Fable Weaver
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DOS Ch-204
🕑 Added 2025-04-03 22:34:32 +0000 UTC“Why?” I asked Rihanna as soon as she walked into my hotel suite. “Why did you have to make it so difficult to hate you? Why couldn’t you have waited a month or two before apologizing?”
Rihanna raised an eyebrow. “And what would happen in a month?”
I pursed my lips, debating whether to tell her. Finally, I decided to bite the bullet. “My album will be out by then.” I paced around the room, agitated for no apparent reason.
Always quick to see beneath the surface, Rihanna caught on immediately. “How many songs are about me?”
I scratched my cheek thoughtfully. “A few. Some were written before we even started dating, but people will think they’re about you since they don’t know about my relationship with Emma.”
Rihanna mulled it over in silence for a few seconds before saying, “I guess I’ll deserve it for everything I did to you.”
An uncomfortable silence settled between us until I remembered something important.
“By the way, by being in this room, you’re consenting to being recorded.” I gestured toward my phone, lying on the coffee table behind me. “It’s for my legal protection. If you don’t want to be recorded any further, you’re free to leave right now.”
Rihanna gave me a sad look. “Seriously? You don’t trust me?”
“I trusted you to keep private things private,” I retorted hotly—then saw the hurt on her face. I closed my eyes. “Sorry, that came out harsher than I intended.”
After a beat, I asked, “So, what did you want to talk about?”
“I…” Rihanna looked away, suddenly losing her nerve.
“Yes?” I prodded gently when the silence stretched too long.
“I wanted to tell you that I want to come back to you, but seeing that,” she motioned toward the phone, “I don’t think you’ll have me. You clearly don’t trust me anymore.”
“Ri—”
“Let me finish,” Rihanna cut me off. “I love you, Troy. I realize now what a fool I was. After my interview with Oprah, Mom came to stay with me for a few days, and—unexpectedly—she took your side.”
That was news to me.
“The same Mom who didn’t like me?” I asked in surprise. I’d met her mother just once, and the encounter had been awkward at best.
“The same one,” Rihanna nodded. “She berated me for hours about how it was all my fault. She’s a traditionalist, you know—she wanted me to prioritize my relationship over my career.”
I was exhausted by this whole debate, but I decided to lay it out in the open one last time.
“I never asked you to do that,” I said. “I just wanted us to have permanent residence in the same city. Was that so wrong? As much as I wanted you to move in with me, I never even asked, because I knew we were young. I agreed to everything you said, and you still made me out to be an arrogant, self-centered asshole. That’s not fair, Rihanna. Not at all.”
By the time I was done, I was panting lightly—not from exertion, but from the weight of the emotions hanging in the air.
Rihanna’s eyes watered. “I know it wasn’t fair. I blame Jay-Z for this whole mess. He manipulated me into lying to you. That interview with Oprah? He orchestrated it.”
I closed my eyes, thinking. As much as I wanted to believe she was just a victim, I couldn’t let her place all the blame on Jay-Z. Sure, he played a big part in it, but if she’d felt cornered, why hadn’t she come to me? Why hadn’t she trusted me with her problems?
I wanted to point that out, but I held back. I needed to put this behind me and move on. And for that, I had to end this conversation.
“It doesn’t matter whose fault it was,” I said after some consideration. “What matters is where we go from here. As you have guessed correctly, I don’t want to be in another relationship anytime soon—especially not with you. The best I can offer is my friendship, if you’ll have it.”
I extended a hand, waiting. She hesitated for only a moment before shaking it.
“I would love that,” she said with a strained smile.
I knew this wasn’t what she wanted, but it was all I could give. Maybe in a few years... No. Not even then. She broke my trust, and if we ever got back together, I would always second-guess her motives.
I forced a smile through my inner turmoil. “I don’t wanna say, ‘Get out,’ but you’ll have to—I have to get ready for my performance.”
Rihanna nodded and turned to leave but stopped mid-step. “By the way, that was a dick move—blocking me from performing at the Grammys.”
I shrugged. “They wanted us to perform ‘We Don’t Talk Anymore’ together because it would be good for their ratings. I just told them that only one of us should perform. They picked me.”
Rihanna closed her eyes in frustration. “Ugh! I hate Jay-Z! That bastard told me you blocked me from performing ‘We Found Love’ solo. Said if I performed, you wouldn’t.”
I chuckled. “At this point, that manipulation sounds so much like him, I’m not even angry. Thank God I got out of that mess when I did. No offense.”
Rihanna pursed her lips, fuming—but not at me.
An idea sparked in my mind. I grinned and walked over to the coffee table, picking up my phone. I stopped the recording and dialed my manager.
“Bobby, call the Grammys producer. Tell him there are some last-minute changes to my performance.”
Rihanna’s eyes widened. But the pleased look on her face made it clear she wasn’t opposed to the idea.
After a minute of explaining everything to Bobby, I turned back to her.
“Get ready.”
(Break)
Patty was practically bouncing in her seat.
“Calm down, will you? He already won a Grammy,” Claire pointed out. “We both read the website that broke the news.”
“A Grammy?” Patty repeated sarcastically. “He won seven fucking Grammys! He just needs one more to tie with Michael Jackson. And I have a feeling he’s about to make history. Again.”
“He already did,” Claire said. “He completed EGOT at eighteen, making him the youngest person ever to do so. And do you know how old the second-youngest was? Forty-five! Not just that, Troy also finished it the fastest. He won his first Emmy in September 1999. It took him seven years and five months—half the time of the previous record holder.”
Patty raised an eyebrow at Claire. “It’s kinda weird that you’ve memorized such obscure award facts.”
Claire blushed before quickly defending herself. “It was in the same article! Didn’t you read it? I’ll probably forget it in a few days.”
Patty knew she wouldn’t, but she let it slide. Instead, she changed the topic. “I saw it, but I was more eager to read about the Troy-Rihanna drama on stage. Seriously, why the fuck didn’t they broadcast the award they won together? I wanted to see the tension.”
Claire waved it off. “Just wait a day or two. Someone will upload it on YouTube. That’s how these things usually go.”
Patty nodded and opened her mouth to say something, but the commercial break ended.
“It’s starting,” she said instead. “Now shush and let me watch.”
There was no official host, but a male voice announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, we are here at the Grammys, so please give it up for our first performer, Troy Armitage.”
The camera zoomed in on Troy, seated among the audience in a sharp tuxedo. He looked around in mock shock and confusion, mouthing, Who, me?
Patty burst out laughing at his antics—until someone handed him a mic.
The moment the music started, Troy’s expression shifted. The soft, unmistakable melody of Someone You Loved filled the venue.
~ I’m going under and this time I fear there’s no one to save me ~
Patty’s heart clenched. That song always hit her hard, but this time, it felt even more raw. Troy was living through the very emotions the lyrics described—his real-life breakup still fresh.
~ Now the day bleeds
Into nightfall
And you’re not here
To get me through it all
I let my guard down
And then you pulled the rug
I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved ~
Patty closed her eyes, letting the music wash over her. She had seen Troy perform live before, but this rendition was on another level. It was her favorite song of his, and there was something special about seeing him open the Grammys with it.
When she opened her eyes, she expected him to be on stage. Instead, Troy lingered among the audience, serenading them as he moved through the crowd.
Patty’s breath hitched. No one opened the Grammys like this.
Troy didn’t sing the second verse of the song. Instead, he stopped in front of Taylor Swift and Shakira, who were sitting together. His back was to them, and as soon as he paused, both women reached up and grabbed his sleeves—pulling them away in one swift motion.
The tuxedo was a tear-away.
Underneath, Troy wore a fitted white tank top. He wasn’t as ripped as he was last year, but it looked better than the video he shot for That’s Hilarious. Without missing a beat, he completed the transformation by yanking off his dress pants, revealing a pair of stylishly ripped denim jeans underneath.
Just then, the music abruptly shifted.
The melancholic strains of Someone You Loved faded, replaced by the thumping, unmistakable bassline of Bad Guy.
Patty and Claire gaped at each other, still in shock at the sudden turn of events.
Troy quickly climbed onto the stage, now fully immersed in the performance as backup dancers joined him. For an event like the Grammys, a slow song wouldn’t have been an ideal opener, but it had worked as the perfect setup—lulling the audience into an emotional state before flipping the energy on its head.
~You like a tough guy
Like it really rough guy
Just can't get enough guy
Chest always so puffed guy
I'm that bad type
Make your mama sad type
Make your boyfriend mad tight
Might get shot by dad type
I'm the bad guy
Duh ~
As soon as he finished the chorus, Troy executed a flawless backflip, landing smoothly on his feet as if it was the easiest thing in the world.
“Whoa, that’s awesome!” Claire gushed, stars in her eyes. “He made it look effortless.”
Patty nodded wordlessly as the song transitioned yet again. This time, Troy didn’t change outfits, but the backup dancers brought out a set of massive drums, pounding them in sync with the heartbeat-like rhythm of Radioactive.
~ I’m waking up, I feel it in my bones
Enough to make my system blow
Welcome to the new age, to the new age
Welcome to the new age, to the new age ~
As he neared the end of the first verse, Troy moved toward the edge of the stage—the opposite side from where he had climbed up.
Then, to everyone’s astonishment, he did it again.
Another backflip. This time, off the stage.
He landed right in front of… Rihanna.
“Oh my God!” Patty shrieked, grabbing Claire’s arm and shaking her. “Is he gonna say something to her? Are they getting back together? Or is he gonna escalate and do the rap now? Oh my God! What is happening?”
“Calm down, will you?” Claire said, though her wide eyes betrayed her excitement.
Then, Troy did something no one expected.
He held out a microphone to Rihanna, who was dazzling in a shimmering beige dress. For a moment, she hesitated, her expression unreadable—then she took it.
The soft, familiar melody of We Don’t Talk Anymore began playing.
Together, they started singing.
Their voices blended seamlessly, heartbreak and longing woven into every note. As they sang, Troy took Rihanna’s hand like a gentleman, guiding her up the steps to the stage. They walked together, placing their microphones onto stands as they reached the center.
~Don't wanna know
What kinda dress you're wearin' tonight
If he's holdin' onto you so tight
The way I did before
I overdosed
Should've known your love was a game
Now I can't get you outta my brain
Ooh, it's such a shame
That we don't talk anymore, we don't talk anymore
We don't talk anymore like we used to do~
Patty, Claire, and the entire Grammys audience erupted into deafening cheers as the duet unfolded. No one had expected Troy and Rihanna to even share the same room, let alone the same stage. Yet here they were—and what a spectacle it was.
It started with Taylor Swift. She was the first to rise, swaying to the music, her expression a mix of awe and delight. One by one, those around her followed suit until the entire Staples Center was on its feet, giving the ex-couple a thunderous standing ovation just as the final notes faded.
The applause that followed was deafening. Troy and Rihanna exchanged a lingering glance before bowing in unison, acknowledging the overwhelming response. Then, as if sealing the moment, they shared a final hug before the cameras cut to the night’s first presenter.
Patty turned to Claire, still breathless from the spectacle. “That was the best Grammy opening act I have ever seen. Even if we ignore the last part with Rihanna, the tuxedo, the backflips, and the performance, everything was cinematic as hell. If that doesn’t break the internet by tomorrow, I don’t know what will.”
Claire nodded, eyes still glued to the screen. “Oh, it already has.”
(Break)
“And the Grammy for Best Pop Vocal Album goes to… Troy Armitage for Echoes of You.”
I turned to my family, who were sitting close to me this time, and hugged Mum tightly. My eighth trophy of the night.
Taylor was nearby—not right next to me, but close enough that I caught the excitement on her face when she stood up. I’d lost Best Pop Duo/Group Performance for We Don’t Talk Anymore earlier, but honestly? That wasn’t my best song, anyway. This win mattered much more.
Taking the stage, I exhaled and smiled as I accepted the golden gramophone. “Thank you to the Academy,” I began, my first televised Grammy speech of the night. “And a huge thanks to Douglas Saunders for guiding me every step of the way in making this album what it became.”
For a split second, I considered thanking Rihanna too—but in the end, I decided against it. We have had enough drama between us to last a lifetime without starting rumors that we had reconciled.
The coming hour was nothing short of baffling for me.
“And the Grammy for Best New Artist goes to… Troy Armitage!”
“Song of the Year goes to… All of Me by Troy Armitage!”
“Record of the Year goes to Bad Guy by Troy Armitage!”
“The Album of the Year is Echoes of You by Troy Armitage and Douglas Saunders!”
I lost track of how many times I hugged my mum, dad, and Evan during the night, who were all sitting close by. With the last award of the night announced, Taylor forgot all propriety and practically launched herself at me, wrapping me in a tight hug. “I knew you’d get it!”
A female announcer’s voice filled the arena. “This is Troy Armitage’s twelfth Grammy win tonight out of fourteen nominations. He has set the record for most Grammys won in a single year. He is only the second artist in history to sweep all four general categories in one night.”
I separated from Taylor and walked up to the stage for what I hoped would be the final time that evening.
“You guys have lost your minds,” I joked, holding my twelfth trophy of the night. The audience immediately rose to their feet, cheering louder than ever. The sight of an entire arena giving me a standing ovation was… surreal.
“I don’t think I deserve this,” I admitted honestly. A big part of me felt the awards should’ve been spread out among other artists. These wins could shape careers, open doors. But here I was with literally a dozen Grammys.
“I started writing songs for this album while going through a breakup.” Then I grinned and added, “Not the current one.”
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
“I was in a pretty dark place—writing just for myself, never intending for anyone to hear these songs. Then, one day, my dad walked into my room, heard one of them, and decided to play God. He said, ‘Let there be an album.’ And, well… here we are.”
From the stage, I caught sight of Dad’s face—half proud, half embarrassed.
“Mum, meanwhile, was my first and most brutal critic,” I continued. “She told me exactly what worked and what didn’t. I literally couldn’t have made this album without her.”
She blew me a kiss from the audience.
“And my brother, Evan, helped shape the album’s story, which was a huge part of why it connected with so many people. Thank you, Evan.”
He nodded back at me with a grin on his face.
“To all aspiring musicians out there, if you want to make music, keep working on it. Don’t give up or lose hope despite how difficult it may get. If you work hard and have some good luck, one day you could be right here where I am.”
I glanced at the teleprompter. My time was almost up.
“Before I go off-stage, a massive thank-you to the incredible musicians and technicians who worked on this album. I’ll thank each of you personally later—but for now, thank you.”
The arena erupted into applause as I stepped offstage. My mind was already jumping ahead—to the media interviews, the after-parties, the insanity of the night still ahead.
And one pressing question:
How the fuck was I supposed to carry twelve Grammys at once for the post-win photoshoot?
Comments
J
The pic is gonna be like the billie eilish one lmfao
Noname739
Backflips really? You can’t be serious. That’s hilarious
Hyuga Tobirama
12 Grammys nah Troy is really HIM
TheLazyWarrior
For sure
Danielle
Can we get a media reaction to the Grammys?
TheLazyWarrior
Thanks! It was getting repetitive, that's why I quickly skipped it over to the end.
Rafael
Excellent chapter, I liked that you included the entire event so we didn't have to wait until the next chapter. By the way, the reference to Shakira and Taylor together was interesting.
James Harrold
He can use his Trophies for Tenpin bowling xD
Qweku_v
Thanks
Raven Blanchard
This is *chefs kiss* the best and most fabulous way for them to both get closure omfg thanks Fable ❤️❤️❤️ Lmao and Troy using a trolley to cart his trophies home would totally be meme material haha
omzy8484
someone need to get the man a catering trolly
James Harrold
It could be Scarlett Johansson during Disturbia's press tour?
TheLazyWarrior
Lol
Jarod lane
Great chapter, lol he needs to just hold a massive pile with the pictures covering his face lol
Milena Gonzalez
I love how you end there relationship. Much better than his previous relationship:) anyone wants to guess who will be his first nightstand ??? Dianna Agron is my pick maybe he’ll appear in glee :) I can totally see him play Sebastian Smythe :)
