Blue Neighbourhood

This is my take on the poignant, yet powerful music video trilogy by Troye Sivan.


"only fools fall for you, only fools. . ."


3. 1.3



   I can't exactly put my finger on the sprouting of me and Troye's friendship, how it came about. I can best put the origin of Troye and Jason into words this way: we were introduced, a conversation was sparked, mutual interests were discovered, and it kind of took flight from there. However, I now find myself pondering every now and again about my tactics for reeling him in and making him my friend. I'm not sure whether it was the ear piercing in my right ear or the sarcastic attitude I'd adopted from the kids back at school that made me stand out. Other times, I didn't question. I'd simply be thankful for fate grabbing our shirts and yanking us toward each other. 


   That day, I lugged paint buckets and antique boat motors in the sweltering heat of early June along with Troye, unable to shroud the idiotic grin tugging at my lips as he told me of the time he accidentally stepped in an open paint bucket and find his newest pair of shoes dipped in a fresh coat of blue and of the many other misfortunes he endured due to his clumsiness.

   The sky ushered in the night, and Troye and I bid each other goodbye. Dad's first boat was hitched to Michael's pick up truck and brought home along with the parts that went with it. After everything was settled, I performed my nightly rituals for the summer and before I knew it, darkness overtook me as reruns of events from earlier were played back several times over in my head. 

   Pockets of sunlight snuck through my window blinds and danced on my eyelids, beckoning me to wake up. I clenched them shut in slight annoyance and groped around for a pillow to shield my eyes from the blinding beams of light. Shuffling and shifting into a comfortable position, I closed my eyes and welcomed sleep to flood my senses. But sleep didn't come to me. I huffed in irritation and decided to get out of bed. 

   That was went the idea struck me like a brick falling from heaven. 

   I wondered if Dad would let me visit Troye today. 

   I sprinted out of bed, grasping the pair of pants I wore yesterday. I inserted both legs into the pants, hopping to get them above my waist before I bolted downstairs only to be halted in my tracks by the intoxicating aroma of bacon brimming my nostrils.

   Dad was cooking breakfast. A thing that happens rarely. 

   I scrutinized my surroundings and asked myself if this is all still a dream, although I know I can't possibly be dreaming right now. 

   "Wow that smells pretty good, Dad." I commended my father, taking in the pleasant scents of eggs, bacon, and blueberry pancakes with a dash of cinnamon. 

   "Thank you. Figured you've gotten tired of eating boing old Honey Nut Cheerios all the time." Dad chuckled lightly while scrambling a couple of eggs and retrieving a scorching pot of coffee from the coffee maker across from him. But I knew him better. He had to be making breakfast for a better reason than that.

   "Hey. . ." The words were caught in my throat and refused to leave my lips for a moment. Then I gained the courage to force them out. "Do you think I can hang out with Troye today?" 

   "Sure thing. I was planning on going there anyway to get some things that are missing from the boat we got yesterday." He told me simply. I was elated at his response. I was afraid he wouldn't hesitate to tell me I couldn't go to Troye's house, however much to my surprise and pleasure he said yes to my request. He was obviously put in a good mood to do any of what he's done this morning. I stared to ask him why he was acting so generous. I decide against it and take advantage of the pretty good day laid out in front of me. 

   I scarfed down every scrumptious crumb, leaving no trace of breakfast on my plate and imagining the millions of things I could do with my newfound friend. 

   This time I was anxious to hear the gossip of gravel beneath Dad's truck. I leaped out of the passenger seat and approached Michael with excitement plastered all over my face. Michael talked with Dad for a minute or two before my soon-to-be best friend came darting out of the front of the front door with his emerald eyes outshining the sun and a grin too big for his face. 

  Thus, a beautiful, unbreakable friendship was born. 


   In that moment, not a single doubt crossed my mind that Troye and I would be extremely close due to our interests and personalities that contrasted with each other in the best way. I was stubbornly convinced that Troye and I would become the very best of friends and nothing in the world, neither height nor depth, neither angels nor demons, neither the power of man nor anything else in all creation could ever separate me from Troye. It was friendship at first sight. 

   But falling for him was something I in no way prepared for. 


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