Troyler AU

Chappie 6

Troye knew something was wrong from the second he walked into school on Monday morning. Instead of girls twirling their hair and biting their lips when we walked past, they were abruptly stopping their whispered conversations and either staring outright at him, or awkwardly avoiding eye contact. It didn’t bother him all that much, although it did kind of give him the impression of  how animals at the zoo must feel. He adjusted his grey checkered scarf self-consciously.

 

Did they know? How did they know?

 

He’d come to a conclusion over the weekend about exactly what had happened on  Friday night; Tyler had taken advantage of him, seeing as he was too drunk to stop him. He was trying desperately to convince himself that this was the case anyway. He hadn’t… reciprocated… Tyler’s affections, even while drunk.

 

His train of thought was interrupted by Shelly linking his arm and dragging him surreptitiously into the disabled toilet, locking the door behind them.

 

“OH MY GOD.” she whispered. “OH. MY. GOD.”

 

“Umm… what’s going on?” He sat down precariously on the closed toilet seat while Shelly paced in front of him, blonde prom-queen curls bouncing. She stopped to turn and stare at him like he should already know.

 

“The entire school is talking about you.” Troye winced slightly. He had been hoping for something that wasn’t about him, but as per usual, he was out of luck.

 

“There are rumours flying everywhere. Apparently people saw you leaving the club with Tyler fucking Oakley!!!!! as in THE STUDENT TEACHER Tyler Oakley!!!”

 

Troye leant forward to put his head in his hands. Shit. Shit. Shit.

 

“Sooo… Is it true?” Troye was confused by Shelly’s reaction. She didn’t seem like she hated him, or was ready to run and assemble a troupe of football players to come beat him up. She looked, kind of, excited?

 

Then again, she always was a sucker for drama.

 

“I can’t remember.” He replied stoutly, suddenly extremely interested in the floor tiles. She cocked an eyebrow at him.

 

“So, where did you wake up then?” Apparently he had underestimated Shelly’s skills of deduction. She let a grin slip over her face. His deep blush seemed to be all the response she needed. “This is SO JUICY!!” she jumped around a full 360 degrees before quickly shaking off her enjoyment, linking his arm once again and unlocking the door. “Don’t worry, I swear I won’t tell a soul.” Troye let out a resigned sigh.

At least Shelly was nicer when she wasn’t trying to get in his pants.

He slunk into Maths like a criminal, slipping quietly into the back row and running a hand through his hair. He had English next. English. He didn’t realise he wasn’t listening to his maths teacher until he heard his name being called.

 

“Troye. Troye? TROYE. Wake up Troye!” he shook himself out of his brain and tuned in to his maths teacher’s  calls.

 

“Hhhmm?” He didn’t miss the enormous eye roll shot at him.

 

“I asked if you would please take your scarf off!”

 

“Umm…” Troye felt a wave of fear swallow him. “No thanks miss.” He sucked in his lips nervously. Ms Jeran was the meanest, strictest teacher in the school. No way was he getting away with that one.

 

“Why not.” She snapped, eyes narrowing like a hawk. She took every opportunity to prey on Troye; she seemed to have some sort of personal vendetta against him.

 

“My neck is cold?” It came out closer to a question than Troye had intended. The other students had their full attentions on the minor dispute by now. He should have known he wouldn’t get away with this. Ms Jeran always went on about ‘her culture’ where it was rude not to make yourself at home when being a guest, or something. She demanded the heating to be on extra high in her classrooms at all times to enforce this. Troye thought through his options.

 

I could make a run for it?

 

Troye sighed, realising he wasn’t going to win this one, and peeled the scarf from his neck.

 

The class erupted into whispers, and Ms Jeran turned a shade of pink similiar to Troye’s current colour.

 

“Um… Never mind. You can put the scarf back on.” She said, hurriedly making her way to the front of the classroom. He did, but it was already too late. The entire class had seen the hickeys.

 

…………………………………………

He was sure he was on the brink of a mental breakdown with each step in the direction of his English classroom, so strong was his inner turmoil. Every ounce of his being was telling him not to set foot in that room, but he knew that not turning up would just raise suspicion to an alltime high. He walked in, sat as far from the front as possible, and waited for Tyler Oakley.

 

Tyler took a deep breath before stepping into the room. He had been practicing his acting skills all weekend, and he thought he pulled off a mildly convincing fake smile as he greeted the class… Unfortunately, he hadn’t thought to factor in the fiery blush covering his entire face as soon as he saw Troye out of the corner of his eye. He was so annoyed; mainly at himself.

 

First year of teaching ever, and I’m already hooking up with students. This right here is the perfect example of how to kickstart a successful career, kids.

 

He let out a small smirk at his internal humour. He hesitated for a moment, looking at the class in front of him. He surely couldn’t be expected to teach, right?

“Um, own study this lesson ya’ll.” He flopped down in his desk chair and proceeded to pointedly not look at Troye for the rest of the lesson. This ‘teaching’ thing was harder than he’d originally thought.

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