WILD [Tronnor AU]

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Troye's POV:
I take a deep breath as the stage entrance lifts up, revealing thousands of screaming girls. Tens of thousands of girls every night, each one screaming my name. It's almost insane! Almost...
I take one step onto the stage as the lights glimmer and I let the first lyrics fly from my lips.
"Trying hard not to fall, on the way home, you were trying to wear me down, down..."
As I sing, the entire arena echoes with the army of voices singing back to me.
I dance, swinging my head, letting the music take over every inch of my body. The feeling is so euphoric I can't describe it. People hold up their phones, illuminating the dark audience like stars, only adding to this amazing illusion. I want to live in this moment forever, because it's moments like these that make me feel infinite.
However, infinities don't exist, and all too soon, the song comes to an end. Leaving me to flip my messily styled curls from my eyes, and catch my breath.
"How are we feeling tonight, New York?" I shout into the microphone. A multitude of screams is my response. "You know, It's kind of crazy! I'm just a boy from Australia, and here I am preforming at Madison Square Garden! Never in my wildest dreams would I have ever imagined getting to this point!" More screams follow my small speech, and I bring the microphone back up to my lips preparing to tell another of my secret stories, "Kiss me on the mouth and set me free..."

Connor's POV:

Cars rush by as I sit on the street corner. My art box sits to my right, it's top opened and paint tubes of every colour threatening to fall out of the small, crowded space. My eyes glance up briefly, looking at the large building, before returning to the canvas in my hand.
My brush strokes are quick and messy, just barely making the image recognisable. As I paint, I let my mind wander. A different city every night. New people to see and new things to experience... Every performer that plays in that building gets all that... What a life that would be...
Once the image is complete, I rip the piece of paper from my sketchbook and hand it to the man standing above me, who in turn hands down a few green paper bills. I offer a small smile and pack up my belongings, taking one last looked at the building of dreams. Madison Square Garden.