Furtive | Tronnor

f i f t e e n

"Talk?"

Troye voice came out shakier than expected as Connor proposed the question, his gaze shifting towards the notebook Connor was clutching onto with renewed force.

"Yeah. Talk. The definition being to speak in order to give information or express ideas or feelings; to converse or communicate by spoken words." Connor lowered himself from the counter and instead simply leaned against it, his free hand moving up towards his glasses and straightening them from their slightly askew appearance.

"You know that off the top of your head?"

Connor smiled shyly, before moving forward as he continued.

"It can also mean to have formal dealing or discussions."

Troye stayed rooted to the spot, and despite being the taller of the two still felt intimidated when Connor paused in front of him.

"A negotiation, some may say."

Troye gulped, confusion setting over him. "Okay, but what exactly are you saying?"

Connor's demeanour slipped and he instead sighed, turning his back and instead facing the mirror. He gasped as he caught sight of himself, his hand hesitantly brushing against the cover-up on his face that was fading fast.

"Is it something to do with that?" Troye's voice was low as he appeared next to Connor in the mirror, his eyes locked on Connor's pained expression and the newly exposed mark.

Connor nodded, the movement of his head hinged and uncertain. "I can't work there anymore Troye. I just can't."

He turned towards Troye with a fear that was almost childlike hidden in his eyes.

"After you left the other night, the guy I was supposed to...well, you know; he sort of came back. He was angry."

"Why?" Troye had to resist the urge to touch Connor's face to examine the mark, instead balling his fists and pressing his lips together.

"He said he expected me to compile with company policy. He said he..." Connor trailed off, his gaze falling to the floor in shame.

"What?" Troye spoke gently, so much so that he wasn't sure whether or not Connor heard his words.

"He said he owned me, and that I would be suitably punished."

The fists Troye had formed were no longer delicate.

"Punished?"

He turned to face Connor head on and saw that his eyes were filling up, despite his best attempts to remain calm and composed.

"There's so much he did that you can't even see." He swallowed slowly, trying his hardest to blink back his tears.

"Then show me." Troye wasn't sure where the three words came from but he felt as if they were the right things to say. When he heard Connor's tone and saw the way his eyes shifted, it spoke louder than any words could. It showed the bigger picture

Connor pondered on the offer, but lightly shook his head to decline. Instead, he glanced towards Troye with a degree of shyness that matched his usual school persona.

"When you said you'd be here for me to talk to, you meant that didn't you?"

Troye spluttered, as if the answer was obvious. "Of course. Although I'm kind of confused why you needed to speak to me now rather than later."

"I know I told you I do what I do to feel loved and to make money. Up until you came to see me the other night, I really thought that was the case."