Connor taunted, "That's not it. We all do what?"
Zoe squealed, covering her ears, "I'm not gonna say it."
Tyler, less moody than before, raised his head from where it was nestled on Connor's knees, "Come on, say it. What do y'all do?"
"Oh my god," Zoe snapped, "We give a shit, Tyler, we actually do. Do you find this so hard to believe? We actually fucking care, because we are all your friends and we love you. And even if you are moving, doesn't mean that we love you less."
Tyler perched himself on his elbows, effectively crushing Troye and Connor, who both scowled at him, "Zoe Sugg, you are my queen," he rolled over from them to sit next to Zoe, all three boys under him sighing in relief.
Joe scowled, as he picked up the previously forgotten scrapbook from his lap, massaging his leg at the place where the corner of the album dug into him.
Troye felt him tap on his shoulder, "Seriously though, dude, look at this," Joe said, flipping through the black album.
As Troye turned his gaze downward, his jaw dropped.
'Scrapbook' was an understatement of the century, he thought.
This was fucking art.
The album was filled with pictures, varying from candid shots of all of them at parties to photos of sunset on the Venice beach. He saw a picture of Tyler doing body shots of Caspar's stomach, Zoe and Korey dying from laughter in the background. A picture of lavender Raf set on a wooden table in the coffee shop Tyler frequented. Lilly and Ricky doing some weird gang gestures with their hands. Tyler, wrapped in a fluffy blanket, sitting on the infamous couch, holding an ice pack to his face. Connor's feet next to the heart drawn on the sand. Four boys from the swim team hugging each other and making faces to the camera. Frightened Caspar looking at Joe who was feeding the guinea pigs. Tyler's books about Ricky Martin and Lady Gaga sprawled artistically on the table. Intertwined hands of Marcus and Niomi with Tyler and Joe making fun of them behind them.
There were so many more.
Troye noticed pictures of himself a couple of times. With the other boys, all of them in drag, Zoe smiling proudly, holding up a bunch of makeup brushes. Slouched in an armchair with Ricky in matching Pokémon onesies. Asleep in the back of someone's car, head resting on Tyler's shoulder. Flexing his fingers weirdly, listening intently to something Caspar was saying.
Him and Tyler both planting sloppy kisses on the cheek of a giggling, blushing Connor.
Troye barely remembered that evening, but he remembered all of them being gloriously drunk and Tyler shouting something, trying to prove his point, which no one cared about.
His eyes were glued to the shot.
"So, do you like it?" he heard Connor ask tentatively.
"It's so cool, mate!" Joe exclaimed.
"What do you think, Troye?"
Troye broke away from the album.
He wanted to say a lot. This is my life, he wanted to say. This is my life, here, in a freaking leather book. In the lens of your hipster camera. In your annoying Instagram filters. In mundane shots of Tyler's favorite chicken taco. This is my life as your stupid green eyes see it. This is my life, and it is beautiful because you are beautiful and that is the way you choose to see it.
He didn't say any of those things.
"I like it," Troye whipped his head to look at Connor solemnly.
"You do? Really?" he asked enthusiastically, obviously flattered, smile wide as ever.
"It is beautiful," Troye simply stated.
And then his stomach dropped, as realization hit him.
No.
No.
No, no, fuck no.
Please.
He couldn't be.
He didn't allow himself to be.
Except he was.
He was in love with Connor Franta.
Next - 'Unattainable"