Chapter 14

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        “Hey.” Connor looked up from his seat to see Troye drunkenly leaning on him and playing with his hair.

            Connor gently pushed him off and pulled Troye down next to him.

            “Hey, what are you doing?” Connor frowned and furtively glanced around the room, “We’re in public, Tro.”

            Troye groaned, dramatically rolling his eyes before loudly burping and starting to giggle.

        “I know. I’m sorry,” he slurred, “but I didn’t get to kiss you at midnight.”

        Connor sighed. They had all been standing in a big group, and the only one who truly got a midnight kiss was Tyler, who made out with the sound guy and spent the rest of the night avoiding him after he revealed how much he hated Lady Gaga. He hated not being able to act more than platonic with Troye, but Connor just wasn’t ready for a public relationship. He had just come out, and that alone had caused enough fan drama. There was plenty of support, obviously, but no one had predicted that he would start getting shipped with Troye, Tyler, Ricky, even Caspar. It was causing some of his fans to get upset and fight with each other, and it hurt Connor more to have to see that and still cover his relationship. Every slip-up fed the rumors.

        “I know.” Connor repeated, “I’m sorry.”

        “It’s alright, we have a 4-hour flight to New Zealand where you can make it up to me.”

        They were interrupted by a new round of fireworks, the fourth set Connor had caught on film, and spent a while longer just enjoying the skyline and leaning on each other. They were silent, save for Troye’s occasional questions on whether they could meet Lorde, until Connor realized it was past 3 and they had to be up soon. He didn’t mind having to practically carry Troye away, even if the younger boy might have purposefully fallen into his arms once or twice.

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            “So, how is this supposed to work?” Troye was staring at a basket full of dirty clothes, as if trying to will them clean.

            “How have you, an adult man, never done your own laundry before?” Connor mock-scolded him.

            “Well, my mum usually.....” Troye trailed off, choosing not to finish that sentence. “It can’t be that hard, right? You just throw the clothes in with some soap and water and the machine . . . . like . . . . . .scrubs them?”

            Connor didn’t respond. Troye was actually right in a way, but he was also very, very wrong. And they were going to be late for their dinner reservation. They had already spent an hour on ‘sorting’ and why Troye couldn’t throw all his white T-shirts in with his red sweaters. Still to come were ‘actual washing’ and ‘drying’, neither of which Troye seemed to have any basic concept of. As smart as Connor knew Troye was, he was remarkably bad at basic domestic tasks. Laurelle was a saint. Connor was quickly pulled out of his thoughts by the sight of Troye walking towards the washing machine with a water pitcher.

            “No!” Connor grabbed it, “The washing machines are connected to the water lines. You don’t have to actually pour in the water.”

            Troye blinked at him, “Ohh, right. I knew that.” He nodded, trying to convince himself.

            Their efforts went on long enough for them to cover a good portion of the hotel laundry room in soap suds (Connor’s fault, Troye had already put in too much soap and he added another cup), have a soap bubble fight (Troye won), get yelled at by an angry woman whose laundry pile they had knocked over (they paid for the hotel maids to re-fold it), completely miss their reservation, and shrink all of Troye’s good shirts.

            Connor brushed a few bubbles off of Troye’s cheek and laughed.

            “You did it. You did your own laundry.”

            Troye grinned, “Told you it wouldn’t be that hard.”

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“life is full of unexpected things and you should never give up. And you're cute in the moonlight.”

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