It's Understandable: A Tronnor AU

38. Could Happy Be Coming?

Monday comes fast. Monday, it comes too fast. And the school day ends even faster, leaving Connor standing anxiously in the hallway before he is ready to. Truly, he's had months to prepare for this moment, but he still found himself clinging to the comfort of a ghost of pressure, lingering on his shoulder. That was where Troye had placed his hand in encouragement; Connor touched that spot to pretend that that coaxing was everlasting. He still felt the kiss goodbye on the corner of his mouth, and he fondled his ring nervously.

Around and around and around he spun the band, using the stone to scratch the itches between his clammy fingers. He peeked into the classroom with large and docile eyes, lip chewed to pieces and his heart beating against his binder. This was it. This was the very climax of his plan. One step over this threshold, and it will immediately be his first day in his school's yearbook club.

He felt the weight of his favourite camera—a rather dated model of Canon, but still his baby—in his backpack, and it made him feel as if he were going to fall over. He hated that he was so nervous; after all he had been through getting here, he had to have faith in this idea. He had to make new friends.

Maybe it was the sheer pressure of that that cranked up the acidity of his stomach. He scanned the room, processing the numbers of students—so many potential friends, unless he fucked it all up. What if he fucked it all up?

"Hey, are you okay?"

With a jolt of surprise, Connor turned to find a boy staring at him. He seemed younger than Connor—maybe a sophomore or a small-set junior—with thick, dark hair pulled into a small bun. He was carrying a notebook and had a fountain pen in the chest pocket of his too-large t-shirt, which read World's Greatest Grandpa in big white letters. As odd as that was, Connor was distracted by the fact that he probably had the nicest eyebrows he had ever seen, and then raised one in question.

"You look like you're about to throw up." Then he smirked. "I could even say you're queasy like Sunday morning."

The boy tried his best not to laugh, but Connor's deer-in-headlights reaction cracked his smile wide open. "Are you joining yearbook?" He then asked nonchalantly. 

Not used to strangers making casual conversation with him willingly, Connor nodded timidly, and the boy smiled impossibly larger. "Well then I suggest you get used to puns. Half of this club is made up of the mispunderstood." He winked. "I'm Ben, their almighty leader—Mamrie will tell you that she is, but don't listen to her."

Connor blinked: Ben spoke with such confidence and individuality that he felt jealous. That jealousy pushed him to want Ben to like him even more. He gulped. Be cool, Connor. For once in your life, be cool. "H-hi Ben." Connor blushed profusely—well, so much for being cool.

Smirking, Ben adopted an impish demeanor. "Your face is all red." He made a silly, kissy face. "I mean, I know I'm cute but..."

"Oh!" Connor squeaked, constricted with embarrassment. "No, it's not like that. I have a..."

"Boyfriend, yeah." Ben grinned puckishly. "I know. You're Troye Mellet's guy, right?"

Connor smiled demurely, pinkly. "Yeah, I'm his...guy." He repeated in a soft tone, awkwardly putting a hand out to shake. "Connor."

Ben slapped their palms together and shook happily. "I know that too." He chuckled. "You're pretty infamous at this school. Popular boy gone rogue. Makes for lots of gossip, especially since nobody gets why they'd want to beat you up. You're so quiet."