Attachments (Tronnor AU)

Capricious

adjective

       • unstable; inconstant; unreliable.

Troye fiddles around with his keyboard for a while, set up by the riverside where he knows a lot of business men with too much money tend to pass at this time of the day. He doesn't play much, a few bars of a melody here, half a string of chords there, a couple notes of an original composition near the end. It's too cold for his fingers to work properly for long, any kind of glove too thick to play properly at all.

It's barely past noon by the time he gives up, stashing the few bucks he earned in the pockets of his jeans and packing up the cracked keys to shove them under the bridge once more. He sighs, breathes hot breaths into the cold November air, and wonders what he used to do this time of day. Movies with Connor in the recent months, but they're hardly as fun without someone to roll their eyes at him and tell him he looks like a five year old buying candy for the first time.

Before that he mostly just hovered around and did nothing, maybe searched for a semi-safe place to spend the night or perhaps struck up a conversation with the nice lady at the end of their frozen fountain's street. He probably spent most of the time striking deals with store-owners and manipulating their employees into giving him a meal or two, now that he thinks about it.

He sighs, crouched down by the river as he darts a glance over at his keyboard, tucked safely into its hidden nook beneath the desolate bridge. Maybe he'll check in with Dan, see if he's gone psycho yet.

Troye stands with another sigh, brushing off the holes in his jeans and making his way towards the park. It's a wonder no one's ever come around to kick the dope-smoker out of their entrance, but Troye figures Dan's probably been there long enough that he's actually just a part of the place now. He can't remember ever seeing Dan anywhere but parked before the crumbling stone wall, blankets spread and joint in hand as he huffed horridly scented air out at the occasional passerby.

Dan's not there when he arrives, though. Which, to be honest, isn't exactly anything new, either. Just because Troye doesn't ever see him anywhere but outside the park, doesn't mean he's actually there every time he comes. Dan's about as reliable as a drunk man's memory.

Kicking at the pavement with yet another heavy sigh, Troye sinks himself down onto the grass anyway. Maybe if he sits here long enough he'll understand the appeal. He doesn't bother hoping to ever understand his acquaintance, though. Troye's not a fucking moron.

He does, however, hope Connor gets back soon. Things are a little less boring with him around, if nothing else.