A Tronnor Collection

broken glasses. - Tronnor Fanfic Prompt #2

prompt: 'i was trying to read in the park and your stray football fucking knocked me unconscious' au

Going outside was a terrible idea, and Troye made sure Tyde and Steele knew it. In fact, they probably had heard nothing else since dragging their brother begrudgingly from his darkened bedroom and down the road to the park to play football. Troye was adamant that something would go wrong, that people like him belonged in quiet, dark, internet accessible places, not places with nature or strangers or god forbid, exercise. But Tyde wanted to try out for the new American football team the school was starting up, and Steele wanted to spend time with his brothers before going back to uni, and Troye couldn't come up with a better excuse than filling his Tumblr queue, so here they were.

For Connor, the park was a refuge. It reminded him of home, of Minnesota, of forests and trees and fall, all things he was missing due to the backwards seasons of Perth. Being an exchange student had seemed like an excellent idea, and he knew it looked good on paper, but being an extreme introvert in a foreign country had only made him feel more isolated. His dorm was full of overly muscular jocks on athletic scholarships who, despite technically speaking the same language as him, Connor completely failed to comprehend. And while he appreciated the toned, generally shirtless residents, as any self respecting gay boy would, he simply felt out of place. One benefit of social isolation however was exceptional grades, due to a lack of any sort of diversions. So when the party broke out early in the dorm, Connor packed up his book of mid century poetry and his journal and headed to his favourite bench in the park, hoping to do one last analysis session before his literature test the next day.

"HEADS UP" Connor heard the loud, melodic Australian voice ring across the field beside him, but didn't for a moment consider it was directed at him. That is, until the sudden and intense pain in the side of his head knocked him over, and he found himself flat on his back in the grass, glasses squashed under his shoulder and what looked curiously like a football lying a few feet away. He tried to scramble to his feet but felt a jolt of pain rush through his skull, and found himself sinking back towards the ground. A pair of hands caught his arms before he tumbled completely, and he was led gently back to the bench just a foot to his right. "Hey there. Are you alright mate?" It was the voice from before, before the nasty ball had knocked him from his reading. Connor tried to focus on the face in front of him, but other than a blurry and angular face, all he saw was two deep pools of blue that logically had to be eyes, but to him looked like the deep water of the lake he'd grown up swimming in every summer. A hand waved in front of his face and brought Connor's attention back to the blue eyed Aussie who curiously enough was still gripping his biceps. "Your football broke my glasses" Connor muttered, still feeling a bit dazed. "What? Where?" The boy stepped back to look but stopped suddenly when both boys heard a *crunch* on the ground. "Well, if my fucking football didn't do it, my massive feet just did. Shit." Connor knew this wasn't funny, knew he needed to study, but there was something about the boy's endearing cursing and self deprecation that had him giggling. "Dude, how hard did I hit you? Are you okay? Shit. Shit. STEELE. TYDE" Connor winced as the boy started yelling what seemed like total gibberish, but must have been names, as two other boys sprinted over. "Troye, what the fuck did you do? Are you okay mate?" asked the smaller one, directing the second question to Connor, and the boy with oceans for eyes, Troye, Connor surmised, groaned in response. "Outside is always a bad idea. I told you." The older one smiled and punched Troye gently on the arm. "You know T, if you want to hit on cute boys, you don't have to actually hit them." Troye's eyes got darker and stormy, and he hissed towards the other two. "Take your fucking football and go home." Connor smiled in hopes of convincing them he was fine, really, and the two boys shrugged and laughed before walking back in the other direction.

Troye picked up the bent metal from the ground that was meant to be Connor's glasses before sitting gingerly beside him. "I'm Troye, by the way. I'm so sorry. I'm an idiot. No, they're idiots. I told them I shouldn't do this. I'm sorry. Can I do anything to make it up to you? I'll get your glasses fixed." Connor tried to hush the boy by putting a hand on his knee in comfort, but misjudged the distance and placed his hand quite firmly on the young man's upper thigh. Both boys sat up straight, neither one moving away. "Uh, Troye, there's one thing you can do." Troye's blue eyes widened in alarm, it seemed to Connor, and he decided to continue speaking before any assumptions were made. "I was studying. I need to read a few more stanzas yet, and since you've destroyed my glasses-" Troye tried again to apologize, but Connor just squeezed his leg with the hand that hadn't moved yet, and continued on. "-maybe you could read it to me?" Connor finished up and left the question hanging there. In truth, he had a second pair of glasses in his dorm room and if Troye wanted to get out, he could probably find his way back perfectly fine, but he was hoping that Troye would have caught on, between the constant shushing and the fact that Connor was still touching him, that he wanted to spend just a bit more time with this beautiful boy. Troye leaned across Connor, bringing his neck within inches of Connor's lips, and picked up the book that sat on the other side of the bench. Connor tried to keep breathing as Troye moved back. "This book? Sylvia Plath and other works?" "Yeah. Its for a class. Please?"

Two hours later, Connor did find his way back to his dorm room. But not alone. He walked beside Troye, shoulders brushing. Troye's arms were full of Connor's books, as he'd insisted on carrying everything, part of the apologizing he kept doing every few minutes. They'd read for an hour, then gone for a walk, and now with rumbling in their stomachs, were heading to the coffee shop on the main level of Connor's dorm. Connor had yet to tell Troye that he hadn't really needed his help, but he didn't think he needed to do that today. The little white lie had guaranteed there would be plenty of time to do that in the future. After all, it'd only taken about five pages of poetry before Connor stopped paying attention to the words and started planning exactly how to ask out the beautiful boy. It'd been 10 pages when he got up the courage. Troye had said yes before Connor even finished the question. They'd decided to go to a bookstore next week, as neither wanted to do anything remotely athletic, for fear of further injury, and Troye had a sudden and curious urge to read poetry. For the first time since arriving in the country, Connor was very appreciative of his semester in Australia. Now, he was wishing it wouldn't end.