PH // TRONNOR (completed)

GLORY AND GORE

It wasn't good in the days that followed. Connor went from the most popular kid, to the most hated. His old friends suddenly became his bullies. Connor could stand up for himself, but he and Troye decided to stay away from school for a few days.

They could barely look at each other as they sat in the darkness of the Franta's basement with Ashley. They felt sick in their stomachs. They knew they were each other's problems. They knew they loved each other, but they also knew they wouldn't be accepted.

Ashley sat with them, quietly. No one said anything. "So," Ashley drew out, trying to decide something remotely decent to say, "When are you going back to school?"

"Never," Connor mumbled. Secretly, his was humiliated. He'd never planned to come out, not in high school. Badlands High was his school. He ran it because he wasn't different. Because he was exactly who he was supposed to be. But not anymore.

"He's too ashamed of me," Troye scowled. Connor rolled his eyes, "No, I'm not, Troye."

"Yes you are," Troye argued. Connor was about to say something, but Ashley cut him off, "It doesn't matter what they think. They're assholes."

"Thanks, Ash," Connor sassed. Ashley rolled her eyes at him, "That's your fault."

Connor nodded. Ashley exhaled slowly. "I have to go," she says, calmly, "I want you two to work out your problems. Okay?"

They muttered responses. She grabbed her purse and ran up the stairs. It was just Connor and Troye and their fears now.

They both tried to think of what to say. But they weren't sure what the other person wanted to hear.

"I have a tennis match tomorrow," Connor sighed, thinking about the endless torture he'd get from the team.

"Do you want me to come?" Troye asked.

They both drank from a large bottle of some kind of alcohol. They wanted to feel numb.

"No, you'll get hurt," Connor looked at Troye for the first time.

"I can stand up for myself," Troye scoffed, trying to sound brave. Suddenly Connor stood up, fuming.

"No you can't!" Connor shouted at him, "Don't ever think you can. My friends are ruthless. Trust me."

"Well you'd know, because you used to be just like that."

"Yes, Troye."

"So why should I trust you?"

"Because I'm not like that anymore. Fucking stop Troye. I have to deal with their bullshit, but I'm not taking yours."

Troye clenched his teeth, "Are you fucking kidding me?" They stared each other down, fire in their eyes. Connor groaned, his head pounding against his skull. He picked up the bottle of alcohol and threw it. The glass smashed against the wall. Troye gasped. He looked at Connor and saw him, not with anger, but as a broken boy who was completely lost. Troye sighed, "Why are we fighting?"

Connor turned towards him and leaned down into him, crashing his lips to Troye's, apologizing. Troye kissed back, gasping. They grabbed at each other's backs. Connor reached for Troye's shirt, throwing it off. He stood up from the dirty ground, leading Troye to the couch. Troye helped Connor get his shirt off then laid on top of him. Troye kissed down Connor's neck.

"I love you," Connor said into Troye's hair, playing with each curl.

"I love you, too," Troye moaned, loosening Connor's belt.

/

Connor threw his racket over his shoulder. He grabbed his water bottle and walked out to the court. A group of his teammates whispered amongst each other as he passed them. He didn't turn to see their snarling faces. He didn't care what they thought of him. He set his stuff down, unzipping his bag to get his racket.

"Hey, Connor," a voice sneered behind him. It was Caspar.

"What do you want?" Connor said calmly, not turning to see him. Caspar chuckled, "Not what you want, apparently. What's Troye like in bed, anyway?"

Connor turned around and punched him right across the face. Caspar doubled over, blood running from his nose, "Jesus Christ, Connor."

"Why, Caspar? Why? Why can't you just accept me and Troye? We accept you and we don't even know what kind of species you are."

A collection of oh's are heard from the crowd. "Come on Connor, you've had you're fair share of making fun of gays."

Connor sighed, "Because people like you scared me into that. I couldn't be who I was."

Caspar shook his head, "You were the one that told us not to except faggots. Or did you forget?"

Connor closed his eyes. He hadn't forgotten. "Well, the rules have changed."

Caspar rolled his eyes, "How come you get to decide? Who made you the ruler? Who ever said you could push us around? We're making the rules now." He pointed at the boys around him. They all stood behind him. No one was with Connor. It was war.

"I'm not going to fight you," Connor informed.

"Yes you are," Caspar said, "Because you love victory." Caspar went to hit him, but Connor grabbed his fist, twisting his arm.

"Don't," he said sternly, "hurt Troye ever again."

"Still defending him?" Caspar asked. He ran to hit Connor. But Connor was a lot stronger then him. He pushed him onto the ground in one motion. "Yeah, I am," Connor spit down at him. Caspar grabbed at his right arm, cradling it to his chest. He thought Connor might have broken it.

The opposing team's bus pulled up then, the coach behind it. Caspar pushed himself off the ground with his good arm.

After that, everyone had a certain respect for Connor. Maybe it was because Caspar was out for the rest of the season with a broken arm, but he'd stood up for himself and his boyfriend. That was something they weren't expecting.

He'd changed. They could change, too.