Troyler AU - Uncuff Me

three

"Where the fuck have you been, bruh? Do you know how long I have been on the street yesterday? It was fucking cold and I think my ass got frostbites from all the waiting. Some pieces of my flesh might have chipped off of my fantastic ass. Oh, my poor ass! But seriously, bruh, where have you been? I thought you got yourself into some trouble or you got caught or something. And then I got home and you weren't here. Then I thought maybe you got killed and I'm gonna hear about some skinny mangled body being dumped behind some dirty back alley this morning. You understand that my heart can't take this kinda pressure, right?"

That was the first thing that greeted Troye when he stepped into the loft on the lower east side where he had been rooming with Caspar. It was an old commercial space, previously rented and later modified into a office by someone who Troye presumed to be quite a minimalist architect. The loft was spacious, a little too large to be considered a comfortable residential place, a studio space with high ceilings and two rows of thick pillars that made the foundation of the whole building.

But what the loft lacked of; privacy of partitioned room and proper insulation, it was mostly make up by the most spectacular view Troye could ever asked for. The roof windows are overlooking the vastness of the lower east side, and every morning just a few moments before the sunlight started to push through the heavy darkness that the night was, there's just a sort of tranquility that never failed to start Troye out in a good mood.

That was one of the great many things Troye loved about the loft. The generous space it provides is somewhat a projection of Troye's persona; carefree and larger than life, not allowing thing as superficial as walls to restrict his wild mind to roam freely. Spontaneity would sum him up nicely, and so would witty, promiscuous, pliant but unwilling to commit, among other things that sounded rather like an insult, but for Troye it is as accurate as it gets. He does what he wants, when he wants and with whom he wants. Rules are just too overrated and he strives on the satisfaction of walking a little too closely to the edge and he would rather die than to have to dot all the i's and cross all the t's.

And also the fact that Caspar invited him to stay there free of charge, well, that would be at the top of the list of the reasons why he adored the loft so much, and no one could fault him for that.

Caspar, ever with the flair for dramatic greetings, had been laying like a broken mannequin on the too-small-couch with his head and his limbs hanging from both sides of the armrests when Troye walked in. His questions were thrown at Troye at such speed, coupled with how Caspar liked to mumble and string his words together, Troye surprised himself that he'd managed to catch all that. But in truth, Troye would have catch them even with a wall in between because the primary skill that one has to master if one was to be Caspar's best friend, is to be able to read between the mumbling, among other things.

"What are you talking about Casp? I'm the one who stood and freezed my ass out there last night, and you're lucky I didn't get any frostbites."

"No you weren't, if you were then I would have seen you. In case you're wondering, I'm not blind yet, bruh." Caspar countered and rolled his eyes at the end of his sentence, a gesture he thought could somewhat emphasise his point.

"Caspar, I was outside the boutique at nine and I waited for you for like 30 minutes before I bolted."

"That's not possible, I was there until ten, at least. I'm pretty sure because then I left to go get pizza at Emmanuels because they always sell two for the price of one after ten."

"Wait, you went to Emmanuel's? How the fuck did you get to Emmanuel's so fast? That was like, ten blocks away! Shit, Casp. What street were you on?"

"The 34th! Like you asked!"

"I said 24th, you fucktart! And here I thought only your pronunciation of words is shit, didn't think you had trouble hearing too."