Ruin Us (Troyler AU)

Ready or Not

A/N: Hey! Look at that! A new chapter! Took me long enough... 

Thank you to the people who commented and voted! Your support means the world to me, and I'm sorry I am the worst at updating in a timely manner. I graduate very soon though, and then I should have more time to write. In the meantime, I have this for you. I feel like not much actually happens in this chapter, probably because I was intending on it encompassing much more, but it got pretty long and I realized if i tried to get as far in the story as I was intending to I probably wouldn't finish for weeks. Also I didn't do as much in the way of editing as I might have normally because I really wanted to get this up, so I hope that isn't too painfully obvious. Enjoy! (Just a heads up, sex and rape are mentioned in this chapter, but it doesn't actually happen and isn't implied, so do with that what you will.)

Also, I've decided to dedicate my next few chapters to some of the really talented Troyler fanfiction writers on the site, because without them I am certain I wouldn't be doing this. I don't think it would be possible to start that with anyone but the lovely 6isit6. She is an absoultely incredible writer, so if for some reason you haven't read her story (Friends With Benefits) you should definitely get on that. 

I met Tyler outside a warmly lit bar and was introduced to his fellow YouTubers as a cute new friend he had found wondering the convention. They accepted me without blinking. As we filed inside and found a table I was quickly swallowed into the rowdy and loving dynamic. Tyler and I sat close to each other at a table packed full of people I had idolized for years, laughter cocooning every conversation, alcohol soon buzzing through everyone’s veins but mine. He didn’t need to go out of his way to make me feel comfortable. I shortly found that just being around him was comfortable, perhaps not in a way that I was used to, but in an exciting way. I never knew what he would say or do next, but I knew it would likely make me roar with laughter or make my heart twinge with endearment.

At one point, early in the evening, Hannah inquired about Tyler’s timer, a little crease in her forehead, almost achieving seriousness in the general attitude of jovial enjoyment. “Hey,” she said, her foot brushing against my leg as she nudged him under the table, “Wasn’t your timer supposed to go off today?” I rotated my wrist so that my own timer pressed down into my lap, as though she was going to try to pry it up and see the zeroes there. Mentally noting that I should get a cap like Tyler’s as soon as possible and that my paranoia was ridiculous, I waited to see how Tyler would react. Without hesitation a teasing smirk tugged at his lips.

 “Why should you care? You don’t believe in soulmates.” He cocked his head a little bit as he teased her, laughter in all his features. Surprised, I immediately glanced to Hannah’s wrist and saw that it was indeed smooth and blank. In Australia it was assumed that everyone who could afford to would get a timer, usually as soon as they turned 14, but I always forgot that America was different. People here could make a controversy out of anything, even love.

Hannah’s expression made it clear that they had been over this many times. “It’s not that I don’t believe in soulmates, it’s just that I don’t think there’s only one for everybody. And I’m not about to pay some corporation to tell me who mine is.”

Tyler rolled his eyes dramatically and laughed. “Yeah, whatever, hippie.” Hannah looked like she was going to continue pressing him for details, but within seconds they were all caught up in some conversation that had floated down from another section of the table. It took everything I had not to audibly sigh with relief.

As Tyler got more and more drunk, his flirting became more and more purposeful. His hand would skim my thigh under the table and he would catch my eye for a moment before turning to jump into some other conversation, leaving me to hope no one noticed the blood rushing to my cheeks. Every time he spoke to me his face would be a little closer to mine, his breath alcohol-scented and warm against my skin. He called me cute more times than I could count and giggled at all of my jokes. It was all new to me. Of course I was used to attention, I was a performer after all, but this was a different kind of attention. Focused, specific, and clear in it’s implications, even as it grew sloppier.