Letters To You (A Troyler AU)

Chapter 1

Troye's POV:

Dear Aussie,

        Hey. My name's Tyler Oakley. I um have never really written a letter before because you know this is the 21st century and we have emails and phones. But I have to do it or else I will get a D in this class. I'm supposed to tell you stuff about me...? Uh I guess I'll just do simple stuff.

My favorite color is lavender.

I genuinely hate sports.

Youtube's pretty much my life.

My hair is blue.

Yeah. Bye

--Tyler Oakley (obviously)

        I scoffed at the letter in my hands. Are you fricking kidding me? Of course out of all the people in my class, I was the one to get the asshole of a pen pal. I stuffed the crinkled paper back in it's original envelope on my desk and slumped down further in my seat. I glanced at the girl next to me. Freckles were littered all over her face and she had dirty blonde hair that was pulled back in a messy pony-tail. I didn't have to stare at her sheet of paper long to tell it was at least a whole page long. I groaned quietly to myself.

        I personally found this whole project rather pointless, if I were being completely honest. What's the point of writing to someone thousands of miles away if I were to A: never meet them, and B: Never learn anything about European Literature itself, the class that was forcing us to write these degrading notes.

        Despite how worthless I found it, and how much I had already hated my pen pal a little, I tried to think positively. At least I could rant to someone without caring. Who knows, this boy could be my own personal diary. I nearly laughed out loud at the thought. I could not picture this douche Tyler Oakley as a safe haven for my thoughts, no matter how far away he was from anyone I knew. And I am so sorry to think this but who the fuck says 'um' and 'uh' in a letter? 

        "Okay everyone," My teacher, Mrs. Penrod, began in her prissy-Australian accent, "take these letter's home with you. You had better finish a well written letter back to your pen pal by tomorrow. This will be your assigned homework for the next few weeks until further notice. By the end of the pen pal unit, you should be able to write a detailed essay on how you picture your pen pal." Even though her voice was prissy, she wasn't THAT bad of a teacher. She had orange-ish-red hair that was wrapped tightly in a bun, and funky pink glasses that curled in at the edges. She was probably in her late thirties, but by how much she ranted about her life, we all knew she wasn't married, never had a serious relationship, and owned three dogs and two birds.

        FINALLY, the bell rang and she excused us from the classroom. I slung my backpack onto my shoulder, hastily pushing the envelope into the side pocket, and strolled out of the class. The instant I walked out the door, I ran into someone else. I grunted, dazed slightly, and looked up to find Connor Franta, my best friend, staring at me. Connor was from America, like my pen pal, but he moved to Australia about a year ago. I was a senior in highschool but he had to retake his junior year due to difficulties with the transitions from is USA highschool to here. I felt bad for the poor bastard, he really was quite intelligent.

        "Hey Troye." Connor grinned and I gave him a small smile back. 

        "Hey. My car broke down last night, mind giving me a ride home?" I asked. He just nodded and we winded through the walls and out the doors. Along the way, I started to tell him about the stupid project I had in English class. "My pen pal is already such a dick. He doesn't take this project seriously at all." I stated. Connor just rolled his eyes.

        "And what? You do?" He asked. I groaned as we slid into his small, slightly crappy car. It was only September, so it was pretty cold. The icy air nipped at my skin, so I quickly forced the shitty heater on, no matter how relentless it was.

        "No, but at least I'm going to try to get a good grade on this essay." I spat. "He's not making it easy for me. All I know about him is that he sounds like a procrastinating clown." I growled and he pulled away from the school. Suddenly, a loud laugh escaped his lips.

        "Clown?" He questioned, never taking his eyes off the road. I rolled my eyes and looked out the window.

        "I don't know." I shrugged. "He has blue hair." Connor shook his head at me.

        "I thought you said it was cool when guys colored their hair?" He wondered, reminding me of one particular conversation we had around a month ago.

        "Y-Yeah, but for all I know, he could be some weird freak kid with blue hair. Before, I was talking about a cute jock or something..." I mumbled, picturing the perfect guy in my mind.

        "Way to sound gay Troye." I could hear Connor mutter under his breath. I bit my lip and glanced down to the black, fuzzy floor of the car. Not one single person knew I was actually gay--well, borderline bisexual--not even Connor. Connor was in no way a homophobe, in fact, my gaydar when off every time I got near him, but I think he tried to act like he didn't care about the topic much.

        "Not like that." I scoffed at him. This was going to be a long year.

A-N: I know this is short and really bad, but I promise it'll get better as the story continues. I just wanted you to have a picture of what's going on. Please vote and cOMMENT!!!! --ARIA