Fake Accounts And Cute DM's

Epilogue

Troye,

They told me to write to you, that it would help. I don't trust them though I wanted to talk to you. They're trying to help me though none of them get through to me like you did. I've been seeing them ever since you died, Mum makes me go. I used to skip them though she ended up moving into my, sorry, our apartment to look after me. She forces me to do everything.

I miss you. I miss you so much. There is still the smell of you on my pillows, on your clothes. I kicked Mum out of the house the other night because she washed one of your shirts, it doesn't smell like you anymore. I don't speak to her anymore, not after she tried to get rid of you.

Your funeral was really bad, they played shitty music and I broke down on stage. Some fans tried to get in and were screaming for ages outside of the church. I don't know why they want to meet you anyway. It makes me sick to look at you, your skin is grey, so lifeless. I don't like knowing that you're not here. I always pretend that you are, that you're going to wake up and give me a cuddle, kiss away my pain though you're never here.

I was on TV a month ago, the day after you died. They called me in for an interview after you had your breakdown. I had to announce your death to everyone, though you know what's worse? They didn't even believe me. They all started laughing at me though your Mum got really angry and posted a video on her twitter about how you were gone. I love your Mum, she makes me happy.

I went through your computer the other day and cried. There were pictures of us and some songs. There were songs under a folder called BLUE NEIGHBOURHOOD, I like For him. I missed your concerts, I listened to your songs on repeat all day and remembered the day that I first met you though I had to turn them off because I love you heaps and I miss you.

I will never replace you Troye, you are my boy forever and always.

Never forget me, please.

Love,

Connor x