Word Count: 1,321
Type: Angsty song fic (sorry) based on brb by Lany. It's an amazing song so I suggest listening to it while reading this.
This isn't great and it's kind of a mess. But, I hope you enjoy
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LA, LA, where you and I found, found each other
LA, LA, dirty good love don't last forever
It was those late nights that I loved the best. The ones where we didn't have to care about anything else, or even worry. We had already worried ourselves to death and cried out all our tears for the other to see, and all that was left was us. Raw and bare, unprotected except for eachothers arms. You would just hold me and whisper into my hair little words. They made me relax and then I would smile and you would smile back. And we would spend the whole night just in silence, with maybe a few whispers. All you had to do was hold my hand so gently or kiss my jaw so lightly and I would understand the dim blue of your eyes more than any words.
And sometimes, if I couldn't sleep, you would giggle and I'd catch the gleam in your eyes, and we'd hop out of bed and I would pull you into the moonlight. You would shiver, because you forgot your hoodie, but I just wrapped my arms around you and we sat there and looked at the stars. We'd hear the crickets around us as if they were serenading us in our own little world. And we would talk quietly, about stars and city lights and how we met in the streets of Los Angeles.
New York, New York, you've stolen my heart and run it over
New York, New York, New York, New York
I also loved the other nights. The ones where you would kiss me and time itself seemed to freeze all around me. When I pulled at your curls and breathed your skin and when all I could hear was your breath and the beautiful sounds you made underneath me. It was passionate, and fiery, and unforgettable, but at the same time filled with so much love and care that it seemed you could never imagine hurting anyone. Not even me.
Be right back, I'm gonna cry myself, myself to sleep
How'd you in fall in love, in love, without me?
You started to act different ever since the trip. I went away, and it was only for a month but it felt like years. And when I came back your head was always down and your smile never as bright. You said you couldn't be with me.
"Why, Troye?" I asked, because I had no idea.
"Because, Connor," you whispered, "I'm no good for you."
"What do you mean?" I asked. And you almost couldn't speak.
"Because I'm too broken."
I tried to understand but you snapped. You yelled at me like you never had before, and for the first time, I felt scared. And when I still didn't give up you said you hated me. You said that you were sick. You said that you loved someone else and that there was no way I could help you.
Be right back, I'm gonna throw, myself, against the wall
Be right back, tell me you'll be right back
It was crazy, because I wanted to hate you. You turned my life upside-down and ripped my heart into pieces and I knew I'd never get them back. You left me with empty sheets and wild thoughts that I could no longer whisper to you on those long nights. You left me with blood boiling over, I was so mad.
And it would make sense why I want to hate you. But I can't. I can never really let you go.
I feel tears burning my skin. The empty ache in my chest hasn't gone away in years. And still, through the stinging pain and agonizing nights alone in the dark, I still haven't let go.
It's as if I still have the hope that things will change and go back to how they used to be.
You were, you were, the drug of my choice, my great escape now
You are, you are, the drug of the town, who hasn't had a taste?
You gave away the kisses I gave to you. You gave away the touches that I thought were only between us. You give away your love like it means nothing to you. And perhaps it doesn't anymore.
I've seen you a few times. Your face was drained white and your eyes the most sickly color of grey I'd ever seen them. You tried to smile, not at me, but you were wearing a mask and I could see right through it to the bone. You are wearing away slowly.
I still remember how you used to be. You used to talk to me about your dreams, your family, and all the things that meant so much to you. I'd ask you about it and you would smile. I could see your eyes sparkling and I knew how much you cared.
You always loved to sing. You sang in the shower, using the shampoo bottle as a microphone, and in the kitchen with a wooden spoon. I giggled at first, but when I heard your peaceful and breathtaking voice, I couldn't do anything. I fell asleep happy because your voice guided me there, dancing with me through the ups and downs and every little turn in the road.
And sometimes I cried because I didn't know how it was possible for someone so insanely perfect to exist.
You had a notebook and a pen that I saw you write in often. I'd look over but you would shake your head.
"No peeking," you said, "It's a surprise."
"What kind of a surprise?" I asked.
"For you."
"For me?"
"Of course."
"Is it . . . a song?"
And you bit your lip, smiling, and my eyes went wide and all I thought was, what in the world did I do to deserve this beautiful creature who was then, at that very moment, writing me a song.
And I never did hear what that song was. I didn't even know what it was called.
Perhaps you never finished it.
You said you wanted to be a singer, and write and perform and make others smile, like you made me smile. But now, I don't know. It's as if you've lost your voice. You've sold it, traded it out for sex and I don't know if you'll ever get it back. I want to take you back, pluck you right out of those streets and out of those stranger's bedrooms and hold you in my arms where you will always be safe.
Be right back, I'm gonna cry myself, myself to sleep
How'd you in fall in love, in love, without me?
Be right back, I'm gonna throw, myself, against the wall
Be right back, tell me you'll be right back
The bathroom lights are bright and my heart makes not a sound. The voices in my head are only soft now. Maybe I'm getting stronger. Maybe.
I look at my reflection through the hazy mirror, colors warped slightly and edges fuzzy. It's a deceiving image, one with hollow cheekbones and greasy hair. And still, with me weak to the bone, I think, maybe I do have a little bit of courage. Maybe I will get over you.
I tap my finger against the glass. It rattles in its wooden frame, making my face shake. I tilt my head at myself. And I know why it still hurts.
Because I haven't let you go.
So I say, to myself, to my fragile, broken face, that I will finally let you go. It's what I have to do.
So
Goodbye, Troye.
Just know that . . .
I really did love you
LA, New York
LA, New York
LA, New York
But I want you more
LA, New York
LA, New York
LA, New York
LA, New York
But I want you more
LA, New York
Sincerely,
Connor x
