Breathe (Tronnor One-Shots)

Remember Me

Genre: Mild angst with more comfort than hurt.

Word Count: 6.9k

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From the moment you first lay eyes on him, you know he's the most beautiful human being you've ever seen. Which is seriously saying something, considering Darren Criss keeps careful watch over you from the poster above your bed.

He's one of those people you admire from a distance, dreaming about approaching and striking up a conversation and maybe even handing your number over to, all while knowing you'll never so much as say hello. So that's what you do— you sit in the back of your seventh grade french class and you watch his head move from side to side as he scribbles down notes.

You don't approach him. You don't ask your friends about him. You simply watch from afar and wonder if his eyes really are as blue as the ocean or if it's a simple trick of the light.

On the last day of seventh grade, you learn his name is Troye.

(It's kind of sad how long it took you to figure that shit out.)

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High school is a nightmare and you hate it. You hope whatever monster invented it has gone to hell already and suffered for a million billion years because they most definitely deserve it.

It's not just math or history or even gym, either. It's the crowded halls and the announcements everyone talks over and the stupid encouragements to 'get involved' that leave you alone at lunch because all your stupid friends have fallen prey to their satanic summonings. More than that, it's the way you don't have any beautiful people to stare at in any of your classes for the entire first semester.

You're not looking for a certain person in particular, of course, you're just upset that there's no one of passable attractiveness to ogle over. You have a thing for gorgeous boys, though you'd be lying if you said Troye isn't still the prettiest of all.

You haven't spoken to him. You haven't even really spoken of him. You spent eighth grade the same way you did seventh— watching from afar as he scribbled down notes and didn't speak to a single soul.

You've learned a lot in the past year, though. You know he isn't social, keeping to himself with his head down and retaining minimal connection to the rest of the world. He's quiet, doesn't really have any friends - though he certainly doesn't seem to mind it. He walks through the halls with a purpose, books clutched to his chest and lips set in a firm line. He's smart, gets good grades, makes nice with the teachers and manages to come across like he hates school slightly less than the rest of them.

Above all else, though, Troye is closed off. He tenses at prying questions teachers ask the class to raise their hands to, expression twisting into something tight whenever anyone approaches him. He doesn't share his life even when it's for a grade, like an oral presentation on why some book you read connects with some personal experience of yours. He's always gone at lunch, you never see him in the breaks between classes, and he most certainly doesn't hang around after the bell goes.

For all intents and purposes, you learn that you're never going to learn anything about him just by observation.

And then things change.

It's January, the last month of first semester and the final two days before exams. It's January and people are stressed and it's high school, so naturally rumours are flying as fast as a falcon through all four grades. Gossip is the sort of thing you hear a lot about and find very entertaining, but don't necessarily chase or fan the flames of when it's started to spread like wildfire through your surroundings. You'd never really taken much of an actual interest in it until Troye's name is coming up and you're doing a double take to zone back into your friends's conversation.