Jacob's curled up in a fluffy duvet. Joe and Caspar have finally decided to go out instead of spending all their time time fucking in the flat, and so he has the entire flat to himself. He has chips on one side of him and a bottle of soda on the other, and honestly, it's all about him tonight. It's the night he is going to pamper himself, and watch movies that make him bawl, and no one can make fun of him.
Jacob night, he thinks, it definitely has a ring to it.
(It's eleven at night, and that's when he gets the text from Troye.)
From Troye:)- "ple se come ovr ?"
Jacob can't explain why, but worry fills his body. He hurriedly slips on his vans and leaves the flat with everything left on. He jogs his way to Troye's apartment, despite the fact that it probably isn't even a big deal. Jacob just - he loves Troye.
He doesn't knock when he gets there, instead just turns the knob and finds that it's already unlocked. That worries him, because it's nearly midnight; Troye should not have his door unlocked. He slips in the door, though, and finds that the only lights on in the flat are the fairy lights, illuminating the room in a dainty, ivory colour.
"Troye?" he calls softly, slipping his shoes off by the door, locking the door as he does so.
His reply is a soft giggle, and despite the confusion, he does find himself less worried. He smiles lightly, knocking softly on Troye's door, before peeking inside.
"I found y-" he cuts off, seeing Troye on the floor, surrounded by alcohol bottles, and the smell hits his face like a freight train. Jacob hasn't drank in a long time, really. He use to go out with the boys a few nights a week, but he has been finding himself trading those nights in to stay over at Troye's place, trying his newest desserts and watching bad rom-coms.
"Troye, are you alright?" he shuts the door a bit behind him, though he isn't sure why, and carefully pads toward Troye. Troye whose curls are matted to his forehead, and his skin a light pink. His eyes are glossy, and lips red.
"Jacob, you're here!" Troye giggles, and he holds his arms open for a hug that Jacob cautiously gives away.
"Yeah, I'm here. Troye, how long have you been drinking?" Jacob asks, only to find himself laughing when Troye's face scrunches up all cute, and he holds his hands out.
"This many times!" He's holding up 6 fingers, and Jacob isn't sure if that's hours, or minutes, or drinks, but he goes with it.
"Alright, love," he says gently, "I think you've had enough now, yeah?" He tries to take the bottle Troye is working on now, but Troye pouts and moves it away from him.
"Just one more, Jacob. Just one more," he babbles, and Jacob is so guiltily endeared by it. In spite of, he still tries to take it away. "Troye, no. I think you've had plenty."
Troye shakes his head again, making a little humming noise and poking his tongue out. "I think you've had plenty."
Jacob laughs, biting his lip. "C'mon Troye, just hand it over, alright? I'll tuck you in and in the morning I'll take you out for a yummy and greasy breakfast."
"I don't want breakfast, I want strawberry milk!"
Troye screams it out, and then erupts in a fit of giggles. Jacob has to bite his cheek to keep from giving in and laughing too. He can't help it, Troye is just so adorable, and honestly, Jacob never thought he would be calling a drunk guy adorable, but here he is.
"You can't have milk after drinking, love, it's not good. And if you drink even more you're going to be even more hung-over."
Troye pouts and looks down into the neck of the bottle, sighing deeply. "Lemme finish this one, Jake, lemme finish and then I'll stop."
