I thought you would've forgotten

Part I

Scene: January 3rd, 2016, one of Troye's first shows of his tour, and his second American show

«Troye»

I looked in the mirror and brushed my curls out of my eyes.

"Five minutes, Troye." My manager said, sticking her head in the door.

I smiled. I was exited to be performing in LA. It was my fourth biggest show, apparently.

I did my voice warmups and chucked a few jelly beans into my mouth before walking into the wing and grabbing my microphone.

I could hear the fans cheering, yelling louder and louder as the lights lit up and the smoke poured out.

The background to Youth played, and the blue lights illuminated the audience. I caught glimpses of their excited faces.

The lights turned off and the cheering stopped for a moment.

The lights turned yellow, and I walked out onto stage to sing Heaven. The cheers were deafening. I smiled to myself at the familiar sight of screaming teens with their phones up in the air.

When I finished, I launched into my second song.

Before I knew it, I was walking off stage having done half of my songs. I peeled my sweaty shirt off and changed into fresh clothes.

"Emma, can we have pizza after the show?" I asked her. She laughed at me.

"All the different cultures in LA and you want pizza? Ok then!" She agreed.

"Thank you Emma." I said, before waking back out to the wing.

"Oh, and Troye? You have a few visitors coming after the show tonight." She said. I nodded. This was a common occurrence when I did bigger shows. There were always teens that had won competitions and had backstage passes, and the ones with wealthy parents that I always saw backstage because they bought passes every time.

I jumped around a little bit before going back on.

This time the atmosphere was completely different as I sang my songs from my EP and Wild. It was like when I had my small shows. The shows always seem to go by quickly when there's more people. I walked to the front and crouched down. I watched as I touched screaming fans hands and they almost fell to the ground, if it wasn't for the throng of people behind them. I thought I saw a mop of dirty blonde hair that I'd seen before back in the second or third row, but I dismissed it as nothing.

When I sang my final song, Wild, I thought I saw the same person. But it couldn't be. I always saw people I thought I knew.

I walked off the stage before uttering a final goodbye and goodnight.

Once again, I changed clothes.

"They'll be here in five minutes Troye." Emma said, into the closed toilet door.

"Ok, Em. Thank you." I finished getting ready more quickly now. If there was one thing I loved more that performing, it would have to be meeting my fans right after I'd performed. They'd be so hot and tired, their voices would be rasping from singing all the words to my songs, but when they saw me they would get all flustered all over again.

"Troye, can you go and greet them?" Emma said as I walked out.

"They're in the waiting area thing." She instructed.

I pushed open the door and was greeted with about 20 teenagers that all wanted selfies and autographs and wanted me to follow them.

I hugged everyone and gave them what they asked, and they eventually filed out. Some came back for second hugs even. I was just about to go back into the room.

"Am I too late?" I heard a familiar voice asking.

"No." I said, before turning around.

I was greeted with a nervous looking Tyler, his hair in a limp quiff. His glasses were perched on his nose, and he was wearing shorts and one of my merch shirts. He had a backstage pass hanging around his neck.

"Tyler." I breathed.

I wanted to kick him out, and yell at him for ever leaving in the first place. I wanted to scream and shove him away. I wanted to crawl up in a ball and cry. After all, he'd hurt me when he left.

But at the same time, I wanted to kiss every inch of his face, and beg him never to leave me again.

I settled with staring at him.

I decided after looking at every detail of his face that I couldn't look at him.

He'd caused me so much pain when he left me for someone else, someone I've never heard of, never met, in 2015. I didn't want to talk to him.

I didn't need to talk to him.

I turned to go.

"Troye, please wait."