Mathew's point of view
Night time..
"Ethan, we seriously don't need a ticket. I can sneak us in." I walk us closer to the entrance of the venue, hiding my gun under my pant leg by my ankle.
"Well thats too bad, cause Marcus got us tickets." Ethan intertwined with fingers with mine. I slapped his hand away, narrowing my eyes at him.
"What the hell are you doing?" I have knives hidden under my clothes, he better watch it.
"We're undercover, remember?" I scoff. "That doesn't mean that we have to pretend to be dating."
"Actually, it does. Here, put this on." Ethan handed me an engagement ring, having me slip it onto my ring finger. It feels like I'm betraying Troye, even though he's moved on. "You owe me big time."
"Believe me, I'm paying for it already." He holds my hand tightly as we approach the ticket booth area. "By the way, your fake name is Daniel and we've been engaged for a little over a year." I mumble an okay, walking a bit faster to get away from the publics eye.
"Tickets?" The man at the front entrance asked us with crossed arms. He sure looks like he could beat the crap out of me if I let him. Which I wouldn't, I'd probably slit his jugular vein and he'd die within the minute. "Babe, hand the nice man our tickets." I giggle, digging my nails into the back of his hand.
"My bad, here you go, sir." Ethan smiled politely, handing.. Ricardo our tickets. "You're in row number three." The man ripped out tickets in half on the dotted line, handing us the half that we're supposed to keep.
"Have a nice day, Ricardo." I smile, pulling Ethan in the venue. It's still fairly empty, we must be really early. Perfect, maybe I'll bump into Troye. Or I could always just sneak backstage and find him myself.. The room is slightly dimmed so it wouldn't be too hard to get past his security guards.
"I need to use the little boys room, mind finding our seats?" I squeeze Ethan's hand, lightly kissing his cheek. He rolls his eyes, leaning in until his lips brushed against my ear. "Matt, I know exactly what you're trying to do! And you will not be doing it until the shows over." He pulls away with a big, fake smile.
"Fine."
~
I stand in the third row with Ethan, waiting anxiously for Troye to get out on stage. I feel my hands begin to shake, Ethan takes notice and holds mine in his. It's comforting, but at the same time it makes me feel more anxious. What if Troye recognizes me and thinks that I've moved on?
"Hello, Sydney Australia!" My head shot up and I looked up at the blue eyed Aussie. He looks as perfect as I remember him. Everyone around me screams and shouts, waving at Troye.
"Are you guys having fun so far?" He shouts in the microphone, holding it out to the crowd so that their screams resonate throughout the large speakers on stage.
"Yeah!" I shout, looking right at him. He doesn't see me, he instead looks at the person seven seats to my left. What a lucky girl she is..
After a few minutes, he finally picks a song, deciding on Happy Little Pill. I wonder who it's about. He once told me that he wrote while on missions. You know, in motel rooms while he waited out his prey.
"In the crowd alone
And every second passing reminds me I'm not h-" he spots me, nearly dropping his mic. "Mathew?" He mouthed. I nod in response, urging him to continue the song
"-home
Bright lights and city sounds are ringing like a drone
Unknown, unknown
Oh, glazed eyes, empty hearts
Buying happy from shopping carts
Nothing but time to kill
Sipping life from bottles
Tight skin, bodyguards
Gucci down the boulevard
Cocaine, dollar bills
And...
My happy little pill
Take me away
Dry my eyes
Bring colour to my skies." He averts his eyes from me, training his gaze on a wall in the back of the room.
As he nears the end of the song I begin to tear up a bit. I might know what -and who- all of his songs are about. They're about his days in the field, every last one of them. Even the ones from his new album. They must be about me- or whoever his new boy-toy is.
"Oh, glazed eyes, empty hearts
Buying happy from shopping carts
Nothing but time to kill
Sipping life from bottles
Tight skin, bodyguards
Gucci down the boulevard
Cocaine, dollar bills
And...
My happy little pill
Take me away
Dry my eyes
Bring colour to my skies
My sweet little pill."
He looks to me again, pain evident in his deep, blue eyes. I look away, slightly raising mine and Ethan's intertwined hands. That made Troye angry, he clenched his jaw, glaring at nothing in particular. He walked backstage, coming back a minute later with a water bottle. He easily -almost too easily- unscrews the cap and takes a sip.
It must be drugged. Fuck, I have to move quick. "Ethan, his bottle was tampered with. We have to move quick." I whisper urgently in his ear. Troye looks slightly drowsy as he begins to sing DKLA. It's only a matter of time before he faints- or worse, drops dead. "You go left and distract the two security guards while I go right and sneak backstage."
"Got it." Ethan pushes through the crowd, pulling me along with him. As we near the backstage entrance I release his hand, shimmying along the wall to my right. He holds up a finger, running to the wall opposite me. He throws a shoe he found at a broom and mop that were lying around, causing them to clatter to the floor. The two security guards shouted for us to come out, both walking towards the mess on the floor.
"Anyone here? Show yourself!" The dark skinned man bent over to pick the stuff off the floor.
"It must've fell over by itself, Jordan." The other guard clicked his tongue. And that's when I signaled for Ethan to run. We ran as quietly as we could past the door. We made it backstage, finding six water bottles lined up in a row. I nod to them, signaling that we should check them out.
Troye has a high tolerance to poison, we've had training on consuming little bits so that we don't die immediately after ingesting some. He's had the most training out of anyone.
I grab a bottle, opening it with ease- too much ease. I take a whiff of it, my nose crinkling in displeasure at the pungent chemically smell. "Gargota." I let out a huff of air, emptying it in the trash can.
"Dammit. Troye's gonna be out like a light in less than three minutes!" Ethan slams his fist on a snack table, the sound resonating off the dense walls.
"Watch it, someone might hear us." I peek on the stage, seeing Troye stumble a bit. He manages to finish the song, stumbling backstage before he keels over a few feet away from me. Suddenly, two large men come out of nowhere, each of them aiming a gun at me and Ethan.
I slowly move my hand closer to my back pocket, reaching for my switch blade knife. "What do you want?" I narrow my eyes at the man wielding a gun as if it were a cell phone.
"If I were you, I'd shut the fuck up." He steps closer to me, pressing his pistol against the side of my head as he tightly grips my left bicep. I look to Ethan, raising my eyebrows once. He nods once, the gun pressed to his temple not moving. The man next to me snaps his fingers, shouting something in Russian. Another man comes out of a room, picking Troye off the ground.
"Now!" I shout, stabbing the man holding me in the hand, causing his gun to clatter to the floor. I kick him in the stomach, quickly grabbing the gun off the floor. He shakily gets to his feet, glaring at me with such intensity that it could start a fire.
"You did not just do that." He spoke calmly. I smirk, glancing at the two men Ethan took down.
"Oh, but I did." I smack him in the face with the handle of his gun, watching him fall to the ground.
"Let's get out of here, Matt." Ethan holds Troye in his arms, running towards the back exit. Outside, there was another man waiting for us, I threw my knife at him, it ended up landing in his heart. I really did learn from the best.
"Troye, I can't throw knives! I suck at it." With an angry huff I throw my practice throwing knives to the ground, one of them sticking in the black practice mat.
"You know what my master did to me in training?" He picked the knives off the floor, looking into my eyes as he did so. I shake my head in response.
"He had me stand in front of the wall as he threw knives around me. It really helped me with bravery, and my aim." He smiled slightly, holding all six of the knives in his left hand.
"So you're gonna have me stand in front of the wall while you try not to kill me with half a dozen knives?"
"Please, Matt, I don't have to try. I have perfect aim, if I want to stab you then I quite easily can." He smirks, gesturing for me to walk over to the wall.
"I'm putting my faith in your hands." I swallow, making the ten foot walk over to wall with man-shaped blue practice targets.
"If you want to be a field agent you'll have to get used to it, Matt." I roll my eyes, positioning myself in front of the board. I clench my eyes shut, every muscle in my body tensing up. "Relax, Mathew. I won't kill you." I open my eyes, trying my best not to chuckle.
One, two, three, knives being thrown one after the other. None of them hit me.
There's three knives left in his hand, he smirked as he threw the fourth one. It pinned part of my shirt to the wall and my breath hitched. "I'm going to kill you, Troye!" I shout, my body rigid.
"Not if I kill you first."
"Is that a threat, Sivan?"
"Matt, you're at the bottom of the knife here. Literally."
Five, six, the last two knives land directly beside the right side of my head. I let out a sigh of relief, pulling a knife out of my shirt and throwing it to the ground. "It's okay, Matt. You were really brave." He hugged me for a second then pulled away, leading me back over to the throwing line.
He handed me three knives and I threw two of them, completely missing the target. "Allow me to show you how it works." He stands behind me, his back lightly touching mine. It felt so intimate, but at the same time so platonic. He's just my trainer; nothing more, nothing less.
"Your arm position is very important." I mumbled a 'yeah', oxygen not properly making its way back to my lungs. He places a hand over mine holding the last knife, bringing it back like how you would hold a police baton. He talked me through the process, helping me throw it across the room.
I hit the heart of the practice board- the part of the body where a human heart is located.
"You're making such great progress, Mathew." Troye smiled sweetly, showing his vulnerable side. I threw my arms around his neck, lightly jumping up and down until he steadied my hips with his strong hands.
"I guess you could say I'm a work in progress." I mumbled into his neck, holding back a laugh.
"You sure are, Oakley. You sure are." I released him from my iron grip, reaching for another knife.
We run through the darkness, searching for where Ethan parked the Jeep. I spot it a couple hundred yards off, shouting frantically at Ethan to run.
When we got there someone was standing there- waiting for us.
~
A/N
Ooh, things are getting exciting! I hope my action scenes aren't too bad, they're just kinda difficult to describe. Btw, Matt is kinda like Tris from divergent and Troye is kind of like Tobias. That's where I got the idea for the knife throwing scene. But I also changed things around a bit.
How do you guys feel about the flashback scenes? They're my absolute favorite parts to write.. 🌚Do you BROTP ship Methan? (Matt and Ethan/Tyler and Connor). Conler is my BROTP..
Do you guys have any theories as to why Tyler goes by Mathew?.. I'm excited to add in that part of the storyline soon..
Bye|Rachel.
Twitter|@Troylerflamingo