Tronnor Oneshots

The Silence is Ringing (part 1)

Warnings: sexuality crisis (it doesn't last long), Dom/sub undertones, deepthroating, mild painplay, comeshot, come swallowing, mentions of fingering?, hair pulling, consensual slut shaming, Troye has a size kink

3:26 a.m.

Connor didn't mean to be awake. He didn't mean to be calling Troye in the middle of the night, hands unsteady as he set his coffee mug down to pick up the phone from the counter. He wanted to blame the shaking on the caffeine, but he was only a few sips into his first cup in hours and he knew well enough by now what this meant.

Connor was rarely awake at this hour. He had been in the habit of going to bed at a fairly reasonable time most nights and waking up early enough to have a full day ahead of him. Some nights he had the urge to stay up until 2 a.m. watching Netflix, but most days he was content to be one of those elusive morning people. Something about waking up to soft beams of light peaking through his blinds, casting shadows across his bedroom, made him feel warm and optimistic.

Tonight, however, was different. This time he wasn't curled up on the sofa in a nice cozy blanket watching Modern Family. No, this time he was making what may be the riskiest decision he's ever made in his life.

Four rings in and Connor was about to hang up and go back to bed where he could at least wallow in his shame and sadness as he cried into his pillow (he'll tell Troye later that he fell asleep with his phone in bed and must have accidentally dialed) when Troye picked up, "Hey, Con."

Troye's voice was soft and familiar. Affectionate even, but Connor dare not let himself linger on that too long. There was something of a pause when Connor still thought he could hang up. He could end this bad idea before it became a shattering regret and go back to being miserable and always wondering, always worrying and always crying. But a small voice inside his head that sounded suspiciously like Troye's whispered, You deserve to be happy, and he swallowed all the doubt speeding through his mind.

"I need you," was all Connor said in a very broken, very desperate voice, but it was more than enough and Troye's heart unraveled onto the floor. Immediately Troye was grabbing his jacket and shoes, leaving the dark quiet of Tyler's house behind.

"I'm on my way."

-

3:43 a.m.

Connor had been pacing back and forth between his living room and kitchen for the last 15 minutes, nursing his cup of coffee, which had since been refilled twice. He knew he should just sit down and occupy himself until Troye arrived, but he just couldn't. All he could do was think about the past year and how much pain his internal struggle had put him through. It took months of obsessively watching YouTube videos in an incognito tab, browsing through the Trevor Project website, and a few sessions with his new therapist to even reach the point he had a week before. The point at which he could look at himself in the mirror and say, I'm gay. And even then he hadn't been able to say it without so much fear in his chest, so many tears down his cheeks, and so much hurt in his throat. He hadn't said it since then. He hadn't browsed any of those websites or watched any of those videos in a week. All he did was think about Troye.

Troye. It was a triggering word for Connor lately. Any time one of his friends even mentioned Troye in passing, Connor spiraled into a winding helix of thoughts and emotions. He knew there was something there. He hadn't been able to deny it since the day he looked into Troye's eyes for the first time. He'd spent an awfully long time trying to pretend his feelings for Troye weren't present. Eventually he reached the point where he couldn't take all the bottled up agony any longer and had to address what exactly having feelings for Troye meant. And now that he knew, really knew for certain the truth about who he was, he still didn't feel the giant weight lifted off his shoulders that he so desperately needed after 21 years of carrying it. So he spent a week fighting his feelings, attempting to bottle them back up. But with his self-confession came an overwhelming sense that he could no longer live this way, constantly in agony as he battled within himself. So for the past week he had been letting his internal defenses waver until he knocked down that last wall, broke down, and called Troye. He still thought this could all just be one big mistake, but something about Troye—his voice, his smile, his scent, the warmth of his touch as he hugged Connor hello after a long while not seeing each other—made Connor think it just might be worth it.