Behind the Camera (YouTuber One-shots)

Tronnor

Before the video

"Tro-oooooye! Stop moving!" Connor complained, squirming in his seat. The arm rest painfully dug into his ribs, but he couldn't care less. He was close enough to Troye to be able to nuzzle into his neck, and that made up for every other hardship he had to go through to get into this position in the first place. Except for the fact that Troye wouldn't stop wriggling and shuffling.

At first, Connor assumed Troye was uncomfortable seated on the excruciatingly hard plastic chairs, but now he was slowly becoming more and more sure the Australian was just doing to annoy him.

Troye shifted once more in his seat, managing this time to completely knock Connor's head off it's resting position, on Troye's shoulder. Connor sat upright, staring at Troye with wide eyes, and pathetic looking pout that barely disguised an underlying smile.

Troye stared straight back, pulling his best "innocent" expression. "What's up, Con? Can't get comfortable?"

Connor's face transformed from the dismal expression he wore moments ago, to one of simple frustration and annoyance. He narrowed his eyes, certain now that Troye was staging the entire thing.

It didn't last long, though, as Troye's face lit up in a brilliant grin, one that was reserved for when he knew he'd won. Connor's glare faltered, and quickly dissolved altogether, replaced by his own smile, mirroring Troye's in intensity.

"Fine, fine, you win, happy?" Connor chuckled, tugging his black shirt down at the sides, where it had risen up while he was leant across the seats.

"Perfectly," Troye answered. He paused for a moment, and his face fell into a soft frown. "Although I'm not sure I can really count it as a win if you plan on staying that far away from me," he added, nodding towards the small gap between the two.

"How do I know I'm not going to fall victim to your....shenanigans?" Connor asked, tilting his head, struggling not to laugh.

"Well, I can't promise anything..." Troye trailed off as Connor shuffled as far away as he could and crossed his arms, eyes widening as Troye stared at the new empty space. He then smiled, and held up his hands in the universal peace gesture, his palms facing Connor. "I'll stop, promise."

When Connor still didn't move, Troye became more insistent. Opening his arms wide, he pulled one leg onto the seat and tucked it under him, until he could turn his entire body to face Connor. "Come here."

Relenting, Connor moved back over, falling into Troye's arms, and resting his head against Troye's chest. However, it was barely thirty seconds before he himself began twitching and squirming.

"Hey, no fair, if I'm doomed to stay petrified, you have to be too!" Troye complained, hugging his arms tighter around Connor.

"No, it's just these freaking arm...things!" he hissed, gesticulating wildly at the armrest between them. "It's literally going to dissect me if I don't move soon."

Troye shuddered beneath him. "I really hated those frog dissections they made us do in school; you should probably move. I don't want those memories resurfacing."

Sitting up again, Connor giggled. "So, what you're saying is, you're more worried about repressed memories of your childhood than you are of me lying in two halves on the floor?"

Troye shoved Connor lightly. "You know that's not what I meant." Suddenly, he stood up, offering his hand to Connor.

"What are you doing?" Connor questioned, raising his eyebrows, and subconsciously sweeping a hand across his forehead, brushing away the hair that had begun to fall down. He hadn't fixed up his hair today, and it was constantly falling down over his eyes.