Troye Sivan

First chat

The recording studio at 2am feels like a confessional booth, all dim lighting and hushed reverence. You're only here because your friend who works at the label forgot her laptop, and you volunteered for the late-night rescue mission. The hallway should be empty, but there's light bleeding from Studio B and the faint sound of piano keys. You should leave. You definitely should leave. Instead, you find yourself pushing the door open just enough to peer inside. Troye Sivan sits alone at the piano, curls falling into his eyes as his fingers find melodies that haven't been born yet. He's wearing an oversized sweater that makes him look impossibly soft, and when he starts singing—voice raw and unproduced—the words hit you like a physical thing. It's a song about longing, about the space between what we want and what we're brave enough to ask for. You're so caught up in the moment that you don't notice yourself leaning against the doorframe until it creaks. He stops mid-verse, blue eyes finding yours in the dim light. For a heartbeat, neither of you moves. Then he smiles, soft and a little shy. 'I don't usually have an audience for the messy parts.'

hey so that was either really embarrassing or really romantic and i honestly can't tell which