tronnor one shots

swirling together, swirling apart

so this is a story i originally wrote for my English class about two girls, but i decided to turn it into tronnor. there will probably be mistakes/ place where it says she instead of he or whatever, just warning you

genre: pretty angsty ngl

wc: about 3000

warnings: connor has anxiety and depression, but its not explicitly stated

It was a grey day and Connor was tired. He had slept for thirteen hours, but he wasn't the kind of tired that sleep could fix. He was simply tired of existing. He didn't want to die, but he didn't want to live. He was tired of his routine, but he was too tired to change it. So he dragged himself out of his bed, same as the day before, and the day before that, and everyday he could remember. This had been his life ever since his tenth birthday, when he stopped being young and cute enough for his parents to care. Six years of the exact same thing, day after day after day. Today it was a Thursday. Nothing good happened on Thursdays, but Connor liked them. Thursdays are the day everyone just wants to rush through, because friday comes next, and everyone loves friday. Connor was overlooked too, people eyes would glance over him on their way to the person next to him, who was always prettier, smarter, more interesting than Connor. But their small glances were enough. Enough for them to judge him, realize just how much of a mistake he was.

His converse softly flopped in the corridors, making as little noise as possible, so he would be as invisible as he felt. He drifted on the edges, staying out of view in the shadows. Today was a Thursday, and it seemed like every other Thursday. But today was not every other Thursday, today was the beginning of an end, and if Connor had known he might have chosen a different path. Or he might not have, because it was also the beginning of a change, the beginning of his life becoming more than just a routine, more than just a mandatory list of things to complete. It was the beginning of a roller coaster; it started slow, gained speed, whirled through turns and loops, only to come to an all too sudden end, jerking the passengers forward in their seats, as they stop all too soon.

Connor first realized that this Thursday was going to be different in maths. The room felt too bright to be a grey day. The shadows were smaller, less present than they usually were on grey days. His eyes lifted from the floor, looking for the one who had shifted the aura of this grey Thursday. He was impossible to miss. Connor's eyes found him right away. He was blue. He was a shining day. He brightened everything, even Connor's grey seamed brighter in his presence. Connor was afraid. It was a grey day, it shouldn't be this bright. He had messed with Connor's routine, and nothing could be the same. When Connor looked away from him, he thought that may be it. But he was too bright for Connor to look away for long, and when Connor looked at him, he knew nothing would be the same. He had a name, Troye. He had an Australian accent. He had hair made of sunshine, and eyes that had the sea and sky swirled in them. Connor thought that maybe his grey would look pretty with Troye's blue. It was 9:37 when Troye first spoke to him. He said his name was Troye, and Connor told his that his name was Connor. He thought Connor was a pretty name. Connor had never thought that his name was pretty before, but now he thought it was the most beautiful name in the world. Besides Troye.

Connor was having trouble remembering the routine. It was as if everything before Troye was gone from his memory. His mind was too full of blue, a certain blue that looked very much like the sea and the sky swirled together. Troye spoke to him again at 9:45. He whispered, because the teacher was talking, droning on about radicals, which were far less important than Troye's voice. Before 9:45, Connor hadn't liked whispers, they were too secretive, and people were always whispering about him, about all his flaws. But after 9:45, he wanted Troye to whisper to him again, because this was the first whisper that wasn't sinister. Troye whispering was the prettiest thing Connor had ever heard, besides Troye's name. Troye wanted to know what class Connor had after maths. They both had English next. They walked through the halls together, and for the first time in six years, Connor wasn't invisible. Troye brightened everything, so much that there were no shadows left for Connor in hide in. Troye was talking to Connor, he was talking and talking, about everything, from his childhood to his pets, and Connor was listening. Connor was listening like nothing was more important than Troye, and everything Troye was telling him. Connor didn't understand why Troye was talking to him. Why he hadn't realized that Connor was a story of mistakes, why he hadn't realized that there were people who were prettier then Connor, people who were smarter, people who had stories to tell Troye, people who could do more than just listen to Troye's stories. Troye was messing with the routine again, simply by noticing Connor's existence. Why hadn't Troye realized that Connor would just dim down his light, why hadn't he realized that you weren't supposed to notice Connor's existence, that he was just a shadow. A shadow you should stay from because he was dangerous, he would hurt Troye. Connor didn't know how he would hurt Troye, but it was inevitable, because that's what happens when you notice shadows. They hurt you, they dim your light. Troye should know to stay away. But he didn't.