It's Complicated (Troyler)

Hypocrite

*Troye's POV*

I shove my way through the familiar faces, giving a sympathetic smile at a few of them. It was the VIP lounge so it was strictly youtubers allowed in here, so of course I recognized a fair amount. Eventually I stumble out of the main crowd, standing on the less-crowded side of the room. I spot Marcus standing in the middle of the room looking baffled, but I'm in too much of a rush to question him.

"Hey, Marcus! Do you have any idea where my booth is?" I ask desperately, praying he wouldn't try to make small talk or anything. He seemed to come out of his thoughts quickly, hugging me to him.

"Troye! A little late aren't we?"

"Yeah, very. Do you know where my booth is?" I repeat the question, trying to keep my tone level. It's not that I didn't want to spend some quality time with Marcus, he was a great guy, I just didn't have any time to spend. He seemed to understand, pointing toward a door on the far side of the room.

"Through there is the main lobby where the booths are, as you probably know." I ran a hand through my hair quickly, embarrassed to admit I hadn't even known that. "Anyway, your booth is to the right of the room. It's right next to Tyler's, so I doubt you'll have too much trouble spotting that." I sigh loudly before I can help myself, but Marcus notices and gives me a puzzled look. I just dismiss him with a wave of my hand and head toward the door. Surprisingly I'm managing to keep myself looking at least half composed, but in reality my mind is a war zone. It's a fight between whether I'm glad or miserable to be set up next to Tyler. Of course I wanted to be near to him, that much was a given. But I didn't want to see him, to see how he was doing without me. I just knew he'd be going on exactly as he had before or little mishap. There's very little that can throw Tyler Oakley off, and I highly doubt I matter enough to be one of those things.

I squint, the bright fluorescent lights of the lobby practically blinding me. A moment later I regain my sight and take one step, only to be nearly knocked off of my feet by a pair of arms barrelling into me and hugging me to someone. I shimmy around just enough to see the familiar face. Wyatt.

"Wyatt, I'm kind of busy right now. If you don't mind." I said, not really caring whether he minded it or not. I pried his arms off of me with little ease.

"Sorry, babe, I'm just happy to see you that's all. In just a minute you'll have to be handed over to the fans, don't blame me for wanting to take advantage of the time we have left."

"You make it sound like I'm leaving for a year. It'll be three hours, I'm sure you'll live." I say flatly, starting through the crowd to my booth without waiting for a response. I need to get there with the minimum amount of people attacking me. I love my fans, but they can be a little crazy. I notice a bright rainbow coloured banner on the opposite side of the room and smirk. So that's what Marcus meant about it being hard to miss. I get halfway there and I can already see the huge line-up he has. Of course he did though, I didn't blame them a single bit for wanting to meet him. But then again, I wouldn't have minded actually being able to see Tyler before being right on top of him. I stand on my tippy-toes, straining to be able to see him above the crowd's heads. I freeze suddenly, realizing Wyatt was still standing next to me. He definitely saw me trying to get a glimpse at Tyler. I hang my head in shame and continue toward my booth with a sullen expression. I won't even look in his direction for the rest of the day. It's not fair to Wyatt, having to see me like this. I'm quite confident I'll be able to keep my promise when I reach my booth without another peek in his direction, only to be proved wrong when I hear the sudden chanting. People are screaming an all-too-familiar ship name: Troyler. I look up instinctively, trying to see what's going on. The first thing I spot is him.