63. Fallen Angels & Where the Sea Meets the Sky

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trigger warning: talking about self-harm

Connor has his eyes closed, resting on the rock like it's a bed of clouds, his face peaceful in sleep. His heart beats steadily, the sound comforting, like the crash of the waves against the shore and the seagulls calling out in the dead of night. "You know," Connor whispers, making me jump.

"I thought you were asleep."

He laughed softly. "I almost was. But anyways, my mom used to tell me that shooting stars are angels falling from heaven. That's why we wish on them, because the last thing they can do with their power is grant a wish."

"That's ridiculous," I told him, staring at the stars, glimmering from the sky, as if they really were angels.

"Yeah," he agreed, laughing quietly to himself. "But I liked the idea that even angels could fall, and that they could still grant wishes even as they fell to Earth."

"Why? I - I kind of hate that. It gives the idea that if someone perfect is falling apart then you can still expect them to grant your wishes and take care of you."

He smiled, burying his face closer to my arm. "Well I think that it sort of gave me hope that if I fell apart I could still make everyone happy."

"You have a very strange mind, Connor." He smiles and there's a pause for a moment before I continue. "And if you ever do fall apart, no one expects you to be granting wishes. Whatever you look like, you aren't an angel."

"Is this your way of telling me I look like an angel?"

I laugh at that, searching the stars for the Big Dipper. "Whatever you want, Connor."

"I used to think that my mom was an angel. Dad used to tell me that her scars meant that she was an angel who wanted to go home. Maybe that's why I used to like her idea so much. Each shooting star used to mean that she might be coming home."

"Oh, Connor - "

"I shouldn't have said that - "

"Connor - "

He was sitting up now, pulse rushing and heartbeat speeding up. "I didn't mean to - "

"Connor, it's okay - "

"Troye - "

Somehow my lips meet his, and he stops talking, the moonlight hitting our faces as his eyes close and he leans into the kiss.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" I say when we break apart.

"Okay," he whispers back. "Hey," he says. "Make a wish for me."

I close my eyes, wrapped in the safety of his arms, two hundred feet above where the sea meets the land, across from where the moon looks upon us and where the sky full of stars meets the ever changing sea.

"I wish... I wish that we stay friends forever."

"That's so pathetically cheesy," he said, pulling away to stare at me, smiling.

I laugh. "You know you'd wish for the same thing."

"Nah," he hesitated, thinking. "I'd probably wish for fast wi-fi wherever I go."

"Well, then you'd be stuck with me anyways - I'm wherever the wi-fi is."


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