a messy canvas

Naïve [Tronnor]

What we once had is never going to return.

We'll never be able to go back to giddily sharing kisses with snow falling down like in the Christmas movies or to us gathering fresh strawberries in the fields during summer with my sister secretly snapping polaroids of our giggles, caused by sneaking slivers of the sweet fruit into our mouths like it was just spun cotton candy.

The road trips we took on the weekends to escape our suffocating hometown; they will never have that same touch of invincibility again. We typically would venture off to crummy hotels, insistent on staying in room ninety three in tribute to one of our shared favorite pop artists. Then there were the times when a blue moon struck, the two of us would go to the first thrift store that caught our eyes and buy the other at least one item of clothing with only fifteen minutes to search for the statement piece; we'd make an effort to dolling ourselves up and rocking the purchases made like it was something from New York fashion week. We're never going to be able to maintain that same essence.

All of those endeavors I always assumed we'd be able to renew; they came to a halt. No one could've predicted those events that played out, for they came at the speed of a mighty hurricane.

First came the shake that lifted my soul out of the fog of innocence it was so accustomed to.

I say that in particular because if you had asked someone I'm close with to give three words to describe me, I can almost guarantee one of the depictions they'd choose would be naïve. While within many aspects that still remained genuine, there's something about seeing your best friend smoking a cigarette that's now engulfing his once pure lungs that flips a switch in your head, leaving you wondering if he's ever considered other methods to achieve 'an act of rebellion'.

I wanted to tell your parents the moment I found you sitting on your roof with the cigarette in between your pearly whites; you talked me out of it with the glisten in your eyes I'd seen a million times before and a promise that what was before me would never occur again.

Your word was enough for me to believe you, all because of that quality in my being I had yet to fully lose.

Then came the bend of my spine; where I concluded that there was something deeply twisted within you that you refused to openly address.

Every other Wednesday since we entered the same class in our world's inevitably flawed education system, we had an unspoken tradition where (despite how chaotic our days had been) we'd meet at the public library to complete homework and help the other with assignments they couldn't gain a grasp on.

As the clock ticked to signify our usual two hour study session was long gone and you had yet to even enter the building, I gathered my essentials together to pick myself up from what was 'our' table and bid Mr. Green farewell until the next time I would step inside the place I would now try and only associate my favorite scent (crisp pages of a beloved book) with.

When I went on to ask you about your whereabouts the next day during our lunch period, you cast my question aside as if you couldn't process the statement leaving my mouth. I hadn't pushed you further, despite my gut telling me that something had to be wrong by your lack of contacting me when you were a no show; the boy I knew would never leave the people he cared for in the dust. When something came up that he couldn't push on to the back burner, his first thought would be to contact the person he had prior plans with and explain himself to erase any traces of worry.

A voicemail you left me at four in the morning by accident is what it took for me to have any chances of getting on the same wavelength you were.

"This isn't a good idea, I can't do this; why would you want me to rid myself of the very being that keeps me above water?"

How you phrased the statement stinging with nerves couldn't process itself fully into my head when I was initially brought back to consciousness; I was still dazed by the dreams that were once playing themselves through so vibrantly.

By the time I entered my fourth class of that dreary Friday afternoon, I had to of listened to your message ten times. As much as I tried, the dots just wouldn't connect and that alone shook me to the core. All of this knowledge I had tucked away inside my brain and absolutely none of it served as resourceful towards my current predicament.

With the bell signaling that the weekend was now officially ours for the taking, I took off to my car as if life as I knew it was on the line.

Little had I known just how true that expression would reign.

The scene I took witness of when I pulled up to your house was what made my heart finally break.

You were sitting in the middle of your front yard with tears streaming down your cheeks, your hands as pale as white bedsheets because you were blocking out deafening noise from your ears, along with pleas of mercy burning their way as a permanent noise my mind would be able to recreate.

The words you screamed gave me the ink I desperately asked for to bring this mysterious picture together.

"Please just leave me alone, what more do you want from me?"

Over the course of the next year with many more attacks towards your system to tally as evidence and going with you and your parents to countless doctors appointments to ensure a honest diagnosis, we found out schizophrenia was what turned our world upside down. Within that time frame, of course the dynamic of our relationship gradually changed.

While I won't ever be that same naïve seventeen year old who thought our relationship was filled with infinite highs and you can't bring back every piece of your personality after that initial downfall; we're still Troye and Connor, and that is something I never want to lose.