Connor always kind of expected falling in love would be a little like the movies.
He’d have this moment of epiphany and just know. He’d catch some guy’s eye or hear his laugh or something like that, turn around, and there he’d be. The One. Connor would find him and fall in love and that would be that. In the span of heartbeat, the world would be lighter, the air fresher, the songs sweeter. Rose-colored glasses and all that jazz.
The reality is a little different. Loving Oliver doesn’t crash over him in a wave. Loving Oliver seeps into his soul in a slow but steady trickle.
It’s Oliver buying French vanilla coffee creamer for Connor even though he takes his own coffee black. It just appears in the fridge one day with no explanation. Connor holds up the bottle with a question on his lips when Oliver just shrugs. “What? You like it.” Oliver kisses him goodbye in the morning with coffee breath and hair that is already losing its style because he keeps fussing with it and Connor decides that it is a rather nice way to start the day.