Falling {Tronnor}

Two

"We'll have to share an umbrella," Troye said, gesturing to the doors they were now standing in front of. Connor shrugged on his coat, pulling the hood over his head.

"I'm good," he said.

Troye shrugged, opening his umbrella and holding the door for Connor. "After you," he said. "There's a place just down the street."

They walked in silence for a while. Troye seemed content with it, but Connor, for once, would rather have conversation. He didn't like not knowing what Troye was thinking. "You said you knew one of my friends?" he asked.

"What?" Troye said, apparently surprised by Connor's question. "Oh, yeah, I do," he answered. "Hannah. She's one of my closest friends."

"Really?" Connor asked. Somehow he'd expected it to be someone else, Troye didn't seem like the type of person to hang around with Hannah (but then again Connor wasn't exactly the type of person that usually hung around with Hannah). "How'd you two meet?"

"Oh," Troye said, looking away from Connor. "We just kept running into each other."

"I don't need to be a psychologist to know that there's something you're not telling me," Connor said, amusement clear in his tone.

"It's not important," Troye insisted. They'd arrived at the café. Troye held the door for Connor and then closed his umbrella. "Table for two," he told the waitress by the door. She nodded.

"Right this way," she said, leading them towards a table and handing them each menus. "I'll be back to take your order in a few."

Once she was gone, Connor returned his attention to the question at hand--Troye. "I thought you said you wanted to be friends with me," he pried. "I just want to know how you met Hannah. It's conversation, maybe you've heard of it?"

Troye sighed. "How did you meet Hannah, then," he said, turning the question back on Connor.

"She was a college friend of mine," Connor said with a shrug. "Your turn."

"We kept running into each other, like I said."

"Where?" Connor pressed. At least this way he was keeping the attention off himself.

Troye paused. "At parties and such."

"You seemed hesitant to say that," Connor noted.

"I was just thinking something over," Troye said. "But since you're friends with Hannah, I guess you don't particularly care."

"I don't particularly care about a lot of things," Connor replied. "You'll have to be more specific." For a minute he forgot that this wasn't a friend of his but a therapist, someone who had the ability to completely turn his life in a different direction if he decided to.

"I guess you don't," Troye said, a slight amused smile on his face. Connor took one look at that smile and grew irritated, for no apparent reason.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, looking at Troye sharply.

"Nothing," Troye said. "Nothing at all, Connor. Why? Is it supposed to mean something?"

"Don't psychoanalyze everything I say," Connor said, effectively ignoring the question. "You said this thing wouldn't be like a therapist appointment."

"And it's not," Troye replied gently, setting his menu down and looking at Connor. His eyes were too honest and too caring. Connor looked away. "I promise," he said.

Connor busied himself with the menu, desperate to avoid whatever Troye was trying to do.

"Connor," Troye said. "Look at me."