Tonight - A Tronnor AU

1o: dés vu (ii)

dés vu

the awareness that this will become a memory

February 6;

Troye had left a little while after breakfast to where all the models had been summoned. Connor was supposed to meet him in the lobby, but he lost track of time in the shower and had to race downstairs using the stairs, the elevator being too docile to fulfill his wish. He had managed to throw together a decent outfit and tame his hair sufficiently for a semi-formal public appearance; he didn't want to look like a ruffian at a fashion show.

He stopped himself from knocking over a waitress by grabbing on to the door, his feeble apology withering under her glare. His heart was drumming so fast that he had to press a hand against it to placate it.

"Whoa, calm down before you get a stroke or something." Troye hurried towards him, the strap of his bag slung over one shoulder. "You ready?"

"Y-yeah...sorry..."

It was a thirty-minute drive to the venue, and Connor could tell that Troye was doing his best not to fidget. He should have said something comforting, but he couldn't think of anything. He let Troye control the music station on the radio, though, and actually got a Taylor Swift song stuck in his head, a fact he'd never admit to anyone, especially Troye.

The hall was just as big as he had expected, and they were quite early, so they escaped the rush hour. Fashion shows never started on time, anyway. Once they were through the security check, Troye took him right to the front, where a woman wearing square glasses was seated, near the aisle of the third row. She was dressed stylishly in all black, an elegant boldness clearly visible in her choice of abstaining from heavy makeup and jewellery. She looked up when Troye tapped her shoulder and leaped up to hug him. Laughing, he returned the embrace with equal fondness.

"This is my friend, Alex. Alex, this is Connor."

Connor shook her hand, already liking her warm smile and confident handshake. Over her shoulder, he saw someone wave in their direction, to which Troye mouthed something back. The boy nodded and went into a room.

"Guys, guuuys, I gotta go," Troye spoke up, knuckles against his mouth. "What if I mess up? What if I trip, or don't walk straight, or stop walking..."

"You'll do nothing like that," Alex said firmly. "Don't think too much; just go! Good luck."

"Yeah, slay it, man," Connor echoed, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"Your collar," Troye said, glancing at his neck. "It's crooked."

"What?" Connor tried to look at it.

"Here," Troye said, deftly straightening it out for him. He smoothed it down.

"Thanks. Now go!"

Troye clasped his bag tighter, and jogged towards the green rooms. He waved once, before disappearing through the doors. Now Connor was left alone with Alex. His seat was beside hers, so they had plenty of time to talk, for a lack of nothing better to do.

It turned out that Alex was a genuinely lovely person to talk to. Connor found himself relaxing, words flowing more easily than they usually did. Connor was impressed to know that she was not only a songwriter by profession, but also the co-founder of a prominent record label and clothing brand. Her mother was friends with Troye's mother, and they had met at a family dinner in middle school. Troye had been homeschooled throughout high school, so they would hang out all the time in the evenings.

"Sorry, I'm curious," Alex hesitated. "But are you his boyfriend?"

"What? No! We're just friends," Connor said quickly. "Besides, I'm not gay," he added.