“ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴍʏ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ.” • Descriptive/ literate • gay - Ships with chem • Caught up to books and show #Jiji
"Yo, is that why you were ignoring me this morning when I said hi? You were listening to music?"
"Yeah, I have no idea what any of that means." So, he just hands his phone over to Harris. "Here. My passcode is XXXX. Just, do whatever you want."
Good effort, but you need to add some hashtags. Also, tag the designer of the jacket that you have on. Plus, you always need a witty caption, as well as at least one emoji. In order to make your post stand out."
/Are you sure about that?/ Those are the first thoughts that plague Troy's mind when Harris says that, and he flinches under his own harsh voice. "Right. Well, we can't all be happy-go-lucky sweethearts." He says instead, scoffing lightly.
Smiles warmly upon hearing the others, sincere words. "I like being happy, and staying positive about things. So, you aren't wrong. You appear to be cold, distant, at times. Though you aren't a bad person." [States without an ounce of hesitation. ]
"Well, I'm really hoping it's not a /no/." Troy confesses. He feels like a kid being made to admit he stole a cookie out of the cookie jar. "Wait, unless you're.... seeing someone?" He hadn't even thought of that as an option. Which is. Embarrassing.
“You asked if I was gay so that we can text and stuff?” By now Shane's more entertained with Barrett's reaction more than anything. He lifts his brows questioningly, the corners of his lips tugging up into the barest smiles. “What do you think, Barrett?”
“Wyatt’s been singing ‘where are yooou defensemeeennn’ all fucking day.”
Ah. Here it is. The part that’s been giving Troy the most nerves. He clears his throat and stands up a little straighter, hoping the heat rising to his cheeks doesn’t show in pink cheeks. “Just wondering if you wanted to.. text.” He finishes lamely. “… and stuff.”
“The Centaurs are cool with that?” Shane repeats, half exasperated, half amused. He can't believe he's having this conversation. Maybe that's just his life now. “Good to know.” He says, a little dry. A beat. Then, “Why are you even asking that?”
He was told to post a selfie on his social. For some PR reason or whatever. He snaps a quick mirror pic and deems it okay, adding it to a new post and sending it through without any hashtags.
Troy raises his eyebrow and gestures vaguely at Harris. “You’re so skittle coded, dude.” He says. “Sweet. Rainbow. All like, happy and shit.” And that’s honestly his best impression of a compliment. Or at least, he’s trying to say it as a compliment.
[The geniue smile from Troy, made his stomach flutter softly. So much so, that he needed to look away from him, just for a moment.] "Why do they suit me?" [States with an arched brow toward him, in question.] >>
Troy finally gives Harris a full, genuine grin. He shakes his head fondly at the dramatic display. “Skittles definitely suit you.” He says, reaching over and cupping Harris’ hands against in his and dumping some of the candy into the man’s palm. “Way more than it suits me.”
"How dare you?" [States in a dramatic fashion, placing a hand against his chest. Then points towards the pride, pins against his jacket. Pretending to be offended by the others words. Letting a deep laugh escape, from his slightly parted lips.] "Are you going to share >>
“Then, objectively, skittles is the more dangerous threat.” He shakes the bag of candy. “Who knew rainbows could be so dangerous.” He adds, teasing.
[Though he's not supposed too have to much sugar, he eats a few Skittles at times. What suprised him was when Troy, took the other bag of Skittles from him, even though he stated that they were, very sweet.] "Well, no of course not." [States without an ounce of hesitation.] >>
“Oh, so it’s true?” Shit. Shit, shit. That’s not what he meant to say. Why can’t he say things fucking normally. Troy winces at his own words. “That’s.. i’m not /homophobic/.” He tries, because words hate him. “If.. if that’s what you’re thinking.”
And even Shane picks up on the tone, not appreciating it one bit. This coming from someone he barely knows. His eyes turn stony, the tiniest furrow in his brows. “I don't see how any of that's your business.”
He snorts and takes the second bag of skittles from Harris. He wasn’t lying earlier; the skittles are a little too sweet in his mouth, but he just can’t say no to the other man. “Has anyone ever even died from being a drama queen?” He asks, leaning back in his chair.
"You'll die from being a drama queen, before you die of too much sugar intake. Trust me. " [He had given the other a pack of Skittles, because he hoped it would cheer the other up, maybe even make him smile, for once. A real one, not the forced, pained attempt at one.]
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