"Touch. It is touch that is the deadliest enemy of chastity, loyalty, monogamy, gentility with its codes and conventions and restraints. By touch we are betrayed and betray others ... an accidental brushing of shoulders or touching of hands ... hands laid on shoulders in a gesture of comfort that lies like a thief, that takes, not gives, that wants, not offers, that awakes, not pacifies. When one flesh is waiting, there is electricity in the merest contact."
― Wallace Stegner, Angel of Repose
Troye's POV
Troye sat in his creative writing class, ankles crossed, staring out the window at the field of dewed grass glistening like tinsel, the sky a wrinkled sheet of blue tissue, the world wrapped up and still, waiting for something to tear it open. Troye stared at a squirrel running across the pavement, letting the drone of his teacher's voice fade into the background and resisting the urge to drum his fingers or tug at his shirt.
Then he heard words that peppered his gauzy consciousness like poison darts.
"The love poetry of Keats."
A sharp unease spasmed across his shoulder blades and he flicked his eyes towards the front of the class.
Ms. Thompson began reciting a short poem and Troye inhaled, concentrating on the rush of oxygen in his blood. He turned his eyes back to the window and tuned out the class entirely. It was a physical effort not to fidget. He hummed with a frenetic sort of energy, the kind that came when someone saw light at the end of the tunnel and realized that maybe it wasn't an oncoming train; that maybe it was oncoming hope, even happiness.
Troye stared out at a crystalline-blue sky without a single cloud, everything so bright he regretted not grabbing sunglasses. Just a few days ago it had been snowing. Now the air was vivid and crisp, like biting into an apple.
Despite his efforts to stay still, Troye shifted slightly in his seat, his hand tightening unconsciously as he continued to stare out at the beautiful day. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. There was a small inner voice, a nagging suspicion, that there was something he was missing in all this beauty and perfection. This feeling had been with him for days but he couldn't put it into words because he didn't understand what this tiny voice, more a whisper in a language he didn't know, was saying. He had no real explanation for why he'd been struggling to sleep lately-no explanation for the anxious buzzing in his head.
He watched as a breeze shifted a few leaves out of a tree and suddenly it hit him. None of this was real. The day looked warm and inviting, but if he were to step out there would be a sharp, frost-toothed bite to the air. The sun might have been out in force, but the world around him was shivering in the death throes of autumn, the last remaining green flesh being torn from the Earth. It was all an illusion.
The more he thought about it, the more he understood the lingering unease he'd felt the last few days. This possibility of happiness was still so new and felt impossibly fragile, like he could drop it and break it. Everything felt so precarious. He had started to settle into something of a rhythm with his friends, and that was a relief in some ways. In other way, all it did was throw into sharp contrasts all the changes that had already happened in such a short amount of time, and foreshadow the changes that were yet to come. Everything was coming together in the best possible way and he felt as if his brain was on overload. Relocating somewhere new, starting a new school, forming new relationships. It felt like he was juggling glass balls and if he let any one of them drop, they would shatter into a million pieces. It was making it hard to breathe.
His chest tightened and he turned away from the window, staring at his desk, trying to focus on the mostly blank page before him. He could almost meditate the anxiety out of his head. Almost, but not quite. His mind whispered slyly to him, tried to beat him back into that tiny space where he could barely draw breath; where he could barely move.
As soon as the class ended, he was out the door and heading quickly towards the Kaneff building all the music classes were held in. The crowd parted around him on the walkway, oblivious to the turmoil inside him.
He stepped out of the way on an oncoming group of students and walked towards a bench, battling against a familiar sensation, a tremor in his limbs, a prickling behind his eyes. He swallowed harshly and sat on a bench facing the front door. He held it together, barely, arms wrapped tightly around his chest, jaw clenched, eyes squeezed shut, trying to regulate his breathing.
After a moment, he opened his eyes and pulled out his phone, fiddling with it without really seeing what was on the screen.
"Troye!"
Troye jerked automatically, almost dropping his phone and scrambling to catch it. He looked up and saw Tyler standing at the entrance of the building, grinning cheerfully at him. Troye resisted the strange and immediate urge to go to him and half-raised a hand in greeting.
"Hey." He blew out a slow breath and looked behind Tyler. "Um, you might want to move."
Tyler glanced behind him just in time and stepped out of the way quickly. Troye watched the mass of people stream through the double doors and had to swallow against a wave of nausea. Anxiety crawls through his body, scraping at him with sharp claws, goading him closer and closer to shaking. Troye breathed out slowly. It's alright, he told himself.
Still, when the crowd finally dispersed, anxiety's tiny claws had torn fissures into his certainty. He moved towards Tyler slowly, raking a hand through his hair as he eyed the boy almost warily.
"Hey, Tyler."
"Hi, Troye." Tyler grinned at him happily, looking bemused. "What are you doing here?"
"Nothing, I was just..." He trailed off, dropping his hand to his side as he asked quietly, "Are you going anywhere right now?"
Tyler blinked at him as his smile faded. Then his eyes narrowed. "No, I was just heading home now. Why?"
"N-No reason, I-"
Troye stopped and stared at Tyler's shoes. He corrected himself quietly. "Do you mind if I come?"
Tyler's gaze hung on him, heavy and questioning. "Of course I don't mind...are you staying over tonight?"
Troye swallowed and finally looked up. "If you don't mind."
Troye saw an immediate but quickly veiled frown. "Do you think I-"
Tyler cut off the rest of his sentence and shook his head. "I don't mind. Do you want to get something to eat first?"
Troye shook his head wordlessly and after a brief hesitation, Tyler moved forward, glancing at Troye as they walked.
Troye almost said something. He almost broke the silence to answer Tyler's unspoken questions. He almost stopped and looked up to hold Tyler's gaze. Almost. Almost. Almost. Instead, he stayed silent, not knowing how to explain the tangled knot in his chest. He kept his head down, not wanting to see his own misery reflected in Tyler's eyes.
Tyler unlocked the door and stepped inside, heading towards the kitchen with another searching glance at Troye. Troye heard him filling the kettle for tea. Troye slowly pulled off his coat and scarf, staring around him blankly. He stood in the sudden emptiness of the house until it swelled up inside him. He went to the living room and sat on the couch gingerly, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his chin on top of them.
Tyler returned with a mug of tea and placed it on the table, nodding at Troye's quiet murmur of thanks. He sank onto the couch next him, leaning his elbow on the back and twirling the TV control in his hands. After a moment, Troye heard the TV flicker to life as Tyler channel surfed, settling on an episode of House.
Troye could feel Tyler looking at him but he didn't look over and he didn't speak. It felt like if he talked, he might break in half. There was this dark sadness that lined his ribs all the time, and every once in a while, it griped his chest, filling the space between his lungs.
Finally, Tyler turned the volume on the TV down and angled to face him.
"What's going on, Troye?"
Troye didn't move, continuing to watch the muted screen in front of him, taking a moment to gather himself. Between Tyler's piercing gaze and the complexity of emotions swirling in him like a hurricane gaining speed over warmer waters, he needed to close his eyes and pick his words carefully.
"Nothing," he spoke so softly his words almost missed his own ears. "I'm not feeling great today."
"What's wrong? Are you sick?"
Troye shook his head. What was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to answer? Tyler leaned back against the couch and the light caught his eyes as he repeated the question. Troye clutched the pillow tighter and answered the most honest way he knew how.
"I'm sad," he managed to say, although his voice came out weaker than he would have liked.
Tyler froze before slowly letting out a long breath. "Did something happen?"
Troye shook his head wordlessly.
"Okay...Do you know why you're sad?"
That was the question people who've never been sad like this will always asked. Troye couldn't explain it, even if he knew the ingredients that made it up, even if he understood the catalyst. He couldn't find words to describe the thing itself. It had always been with him and maybe always would be with him, but he knew he couldn't explain it to someone who'd never experienced it.
So all he said was, "No."
Tyler's gaze lowered and he went back to twisting the controller, his face thoughtful as he turned it over and over in his hands. Tyler lifted his eyes and held Troye's gaze. Troye studied the veins of green in his eyes, searching for hints of unease or...But Tyler's gaze was steady and clear.
"I have a plan if you're interested?"
Troye studied Tyler silently before giving a small nod.
Tyler stretched out beside him, leaning his back against the couch and contemplating Troye calmly.
"Well, first we could watch something aggressively awful and I could provide you with helpful commentary. Then we could order way too much food and eat too much of it. Then you can take a really hot shower, or maybe a bath, I have one of those bubble bath things...anyway, then we can sit down again and come up with a new plan. How does that sound?"
Troye stared for a moment, then nodded slowly, keeping his gaze fixed on Tyler's. He thought about saying something, but his mind spun too hard to reach for any words. Tyler didn't seem to notice and reacted to his nod as if he had spoken. Tyler smiled briefly and switched the TV back on, flipping through the channels before settling on a rerun of American Idol.
"There. If having your eardrums assaulted doesn't make you feel better, nothing will."
Troye could hear the smile in his voice and couldn't help but smile back. Tyler sank back into the couch and the weight of his presence helped crush away some of the darkness so he could breathe again. He inhaled, and then exhaled, pressing the buzzing in his mind into the corners, trapping it so he can ground himself firmly in the present.
For a long moment, they just sit there in silence, watching a contestant butcher a Christina Aguilera song. Then Tyler turned towards him abruptly and whispered in a voice that rough around the edges, "You'll be alright, Troye."
Troye's throat closed around any words and he curled his fingers into fists. He nodded silently and Tyler gave a faint smile before turning back to the tv with a shake of his head.
"How is it possible this person has gone through their entire life thinking they can sing?"
-X-
Troye struggled to maneuver one of the larger pieces and Caspar moved forward to steady it, helping him move it into the hallway and lean it against the wall.
"Where's Tyler?" He asked. "Why isn't he helping you?"
Troye shrugged and carefully picked up two smaller portraits. "We're not joined at the hip, you know."
Caspar raised an eyebrow in mild surprise. "You're not?"
"No." Troye said evenly. "We're not."
"Didn't you used to live here at some point?"
Troye flicked an slightly narrowed look towards Caspar before looking away again. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Caspar gave him a mildly pitying look. "Clearly I mean you've been spending a lot of time with Tyler."
Caspar shifted one of the paintings so it leaned more firmly against the wall. "Not that either of you seem to be minding it much."
Troye looked at him sharply but Caspar turned and went into the kitchen to collect another painting. Troye almost went after him, almost asked him what he'd meant by that. But at the last moment, just as Caspar returned and glanced back suspiciously at his silence, he turned back, shying away from the question.
Troye looked at the numerous paintings lining the wall doubtfully, wondering if he and Caspar would be able to make the journey in one trip. When he returned to the kitchen, it was to see Caspar on his phone, texting someone furiously.
Troye glared at him. "You'd better not be texting Tyler."
"Tyler who?" Caspar flashed him a brilliant smile and Troye narrowed his eyes, letting out a quiet sigh when his phone immediately lit up.
Caspar smirked a bit as he answered. "Hey, ignore Caspar, you don't have to come over now."
"Already on my way. So, what's the emergency?"
"No emergency." He could hear the sounds of nature and people as Tyler walked. "Ms. Magerelli wanted to look over some of my things. Caspar's just helping me carry them."
"Is this for your showing?"
"Maybe." Troye shrugged, then swiftly changed the subject. "Didn't you say you were finishing your essay today? You don't have to come if-"
"I'm picking up lunch," Tyler interrupted breezily. "Any requests?"
"Alcohol," Troye responded promptly. "Lots of it."
Tyler didn't miss a beat. "How about Chinese? I ordered enough and Caspar said you haven't eaten anything yet."
Troye turned to glare at Caspar who smiled beatifically back. "I'm going to kill him."
"Please don't, he can be useful sometimes," Tyler said, and then the background noise changed.
"Alright, let me in."
Troye kept the phone pressed to his ear as he padded towards the door. Tyler appeared in his doorway a moment later, holding a plastic bag that wafted the scents of Chinese food and smiling mischievously as he deliberately lowered the phone still pressed to his ear.
"Hey, Troye," he drawled as he stepped into the room.
"Hey." It was all Troye managed to say before Caspar stepped forward and grabbed the food.
"You really didn't have to come"
"Are you kidding?" Tyler plopped onto the couch and turned a reproachful look towards him. "I can't believe you didn't call me yourself."
Troye shrugged. Of course he had thought of asking Tyler but...
"I'm coming over later right? I wanted to give you a little space."
"I don't need space," Tyler muttered, bouncing energetically to his feet and heading over to the paintings leaning against the wall. "I have too much space."
Tyler gave him a long, considering look over his shoulder. "I think you were just avoiding me because you still haven't decided what to watch tonight."
"Um..." Troye bit his thumb to keep from smiling. "Actually, I have decided. We're watching Total Eclipse."
Tyler groaned. "Oh for God's sake, I'm not watching that again."
"There's no limit to how many times you can watch that movie." Troye informed him in a matter-of-fact tone. "Besides, it's my turn to pick."
"Well pick something that doesn't make me want to sit in a corner and stare at the wall."
Troye tried to keep his face and tone even but couldn't stop a smile from spreading. "Art is pain, Tyler."
"Is that why you insist on torturing me?"
"I have a question," Caspar interrupted before Troye could respond. "Why do you two sound like an old married couple?"
Troye froze before looking over at Tyler quickly. Tyler was giving Caspar a long look Troye couldn't exactly interpret.
"Because we're best friends," Tyler finally answered so smoothly that Troye almost thanked him for saving him from having to respond.
"Best friends?" Caspar kept his eyes on Tyler and Troye's eyes swung between them uncertainly, feeling as if a conversation were happening between them that he wasn't privy to. "Should I be taking notes?"
"Sure," Tyler said, gaze still locked with Caspar's. "You can be the backup best friend when I'm not around."
Troye's eyes leapt to Tyler. His heart not just skipping a beat, but tripping and falling into his abdomen. "You're not going anywhere."
Tyler finally looked away from Caspar and turned back to Troye, looking a little startled. Tyler stared at him and the startled look faded into an affectionate one. Troye's breath caught in his throat as Tyler continued to stare at him.
"Of course I'm not. I was just kidding. I'm not going anywhere."
The memory of a similar conversation was sharp on his tongue and held all other words captive. Troye could not speak, not even to downplay his visceral reaction to Tyler's teasing suggestion that he would leave. Tyler continued to watch him quietly and Troye turned his face away, feeling as if he were revealing too much. He nodded slightly before reaching for one of the containers, trying to hide his growing mortification.
"Okay."
-X-
They walked through the city, stopping for hot drinks twice and sharing a comically large cookie between them. Troye's mind flashed back to the first time they had walked through that part of the city together. Tyler had stopped and bought them matching candy bracelets, winking at Troye and sweeping his brightly-colored hair out of his eyes as he'd slipped his on.
Troye smiled faintly at the memory and slid a look towards the boy beside him. Tyler was the opposite of him in so many ways and Troye loved spending time in his energy. He was so vibrant, crashing through life guilelessly and noisily. Troye couldn't help but absorb some of that boundless energy, walk with a little more purpose in his step, have a little smile on his face, be a little more excited about the day to follow.
"You're quiet," Tyler observed beside him. "Which means you're thinking too hard."
Troye smiled ruefully. "Am I that easy to read?"
Tyler made a faint noise that could have been suppressed laughter and gave him a small, amused look through lowered lashes. "Not exactly."
Troye glanced down as they walked along. "I actually wasn't thinking about much. Just...how nice today has been. I wish I could press pause and keep things..."
Troye tilted his head back as his words trailed off, eyes closing, the wind playing over his face. He spent a second just soaking up the light, photons beaming and bursting through his eyelids. His heart beat a slow, bluesy beat. Troye felt Tyler's eyes on him, hot as the sun in June but took another moment before pressing play. When he opened his eyes, his vision danced with microscopic explosions, a hazy sparkle. The sun was falling, making flame-colored creases on the sidewalk, pouring like magma over the molten blue sky. When he glanced at Tyler his eyes reflected it, catching and holding that distant fire. Tyler held his gaze unflinchingly. He didn't smile, but there was an open warmth in his look that seemed to reach out toward Troye.
"Should we start heading back now?"
Tyler's familiar smile broke out and he nodded. "Sure."
On their walk back, Tyler stopped to take a million pictures of buildings and to peer at them on his phone. As the last warm light along their walk, he stopped and gestured Troye closer to take a photo.
"Babe," he said, studying the screen. "Think about puppies. Or flowers. Or puppies running through flowers."
Troye resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but couldn't help the grin that formed. "The picture is firmly in my mind. Take another one."
Troye glanced at Tyler when the other boy paused. Tyler's eyes held his a beat, enigmatic. They both looked away. Tyler reset the camera, raised it so the shot captured them both.
Tyler took three more, fooling around in the last one to try to get him to smile. Tyler stared at the last one for a long moment and then passed the phone to him.
Tyler's scarf framed his jaw, his purple hair a shock against his light skin. The glare of the setting sun was so bright that the edges of Tyler's hair was lost in the sunlight. But it was his own expression that Troye couldn't stop staring at. His face was scrunched up as he grinned, his smile broad and genuine.
"Troye?" Tyler said, and he realized he had been standing on the street, staring down at his picture for God knew how long. "You alright?"
"Uh..." He ripped his gaze away from the photo, suddenly feeling weird, off-kilter. "Yeah, I'm okay."
He handed the phone back to Tyler, his hand shaking slightly. It wasn't the cold. Or not just the cold. Something was out of balance inside him. Something moving fast, accelerating. Skewing his center of gravity.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and flicked his gaze back to the phone in Tyler's hands.
"Could you, uh, send that one to me?"
Tyler didn't even blink. Just nodded slightly, keeping his gaze on Troye's. "Sure."
-X-
After he'd showered, Troye sat on the floor of the bathroom, trying to comb the tangles out of his hair, listening to Tyler humming to himself on the other side of the door. Troye had come to enjoy, even rely on Tyler's company, but tonight, something shivered just beneath his skin and he wasn't sure what it was. Troye's fingers slowed and eventually stopped moving as he thought about it.
"You okay in there?" Tyler called, rapping his knuckles on the door.
Oh perfectly fine, thank you. Just trying to untangle my feelings. Troye didn't say any of this. Instead he called back, "I'm decent, just brushing my hair. You can come in if you want."
Big mistake. The door opened immediately and Troye was suddenly reminded just how small Tyler's bathroom was.
Tyler walked in, rubbing his hands absentmindedly through his floppy hair. He looked down at Troye. "Why are you on the floor? You look-"
Tyler stopped talking abruptly and Troye didn't look up immediately, his fingers and comb focused on straightening a particularly stubborn knot. When he did look up, it was to see Tyler staring at him.
"What?"
"Your hair." Tyler's voice sounds a little hoarse.
Troye paused. Was this the first time he hadn't straightened his hair here? He shook his head slightly before continuing his efforts. "I know. Terrible isn't it?"
Tyler opened his mouth but shut it immediately. He walked slowly towards the counter and fished his toothbrush out, watching Troye in the mirror. "No. Terrible's not the word I would use."
Tyler measured out some toothpaste and continued watching him in the mirror. "Why are you on the floor?" He asked around his toothbrush.
Troye gave up on combing his hair and just sat there, stretching out his feet and watching Tyler. "I've been on my feet all day."
Tyler made a thoughtful sound and puts his toothbrush away, rinsing his mouth. He slid down onto the floor and stretched out his legs, copying Troye's pose. He scooted closer and Troye breathed slowly, hyperaware of the way his shirt clung to his damp skin.
"How was your day, babe?"
There was something in Tyler's voice that gave Troye pause. Made a strange buzzing void come between his heart and his ribs. He turned to find Tyler's gaze settled on him, the weight of it both a comfort and a strange thrill. It made Troye feel seen and real in a way he often struggled to.
"It was okay," he whispered. "Yours?"
"Good," Tyler smiled. "Better now."
Troye studied him silently, thinking that Tyler was accidentally beautiful in a way not many people could pull off. With his colorful hair and dark eyes, the way his eyes and his smile tended to light up at the same time.
"Troye," Tyler smiled at him and Troye's chest went tight with bands of heat. It was a strange sensation, and one he had no idea what to do with.
"You're not going to make me watch Total Eclipse again are you?"
Troye shook his head slowly, so very conscious of the space between them; of the air connecting their bodies. The strange sensation in his chest tightened. "No."
"Good." Tyler leaned towards him and Troye's breath was trapped, spinning in his chest. His skin hummed everywhere Tyler touched him and it took him a minute to realize it was a memory; that Tyler's hands were safely at his side. Still, his skin tingled maddeningly and he resisted the urge to scrub at it.
"But you know I'd watch it again if you really wanted to."
The darkness of Tyler's eyes was incredibly warm and for a second, Troye couldn't figure out what he was talking about. Right. The movie.
"Y-yeah," Troye said shakily, shifting away from the intensity of Tyler's pose; from his body radiating energy so close to his own. He had been spending so much time with Tyler, why was his presence affecting him more instead of less?
Tyler smiled at him in that small, private way he did sometimes when they were alone, and the strange flutter in his chest he had taken for pleasure suddenly felt more like panic. Troye's eyes darted away from Tyler's and he stood up, backing away towards the door.
"I'll go start the movie," he said nervously, hurrying out before Tyler could respond.
-X-
Troye lay thinking things over, his head buzzing, unable to sleep. He was feeling disassociated again. He needed to finalize the theme of his art project but only stared at his half-finished paintings without enthusiasm. He desperately needed to do laundry but, again, couldn't summon up the will.
You're just tired, he thought to himself. He knew that wasn't quite true, but he had no other name for this trembling uncertainty; it was a distant panic he was putting off feeling.
He tossed restlessly on the bed before settling and staring at the doorway. He had vague thoughts of warm milk but couldn't muster the energy to move. After a while, he sighed inwardly and sat up, creeping very quietly into the kitchen.
He stopped at the doorway and stared blankly, trying to remember what he'd gone to the kitchen for. Drawing a blank, he moved over to the fridge, staring at its contents without much interest, trying to remember what he'd wanted. Instead, his mind wandered back to his errant problem; his shadowy unease.
Everything was going well and he was spending as much time with Tyler as his workload would allow, but lately it felt as though they were...tiptoeing around each other, both unsure of why but aware that they had to thread softly.
Troye frowned. The strange disconnect with real life broke over him again; the feeling that he was following a script, an agenda. It was unsettling.
"Troye?"
The refrigerator door rattled as he gave it a spastic jerk. He quickly corrected it and peeked over the top of the door. Tyler was standing a few feet away from him, silhouetted in the archway that led to the living room.
How long had he been standing there staring into the refrigerator? And how long had Tyler been standing there watching him? Troye felt his face warm as he stuttered "I-I'm sorry, did I wake you up?"
"No, it's okay. I wasn't really sleeping yet." Tyler peered at him curiously as he moved to stand beside him. "What about you? Can't sleep?"
"Uh..." Troye looked into the fridge and grabbed the first thing he saw- a pear- and closed the door. "I was just, uh, hungry."
Tyler nodded, continuing to peer at him. Troye stared somewhere just above Tyler's left shoulder.
"I, uh...really need to wash my hands."
Tyler nodded, stepped to the side and gestured towards the sink. Troye almost blanked out on the whole procedure. Water, check. Soap, check. Rub hands together-, did Tyler really have to look at him so hard? Especially with that slightly thoughtful gaze?
Troye watched Tyler in the window's reflection because it was easier than facing him. Mostly it was shadow and blur, but the moonlight cut through the night, a clear arc showing half his face.
"Troye?"
"Yeah?"
"I think they're clean now."
Troye refocused and looked down. He was still methodically washing his hands. "Oh. Um, right."
He rinsed the pear quickly, glancing around a moment for something to dry his hands with, then giving up halfway through his search. He turned to face Tyler, pressing his back into the sink. Their eyes finally met and Troye saw himself reflected there, small and befuddled.
"I, uh...we should get back to bed."
Tyler stepped back with a smile and a nod, making room for Troye to move forward. But all Troye could manage was a deer-in-headlights stare. Tyler tilted his head in question and Troye felt a moment of disorientation, watching his own mannerism on somebody else.
He sidled slowly to the left, clutching the pear to his chest like a shield. In a prism of moonlight, Troye caught the edge of Tyler's amused smile and repressed a nervous twitch. Something weighty and intense coursed between them. It was not a new thing, but it was new that it was this palpable. A black flicker at the edge vision. A skulking, shadowy presence.
"Good night, Tyler."
There was a sudden brightness as Tyler opened the fridge and peered inside as well.
"Goodnight, Troye."
-X-
After another exhaustive round of staring at nothing and thinking about everything, Troye closed his eyes and was plunged straight into the dream.
It began with a dark screen, nothing special. But in the dream, Troye knew things. Felt them and knew them without consideration or doubt. And he knew that this screen was special; that is was going to show him something he did not want to see.
Troye stood watching it, breath held, waiting for something to happen.
Hoping it wouldn't. Dreading it would.
Hope and dread. Those words were wholly inadequate to describe the intensity of the feelings in the dream. Ordinary hope and dreads were like shadows next to these; waifish representations of emotions so raw and terrible they would annihilate him in real life, rip open his mind and drive him mad. Even in the dream, it felt like it would blast Troye apart-the savage, agonizing pressure of the suspense.
Watch the screen, Troye.
Will it happen again?
It can't it can't.
A choking sob built in his throat. A prayer cut through his hope and dread, plaintive as a pull from a violin, a single word drawn out-please-so long and pure it felt as if it would go on until the end of time...which wouldn't be that long. Because his whole world was about to end.
Over and over again, prey to the dream, Troye had been forced to watch it happen. Plunged into the moment of horror when hope was still just within grasp-
-and then snatched away.
The screen flickered on. It started small: barely visible, a figure, dressed in strange, orange clothing, walked into the frame, looking lost and downtrodden, his face an echo of remembered pain. He wasn't alone for long. Others appeared, abruptly and without warning.
The group moved fast, rushing forward and driving the first boy to the ground, pinning him beneath their collective weight. Almost before Troye could blink, a member of the swarm had his forearm planted across the boy's throat, bearing down on it. The boy tried to wriggle away, but he was outweighed and outmatched, unable to defend himself against the flurry of kicks and blows. The attack progressed and the boy managed to retreat backwards, staggering towards a wall and struggling to his feet.
Troye caught a flicker of movement, a silver gleam, and then he saw the boy recoil backwards, eyes widening as he pressed a hand to his side. The boy sank to the ground, staring at the blood on his fingers as a crimson stain spread rapidly on his shirt.
Troye could not move, the shock of it racing through him, making his heartbeat ring in his ears. There was a pain in his chest that was growing hotter and sharper by the minute, until he could barely keep upright. He stared frozen, as a small drop of blood fell from the boy-the body- onto the ground. It grew quickly and was joined by more drops, spreading and moving determinedly towards him.
Troye screamed as the image before him bled and bloomed. He tried to move away, tried to flee, and his panic and guilt were as ravenous. He sucked in a breath, but his lungs were squeezing closed. He gasped frantically, every breath seeming shallower that the last.
This was all his fault. Somehow in the dream, he knew that this was all happening because of him. And it was going to happen again. Somehow, he knew that he was going to let it happen again.
Never. I will never-
"Troye. Troye!"
Troye woke in the darkness, short of breath and gripping his shirt where it was bunched around his stomach. There was someone bending over him. He couldn't really see anything, but something in the air above him felt like a weight.
He let out a half-suppressed whimper and the weight was gone.
He slid up the bed and pressed his back against the headboard, making himself as small of a target as possible. A voice came out of the darkness and he flinched, straining his ears for the sound of it coming closer.
"Troye, it's Tyler. There's a lamp beside you. I'll stay right here until you turn on the light."
Tyler's voice was low and even. The kind of calm voice you'd use on crazy people. Troye tried to swallow past the pulse in his throat and shifted over. He swiped his hand until it hit the lamp, then flicked it on.
There was a moment of dazzling blindness while he hunkered on the bed. When he could see again, Tyler stood by the doorway, hands out to either side, staring at him.
"Jesus," Troye sagged on the bed. "D-Don't bend over me like that when I'm sleeping."
Tyler nodded quickly. "I'm sorry. It's just...you were screaming.
Tyler's eyes were a little too wide. The fabric of his PJ's fluttered with his breath. "Like, really screaming."
"Yeah." Troye's throat still felt raw and he passed a shaky hand over its skin, curling his fingers automatically around the necklace resting under his shirt. The dream was fading, leaving behind an inky, cloying blackness. "I do that sometimes."
He pushed himself upright in the bed. His heartbeat felt like a funeral thrum- doomful and deep and reverberating through his entire body. Although his mouth was dry and his breathing was shallow, he tried to speak evenly, "I'm s-sorry I woke you."
"No, that's not-" Tyler straightened against the doorway, still staring wide-eyed at Troye. "I just-I don't think I've ever heard anyone scream like that outside of a movie."
Go away. Troye wanted to say it but couldn't get his voice to work. Please. His hands were starting to shake. Pretty soon he wouldn't be able to control it, and he didn't want Tyler to witness that. Again.
He swallowed convulsively a few times before forcing out, "I'm f-fine. I just...you c-can..."
Shit
The shaking progressed abruptly, the pressure building, a sting behind his eyelids, his skin prickling. And all of it completely out of his control.
Shit shit shit
Troye doubled over and hid his face in the bedsheets as the tremors rose up and overtook him. As bad as the dreams were- and they could be really bad- the aftermath was sometimes worse. Worse because he was aware and conscious, but still utterly powerless. Sometimes the fear-the terror-refused to recede with the dream and lingered behind, like some myopic creature washed in by a dark tide. Troye could still feel it now. Knives of panic and desperation, all stabbing into a bedrock of remorse and overwhelming guilt.
With some distance from the dream, Troye would be able to tuck it away into some forgotten corner of his mind. But right now, still deeply entangled in its mesh, the fear and hopelessness smothered everything.
When he lifted his head, Tyler was crouched at the foot of the bed, darkened gaze watching him compassionately. Troye dropped his forehead down to his drawn knees. He had known staying here like this was a risk for this exact reason. But the dreams hadn't been this bad in a while and he'd given in to the temptation to pretend he was normal. He had whispered this lie to himself and somehow forgotten that reality was a light sleeper.
"I'm sorry," he whispered to Tyler. "I think I'm okay now."
"Okay." Tyler's gaze lingered and Troye forced himself to meet it while he waited for the inevitable questions to begin.
What were you dreaming about, Troye?
What do you think is causing them, Troye?
How am I supposed to help you if you won't talk to me, Troye?
He'd heard it all before.
Tyler regarded him for an extended moment and then said, "You were dreaming about Mr. Parker weren't you?"
Okay, so Troye hadn't heard that one before.
Troye experienced a moment of profound gratitude and, remarkable, he found himself smiling tremulously. "Yeah. I was dreaming about Mr. Parker."
He cleared his throat carefully, throwing a quick glance at Tyler. "I'm sorry I woke you up, Tyler. I'm okay now, you can go back to sleep."
Tyler nodded but made no move to leave, shifting his gaze down to stare at the comforter in thought. "What are the chances that you'll go back to sleep?"
"Uh..." Troye knew he couldn't go back to sleep. He could feel the dream still perched on his shoulder and knew what would happen if he closed his eyes. "Slim to none."
Tyler nodded again. After a brief moment of reflection and hesitation, he bounded to his feet. "Okay. You can hang out with me until you feel sleepy again."
"What? No-I don't want to-"
Tyler gave him a hurt look and Troye backpedaled quickly. "No, I-I didn't mean I don't want to-I mean-"
"Great." Tyler interrupted him and stood off, backing away from the bed carefully while keeping his gaze on Troye. "Come on, let's go to the kitchen. You want me to put on the kettle?"
Troye shifted of the bed and stood uncertainly, staring blankly at Tyler as he tried to settle. "Huh?"
Tyler stepped back automatically as Troye stood up fully, gaze moving over him quickly in assessment. "Do you want some tea?"
"What? Oh." Troye rubbed his still shaky hand through his hair. "Uh, yes please."
Tyler smiled brightly and ambled out of the room. Troye took a moment to compose himself. He pulled on a robe, rinsed his face with cold water, and regarded himself tiredly in the mirror. His face was puffy, and his eyes were bloodshot. Awesome.
When Troye joined Tyler in the kitchen, the oven clock read two AM. Troye stared at it, aghast, before ripping his gaze to Tyler. "Tyler, you should go back to sleep, I can-"
"Don't feel like sleeping," Tyler said breezily, barely sparing him a glance.
Troye pressed his lips together and didn't try to argue again, only watched as Tyler made a cup of tea and dug out a pint of ice cream from the freezer. He stuck a spoon in it and handed it to Troye. "Nightmare ice cream. Family tradition."
"Really?"
"Yep. Trust me, it helps."
Troye tried to imagine ice cream as his own family's response to a nightmare and couldn't even wrap his head around the concept. The contrast was just too stark. "Thank you."
He cradled the cartoon and ate a few bites in silence, took a sip of tea. Tyler turned the kettle back on and moved towards the cabinet, preparing to make a cup of tea for himself as well. Troye stared down at the cartoon of ice cream and fiddled with his spoon.
"I uh, I haven't had that nightmare in a really long time. Others, but not that one...I didn't think it would come back now."
He glanced across and knew Tyler was listening intently, giving him the space to talk by keeping busy with the milk and sugar.
"Maybe it was waiting until I started to relax. Until I thought it was gone." Or until he got something else he could lose, someone else that could be taken away.
Troye stilled, thinking about this. It frightened him, made his head beat a little more rapidly and noticeably in his chest. He shoved another bite of ice cream into his mouth. There was another silence broken by Tyler's sudden exhale, a quiet, soft sound that made Troye look up automatically.
Tyler pushed some hair from his face, looking at Troye with an almost cautious expression.
"Troye, you don't have to talk to me but it might help to. I don't know if it's healthy to..."
Tyler hesitated, then continued carefully "I just want you to know that you can tell me anything. I mean...I told you I used to have nightmares right? And sometimes I wished I had someone to talk to about them, and other times I was glad I was alone. So...whatever you want or need, I can do. If you want me to stop asking, I can, but if you want to talk, I can listen."
Troye grew stiller as Tyler talked, staring down at his carton of ice cream before finally raised his head to look directly at Tyler. The lamplight filtering in through the window skimmed the side of Tyler's face, the clean line of his jaw, the angled hollows. His face was soft and earnest, his eyes almost bashful. It gave Troye a twist of faint anguish in his chest and for a moment, he had an overwhelming need to blurt something out, to let Tyler know some of the things he'd been burrowing through his brain. He felt the words on his tongue, imagined the sweetness of speaking them. But something held him back. He took a deep breath and looked at the darkened crevices of the room, feeling his way through the uncertainty.
This close to the dream, it still felt like the dark had a kind of sentience. There was a heaviness to the shadows, all that empty dark pressing down on him. He had an unnerving notion that giving voice to his nightmare would somehow solidify it; make it more real.
He breathed out and nodded, running a hand through his hair self-consciously.
"I know" he said quietly. "I really appreciate it but...I really don't want to talk about it."
Tyler didn't seem surprised by this, but Troye imagined he saw a glimmer of something enter his eyes. "Okay."
Troye didn't say anything more and sat staring at his ice cream, feeling Tyler's eyes settled on him. He realized he was waiting for further words. For Tyler to probe, ask a question or make another comment. But all Tyler did was look at him more closely, eyes narrowed slightly in assessment.
"You're cold," he murmured, eyes running swiftly over Troye's form.
"No, I'm okay."
"You're shivering." Tyler stood up and glanced behind him, towards the direction of the Living Room. "Come on, let's stay on the couch for a bit."
Tyler picked up his mostly untouched cup of tea and dumped it into the sink before walking to the living room. Troye followed more slowly, watching as Tyler settled on his normal spot on the couch. Tyler flipped the comforter over his feet before glancing up at Troye.
"You coming over here or what?"
The blanket was held open for him and Troye sat down, glancing at Tyler briefly as he settled. Tyler flipped the blanket over Troye's legs and propped his own on the table. Tyler turn the TV to the news, but the volume was too low and his eyes too unfocused for him to really have been watching it.
Troye watched the images on the screen quietly, taking a small sip of his cooled tea. He leaned forward to place his cup on the table and suddenly felt incredibly tired, a sensation he knew well from his recent bouts of insomnia. That feeling of being fine one moment and completely exhausted the next.
He felt himself dropping off a great height and drew the comforter up to his neck, letting his body go slack. Troye heard Tyler saw something but couldn't process the words or respond. His thoughts turned slower as fatigue finally enveloped him, as sleep wrapped him in gentle arms, lashes fluttering against his cheeks. He felt himself sinking and had the pleasurable final thought that Tyler would be there when he woke up and everything would be okay.
-X-
Tyler shifted an arm to his lower back and Troye stiffened, skin prickling as if it were being shocked back to life after being dormant for so long. A switch flipped and small currents of electricity coursing all over him, raising goose bumps, shivers, waves of heat immediately followed by tides of cold. His heartbeat was a frenzied tap dance and his breathing was a shallow pond. He tried to draw deep breaths to steady himself, but every one of them was a buoy that refused to sink. He felt as if he were on the edge of unraveling, like a loose thread within him had been pulled. All the tension within him unspooled into a beautiful chaos, a mess of sorrow and ache and hurt and tenderness and hope, completely mixed up and completely mixing him up.
Tyler's thumb brushed against Troye's hip and that unknown switch in him was thrown into a higher setting. His skin practically hummed. The peak of sensation reached a point like a knife, hot and devastating-and then broke suddenly. The power cut. The electrical currents bone-jarring rather than warming. His rapture neutralized. His dread sinking into him like an anchor sliding into the sea. No more peace. It hit him in the gut, plunging him firmly into his own skin to feel his muscles shaking, to hear himself whimper when Tyler retreated back to his shoulders. Fear and denial and the overwhelming urge to flee. It was a struggle, staying still, but he forced himself to do so.
He could barely hold himself still, didn't remember speaking, but Tyler's arms had dropped and he was several feet away before he'd even processed moving. Head spinning , limbs heavy and weak, entirely incapable of speech. He felt more than heard Tyler saying something, but the world was still to narrow and charged for him to accept new stimuli.
Troye ran a hand down his leg, shivering absently at the memory of his skin tingling, pulse pounding. Troye squeezed his eyes shut tightly, black spots dancing behind his closed eyelids.
"Troye." Tyler whispered for what Troye was sure was not the first time.
Troye blinked, vision still slightly hazy as he stared at Tyler. Tyler looked on the verge of a panic attack himself and raised a hand , half-calming gesture, half supplication. Troye had the sudden-insane-desire to reach our and take it, to squeeze in reassurance. But he couldn't move, afraid of how much more intense that would feel.
Troye had never felt more self-aware. Never inhabited his own skin so fully. He watched numbly as Tyler raised the briefly-outstretched hand to his hair and tugged the strands in clear agitation.
Troye remembered Tyler's attempt at levity, but there had been no real laughter in him. Not laughter, but there was a question in the shallowness of his breath and the shakiness of his body. His hands were again at his side and they could not seem to find stillness. He had curled them into loose fists. Uncurled them. His body was taut. So was Troye's. The same outward expression of similar, but nonidentical, internal cataclysms. Different harmonic strings of the same vocal chord.
"Are you..."
He heard Tyler's voice and marveled to hear it shaking. "I didn't mean"
Troye looked into Tyler's eyes and he was drowning in what existed there, and didn't want to surface.
So fearful of having crossed a boundary. So respectful of the edges of his craziness.
He was still waiting. Sitting straight and still to let himself be judged and it twisted Troye's heart. Tyler was afraid he was going to shut down, attack him for this, but that wasn't what he felt like doing at all. What he wanted was-
Troye jerked awake, feeling the chill before he'd fully blinked the sleep from his eyes. He uncurled stiffly from the position he'd slept in and looking around blearily before flopping back onto the bed.
A glance at the window told him that it was dusk, the sky feathered in phoenix plumage, clouds in flame shades of ocher and violet. A world on fire, and Troye couldn't appreciate any of it. He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, thoughts whirring incessantly, trying to sort out his dream.
Rarely, very rarely these days, Troye would draw something that was so much better than anything he'd done before that it would stun him. When that happened, he wouldn't be able to stop looking at it. He'd come back to it, over and over again, even waking up in the night to gaze at it with amazement and wonder that it even existed. That was how he felt now, looking at Tyler.
Tyler.
And here was where Troye lost perspective. How could he tell if his instincts were just hope in disguise, and if his hope was really just desperation parading as possibility?
Troye didn't think he'd ever felt a closer kinship with anyone before. It was like meeting a stranger he'd known his whole life. It was almost unimaginable. To feel...he wasn't sure what to call it. The space between seconds, the war between hope and caution, the untraversed gap between imagination and attainment. The future, the present, the past, expanding and contracting with every breath. It was something that contained all those things and many others. It was hunger and satiety at once- "wanting" and "having" coexisting within the same space, neither one extinguishing the other.
Troye wasn't exactly sure what he wanted, but the ache for it was palpable. A yearning that stung his honeycomb heart like a ravenous swarm. He strained towards it. Reaching, hoping. It was like leaning forward and breathing deeply. Some unknown part of himself shifted forward, unwound. A synergy of energy more that the sum of its parts.
It was a state of mind he did not have context for and it made him like a small, helpless figure pulled along in the wake of some catastrophic force. He thought he would hate it more than he did. And a part of him did. This is not going to end well, a voice in him still insisted, but it was a much diminished voice. The louder one he hardly recognized was his own and it seemed to come from deep within him, from a place where, maybe, many other things were patiently waiting to be discovered. All these things he had hidden inside him in neat, sealed, little boxes that he wanted to open. Like Pandora. Real laughter for one. Tyler's kind of laughter, tumbling, easy, loose-limbed, and wildly free. Touch for another. Troye's breath slowed to a crawl and his felt his heart crack a little, letting in a trickle of nervous excitement.
But he couldn't...how was he supposed to articulate any of this? The plangent tension between them wasn't the conduit his unspoken thoughts needed. They were heavy in him, and clinging. But such words couldn't just be thrust into the open air, they needed waiting arms to catch them. After months and months and years of years of his words being stifled and crushed into the recesses of his chaos and warped beyond all recognition, he could no more blurt out these half-formed thoughts than he could run laughing and screaming down the halls.
Troye sighed and tried to turn his thoughts elsewhere, but Tyler was in his head like a burr, and he couldn't shake him loose. He closed his eyes and concentrated, but could only get his mind to move onto something else related to Tyler: dinner. Tyler had gone out and only provided vague mumbles as to where he was going and when he would be back. He had stayed out longer than he normally did, but Troye thought he would be back for dinner. The other day, Tyler had briefly mentioned craving tacos and Troye ran through the ingredients he would need to make some. He should go get them now, before Tyler came back.
He bounced off the bed and dressed quickly, wrapping a scarf around his neck and shrugging into a coat. He stepped outside and was about to start walking when he heard a noise in the darkness and looked up sharply. Tyler was silhouetted against the surrounding landscape. He was standing by the far end of the porch, staring up at the sky. If he'd been on his knees, Troye would have said he was praying.
Troye approached hesitantly, wanting to find out what was going on, but not wanting to know at the same time. Tyler head him and twisted his head around, his features only semi-visible in the darkness. He didn't move, so Troye went across the lawn, slowly, his arms around himself as much from the cold as from protection from other things. Tyler was plucking petals off a bush and turned when Troye reached him. They stared at each other, and all of Troye's bravado withered on the silent reception.
"Tyler?" He moved closer and then stopped, pressing his back against the column of the porch. "You okay?"
"Yeah. I just...needed some air."
Troye nodded uncertainly and shifted his feet, wrapping his arms around him more tightly.
"Okay, um, I was gonna make tacos for tonight if that's alright."
Tyler nodded but didn't say anything and Troye felt anxiety and worry try to claw their way to the surface of his mind. Troye swallowed, grappling for his confidence and steadiness again.
"I could...make something else if you want?"
Tyler stared across the lawn as if it were an ocean, vast and unknowable. He didn't respond. Troye regarded the ground for a moment before nodding slightly and starting to step aside.
Suddenly, Tyler put his hand out, pressing his palm against the column beside Troye's face and stopping Troye from moving away. Troye swallowed deeply and looked at Tyler uncertainly, not sure where this was going, or, more to the point, where he wanted it to go. Tyler leaned forward a little, his gaze holding Troye's.
Tyler bent his head and his low voice caressed Troye's ear. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for you to leave, I'm just..."
Tyler hung his head briefly. The steam he exhaled tore into liquid clouds, infusing the air like specks of white paint.
"I'm just in a really weird mood right now, Troye."
Tyler glanced up at him then, something steady and intent in his eyes. A baffling wave of heat went through Troye, something rooted in excitement, too intense to name. Tyler's eyes were sharp and luminous this close, flecked with green, like he'd see if he were spinning around in summertime and letting the world around him turn into a dizzying impression. They stared at each other but Troye didn't say anything; didn't ask the obvious question. He couldn't bear to ask and wasn't even sure what sort of response he would want to hear.
"I just miss how things...I feel like everything around me is changing and I can't quite get my bearings." Tyler said, his voice dropping so low Troye nearly missed his words.
Troye tried to think of something to say, something helpful, something that would help him to think about something other than how close Tyler was and how dangerous this conversation felt.
"I... I don't think that much has changed. I mean, we're still the same people."
What a joke. But neither of them seemed anywhere close to laughing. Tyler's face remained neutral, but Troye had the unsettling feeling that a lot was going on under the surface of his apparent calm. Finally, Tyler said slowly, "You don't think we've changed."
It didn't sound like a question, more like a realization of a great gulf between them.
"Uh..."
Lately, he spent his days holding his breath and waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for him and Tyler to spontaneously collapse, or explode, waiting for something to happen that would ruin things, waiting for Tyler to realize he was a complete head case who wasn't worth the effort he was putting in and didn't deserve all the attention he was giving him. The tone of this conversation made him uneasy and gave him the queasy worry that moment of realization was fast approaching.
"No, we...I... I haven't changed."
"You're a kaleidoscope. You change every time I look away."
Troye didn't know what his chest was doing, but he could barely breathe.
Again, Troye tried to rally his thoughts and couldn't. He didn't know which one to focus on. He didn't know which one was most true. He again had the sudden, overwhelming notion, that his intuitions were lying to him. Maybe he was remembering things wrong. Maybe he only remembered things the way he wanted to remember them.
He kept his expression and body calm, but the calm was a façade that cracked with spiderwebbing slivers every time he remembered how uncertain everything seemed now. Troye made a noncommittal noise and turned his face away, pretending there was nothing wrong, nothing out of the ordinary. The situation was running wild on its own, it didn't need him to add to it with confused, half-formed questions. A wrong word or a shift in behavior seemed liable to shatter an already precarious moment. He glanced up at the sky briefly, mildly surprised not to find the Sword of Damocles swaying above him.
"Troye," he heard Tyler sigh beside him and turned to find himself still under intense scrutiny. "You're thinking so loudly you're giving me a headache."
The spiderwebbing grew with an ominous crack and Troye took a careful step away, forcing Tyler to drop his arm. "Um, I still have to buy the meat for the tacos...I was just going to walk to the store, I should be back soon."
Tyler nodded slowly, but Troye thought he saw a brief moment of frustration flash through his eyes. He held his breath, but all Tyler said was, "I'll come with you."
Troye opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again, not moving even when Tyler shifted wordlessly away.
"Tyler..." Troye's voice was quiet, but even he could hear the strain in it. "We can take the car if you want...you sure you're okay with walking?"
Tyler laughed, a soft sound, and Troye almost flinched at the hint of bitterness in it. "Yeah, I'm sure."
Troye nodded, forcing himself to smile even though his heart was plummeting. "Okay. So..."
Tyler turned before Troye could finish his sentence and his gut twisted unpleasantly. He hadn't known how to respond and now he'd done something wrong. He'd done something and now everything was misaligned. Again.
They headed away from school, trudging the blocks to the grocery store is silence. Normally, Tyler would have been talking a mile a minute, using his hands for emphasis and smiling over at him. The fact that he remained completely silent and barely looked up made Troye almost faint with anxiety. Troye contemplated speaking, but knew that if he tried to say anything it would come out wrong. He felt as if there were now cracks in the glass between them and if he thread too hard, any chance of fixing things and getting them back to normal would be lost.
Troye could feel Tyler's eyes on him and peeked over carefully. There was a complex emotion on Tyler's face, but he looked away when he noticed Troye's scrutiny.
Troye went back to staring at the ground. He needed to say something. He felt an overwhelming urge to bring words into silence between them, words to soften, to carry away this strange tension, but none powerful enough came to mind and he remained silent. With every passing second, the heaviness in his chest grew, until it was almost impossible for him to raise his head to check and make sure Tyler was still there beside him.
What was going on between them? This...vast silence between them wasn't normal. This silence felt like a rhythm for some unspoken dialogue. It had no words and no sound, but Troye could feel it in his bones. Words with no syllables that somehow still managed to convey dread.
They moved another block before Tyler inhaled sharply and said quickly, "You're freaking me out, Troye."
Troye stopped in his tracks and stared at him. "How?"
"You're really quiet." Tyler shrugged and wouldn't meet his eyes. "I don't know if you need me to fill the silence or what."
The anxiety in Troye bubbled abruptly into anger. Where it came from Troye had no idea.
He was freaking him out? He was freaking him out?
"Maybe this is a bad idea."
This time, Tyler's eyes flew to his. "What? Us walking together or...?"
Tyler frowned, eyes searching Troye's face. "What part of this is a bad idea and what changed from two minutes ago?"
Troye didn't close his eyes but he wanted to. He imagined sliding into the crack in the sidewalk and just disappearing.
What changed from two minutes ago?
His fingers reached for his hair, sliding through it, twisting it around his finger, releasing it, twisting it, the pattern soothing his mind and clearing his vision. He glanced over and found Tyler studying him with careful blue eyes, hands in his pocket; waiting.
Troye dropped his hands and said, "I'm sorry. We can walk now."
Tyler opened his mouth, looking utterly confused, but then nodded slightly and continued without speaking. Troye shoved his hands in his pockets and concentrated on re-grounding himself. He was always calm, even after everything...especially after everything, and that sudden burst of anger was disquieting-that Tyler could alter him, bend him like a wire seemingly without effort. How was Troye supposed to untangle his thoughts and emotions when they were all tangled around him?
They walked the rest of the distance and picked up the ground beef. Tyler didn't reach for him once, but Troye felt that he may as well have. The closer they stood, the more the terrible mess in his head grew. He couldn't sort out his feelings. They were tumbling, and when he tried to pull one to order, to examine it, it skittered back into the tumult.
Just as he'd feared, his earlier outburst had not made the atmosphere between them any better. He risked a glance at Tyler and saw that the other boy's expression was calm, but Troye couldn't shake the feeling that things were not quite right. Troye felt a surge of panic once more, as if something he'd finally gained after an incredibly long struggle was being taken away from him.
They returned to the kitchen and Troye browned the meat while Tyler gathered some errant dishes and placed them into the sink. It seemed they would sink back into silence, but Tyler spoke, voice too casual to actually be casual.
"So, one of my friends is having a party next weekend. Want to come with me?"
Troye hesitated, then glanced at Tyler quickly. "What?"
"Yeah, he doesn't go to this school and his parents are away so..."
Troye focused his gaze back on the pan. "I...thought we were going to the carnival with Caspar and Zoe?"
"Yeah, but there's no reason we can't do both." When Troye didn't respond, Tyler gave a soft sigh. "It's just, you've never really met anyone else I know."
Was this a challenge? A test? Judging from the sideways stare he found himself on the receiving end of, he suspected it was definitely something. Troye shivered and it had nothing to do with the chill in the air and everything to do with being afraid. Only, he wasn't exactly sure of what.
Troye chased the browned meat around the pan with the wooden spoon. "I don't think..."
Troye's voice trailed off and he stared harder at the food. He felt an overwhelming sense that Tyler needed something more from him. Eagerness at this prospect? Happiness? Either way, Troye didn't think it was something he could give.
"I mean," Tyler spoke when Troye's words faltered. "We don't have to stay long or anything but I just want them to get to meet you. Don't you want me to meet the people in your life?"
Troye's stomach knotted itself. Long buried fears raised their heads. Not only did Tyler's words dredge up old memories with sharp teeth, they threatened to break something inside Troye.
"No." The word passed his lips like a blade, slicing him on the way out, coming out far more sharply than he'd intended.
It almost broke his heart, the way Tyler reacted. Slow-dawning shock, his mouth falling open, a glaze of confused hurt filming his eyes. Tyler blinked and suddenly looked away, gazing out of the windows to the grounds beyond. He nodded slightly, as if Troye had just confirmed something he'd already suspected.
Troye didn't know what to say, all he could feel was his heart pounding frantically in his chest. He desperately wanted to explain, but he didn't know how. All of this was too much at once and he couldn't breathe, the pressure of the tension between them pressing down on a chest that already had so little space left in it for more problems, more anxiety, more issues. He didn't know how to say all this. How to say that sometimes he couldn't sleep through the night from the bumper cars of anxiety crashing in his head. How the thought of being thrust into a room of strangers, strangers connected to Tyler, and asked to perform, was almost unbearable. One more thing that would make his tenuous hold on balance evaporate. And he didn't know how to explain why he would almost rather never see Tyler again than have him meet anyone in his life.
"N-No, th-that's-"
What the hell was wrong with his throat? All gnarled and dry, words coming out like splinters.
That's not what I meant, he said, but it caught in my windpipe, a tissue snagging on those splinters, tearing into a hundred pieces and leaving his mouth as dust. He didn't know how to explain, but he had to try. Given how precarious things felt between them, Troye wasn't willing to bet that leaving that conversation as is wouldn't turn into something with a more extensive ripple effect.
"I...I don't want you to get-there's a lot of things I-I don't-"
"It's okay." Tyler turned away from the window with a faint smile, his expression otherwise composed. "Let's just forget about it. I'd rather hang out with you than them anyway."
And there it was again, something not quite right. Despite Tyler studied composure, there was something in his eyes that made Troye feel like he'd really hurt him, like he was missing something he ought to see clearly. Troye didn't know if Tyler could see his hands shaking, but he pressed them to his side anyway, trying to force out a better response.
"It-it's not because I don't want-I just-"
"Troye." Tyler said his name softly and Troye panicked, feeling the end, like sliding toward the end of a fraying rope. "It's okay."
But it wasn't. Troye could feel the truth of that clearly.
They ate their meal in silence. Troye couldn't think of a single thing to say, and he was fairly sure Tyler was equally stumped. There was a lot to process. Things had been going so well between them, but on the wind-blown promise of something better, a deeper and more tangible friendship, things had suddenly changed. They both clearly sensed it, and it seemed to have silenced their front of easy familiarity.
Troye could barely swallow around the knot of sick tension in his throat. He felt as though all the carefully drawn lines in their relationship were being erased, and he would honestly rather things had stayed the way they were than feel this-to feel as if he were losing Tyler by inches. He knew very well who held all the power in this friendship-and it wasn't him.
They finished eating and Troye offered, tentatively, to help Tyler with the cleanup. Tyler nodded with a grateful smile and Troye was left to analyze whether it had been genuine or not.
Their gazes slid around each other as they walked to the kitchen. Some days, Troye swore he could feel emotions in the air of the spaces closest to him. Some days, his art studio felt like joy, other times like revelation. Some days, his dorm felt like laziness and other times it felt like pure exhaustion. And the air in the room right now?
Troye swallowed and barely glanced at Tyler before his gaze jerked away. The air between them felt tense and fraught, like playing with matches in a room full of dynamite. Tonight, the atmosphere felt like a dare.
Tyler washed the dishes swiftly and handed them off to Troye too quickly, barely giving him time to grasp them before letting go. He reached across Troye to pick up the pan, not seeming to notice how Troye had to jerk away to avoid contact. He shifted repeatedly and Troye remained tense, trying to predict whether he would shift closer or further away.
Troye slowed his breathing. He felt Tyler's gaze on him and could hardly handle the intensity, the way it pushed at him a little. The way it felt as if a gauntlet had been thrown into the space between them. Like they were engaged in a silent war, Tyler's one of aggression and Troye's one of endless retreat.
Troye forced himself to meet Tyler's gaze. When Tyler lifted his chin, his lips parted a little and Troye couldn't help but stare at the tiny vertical lines. Tyler held out a plate and Troye reached for it automatically, eyes dropping to look at the inside of Tyler's wrist, at the tendons that bent away from his joints, the streaks of glistening water on his fingers.
Troye thought about that arm running like ice and flame along the divots of his spine, stroking down his arm and moving down slowly, running a thumb across the skin between his jeans and his T-shirt, fingers settling on his hips and gripping firmly.
He sucked in a sharp breath and stumbled backwards, stepping back so quickly the plate held between them dropped, shattering so loudly Troye flinched.
Troye didn't care what Tyler was saying because it was all he could do to press his palms to his eyes, push the images from his mind and focus on breathing. But it was impossible, and not just because of the pressure in his chest-because there was a frightening heat racing through his veins, a flush crawling though his cheeks, a sensation he couldn't name and didn't recognize that made him gasp for something to slake it with.
"Troye?" There was a brief hesitation before Tyler slowly squatted down beside him, making Troye realize he had dropped down to the ground without noticing.
"Troye, what's wrong?"
"You're going too fast!" He snapped, rising to his feet quickly, not looking at Tyler as he retreated a few steps away. He wiped his wet palms on his pants and stared at the window, trying to ignore the distinct flush in his cheeks, telling himself it was a result of his panic. He gestured towards the shattered plate sharply.
"You have to stay with me. You're getting ahead of me and it's throwing me off." Troye's chest seized at the sound of desperation in his voice.
Tyler's brows knit together and Troye saw the fluctuations of questions and answers pass over Tyler's too-open expression. He wanted to press his hands to his mouth, to stop any more humiliating words from emerging. Then Tyler tilted his head and his face relaxed, his eyes suddenly brighter. Troye couldn't move at the sudden, quiet understanding in his expression.
"Alright, I'm sorry," he said, his voice so soft. "I get it. I'll stay with you."
A slow, rueful, smile spread across his face and it was so familiar and so wanted that Troye's breath caught. The deep ache he sometimes felt when Tyler was around returned and he remained frozen, holding Tyler's gaze and finding that gaze returned.
"Let's finish up and go watch some Netflix, okay?" His voice is low and gentle.
Troye didn't move, watching silently as Tyler cleaned away the shards of the shattered plate and returned to the sink. This time, there was no challenge. When Tyler glanced at him, it was an invitation. One which Troye accepted.
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Sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes. Was tired and didn't look this over as carefully as I should have. Anyways, enjoy :)