Tronnor OneShots

He's My Best Friend (au)

We met in pre-k.
I called him the boy at the yellow table.
He called me the boy with light-up shoes.
"Hi! I'm Connor!" the boy said.
"Hello! I'm T-R-O-Y-E!" I said.
"Do you wanna play?" he asked.
"Sure! Tag you're it!" and I ran.

We met again in second grade.
I saw him walk in and he sat down next to me.
Lunch came, and I decided to ask for his name.
"Are you Connor?"
"Yep! Troye, right?"
"Yeah! Can't believe you're in my class again!"
He gave me half of his sandwich, I gave him half of mine.
We became the best of friends. We were in each other's class every year until 5th grade.
We would go to each other's house every weekend, and play on the Nintendo 64 until one of us went home.

We went to the same middle school.
I found out we had science, math, and gym together.
But it wasn't the Connor I knew.
"Hey Connor!"
"Oh. Hey Troye."
He turned back to his group of friends.
"Um, hey Connor. It's me? Your best friend?"
His group laughed and murmured incoherently. Connor ignored me.
I walked away, hoping I could talk to him during gym.
When gym came, I was glad to see that none of Connor's friends were there, so I sat next to him.
"What did I do Connor? Why are you mad at me?" I asked, desperate for an answer.
"Nothing. Just, we aren't friends anymore, okay?" he replied, obviously quite annoyed.
"But-"
"Troye leave me alone,okay? I have new friends now, why can't you?"
He walked away and sat next to a random boy.
The only friends I made that year were a boy named Tyler and a girl named Zoe.
They helped me get over Connor, and I was happy again.

In 8th grade, Connor got his first girlfriend.
Her name was Bethany. She was pretty, I guess.
I couldn't help but feel jealous, not knowing why.
Every time Connor walked pass in the hallway, Bethany was right by him.
It only brought back memories of 4th and 5th grade.
"Why do you keep looking at them, Troye?" Zoe asked, taking me out of my thoughts.
"I'm not." I said, forcing a laugh.

A year later, we were freshmen in high school.
"Hey Troye."
"Oh, did your little group of friends leave you?" I asked, actually curious to why he was talking to me.
"No, I left them," he said with a shy smile, "I wanted to be friends again. Can we?"
That was the restart of the friendship we once had.

In sophomore year, we both had the same thoughts in the back of our minds.
'What if I'm gay?'
'Do I like him?'
The questions roamed our heads, neither of us talking about it to one another.
The simple touches would send electric shocks up my arm.
The sound of his laugh would sound like music to my ears.
Looking into his eyes warmed my heart, each and every time.
It wasn't until the middle of the year until I realized that I knew the answer to the questions that have been haunting me.
'I'm gay.'
'I like Connor Franta.'
Little did I know, he felt the same.

In junior year, we told each other.
I told him first, him telling me soon after.
However, we kept our feelings for each other bottled up , fearing the other person wouldn't feel the same.
We would gossip about the cute boys on the football team, constantly bickering which one was cuter.
Both of our hearts sinking while listening to the other swooning over another boy, neither of saying a thing.

In senior year, we fell in love.
We told each other everything, happiness rushing through our bodies quicker than the speed of sound.
We shared our first kiss, our lips fitting perfectly.
Prom was a fairy tale, and we were we each other's kings.
We were exactly where we should be.

Through the years, we just kept falling harder.
We weren't able to be without the other person, and I cherished every moment.
We moved in together, having playful arguments over the little details.
We traveled the world together, from New Zealand, to Australia, to the UK.

A few years later, he proposed.
Both of our eyes pooling with tears, launching ourselves into an embrace.
The moment replaying over and over again in my mind.
When the wedding came, the feeling of euphoria filled my body, unable to keep the tears from falling as I looked at the man I could now call my husband.

Today, those feelings remain the same.
I still get the same electric shocks down my arm from simple touches.
I still get the same feeling of euphoria, knowing that I got this lucky.
Today, I'm still that lovesick teenager, unable to get the the thought of Connor out of my head, even if it was only a blur.

We were in love.
I called him mine.
He called me his.

- - - -
a/n
what was that?
but anyway, tonight I was feeling very attacked (in the best way possible) so yeah
thanks for reading!

vote, comment maybe? <3
-Lian