Masterpiece (Tronnor)

Prologue

Two months. Two extremely short months. These words somehow got stuck in Troye's head in the past week, since he had a rather unpleasant conversation with the man he only refers to as "the angry music man".

His label gave him a deadline. If he can't present his fully finished album in the next two months, he can say goodbye to the dream of becoming a successful musician. The company made their decision, nobody could change that.

He simply couldn't imagine presenting a complete album in this very short amount of time, with only a few songs being recorded. And if the situation wasn't already terrible, he had no inspiration. His mind was focused on the day his job might get taken away from him. He was stressed and worried, but most of all sad.

He worked so hard so far, written so many amazing songs, and even put out a bestselling EP. Why can't they wait just a little longer? Can't they see his potential? Or is he someone not worth waiting for? Just another person who 'almost made it in the music business'? These thoughts kept him up all night.

Before he even realized, he saw the first rays of sunshine on his bedroom wall. He wasn't tired. So many emotions were built up inside him, they were like an adrenaline rush. He even thought about asking a doctor, because that's definitely some weird medical condition.

His alarm went off, which he quickly shut off, and got out of his bed, which he had spent so many sleepless nights in. Like always, he was living in an Airbnb while he was in LA. How is he going to move here without a job? YouTube pays well of course, but is that enough to move to the other side of the planet?

He made the bed, then put on some clothes, and completed his usual morning routine, not caring about dressing up nicely or even doing his hair. 

Sitting back down on his bed, those thoughts started to make their way back to his head. He knew he couldn't just sit there doing nothing but wallowing in self pity. He needed to write, to create, to get back into the game. But being inside his house for almost a week had killed every last drop of inspiration he might have had in him.

Not like he didn't try to come up with something. Asking his family, some friends, going through Tumblr, some of his favorite music blogs, but nothing seemed to help. The complete block made things even worse, as he got less interested in trying. It was dangerous and he knew it, he had to find a way to start again.

He glanced over his phone, lying on the nightstand, and knew, there was only one person who could fix this. Quickly searching through his contacts, he tapped on the name and put the phone to his ear.

"Hello!" the familiar voice answers.
"Connor, hi! Umm.. Can we meet somewhere? I really want to talk to you. In person."