It wasn’t often that Tooru found himself out in public without any real reason, but that morning he had woken up after finishing his manuscript he had the sudden urge to go for a short walk– His legs having been bothering him for the last couple of days that he was confined to his living room/makeshift office.
Much to Dirk’s chagrin.
What he had’t expected, was to come across someone– And American by the looks of him– Reading an ero manga. In public.
Man, if Tachibana-kun was around…
As he grew nearer, he even recognized the cover– It was a book that had recently gone on the market by an artist that fancied themselves as Tooru’s rival. Right, as if.
Catching the stranger’s muttered words, the raven blinked slightly behind his lenses as he peered over the other’s shoulder– Grimacing at the image on the page. What terrible proportions! Honestly, the artist was such an amateur it was almost embarrassing.
“It’s not possible, the artist is mediocre at best.”
Tooru spoke softly, rolling his eyes as he looked away from the man; A hand moving up to his face as he shifted in place a bit.
“It’s a poor excuse for an ero manga, but wouldn’t you have known that before buying it? And reading such a thing in public too, are you some sort of pervert?”
"IN MY DEFENSE, the cover art was very misleading. A friend recommended this to me and told me not to look at it until I bought it.” Troy lacked ANY knowledge surrounding manga or anything anime-related, so it didn’t come as a surprise that he’d been deliberately tricked into buying what was basically drawn porn.
However, the accusation thrown at him was like a slap to the face-- a pervert? Him? Not in the slightest! Troy couldn’t even bring it upon himself to ogle at girls for too long (although he was certain they would’ve wanted him to, he could bet). There were a few girls he fancied here and there, and of course there were times those thoughts had crept into his head unsuspectingly, but he was a college kid! A species known to run rampant with hormones and energy-drink fueled adrenaline. He hardly categorized himself with such a group, but--
“So that’s what it’s called. Ero.” Somewhat deflated he blew the last of his money on a stupid book, Troy closed the book shut and heaved an exhausted sigh. But, he felt the urge to pronounce his claim once more to the stranger, just for emphasis. “I swear I’m not a pervert.”
↳ ✽ - - - ❝Ah!- Well, I suppose you do have a point. I’m… just not sure how my roommates would react to having me bring home rabbits to be honest. I feel as if it’d only be fair if I ask for their permission. We already have a dog after all. But there’s something I’m not quite following…❞
❝Who is Shia LaBeouf and why must I pull a them?❞
TROY WAS NO bunny expert, minus the one time he was assigned to handle a baby rabbit in fourth grade (an incident which should be forgotten and never brought up), so he couldn’t offer any words of wisdom or decent advice. Rather than elaborate on who Shia Labeouf was, Troy racked his brains for solutions that would be feasible enough for the girl’s current predicament.
“Well, I don’t think having a rabbit in the same house as a dog is a very good idea...”
This is the secret meme day anon here with a compliment: A high school musical RPer. Wow. I am genuinely and honestly amazed. When I first saw you around I wasn't sure what to think, but you have convinced me. You are really great and reading your threads are a joy. Thank you for doing what most people would think to be a joke, and just wiped us all on the ground with your awesomeness.
!! ! !!! THIS MESSAGE GAVE ME THE TINGLIES IM SO HP APPY HTNAK U !!
five times kissed ( you don't even need to aNSWER THIS i just like memes )
send me five times kissed for a drabble about five times my muse kissed yours from two weeks ago oops
ONE. Troy saw it coming from a mile away. Falling for the ruse of playing an innocent party game, being lured in under the influence of alcohol from playing beer pong for the umpteenth time. Out of all the things he was willing to admit, was how much of a lightweight he was when it came to drinking. His inhibition had taken the night off and blessed him with a little neat side effect caused, ‘excess confidence and misguided ambition.” Meaning, he had way too much faith in himself and was feeling more adventurous than he usually was. He’d come across Nicolette, adorned with the usual cocky smirk that was usually worn on her lips. The haughty air that lingered about when she walked into a room always irked him-- Troy always believed that there was a little bit of good in everyone, but something just didn’t sit right with him when it came to Nico, as he so affectionately dubbed her, much to her chagrin. She, too, had been enticed into the alluring game of spin the bottle, and when it was her turn, Troy was watching the emptied wine bottle a lot more attentively than he realized. It spun and spun, continuously swirling and spinning and making its rounds, one time, two times, three times...
Typical.
Rather than be burdened with the task of forcing herself on him-- even in an inebrieted state, he couldn’t bring it upon himself to kiss her-- Troy disregarded the stares that could’ve pierced a hole into his forehead. He was always the one to initiate kisses, and he wasn’t about to let a stupid party game break that streak. Almost instantly, he lurched forward from his spot and leaned over, seizing her by the sleeve of her sweater and pulling her towards him, and once she was within reach, a playful smirk surfaced, a glint of mischief coloring his blue eyes as he shifted his head and planted a chaste kiss on her cheek. As meaningless as it was, it prompted a series of whistles and hollers to erupt from the partygoers at the sight of Troy taking command and being the kisser rather than the kiss-ee.
But that was only the first of many. Not even the best. It only got better.
You’re interesting.
TWO. In a endeavor that miraculously resulted in victory, the basketball star had succeeded in befriending her-- if one could really call it that. In her words, she simply ‘tolerated him’ which was better than nothing. Underneath that cold exterior of hers, there was a person, or at least a semblance of a person. They were quite the juxtaposition, the two-- Troy’s intentions were laid out for the whole world to see, his emotions worn on his sleeves without the slightest hint of dubiety or doubt. Nico was, well, Nico. It was hard to tell where you stood with her. She seemed nice at a glance, given that you gave her courtesy and kindness and looked past the aura of mystery that hung over her like a cape. The were just so drastically different, it made sense for Troy to think about her sometimes.
That’s what led to their second kiss-- a quick but tender peck on her forehead, right in the middle of an outing to the shopping centre. To most, it would’ve been seen as patronizing, but to him, it was an act of reassurance. Something that needed to be conveyed solely with actions when words didn’t do justice. This earned him a hard slug on the shoulder for doing such a thing out of the blue, but the sight of her with such a forlorn expression had stirred something from within him. It wasn’t like her to wear a frown. It was unsettling and unnerving for him to witness. It was on an impulse, and of course, he avoided her the next day for doing such a stupid thing. But he didn’t regret it one bit.
You’re important.
THREE. She’s angry. Her entire eyes are set ablaze with fiery emotion, void of its usual mischief and humor, cheeks shaded and burning with the brightest of crimson, she’s screaming at you for being foolish. You had intervened on a situation that you shouldn’t have. You voiced your concern for her well-being and are rewarded with cutthroat vocabulary and irises gleaming with something akin to tears. But she doesn’t cry. Blood is saturated into your already-red basketball jersey, purple-colored bruises decorating your skin in various places, bottom lip cut and your hair a tousled mess. She isn’t like this. It isn’t like her to use a voice like that. Her fists are clenched and pounding at your chest, and the pain of seeing her in such a state is much more severe than your injuries. You would rather take a thousand beatings than see her so disarrayed and upset. Your chest doesn’t even hurt as much as it had before. Your bruised hand feels phantom-like. Without saying a word, you pull her into your arms, burying her face into the crook of your neck and whispering apologies over and over. It isn’t her fault, it isn’t yours, but you feel responsible. You have to uphold your duty to keep that smile on her face. That arrogant, haughty smile. That kind, heart-melting smile. That smirk. That grin.
You kiss her on top of her forehead, her restlessness settling down and eventually she’s relaxed. So are you.
She’s irreplaceable.
FOUR. You decide to humor her one day and demonstrate your singing abilities. You pale in comparison to Frank Sinatra, she says with a laugh. With a humble smile, you simply agree and resume singing a few notes. She’s one of the very few you’ve sung to, it’s been ages since you’ve felt comforted by using an artistic medium to express your feelings. Under the guise of simply singing a classic song, you decide to convey what your heart is telling you while looking into her eyes. Your voice fluctuates and falls, steadily rising and never faltering. Your inhibitions pity you and just this once, hang in the back and wait for you to finish. She thinks your song is cheesy. Of course it is. Her quick wit comes into play with her halfhearted critique, meaningless and just for laughs. The smile never leaves your face as you continue to sing, your hands roaming until they find hers. Fingers lace around hers, tightening until the spaces between your digits are filled. The moment feels right. Your pace is leisured as you draw nearer, hoping to close the distance, to eliminate the gaping space that separated you from her. She doesn’t draw back, and you ponder if this is unspoken permission to act. The space is growing shorter and shorter. You can feel her breath on your face. It’s cool and minty. It’s enticing and just begging you to seal the deal. You do.
She’s truly divine.
FIVE. That kiss never comes. Instead, she kisses you. It’s unexpected and catches you by surprise by how passionate it is. You savor it with every fiber of your being.
❝ I need a nap and some dick. ❞
❝ Emotions are for ugly people.❞
❝ I won’t admit it, but I’ll silently agree. ❞
❝ BFFL? Burger french fry lemonade? ❞
❝ Your head looks like a croissant, I wanna smash it! ❞
❝ Your tone seems very pointed right now. ❞
❝ Pomegranate? Girl, it’s fuckin’ pink. ❞
❝ That’s some shady shade! ❞
❝ Rock, paper, fucked up! ❞
❝ You little weird elven Kate Blanchett bitch. ❞
❝ Girl, ‘forlorn’? That’s barely a word anymore. ❞
❝ Bitch better not say ‘whence’. ❞
❝ I can clock a weave from across a county, bitch! ❞
❝ I’m just trying to get a window seat on the way to Hell. ❞
❝ Your hair is really damaged, I’m talking fucked at the ends. Not split-ends but like divorced-ends. ❞
❝ I wish your dog would bite your mouth off. ❞
❝ ‘She’s got a lot of personality, guys love that.’ Yeah from behind. ❞
❝ Hold on, let me look in my bag and see if I can find a fuck to give.❞
❝ There are so many unanswered questions.This is like Prometheus. ❞
❝ See ya at the flu shot line, bitch! ❞
❝ I’m trying to bring attention to one of my favorite causes which is me. ❞
❝ Eat a whole bowl of fucks. ❞
❝ I have a very handsome face, and there’s nothing wrong with that.❞
❝ You would be really cute if you didn’t talk or have a face. ❞
❝ You put this on the internet? ❞
❝ Sweet potato my ass! ❞
❝ Never wear something you can’t run from someone in. ❞
❝ -coughs- Oh fuck, this is how Les Mis started. ❞
❝ If you’re not pretty, flaunting your wealth is all you have. ❞
❝ You need to learn about six colors. Red, blue… and four more. ❞
❝ And you’ll paint with all the colors of the hood! ❞
❝ Look at those gums! It’s like a whole pack of juicy fruits! ❞
❝ Redheads will die out by 2050, they’re a recessive gene. So get ‘em while you can, and keep them under glass. ❞
I totally did not fall off the face of the earth, you guys aren’t rid of Troy yet. If anyone else is interested in a starter, hmu! I’ll be working on the remaining ones I owe.
Welp. He was in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere. Barely a week had passed since he first rolled in to the new town, and, given his current situation, he briefly considered the possibility that he had gotten a tad too complacent with his navigational skills. He’d surmised that the town was easy to figure out in terms of learning its geography, but he underestimated its grand size and vast neighborhoods entirely. It was nothing like Salt Lake City, and now he was forced to meander about aimlessly until he came to an area he was familiar with.
“...” Troy could only gawk incredulously as he sifted through the manga that he’d purchased on a whim based on an associate’s recommendation, the color drained from his face and lips pursed into a tight thin line as he begrudgingly tried to search through the comic for something that wasn’t so... X-rated. The cover page had looked innocence at first glance, but the pages that followed were anything but. “I don’t... think that’s anatomically possible...” he murmured to himself, expression growing strained as he continued to read on. “What kinda book is this?!”
“That basketball definitely wasn’t meant to hit your head!” Despite his best efforts, his warning had gone unheard and unnoticed when the ball had flown astray from the court and towards an unsuspecting civilian, leaving the athlete to helplessly drop to his knees and watch remorsefully as the ball clunked someone right on the noggin. “I’m so sorry about that--”
Troy wasn’t unaccustomed to being stared at; he forcibly rid himself of the awkwardness that filled his heart when he first obtained the position as captain of the varsity basketball team. Such a title rewarded him with a few glances here and there, but this person didn’t strike him as the basketball type, nor someone who dabbled in theatre. No, her piercing stare caused something to lurch in his stomach, a chill settling in his bones. She was frighteningly beautiful, not to mention intimidating with that neutral expression she wore on her porcelain face. It took a lot to make Troy Bolton unsettled and confused, and he was uncertain on how to feel about it.
「Dude, have you ever gotten the whole ‘you look like the one dude from that musical movie’ a lot? If you don’t, I’ll be the first to tell you. You’re welcome.」
Troy bit back the urge to frown, a sense of displeasure pooling in his gut towards the frequent reminder that he resembled some actor that played a role in a music-based movie. Quite frankly, he couldn’t see any similarities between him and his alleged ‘twin.’ The protagonist seemed like too much of a people-pleaser and too naive. He forced a smile and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, feeling sheepish and, for once, bashful.
“I don’t really see it, to be honest. He’s a great singer, though.”
Well, this was awkward. The male hadn’t been anticipating a girl being there at his assigned apartment complex when he first arrived. Perhaps there’d been a clerical error or a misprint in the letter he received? Co-ed apartments weren’t unheard of, but they weren’t particularly encouraged either, especially when it was just them two. But, he wasn’t discomforted in the slightest that his companion was female. It was a change of pace, and while he as initially apprehensive of such a thing, he learned to embrace it in exchange for the upside of having new experiences.
“Hey there,” came the greeting, a charming smile growing on his lips as he extended out a hand for the female to take. “I’m Troy. I guess we’ll be living together!” No shit, Troy.
❝ It isn’t considered implying when we both know that I’m right. I’m stating a FACT. What I want to know is WHAT you’re planning on doing. ❞ The subtle quirking of an autumn arch purposefully accompanies the intensifying of the unwavering gaze that forest optics have already fixed on the unfamiliar individual. Although she dare not acknowledge it, the possibility of him simply being unable to tell the truth without being mistaken for one who shamelessly spreads deceit is indeed existent.
She was frightening perceptive, he had to admit. Or just utilized her common sense to good use. Troy wasn’t the best liar in the world, even if the male was reluctant to admit such a thing. His feelings were always worn on his sleeve, exposed and bare. Some might even consider him an open book-- if said book was third grade level. Easily read without the slightest hint of difficulty. The basketball player wavered on the decision to tell her what exactly he was up to, but ultimately stuck on the decision to feign ignorance. Even if she wasn’t amused, he kinda was.
“Absolutely nothing,” he stated affirmatively with a tiny smile. “I just happen to enjoy leaning on garage doors at evening dusk by myself.”
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