Their First 10,080 | Tronnor

Monday: My Happy Little...WTF?

Troye was learning new things about Connor every day, because dating him was like delving right into Connor 101. And no, I don't mean his life was like a Zoey 101 parody; the metaphor I was concocting goes more along the lines of an in-depth, AP class all about the little American sweetheart. As a friend, Troye had known the basics: where he grew up, what his general like and dislikes were, a manuscript of his personality. But, as his boyfriend, he started to learn personal things, like his scars and his rough pasts, but also small, trivial things that Connor just did. Observance magnified by his love, Troye discovered so many little things. He found out that Connor didn't move much in his sleep, always mispronounced 'foliage' like 'foilage', and secretly listened to the harshest My Chemical Romance songs whenever he was in an angry mood. And his newest lesson, something he was sure he'd have no trouble memorizing, was that Connor was the most adorable drunk in the world.

"EVERYBODY!" He gurgled, swaying slightly, "SEE TROYE THERE? TROYE SIVAN? I LOVE HIM SO MUCH, OKAY, FOR ANYONE WHO DIDN'T KNOW." He sternly pointed to everyone in the crowd, making sure he got his point across. Connor then, hilariously carefully, repositioned his footing so his legs were spread wide apart, as if he'd forgotten how to stand properly. He giggled as he slipped a little, a cluster of unrecognizable hands reaching out to make sure he didn't fall. "I WANT TO DO SOMETHING FOR HIM!" He chirruped, "TROYE-BOY CAN I DO IT?"

Troye pursed his lips to keep himself from laughing at his boyfriend. Connor's cheeks tended to turn pink when he drank any alcohol so, by now, his face was the color of a tomato, and Troye thought it was quite amusing. "I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT 'IT' IS, BABY." He cupped his hands around his mouth and screamed over the Alabama Shakes song playing in the background. Connor yelled out for someone to turn down the music again, so that he could speak properly.

"I want to sing to you!" He cheered, jumping slightly like an excited seven-year-old. Troye raised an eyebrow, even though he knew Connor couldn't see him in the dark. Remember when Troye said that Connor was inexplicably tone-deaf? Well, Connor had sung in front of him before, full songs, and he wasn't exaggerating.

Regardless, Connor raised his beer in the air and began to sing.

Ooo I love my ugly boy, so rough and tough don't care bout' anything but me. I just love him 'cause he's so crazy, crazy about me!

He belted in a screamy, dying-cat voice. Someone from the audience laughed really loudly, yelling out, "That's a backhanded compliment if I ever heard one."

Someone else screamed, "SHADE!" and Connor hit himself on the forehead, stumbling a bit from the light impact. "Oh my God, bad choice of song. It was the first thing that came to mind." He snorted adorably, pointing at Troye with a flirtatious jut of the hips and a dramatic wink. "Sorry my pretty boy, I didn't mean it. You're very, very, very beautiful."

Troye was simply in hysterics, too entertained by this to even care. However, he was his boyfriend, his guardian during these types of situations, and he wondered if this was going too far. He didn't want Connor to start stripping or anything and, plus, he'd probably be pissed if he found out that Troye let him embarrass himself. This was enough drunken performance for tonight, Troye decided, and he reached his hands out to pull Connor down off the table.

Connor didn't agree, swatting him away. "I'm not donnnnnne." He whined, standing up straight. "I want to sing something good now."

Troye was about to protest, but then someone from the crowd suggested, laughing hard, "Happy Little Pill!"

"Okay!" Connor lit up in agreement, "I'm a terrible, terrible singer, and I'm warning y'all 'bout that. But I'm gonna do it for you, baby! 'Cause I love you!"