It's Understandable: A Tronnor AU

4. King of Bullshit

When Connor walked home from school, he was constantly looking over his shoulder. This was partially because of his general anxiety, partially because, in the last ten years, more kids had been abducted in his neighbourhood than he could count on one hand. It was the only place the Franta's could afford to live, and there was so much crime that Connor couldn't tell if the red stains on the pavement were from a run-over cat or a late-night stabbing. He didn't have the luxury or shelter of a car, so he took his little brother's hand protectively as they speed-walked home.

"I'm not a baby." Brandon grumbled, but still didn't let go of his brother's hand. It was simply a younger-brother statement, because the fifteen-year-old knew that the hand-holding wasn't just for his peace of mind, but for Connor's too.

Connor gently ruffled Brandon's hair. "You'll always be a baby to me, B." He said quietly. Brandon smiled sadly; Connor had been very strangely deep lately. He rarely teased him and was constantly trying to validate his love towards his family, as if he didn't have much time left to do so. Brandon didn't know why he acted that way, like his time with them was ending, but he just pinned it on graduation. Nevertheless, he tried his best to love him back.

Nobody was around, so Brandon leaned down to press his cheek to Connor's shoulder. He breathed in, and was instantly repulsed. "Connor, why do you smell like smoke?"

Connor tensed, but pretended to be ignorant of the situation. "What are you talking about?" He scoffed.

"Connor, have you been smoking?"

"It was one cigarette, okay." Connor blushed, looking a little ashamed. However, he wasn't that ashamed. He was actually kind of pleasantly flustered. He remembered how Troye's nimble fingers had placed the cigarette between his lips, showing him how to do it for next time. He recalled how Troye's hands, close to his face as he lit the filter for him, smelled of a vinegar-y hand sanitizer with a vague hint of strawberry. He instructed Connor to inhale, and laughed when barely any smoke came out of his mouth.

"You have to suck harder, Connah."

Connor's heart palpitated by the hand of his own name, tampered to perfection by Troye's lovely, sexy accent. "Like this?" He asked, before inhaling deeply. He knew he'd made a mistake, as Troye lunged for the cigarette and Connor's lungs not only clogged with smoke, but physically felt clogged with smoke.

"No, no, no! Not like that!" Troye took the cigarette from Connor's lips and winced as the petite American nearly coughed up his throat lining. Flustered, he had tentatively reached out to pat Connor's back, not sure if he was at a point of being able to do that casually. It took a second, but he finally laid his palm between his shoulder blades and patted softly. Connor pretended to cough for a minute after the burning subsided, just so he could feel that touch a little bit longer.

Brandon snapped his fingers in front of his face. "Earth to Connor."

Connor broke from his reverie. "Sorry, what did you say?" He asked sheepishly, running a hand through his hair.

"I said that I won't tell mom." Brandon said. "Under one condition."

Connor looked up at Brandon with expectant eyes. "Which is?"

Brandon glanced around, before pulling an R-rated horror movie out of his backpack. "There's more in the bag, and in my closet. You know how mom is about media content." Brandon winced and chuckled at the same time. "Don't tell her my secret and I won't tell her yours."

Connor nearly laughed, because Brandon said it as if Connor only had that one secret. He knew so little about the real secrets he had. The dark secrets. He loved his brother, but the smoking was the only thing he was to know about. "You've got a deal, little brother."