Wolfsbane: Troyler AU

The Park

Quick A/N: I am snervous and super excited about this upload! This chapter is kind of short, and a biiiiiiit slow, but I had to set the scene, ya know?! I will probably upload another chapter in a few days, since this one was so brief. It will get better, romantic-er (eh?), fluffier, smuttier (double eh?), etc., I promise! I'm also planning to do all of the other chapters from Troye's and Tyler's POV, so there's that. Let me know what you think, how I can improve, what you suggest, and I will see you all soon! Bye <3. 

THE PARK 

Troye had always believed that, one day, Highlandtown would be swept away into oblivion and not a soul would notice. The little town was practically unheard of outside of the state, home to barely more than a thousand people, and the most exciting thing that had happened in the last year was Mr. Potter, the postman, delivering mail completely wasted for an entire week after his tabby cat, Missy, died of old age.

Missy had been seventeen years old, half-blind, and yowled like clock-work every day at 3 a.m for exactly two hours and twelve minutes. Troye lived in the small townhouse right next door to Mr. Potter, and to be quite honest, he was kind of happy Missy had gone to the Big Old Cat Box in the Sky. Sleep time was at a premium, and since he often just began to get tired at 3 a.m., Missy's regularly scheduled screech-a-thon usually left him twitching, bleary eyed and gritting his teeth at the end. Mostly, however, he felt bad for Mr. Potter, because it was awfully quiet over there now, and the postman seemed to walk his mail route slower and slower these days. 

However, Troye was about eighty-five percent certain Highlandtown was about to be swept into oblivion tonight, which could possibly grant Mr. Potter a reprieve from missing Missy. Rain fell from the sky like it had been split open with a meat cleaver. A waterfall was pouring through the clouds. Through the glass door, Troye could see dirty, frothy water rushing along in the gutters, glinting deep silver in the light of the full moon. Water pooled in the cracks on the sidewalk. The streets were empty, and it would have been damn near pitch black if not for the moon's soft glow.

“Troye? I'm sorry, honey, but I really need to lock up the library.” Troye turned around quickly and flashed the small, older woman a small smile, while pushing his fingers roughly through his dark brown hair. Mrs. Samuels, the librarian and his supervisor, smiled back, but she shifted from foot to foot anxiously, while expertly wrapping her shoulder-length gray hair into a tight bun at the bottom of her neck. “Are you sure you don't need a ride home? It's no problem at all!”

Troye shook his head quickly, and cleared his throat. He could feel the dampness seeping into his skin already, and it was making him feel...off.

“No, I'm sure. Walking clears my head. But thank you. And thank you for letting me wait out the storm.” His smile widened. “Or at least try to wait it out.”

Mrs. Samuels clucked her tongue at Troye, and stepped closer, keys in hand. Troye stepped aside as she unlocked the glass doors. She looked out the door, for the first time since the storm started, and abruptly turned around towards Troye, peering up at him with a sharp look in her eyes. Her lips pressed together disapprovingly. “It's raining cats and dogs, Troye Mellet! You'll catch your death out there, and you mother will refuse to let me come over for our weekly poker game anymore!”

Troye grinned at her and winked.

“I'll make sure I come back from the dead just to tell her I was being a stubborn brat and not to blame you. Now, let me walk you to your car, Mrs. Samuels.” 

**********

“Should have taken that ride,” Troye mumbled to himself as he walked towards his townhouse. He quickly rubbed his forearm across his face, clearing the water from his eyes, and sweeping the wet blanket of hair off of his forehead. 

It was so quiet out tonight. It was usually quiet in the small town, but not quite so quiet, so...still. It was the like the feeling when you wake up to a strange noise in the middle of the night, hold your breath tightly, and struggle to hear that same strange noise that jarred you in the first place. The feeling of waiting. The heavy settling of anticipation, of knowing that something was coming and if you could just hear it before it got too close, it wouldn't get you. Whatever it was.

“Freaking myself ouuuuut,” Troye said in a sing-song voice under his breath. After all, he walked this way all the time, at this time of night, at least five times a week. He could literally walk home in his sleep, he had done this so often. Still, he found himself picking up his pace, gripping his jacket collar closer to his neck, as his quicker, longer strides seemed to make the rain even more determined to completely soak his shirt.

CRRRAACCKK!

Lightening bloomed in the night sky, so fierce it brightened everything to almost-day brightness. Highlandtown Park, with it's single slide, swing-set, and see-saw was to his left. His normal, longer path home lay ahead. If he went into the park, it would surely be muddy, and with his luck, he would slip and fall and get grass stains all over his jeans and mud in his mouth. But the park cut his travel time in half, and getting home was definitely more appealing than being electrocuted and then swept away in the storm.

Ducking his head slightly, Troye turned left and entered the park.

**********

Of course, he fell. 

It was like the tree root pulled itself out of the ground, slithered up behind him as he walked along, wrapped around his wet ankle, and tugged him down. Troye supposed it was a bit of good luck that he slipped near the slide, because if he hadn't had anything to grab onto to break his fall, he would have been stomach-down in the mud. As it was, after he stumbled on the root, his hands flew out and grabbed the curved edge of the slide, which his hand slid down just a bit before his knee slammed into the ground. The pain was amazing, his eyes watered, and he had to clench his teeth hard to keep himself from crying out.

Troye panted heavily, trying to breathe through the pain throbbing through his leg, and he hung his head and closed his eyes, trying to focus on nothing but breathing. He could smell the sharp ozone scent as lightening flashed once again, and the darkness behind his eyes grew pink and veiny with the burst of light. Still, he kept his eyes closed and breathed.

Okay, one, two, three, four, five... open your eyes, Troye-boy, he thought, pressing both hands into the earth to steady himself to rise and, as he began to open his eyes, he got that feeling again. The feeling of anticipation. The feeling of the hairs on the back of your neck slowly beginning to stand on end. The feeling of waiting, and searching, and straining to hear in the dark. Listening for it.

“Cut it out! There's nothing there!” Annoyed with himself, Troye shook his head quickly, opened his eyes and looked up.

Into a pair of shining, yellow eyes.

Another rapid burst of lightening and, for a brief moment, Troye was mesmerized by the sparkling wet sheen of saliva on sharp, curving fangs. The night went dark. There was a deep, rumbling growl.

Then, he screamed.