It's Understandable: A Tronnor AU

24. Artery Strong

"So how's it going with Connor and Troye?" Mr. Lester leaned forwards eagerly, his elbows on Mr. Howell's desk. His blue eyes glinted with genuine interest; Phil was always genuinely interested, he was just that kind of person. "Have you worked their problems out with your hyper-intelligence and fantastic guidance skills yet?" He teased.

Mr. Howell chuckled lightly, his heart constricting ever so slightly at the proximity of their faces. They were, as he roughly estimated, 26.64cm apart, which was a new platonic record. Close, but still no homo. "They're getting through it." He answered, stirring his tea vigorously before handing the spoon to Mr. Lester. "They seem a lot happier, and a lot more proactive about getting better. Connor especially. He said he wants to join Yearbook Club, and Troye was extremely, extremely supportive."

"Extremely, twice? That's very extreme." Mr. Lester giggled angelically, making Mr. Howell nearly choke on his tea. No, Dan. Stop thinking about touching that jet-black, probably soft as fuck hair of his! He's your best friend, your co-worker, and you are just having your completely platonic, last period tea.

He laughed, hoping it didn't sound too awkward. "Yeah, he kept smiling and touching his arm. And Troye is not one for friendliness or soft gestures. I'm starting to think that they are very fond of each other. And I mean very fond."

"You think they're dating?"

"Well, I saw some forehead kissing action when they left last week." Mr. Howell explained, remembering how Connor had been extra gloomy and Troye had kissed his temple so tenderly at the door. "Troye was comforting Connor after we talked about what happened with his mom and the shooting. And the fact that they're both openly gay makes it even more of a possibility, so yeah, I think there's something going on there."

"Forehead kissing, huh?" Mr. Lester pondered, and Mr. Howell could've sworn he saw those blue eyes wander over his hairline thoughtfully. "Sounds like super hot gossip."

Mr. Howell rolled his eyes endearingly. "Phil, I'm not gossiping about my students." He drawled.

Mr. Lester grinned impishly. "Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

Exasperated and laughing, Mr. Howell threw a pen at his friend's shoulder. "Shut up, you twat."

Suddenly, the last bell sounded with such conclusion that Mr. Howell felt sad. Mr. Lester's tea cup and plate clicked as he gathered them and set them on the cabinet under the window, out of the way. He turned to smile at the guidance counsellor, to say goodbye, but Mr. Howell found himself doing the most cringeworthy thing; he shot up from his chair and grabbed Mr. Lester's sleeve. "Stay a little longer." He nearly begged, his voice so terribly, terribly needy.

As soon as he let himself act the way he felt inside, he wanted to curl up and die. All of a sudden, he had stopped telling himself no homo, and everything about his actions was so utterly and thickly homo. But, to the cringing man's surprise, Mr. Lester was kind enough to disregard. "Dan, you have an appointment like, right now. Connor and Troye should be here any minute." Then he smiled, but not in the way Mr. Howell was used to seeing. This smile, it was very fond. Very, very fond. "But I'll call you later, maybe we can go for a cheeky Nando's?"

Mr. Howell couldn't speak. All his suppressed love and lust and need closed up his throat and he could only gurgle and nod in agreement. And, with that, Mr. Lester waved and was gone.

Outside the door, he heard him talking. "Oh, hello boys! We were just wrapping up teatime. Mr. Howell is waiting inside for you. Have a good afternoon."