"I think it is time."

Laurelle's face was drawn with lines, her eyes sunken and her mouth thin.

She had not been well in the last years: Shaun, Steele, Tyde and Sage too.

It had hurt them, of course it had, but they were stronger than me.

Everyone had been stronger than me.

"Ok." I breathed out and in, calming myself. I needed to hold the emotion in, I needed to be strong. For once.

Laurelle took a large box, painted white with 'Troye' on the top and sides, and placed it on the table in front of me.

I couldn't do it.

But I could.

I had to.

I needed to.

I couldn't.

But I could.

I lifted the lid, the smell of Troye's aftershave hit me like a wave.

The tears escaped and I sobbed, holding the hoody which lay on the top of the pile.

It was the one I had bought for him. The one he had been wearing.

I couldn't do this. But I needed to.

I slid my arms through the sleeves and wrapped myself in it. This was the only way I could ever feel his touch, have him close. He was holding

me, like I yearned to hold him.

In a frenzy to be closer to him, I ransacked the whole box, sorting and sifting through the paper and the pictures, crazed.

I found a small, battered notebook which was named 'Trxye' on the worn leather binding.

Laurelle and I held our breath as I opened it.

There were four full songs, each one filled my heart with pride and joy.. and pain.

It was like he was there singing to me, only me.

After the fourth song, there were pages after pages of scribbles and words that had been crossed out. Many of the pages were half torn, only a

slithers of words remaining.

The very last page had another song, though it was unfinished.

'My Happy Little Pill

Take me awa'

That was it.

Was it even a song?

I don't know, to this day I still do not.

'My Happy Little Pill

Take me awa'.

Away? It had to be away.

Did he want to go away and leave me? And why 'happy'? Why was the pill 'happy'? Was he pleased about the idea of leaving, was he 'happy'?

Or was it loneliness? Did he want to get away, in a different form? Was it because he wanted to get away from life's problems, as if to ignore

them or put them to one side?

I don't know. I just don't know.

Do I need to know? Will I ever know? I just don't know.

12 years later (14 years after Troye)

"Dad? Who is that in the picture?"

"That's your Dad, Troye."

"But I already have a Dad. You're my Dad."

"I know, nugget."

"So what do you mean then? That he is my Dad?"

"He would have been your Dad. He is your Dad. He is.."

"What is his name?"

"Troye Sivan Mellet."

"So that's why I am Troye Sivan Oakley?"

"Yes."

"But why is he my Dad?"

"When you love someone, they are family. I love him, I loved him. I love you. He may not be your father of blood, and you may not know him,

but he is your father. Your Dad, in the heart."

"What happened to him?"

My heart froze, my body too.

Yes, he was 10. Yes, he knew about life and love and death and.. probably more than I wanted him to know.

But how could I tell him this.

How could I?

"He... he left."

"Why do you still love him, if he left then Dad?" He was exasperated, giving me the frequent 'why are you so weird' look.

"Not left like that. He left... he died."

"Oh... I..Dad...I... I'm sorry." His face falling, he gave me a hug, wrapping his arms around me as a tear rolled down my cheek.

"It's ok. It's ok. It's all ok." I wiped the tear away, blinking hard. "It's just hard."

"I know.. I ... sorry."

"Don't apologize, sweet. You didn't know. Do you want to talk about it with me?"

"Do you think you could do that, Dad? I don't want to if you don't."

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't feel right about it."

He nodded and sat, waiting for me to speak.

"As you know, your mother is Zoe. It is hard to explain, but... she is your mother of blood and yes, she does visit you and love you and care for

you... but she is not the Mum others have. It is complicated, I should have talked to you about this before. Zoe carried you, she did it for me. I

desperately wanted a child, I wanted to be the father I would have been with Troye. I wanted life, I wanted someone to care for as my own,

you are my own. At first I did not want to call you after him, but I did for the family of Troye. I did it for his mother, his father, his brothers and

his sister. You know I told you that Laurelle, Shaun, Steele, Sage and Tyde were just family friends? Yes they are family friends, but they are also

family. My family. Troye's family. I called you Troye because I love you as much as I love him."

"I love you Dad." He trembled as he spoke, we were both in tears.

"And I love you more, forever." I stopped, lost in thought. "Troye used to sing. He could sing with such ease, such beauty. Like you can. You get

that from Zoe, you do. You can sing and everyone and everything stops. Everything is silent, listening. You have beauty. You have a gift.

He squirmed, uncomfortable. He never believed me when I said that.

"There is something I want to give you." I blurted, running up to retrieve the notebook, the notebook that had been under my pillow for the last

twelve years.

As I fumbled under the pillow, a glass bottle caught my eye.

Troye's aftershave. It had been on the shelf for those years also, I just couldn't part with it.

I picked it up and carefully popped off the lid, the unforgettable scent overwhelming my senses.

I fell into a daydream as the memories came flooding back. The cold nights and the warm embraces. The neck kisses where I would inhale as

much of his scent as I could, hooked on it. The first time I smelt it, when we first met.

Troye was my drug, and I was addicted.

He was my... happy little pill.

I placed the bottle next to a picture of Troye by my bedside lamp.

That one was just for me. My happy little pill.

He read through the notebook, thumbing through the pages lightly.

When he reached the last one, he sung out slow "My Happy Little Pill, take me away... . What's next?"

"I don't know."

"Do you think he wants us to know, Dad?"

"I don't know."

"He is watching us, isn't he?"

My heart full of pride, my head full of memories and my eyes full of tears, I replied "Son, he is watching you. Every step, every joy every heart

ache. He will watch you. He loves you and I love you, and no matter how much it hurts, I will never stop loving either of you."