Chapter Text
Tyler
Tyler Oakley considered himself to be far more intelligent than other people gave him credit for. Sure, he played up the fan girl and diva aspects of his personality and spent quite a lot of his time screaming and flailing, but he was actually a very observant and intuitive person. Right now, sitting at a corner table in a small Los Angeles coffee shop, he felt like a bona fide Sherlock Holmes. Really, people did not give him enough credit.
Across the table sat Connor Franta and Troye Sivan, two of his closest YouTube friends. Troye was visiting from Australia, so the three decided they ought to hang out for as long as he was in town. Tyler had a mouthful of iced coffee at the moment, so he wasn't talking (something that did not happen often, to be honest).
While Tyler sipped on his vanilla-flavored drink, he looked across at his two friends, who were sitting maybe a little too close together to be platonic. If he had been an outside observer, Tyler had no doubt in his mind that he would think the two were a couple. A couple of adorable twinks with perfect hair. Connor cracked a stupid pun about his cappuccino, and Troye burst into the cutest giggle Tyler had ever heard.
While Tyler thrived on romantic comedies and over-the-top love songs, this was almost sickening in its adorableness. He swallowed his mouthful of coffee and said, “We're so glad you could visit, Troye. I mean, those 15-hour flights must be exhausting. I wonder how you find the energy and time to come over so often.” Sometimes Tyler liked to imagine he was on his very own cheeky sitcom where he talked directly to camera and winked at it when he said something particularly clever. This was one of those times.
“Well, I love the people here. And LA in general, of course,” Troye said in his little accent. Tyler noticed the way Connor stared at Troye while he was talking, his green-eyed gaze ever so subtly flicking to his lips. Tyler noticed, of course, but Troye did not.
You see, Tyler knew things. And his gaydar was top notch. From the day he met Connor, he knew the boy craved the D and was just hiding it. He played to the camera, was cute and quirky in the way teenage girls ate up. Tyler was convinced Connor was gay—or at least, not straight. He wasn't about that bi erasure.
For the past few months, as the three of them grew closer, Tyler started to suspect some things and started to play detective. He was an avid Tumblr user, obviously, and very aware of the avid Troyler shippers on the site. However, he recently realized that a smaller group of people shipped “Tronnor”, Troye and Connor. At first, he'd thought it was just a cute but unrealistic idea that would probably never happen—especially if Connor never came out of the closet.
But now, looking across at the two of them, Tyler began to consider it. The two were both adorable, close in age, and their personalities easily complimented each other. Tyler always thought the best relationships came from friendships. Tronnor wasn't as impossible as he'd thought.
“While I'm here, we could film some collabs,” Troye suggested, snapping Tyler out of his musings. “There's got to be a bunch of challenges floating around we could do. The shippers will love it.”
“The Troyler shippers or the Tronnor shippers?” Tyler asked innocently. He took another swig of iced coffee. He noticed the way Troye and Connor instantly glanced at each other, a note of fear on their faces.
“Tronnor, as in Troye... and me?” Connor said. His voice was just a bit higher-pitched than usual.
“People will ship anything. They'll ship Britney with Gaga. They'll ship me with President Obama. Of course, people ship you two.”
Connor and Troye said nothing for a long moment. “Um, why?” Troye asked. “Why would people ship us? We haven't even made a video together or anything. Anyway, Connor's not interested in me. Because he's straight and stuff.”
Tyler noticed that Troye didn't say he wasn't interested in Connor. The way he fumbled over his words was enough to make Tyler's heart soar. He had become a little two invested in these two lately. It wasn't his fault they'd be perfect together. “Let me count the ways. One, you tweet each other constantly and adorably. Two, you travel in the same circles—me. Three, you are attractive young men. Four, people will ship anything, as I've already said.”
Again, the two didn't speak. Tyler simply couldn't understand it. He assumed Troye was still convinced Connor was straight (though anyone with a reasonably effective gaydar could see right through that facade), and Connor wasn't ready to come out, so he couldn't express interest in Troye. They were at an impasse. And it was Tyler's civic responsibility to set the record straight and bring the two of them together. It had to happen.
“Oh my God, Connor, did you already Instagram your coffee?” Troye asked, changing the subject expertly. “We've been here for literally three minutes.”
“But look, the barista put a cute little swirly heart on the top!” Connor pointed to the slightly malformed design atop his cappuccino. “I had to!”
“Looks like you already received a marriage proposal, Con. This one's from... xxyoutubexlvr143.” Troye clicked on her profile. “She is nine years old. Is she even allowed to be on Instagram?”
“Well, I do plan on accepting my hundred thousandth marriage proposal, so it's good she's starting early.”
Tyler was barely even listening to the banter. He was too busy planning on how to set his mission into motion.
* * *
That night, the three guys were playing chubby bunny in Tyler's kitchen. They weren't filming it because Tyler had already uploaded a video on it before with Marcus Butler, and the fad was pretty much over. Connor stuffed yet another marshmallow in his mouth and pronounced something more like “chuffy funny” than “chubby bunny.” Troye laughed and nearly spat out his own marshmallows.
Tyler had already given up two marshmallows earlier. His heart wasn't in the competition, and he was already starting phase one of his plan—Get Connor to Admit He Isn't Straight. He would begin with suggestive innuendos. “Wow, Connor, you're really good at this. You're going to make some boy very happy one day.”
Connor, his cheeks stuffed with marshmallows, shot him a look. Whether it was supposed to be intimidating or terrified or something else entirely was masked by the fact that he had a dozen marshmallows in his mouth. Troye, equally stuffed, looked more pink than usual. Tyler knew exactly what he was thinking about.
“Or, you know, a girl. When you deep throat her boob or whatever shit straight people do.”
At that, Troye spat his marshmallows halfway across the kitchen floor. Sugary goop dripped down his chin and Tyler fought to keep his mind out of the gutter about his eighteen year old friend. “This is disgusting,” Troye said, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and laughing a little. “I'll get the sponge.” He stepped away from the other two to retrieve one.
“I win!” Connor announced before spitting the white mess straight into the trashcan rather than all over the floor.
Again, Tyler attempted to not think dirty thoughts about his friend. He failed. “Most guys prefer swallowing.”
“What the fuck?” Connor said, looking just this side of angry. However, Troye soon returned to room triumphantly, wielding a bright yellow sponge. He knelt down on the floor and began mopping up marshmallows and spit. Connor glanced down at him, and Tyler definitely didn't miss the look in his eyes.
“Thanks, Troye,” Tyler said as the boy cleaned up the mess.
He thought back to when the three had first met up at Vidcon last year. Tyler had escorted Troye over to the O2L boys, and Troye had excitedly shook all their hands. But only one of them made his eyes go wide and starry blue. Only one of them made him stutter over his words and giggle uncontrollably. That was the first time Tyler thought there could be something between two.
And it was far from the last.