watchful eyes (tronnor)

two; as if the king were a song

troye thinks in music; in beats per minute and in piano keys and in stanzas of lust.

his lyrics take form behind glitter eyes and they paint irises that are the waves and the sunsets and the rocks and the tiny neighborhood all in one. he does not realize that his harmonies are connor's fingers until he realizes that his melodies are connor's hands. he does not realize that his melodies are connor's hands until they are warm in his own and connor's lips are buried in his neck.

(it means nothing, though, because connor is drunk and it's only the lights speaking. connor does not have words of his own to write so he is letting the cheap alcohol and the drums speak for him. troye knows that this is never a good idea.)

once he realizes that his rhymes are connor's lips, troye realizes that the burning and splitting and wanting in his chest is connor too.

troye may think in music, but some days it seems as if connor is music.

he is piano notes in the way that he bites his lip and he is an untuned violin when he trips over himself while running to catch the bus. he is bubblegum pop in the way that he sits on brick walls near the ocean and he is country and guitars in the way that he grips glass bottles in his right hand. connor is music notes and g scales in the way that he looks at troye when no one is watching and he is "god bless america" and he is "toxic" and he is "bang the doldrums" in the way that he held troye's hand when they were younger and in the way that he leans into troye now that they are older. connor is troye's songs, every single one. he is the harsh drum's beat and the soft piano and the angry guitar riffs. he is lyrics of necessity; he is lyrics of touching; he is lyrics of hopelessness.

troye thinks in the touch of connor's fingers and the slight curve of his lips and in the way that his face lights up when he's happy. there is nothing that troye wants more than for connor to be happy. (he just also wants to be the one making him smile in the way that bethany mota does.)

which is why his songs are left unsung and his wishes are left unsaid. it is why troye simply watches and eats up what he can get, taking, savouring, preserving what he can get.

connor does not know that troye writes songs for him. he does not know that troye thinks in lips to music notes and fingers to rhymes. he does not know that troye is treading over unsteady waters to reach friends only.

connor will never know, if troye has anything to do with it (and troye has everything to do with it). connor will retain the glitter in his eyes from having a best friend forever and he will not know that every piece of troye is shattering with each smile.