Blue House | Tronnor

Chapter 12, Troye POV

I was frustrated. I had gotten home four days ago, and as soon as I stepped out of the plane I had driven straight to the studio. My manager, Emma, was there late (as usual), so I had told her my idea.

"You mean you want to add more songs to TRXYE?" she had asked curiously. I shook my head. "No, I want to make a second album. I'm not sure what the name will be, or how many songs it'll have, but I want a second album, and I want it out before 2016" I had explained. "Ok... It's going to be hard to release it before 2016," she had cautioned. She was right, but I really, really wanted this. I was sure then, but now, as I sit in the studio with my notepad four days later, I'm not so sure. 

I was frustrated because I didn't know what to write.

"Em, I don't know what to write," I confessed, throwing my pen down and stretching out on the sofa. She sighed and walked over to me, sitting down by my knees. "Troye, you don't get your inspiration from nowhere. You find it in things you love. Songwriting can't be forced. If you're stuck, go out and do something you love," she said, and once again, she was right. I nodded, sitting up and pulling on my coat. "I'm going for a walk," I announced, letting the door slam behind me. Find inspiration in things you love... I thought. Then I set off on my expedition.

I was sitting atop a hill, on a swinging bench, looking down at the sprawling neighbourhood below me. The sun was setting, bathing everything visible in a warm pink light. I could see a boy, about 16 or 17, washing his car with a stereo blasting beside him. A girl sat beside him, smiling and laughing as she watched him. A wave of nostalgia washed over me as I thought of all my memories here. That little ally to the left was where I almost broke my arm falling off of a dumpster (I blame Steele). The street by the kids playing wall-ball was where I had first learned to ride my bike Oh Wonder played on repeat, softly blaring from my phone, and I thought of all the people I had met, but didn't remember. I thought of Happy Little Pill playing, and I imagined people turning it up on their blown out stereos. I imagined all the people in Perth that knew me hearing my songs and smiling. I swallowed my nostalgia and stood. It was better not to dwell on occasions that I couldn't rewind, I decided. As I walked down the hill and back to the studio, I sorted through my thoughts. I had watched the sunset for inspiration, and I could almost feel song lyrics sprouting from my brain. I just needed a tune.

My head bobbed back and forth to the beat, nodding. After many, many tries, we had gotten the right tempo. This was the 'final draft' of my first song, SUBURBIA, and I was listening to it for what seemed like the thousandth time, perfecting and fine tuning the last bits. "Perfect," I decided, slipping my headphones around my neck. Emma smiled then ordered, "Troye, go home. You've been here for over 24 hours straight, and you've only eaten, like, once." I rubbed my eyes blearily, noticing how tired I was. I drove back home, collapsing on my bed in exhaustion. I pulled off my jeans and coat, leaving me in my t-shirt and underwear. I crawled under the sheets, not even bothering to check tumblr, and fell fast asleep.

I had four songs done; SUBURBIA, THE QUIET, WILD, and YOUTH. The rest of the album would take time, but for now, I was taking a break because I had Vidcon to attend to. It was July 19, and I was on my way to California, asleep on the plane when I was wakened by turbulence. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and checked my watch, relieved to see that I had less than an hour on this flight. I heard a ding and pulled a headphone out of my head, pausing Broods mid-chorus. "We appear to be experiencing some turbulence, please keep your seatbelt fastened and stay seated until further notice," came the tranquil, female voice over the intercom. I rolled my eyes and resumed my music, looking at the window. We appeared to be getting lower, with no airport in sight, thought it was hard to see through the heavy storm. Rain pounded down from all sides, and lightning crackled inside of thick black clouds. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and my stomach turned nervously, but I shook that off. You're just imagining things, I told myself. Suddenly, the plane lurched downward, falling sickeningly fast and tossing my stomach around unpleasantly. I heard a collective scream as the plane dipped again, and I peered out the window, my knuckles white against the armrest. We were about a hundred feet above the ground, and nowhere near a runway. A large stretch of trees fanned out before us, and a split second before it happened, I connected the pieces. First, the engine died. Then the plane spiraled downwards, with absolutely no glide, and after that, the plane ripped apart with a bone chilling, blood curdling, metallic riiiiiiip! as we hit the trees. Something hit me in the temple, and my world turned to black.