Troye enjoyed the date very much. He hadn't been on a date since... forever. Quite literally. The plan was to observe Romero in his natural working condition, and frankly, the less Troye had to participate in, the better the whole ordeal was. Plus, the date cost him nothing, which was only welcomed by his unstable savings.

He wasn't very athletic, not at all, but he figured that living vicariously through kids and adults running wild on a field of grass was enough physical exertion. Troye was also very thankful that autumn was upon them, meaning that the sun, more often than not, wasn't threatening a sunburn. Although, the grass did look a little less lush.

Seeing Romero run alongside teenagers and young adults was fairly new to Troye. Not that Romero was not already 'new' in Troye's world, the irony was not lost on him. The previously subdued, sort of mysterious presence of Romero fizzled and hardened into a passionate persona that Troye found himself smiling at.

Troye supposed that since he experienced little fluctuations in life, he needed someone to contradict him.

Romero jogged over, a drying sheen of sweat covered his arms and neck. Troye found it... attractive. Not to mention, Romero's styled hair was now unruly and matted. The cool breeze certainly helped with Romero's sweat glands.

"We've got a ten-minute break." Romero smiled brightly, dropping himself next to Troye. They sat on this strange enclave of the soccer field. It was at a slight incline, but not enough to be a hill, Troye could sit without any added effort of correcting his posture.

"Good job." Troye complimented. As always, he wasn't too sure what should be spoken, he could have made a joke, but that required him to be witty, which was a job he had left to Logan since his friend was far funnier than he was.

"Well, it was more like I forced a ten-minute break because I felt terrible for leaving you here." Romero offered, then he tipped his head back and gulped down a fourth of his water bottle.

"I was the one who said I am willing to wait till you are done working." Troye smiled and scratched his palm, "You seem to really enjoy your work." That came out bitter on Troye's part, even if it was very faint. He wished that he enjoyed his own work, or his own career choice for that matter. Being in the medical field was draining, and he had to live it every day.

Romero picked up on it though, but he chose not to address it. He saw that there was no need to poke at an obviously fresh wound that was still bleeding. "Well, I didn't roll a ball around the grass for more than a decade for nothing, little one." Romero's hand landed on Troye's thigh, making the latter tense and startle inside.

"S-sure." Troye chuckled awkwardly. He was suddenly very aware of how he sat, and very conscious of how different he is right now compared to the first time he met Romero. He always had a little more confidence in front of strangers, he thought that the anonymity gave him a barrier that protected himself against the judgement of another person. Although, that is not saying much, since he was not very confident under normal parameters anyway.

Sighing, Romero leaned back and rested against the drying grass. Troye thought Romero had a youthful glow to him that was lost whenever Romero was outside of the field. It was almost like Romero was harbouring something that only soccer can lift from his shoulders.

It struck Troye that, perhaps, he really was gay. He found Romero more and more attractive by the moment. The usually slicked back hair was a massive selling point, not to mention the body that promised solace and protection. If he had grown more of a beard, it would be even more fitting for the mature aura that Romero carried...

"Am I finally getting your attention?" Romero mused, he had one eye opened, the other closed. The sun was peeking out behind the clouds for once, and he would like to maintain his perfect vision for as long as possible. He wasn't planning on passing before 70 anyway, and with his on-going exercise, that goal was easily achievable.

Troye's neck flared pink, he didn't realise he was staring. Mainly because he stared a lot and it was embedded in his subconscious to leave his eyes open as he thought about life, the staring occasionally landed on people as well. "Sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"No, I feel appreciated that way." Romero shrugged, then tucked both arms behind his head. He wasn't too worried about his potential body odour, since he rarely had one anyway.

The grass under Troye's bum felt pricklier now that he was agitated with embarrassment, he hated being caught out by someone else. He squirmed and shuffled.

Romero, once again spotted the damned headphones that were always in Troye's ear. "What do you listen to? You always have those buggers on." Romero lifted an earbud dangling out the front of Troye's shirt.

"Sometimes podcasts, mostly music." Troye said, he shared a strong affinity with music. It was sort of an escape for him among large crowds. The headphones were also a sign that he didn't wish to speak to anyone, which was more often than not the case.

"Let me have a listen?" Romero shuffled over and patted the grass next to him. He forgot for a moment that Troye was fairly clueless despite the fact that his face was perpetually in a stack of books. "Humour me and lay down so I can pretend I'm 17 again."

A chuckle came from Troye at the joke. The sound was welcomed by Romero, it was rather scarce nowadays with Troye always serious. With each date they had gone on, Troye seemed to laugh less. Romero wasn't a psychoanalyst of any sort, but he could see the beginnings of depression and it worried him.

As Troye laid down beside Romero, albeit awkwardly, the older man thought that even if he didn't have a personal connection with Troye, at least not yet, it would still be damaging to anyone's conscience to see a person spiral into depression without doing anything to help.

Troye offered one side of his headphones to Romero and the latter happily stuck it in his ear, waiting for a tune to grace him. Troye was honestly quite excited to share his collection of music with someone, he was passionate about music. When he was feeling brave, he might even sing in the shower. However, that didn't bode well for his fragile ego, his voice wasn't made for singing, unfortunately.

They laid side by side, with a few inches between them as a buffer. Romero's arm was by his side now, aching to take Troye's hand, but he resisted, last time it was a disaster.

The tune came on after a few swift taps on Troye's archaic phone, Troye chose his favourite song.

It was a female singer, something soft and round about her voice, deep as well. The tone was... sombre, but still pleasant to the ear. Romero couldn't help but feel that he had a disconnection from reality as he listened. He only asked to listen because he wanted Troye to feel more comfortable around him, but he hadn't expected to chain himself to the lyrics as quickly as he did.

Romero tilted his head to the side, wanting to catch a view of the angelic man beside him. However, Troye had beat him to it, the younger of the two was already staring at the side of his head as they listened to the tune on the drying grass field.

The song was abandoned at the back of their minds, there was something intimate about the moment. One pair of headphones, a single song. It was... romantic, Romero thought. He smiled at the notion, willing to give up his previous inhibitions to try something pure. Untainted.

Troye was doing the same thing again. Staring but not processing. It was mere coincidence that he had his head tilted to the side that Romero was on, although, it may be his subconscious telling him something since what he was thinking about was directly linked to Romero.

He contemplated music as a collective. What would he have created if he were a musician? That went to dust though, as he saw Romero staring at him, with a now familiar glow of delight, signified by the upward smile and lax eyebrows.

It was so tender, fragile. Probably due to the complex of them not knowing each other well, but their growing connection was demanding immediate action to be taken.

And Romero yielded.

He leaned up on his side, the headphones dislodging slightly. His hand inched towards Troye's hip, then up his side and onto his shoulder. The ghosting hand had captivated Troye's senses, and the rest of the world was dead to him in that moment.

Troye enjoyed the attention he was receiving, and furthermore, the gaze that beheld him made Troye felt like he was royalty. He enjoyed that. His throat dried in a haste that required him to swallow and it drove Romero nuts that the subtle movement in Troye's jugular was just as sexy as the rest of him.

Romero's arm moved around Troye's body, up his back and landing on the bare skin of Troye's neck. Age doesn't stop feelings... Romero reminded himself, that number did not determine the connection he had with Troye.

The smile, Troye summarised. It was the smile, definitely the smile. It wasn't unwavering, and it hung on Romero's face with timid elegance. It gave Troye a sense of accomplishment that Romero wasn't afraid to show his hesitation and Troye appreciated the blatant honesty.

As Troye held still, Romero made the move. He was enjoying that Troye was at his mercy, and even more the idea that he would never use his power over Troye to hurt him. Not until the day that his destiny was decided, and his life would come to an end.

The universe said no.

A seething whimper of pain reached the ears of Troye. In a flash, a pair of lips pressed against his cheek and Romero had bolted down the field. Troye was left in a catatonic state, his eyes wide and a steady heat rising from the base of his neck all the way up and over his cheeks.

Troye, retreated into his shell, cemented the edges and left himself in a sealed dark room with nothing to offer but the subtle panic that took over his mind.

As if he was under water and the liquid drained from his ears. His senses came back to him all at once, making his heart pound in excess. Troye took a weary glance around, no one seemed to be paying attention to him. At least not anymore.

His eyes flitted left and right, then landed on Romero, who was holding a young boy's leg. Right then, his medical instincts overtook his trauma, and he ran after Romero to tend to the boy. Thankfully, upon initial observation, it was nothing more than a sprain.

"Can you stand?" Romero asked, kindly. The boy shook his head, looking to be about 10 years old. He had a jersey on, merchandise that must have cost an arm and a leg. Pun intended. There were also signatures on the sleeves and back.

Troye slowed his jog down to a trot, then a pace. He felt as if Romero had it all under control, and his medical 'expertise' was not needed. Granted, Romero had probably seen sprains a billion and one times, being a coach and player in the past. Probably had a million injuries too, if Troye had to guess.

The thought of Romero in pain elicited a frown from Troye. He attributed it to his lack of desire to see anyone hurt. Not even villains.

Soon enough, Troye was beside them. Romero offered an apologetic smile, obviously referencing the almost-kiss. Troye was not sure if he was sorry for the fact that it did not fully transpire, or the fact that it had been initiated. Regardless, both thoughts made him look off to the side, not willing to clash eyes with Romero.

Troye helped the boy by performing basic procedures to check and distract the boy while Romero went to alert a medic. Normally a text message would be the quickest way, but seeing as the boy was in no immediate danger and he figured that Troye would appreciate the time alone, he opted to do it manually.

After speaking to the medic, Romero followed behind leisurely. He was kicking himself now. Troye was probably terrified, and even though Romero did not know him any better than a stranger, Troye was indeed terrified.

The boy was taken off the field, and Troye was left with Romero. Both stepping on the painted white lines of the soccer field.

They were rooted to the ground, and at least for Romero, wanting to say something relevant but lacking the words. Troye's walls were up, taller than ever.

"I'm sorry." Troye said, shaking his head, his left hand taking his right elbow and holding it there in a sort of timid withdrawal.

Romero stepped forward immediately, wanting to dispel the doubts "Don't be, I wouldn't have initiated if it didn't feel... right." It did feel right, although, now that they were having this conversation. Nothing was right.

At those words, Troye felt compelled to look in the forward direction, not necessarily at Romero, but just because it was courteous. He hoped that he did not give away how he felt, because it would be awful if Romero knew how Troye felt before Troye knew himself. His level of confusion was pitiful.

It all stemmed from one thought.

Troye didn't hate it.

(Published 8/30/2019)

A/N: I think this chapter is shorter and gave off a bit of a filler vibe, so I didn't really feel like it served as much of a purpose as the last chapter. But that's not to say that there wasn't anything interesting to come of this chapter. 

For those that don't know, cognitive dissonance is a phenomenon where a person comes up with justifications for an event that they invested time, money or effort into in order to reduce their disappointment of the outcome. 

For example, chasing after a love interest only to find that they are not the kind of person you thought they were once you get into a relationship. But you stick around anyway because you've been with them for too long to just throw it all away. 

Take that information as you may, it's some tasty food for thought. 

Hope you enjoyed, and I promise things will be more eventful in the next few chapters! :D