(What's in italics is an entry of sorts, it'll make sense later on (((;)
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I've always been very modest in a way all little boys are supposed to be. Hiding in bathroom stales and under kitchen counters. Soon, running wasn't fun and hide and go seek wasn't a game anymore.
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T R O Y E
4-10-15
I push open the library doors hastily, the after taste of stomach acid familiar yet new. It always is. Mrs.Cheznick, the librarian, looks up from her latest novel The Great Gatsby.
"Good afternoon Troye." She says sweetly. She and I have a pretty good relationship, one definitely better than I have with anyone else in this school. She's a lady in her late 20's, about my height, with deep chocolate brown eyes and dark red hair that's always curled in tight swirls all around her head. She's a lovely sight, someone you can stare at forever. Sadly her husband, John, died over seas making her a widow. He fell off of a cursing ship and was attacked by Dolphins. Not exactly the perfect bedtime story.
"Hey Martha." I reply, taking a seat on the stool next to her desk. I spend most of my lunch hours in here after i eat of course. The thought of food sends my stomach into a violent reminder of the last five minutes and I squeeze my eyes shut.
"I bought you something." I reopen my eyes at this, turning to the fair faced women with a frown.
"Really? Why'd you do that?" She doesn't seem offended by my response, she's used to it by now.
"Because I wanted to, you'll thank me later." A giggle escapes her as she leans over to dig in her tie die purse. "Here." She pulls out a blue toothbrush still in the package, a red bow resting on it perfectly. The taste in my mouth gets stronger and she puts it in my shaky hand.
"Thanks." I mutter.
"Listen," the sympathy in her voice instantly makes me upset. I don't need to be cradled or cared for, I'm okay. There's nothing wrong with me. "I'm sorry I can't stop them, it's not my place too. And plus, the dean would have a fit if I did. I already have two strikes."
The dean of students, the most homophobic of assholes and my worst nightmare. In the beginning of my ninth grade year this man, Nash Grier, found out that I was gay and has made my life hell ever since. He also happens to hate Martha, but of course for the most childish of things. One time in sophomore year when the bulling first started to get bad I was heading to lunch when Alfie and his buddy Cameron tried to beat me up. They pushed me up against the lockers and started to act on their vicious desires but were stopped by Martha.
She brought me to the library and locked the door, cleaned me up and started our friendship off on the right track. Off course Nash took it the wrong way and tried to get her fired for 'inappropriate conduct with a student'. Even though the guy knew I was gay he still got mad at her for helping me. The case didn't stick after several traumatizing tests and court sessions and things went back to normal. Or what I consider normal at least.
"It's okay, I understand. Thank you." I stick the present in my satchel and lean on my hand, staring at the other book club students as they pile in. The rest of the lunch hour goes by quickly, ending in a heated argument over wether or not Hazel will make it for longer than two more years.
My next class is English and I almost reach the classroom before I'm stopped by an unfamiliar face.
"Hey! Troye right?" The brown haired boy asks and I nod, my face blank like it always is. "I'm Ben. Ben J. Peirce." He introduces himself and I nod once again, staring at his outstretched hand.
"Okay.." When he sees that I'm not one for contact he retracts the limb and smiles brightly. With the reputation I have it's odd for someone to randomly come up to me, especially someone as good looking as Mr. Peirce here. He stands shorter than me with deep brown eyes and the thickest brown almost black hair I've ever seen. His skin is tan and his eyes crinkle when he smiles.
"You gonna go in?" A giggle. "I have English right now too." With a small nod I turn away from the boy and head to my normal seat in the back of the room. The chairs cold and hard and i let my bag hit the floor as I slump over in it. There's a new face here today. Well it's not exactly new, not like Ben's, but it's new to this class.
It's Connor Franta
The boy from middle school, the boy who went from being a total loser, someone who was always picked on, to the guy everyone needed something from. He's cute, he has light brown hair and gorgeous green eyes. He has a small yet muscular build, a little shorter than me. He sits at the desk next to mine, his head down and glasses pushed up. Okay.
"Today we're learning about essay structures and techniques..." Mr. Green begins to drown on about writing and things of those sorts but I don't listen. Instead I focus on the book in front of me, The Girl On The Train. Only I can't really get into it like I usually can, the feeling of someone watching me starts to pound threw my head.
My first thought is, 'don't be so full of yourself Troye. No ones wants to look at you' but the feeling won't go away. I look around the room, my eyes finally connecting with another set that have previously been looking my way.
Connors.
Why is he staring at me? Why won't he look away? Although I am used to it, even when I'm not here where everyone's always shoving me around, there's still eyes on me. I work for a fashion company, Saint Laurent, secretly of course. They pay me good money and I model for them, although I don't know why they'd want me. I'm to tall, to skinny, to gay.
But they love it, and I'm now one of the best known models in France. But god forbid someone found out, I'd be humiliated. They'd abuse me even more, what a gay thing for a boy to do, model. I just seem to be full of gayness don't I? What a sinner I've turned out to be, my parents would be ashamed. If they were ever around to see me or even care. I avert my eyes from the green ones.
Only 49 more days right? I can make it. There's nothing wrong with me.
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A/N
Super short sorry, and I've also changed the book cover three times. Sorry.
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Fanfiction"We're all products of the media Con." Connor Franta, an average guy with good grades, a beautiful girlfriend, a fancy scholarship, and a nagging feeling that everything might not be as okay as he hoped. Troye Sivan, a piece of art with a not-so-t...
