a messy canvas

Tell Me More [Tronnor]

Mindsets were hard to put into words. The shifts they could undergo were nearly worrying in Connor's case, yet these formations were the only stable thing it seemed in his messy existence.

The best way he could find to express them simply was to use two aspects: a color and an easy picture to envision, as if taking a step back into your childhood memories. It sounds silly yes, but this was how Connor could process them to explain to people. This system of his wasn't broken, so why try and change it?

One that fired up within his belly more times than Connor would like was orange. It was a darker shade of the hue that could be found within the picture that always came to his mind. A fire with the smell of smoke engulfed inside one's nostrils, sparking various color changes from a blinding yellow to the dull orange that stood out as prime to the young Franta every time.

What does this signify you ask? Well, think of it this way: when intaking such strong fumes and glorious scenes, you can become overwhelmed by it all. The pleasantries eventually turn sickly, senses going into overdrive pleading with you to escape.

Orange equals anxiety.

Blue came to him in waves. The shade was rather light, like the kind you'd see amongst the sky as the sun was about to peek its way through. Refreshment would wash over Connor like a calming breeze in these moments, like meeting someone new who understood the random sparks of creativity you'd acquire from simply taking in the wonders the world sometimes offered to share.

Blue at the end of the day added up to inspiration.

If he had to choose, pink was probably his favorite. Instead of jumping at the chance to try your own formulations as to why, take a glimpse inside the wavelengths of Connor's memories.

He swore Mr. Green had the goal to break him out of his shell. Connor kept to himself because it was easier that way, no one could make fun of how he saw things if he didn't let them in.

Now the makings of him had to be revealed, for his grade was on the line.

"We could just bullshit it if you want." his partner for the project offered, who happened to see how uncomfortable Connor had been with the idea of working with anyone to begin with.

"No, we can't do that."

"Well where would you like to start then Con?"

"Since when are we on a nickname basis?"

"We gotta break the barrier somehow, thought it was worth a shot.."

"I'm sorry Troye, I'm horrible at this kinda thing." Connor muttered.

"Hey, it's okay really." Troye spoke sincerely. "How do you feel about coming to mine after school, try to sort something out for this then?"

"Fine with me."

"I usually walk to school but if you drove here I suppose.."

"Walking is good, I take the bus here."

"Okay."

If he was truthful, the walk wasn't that bad. Sure, it was awkward considering how he wasn't the best at keeping conversation but overall it had been nice.

As the two set their belongings down on Troye's bedroom floor, Connor couldn't help but think of the colors orange and yellow slowly clashing together.

The uncertainty mixed with how comforting the atmosphere was within Troye's bedroom left him at a loss for words. He wondered how could such a formulation come to be, for they were practically opposites in his viewpoint.

"As much as I enjoy seeing you take this all in Con, we should start don't you think?"

"Yeah, sorry."

"Basically what Mr. Green wants us to do is learn how someone else takes in information, whether that be for school purposes or personal matters." Troye explained. "How do you even explain something like that?"

"He's the psychology teacher, not me." Connor remarked.

"I know that, thinking out loud just helps me I guess.." the boy mumbled absentmindedly.

"How about we start there?"

"With what?"

"How does voicing your thoughts help you?"

"Uh..helps me pay more attention to them I suppose." Troye expressed. "Like, with putting them out into the world it makes my feelings and thoughts that much more real."

In that moment the blue was overtaking his vision, Connor had to think of how much courage he would have to muster to utter something along those lines, yet Troye had done such without any second thoughts.

If only voicing his own musings were that easy.

"..about you?"

"Hmm?"

"And I thought I got lost in my head a lot.." Troye mused aloud. "I said what about you, how do you tend to let your thoughts and such escape that pretty mind of yours?"

"They don't, not really." Connor muttered. "They're more like experiences I go through rather than slips of consciousness escaping from my mouth."

"I'm not sure I'm following?"

"That's the thing, no one else gets it."

"Tell me more about it." Troye responded, genuinely interested.

So he did, even with the swirls of orange that came flashing through. It was as if they were presenting a warning to cease his actions, but not even that could overtake how many pulses of pink came through that moment. The color was soft, the kind you'd expect with cotton candy, which was familiar and always sweet to the senses.

Being completely content and joyful was what pink came up to be.

Once the roots were planted for the blooming friendship between the two of them, the boy who saw colors and images as mindsets flowed through like slideshows came to take silent pride in what he was capable of, for Troye's bewilderment of the pictures he painted would forever hold a place in the core of his treasured memories.