Chapter Seven

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Troye's point of view

"So, is Troye your real name?" Connor asked me.

"Is your real name Ethan?" I looked at him with raised eyebrows.

"Touché. It's Connor. Your turn." I turn my head to the side ever so slightly to check whether or not Mathew and Daniel are occupied. Daniel has earbuds in and Mathew looks to be sleeping. I turn the radio down a bit.

"No. It isn't. When I was first recruited into the agency Marcus gave me the option to change my name. To give me a new identity." Memories of living in that hell of a foster home flood my mind.

"James Mellet, you better get your ass downstairs before I fucking beat it!" Janice shouted. I hid in the corner of the room that I share with seven other boys. All of the boys stare at me, feeling sorry for the beating I'll inevitably be getting. I shake my head, pulling a blanket over my body as I cry.

"James!" I hear Janice come closer. I crawl under one of the metal bunks, taking shelter. I peek to see all of the boys running out of the room. "James!" She grabs me by the ankle, pulling me out from under the bed.

"No!" I scream, kicking my leg back as I try to break free from her vice grip. She drags me across the wooden floor, making me shriek when my back hit a nail sticking out of the floorboard.

"There is someone at the door for you! They're finally taking you away, you piece of shit!" Who's taking me away? Who could possibly want me? I'm worthless, and Janice makes sure to remind me of that every day of my life.

"W-What?" She stops dragging me, allowing me to get to my feet. She glowered at me, striking me across the cheek with her hand. My hand immediately flew up to touch my burning cheek.

The bitch slapped me.

"You heard me. They're taking you away." I blinked away tears, moving around the room to grab anything I owned. I don't own much, just a few shirts, a pair of pants, some shoes and an empty locket. I stuffed everything into a backpack then ran down the wooden staircase.

There's three men in suits standing in the living room, all of them have their arms crossed in front of their chests. "Are you James?" The tall, brunette man asked me. I nodded slowly, reaching out to shake his hand.

"Marcus." He released my hand. "I come from a very.. secretive and powerful agency, and I'm here to recruit some new agents. I'd like to ask for your permission before I bring you to Austin Texas for your training to begin."

"Wait- agency? Like the CIA?" I frown, confused about the whole situation. Am I dreaming? Am I really leaving this hell-hole once and for all?

"Kind of." He shrugged.

"What kind of 'training' are you talking about?" He seems a bit sketchy, I'm not sure if he's trustworthy.

"Oh, you know, shooting, hand-to-hand combat, knife throwing. Stuff like that."

"Cool." Is all I could manage to breathe out.

"Is that a yes?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Only if everyone else gets to come along. They all deserve to have a good life." He smirked, a look in his eyes that I could not decipher. Was it admiration? Affinity? Sympathy?..

"You've got yourself a deal, James." I don't want anyone to know my name. It'll never not remind me of the twelve foster homes I've been through in the sixteen years that I've been alive- or at least breathing.

"Don't call me that." I swallowed nervously, frowning at an empty space on the wall.

"Then what do you want me to call you? I can give you a new identity. A new life." My eyes dart around the room, landing on a poster of the Trojan war. The word 'Troy' caught my eye. This is it. This is my new identity. I will change my last name as well.

"Troye with an E. Call me Troye Sivan." I didn't have to fake a smile, one naturally bloomed; spreading across my pale face.

"You got it, Troye. Just one more thing before we leave, how old are you?"

"I'm sixteen, sir." I bit my lip, staring down at the floor. I hope he doesn't change his mind about taking me with him to Austin Texas just because of my age. He could always just leave me here and take everyone else. After all, the rest of the boys are bigger, stronger, and older than me. I can hardly carry my own weight. Sad, I know.

"You're are youngest recruit yet. Congratulations. Caspar, Phillip, gather up all of the boys. We're taking them with us to Austin Texas." Marcus smiled, lightly patting me on the back as he led me out the front door of the shitty house.

"Do you have anyone you'd like to say goodbye to before we leave?"

"No. I have nobody." I whispered numbly.

And with that, Marcus led me into a big, black van. Seems a bit sketchy, but I'll do anything to get away from Janice. And I mean anything.

"Mind if I ask what your old name was?" Connor glanced at me for a split second, likely to gauge my reaction to his query.

"James. James Mellet." I turn to the window, watching as the sun began to set. Australia has such beautiful sunsets. They're the only thing I liked about living in that awful foster home. The bedroom I shared with those boys had a large window that overlooked the ocean- where the sun sets. The sunset and sunrise were the only things I had to look forward to. I remember waking up at five am everyday just to watch it rise. The beautiful colors in the sky brought warmth to my heart. In a way, it gave me hope.

"Does everyone in the agency go by a fake name?"

"It's not just a fake name, Connor. It's our identity. It's part of us. Without changing my name, I wouldn't be where I am today. My old name always brought me back to Perth Australia, a place I never want to visit again. I could never go back. It holds far too many painful memories that I'd rather not relive." Same goes for Mathew. I gave him the choice to change his name- his identity. And it ended up setting him free.

"Huh, I guess I never really looked at it that way."

For the rest of the drive he stayed silent. I look back to see Mathew even more asleep than he was before. He looks so cute when he's sleeping.. I never got over him. I haven't moved on and it's been six years. He never told me that he loved me back, and that moment has stuck with me for the last six years of my life. I've written numerous songs about him, most of which have never been recorded.

The other day when I saw him in the crowd at my live-show, I was so conflicted, I didn't know what to do. All could think to do in that moment was mouth "Matthew?" to him. Pathetic, I know. My feelings for him haven't changed one bit. I still love him all the same. I'd take a bullet for him in a heartbeat.

"Daniel, we're here. Get the stuff ready." Said Connor.

"Got it."

~

A/N

Ooh, stuffs about to happen.. 🌚 Get ready. What are your guys' thoughts on Troye's backstory? It makes me emotional and agsgsgshahahahahahshagahajhsj I just can't okay?

Bye|Rachel.

Twitter|@Troylerflamingo

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