Tonight - A Tronnor AU

o2: opia

Opia

n. the ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, simultaneously invasive and vulnerable

January 9;

The book opened to Connor's least favorite chapter. His hand automatically found his head to cradle it from the algorithm attack. It was a Saturday, for God's sake, and Saturdays aren't meant to be spent in coffee shops with a computer science textbook and a laptop for company.

He was the first customer of the day; he had reached there the moment one of the girls opened the store. He had chosen a table in the furthest corner, but he sensed rather than heard Troye sauntering in. Connor dumped his bag at his chosen table and strode over to the counter, a few bills clutched in his hand. Troye had tied on his apron, and was pinning the nametag. He looked up as Connor approached.

"Yo, miss me already, mate?"

Connor cringed at the horrible impersonation of a crude Australian accent. "Please never do that again."

"Sowwy, Connie."

"Shut up. Can I get a pumpkin spice latte?"

"What's the magic word?"

Connor sniffed irritably. "Screw you. Excuse me?" He turned to the girl he had met earlier. "Can I have a pumpkin spice latte, please?"

"Hey." Troye pouted. "Whatever, your loss. I can do much better artwork than Kay."

"Troye, stop being an ass." Kay slapped his arm. "You're making him uncomfortable."

With her long pale blonde hair, dark eyes and rosy lips that smiled often and readily, Kay was one attractive girl. She took his order and pushed Troye into the kitchen when he became too much of a smart mouth. She handed him his change with a crisp receipt and a bright smile, and told him to go ahead and sit. She'd get his coffee for him. Connor mumbled a grateful thank-you and shuffled back to his table. He switched off his phone and shoved it in his satchel, and with a sigh of melancholia at being socially cut off, tugged his books towards him.

As it turned out, he was far from a recluse. The clinking of a ceramic cup against the table after a few minutes made him look up, but this time, he didn't roll his eyes with exasperation; the blue eyes that met his were compassionate and gentle. Connor nodded his thanks with a small smile. Like the last time, Troye sat across him and surveyed him carefully.

"It's rude to stare," Connor commented, and immediately wished he hadn't. His voice echoed sonorously in the empty room.

"I won't annoy you, I promise," Troye replied solemnly. "I just wanted to say sorry for that day."

"What for?"

"Are you that kind of person?" Troye groaned. "Ugh, okay. I was just testing out my flirting skills to check whether they had gone rusty. I'm not a creepy, thirsty, sexually frustrated...um, person."

"Very reassuring," Connor commented dryly, earning himself a malevolent glare. It was the first time he saw Troye glare, and he had to admit, he was exactly like a petulant toddler.

"So? How did I do?"

"I'd give you an E," Connor said gravely.

"Well, that's more than what I expected." Troye bowed his head in acknowledgement. He blushed slightly though, confirming the authenticity of his apology. "So, what're you studying?"

In response, Connor held up his computer science book, snatching up whatever sympathy Troye returned.

"That looks very intense."