It's not until they are right on the edge of the city of where Troye grew up, that he starts dissolving.
Joe pulls into a mini-mart so they can all get food, and Troye's- he is shaking. God, Jacob holds him so tight, but he is shaking, shaking, shaking, and trembling like a fault line that doesn't know better. He is breaking. Jacob doesn't- Troye isn't breathing, not enough, he is panicking. God, no.
Jacob pushes the side seat in the middle of the van down as soon as they pull into a spot, squishing Tyler's legs as he opens the sliding door and pulls Troye out hastily, ignoring the noise Tyler makes.
"C'mon love, we'll get you some strawberry milk, how does that sound?" his voice cracks, and he tries to swallow his own fear.
"Jacob, Jacob," Troye says frantically, breathlessly, oh god, "he lives in this city. I don't- what if he sees me, oh god," his chest is actually heaving out, shallow breaths escaping from his teeth, trying to suck them back in as he panics. Jacob guides him into the mini-mart with hands tight on him, holding him close, holding him surely, letting him know he's here.
"Troye I've got you, okay?" He pauses at the counter, "sir, do you have a restroom?"
"Yeah back left," the man looks at Troye concerned, "is he-"
"He's fine," Jacob calls back with a reassuring smile, gently guiding Troye to where the man pointed, his hands gripping his waist as he slowly pushes Troye forward. He is gasping for breath, and there aren't any tears, he's not crying, but he is panicking and heaving, and that's what scares Jacob the most. Troye isn't crying.
The bathroom smells like a bathroom, awful. It's small, and dingy, and just gross. There are mud tracks on the ground, at least Jacob assumes its mud, and markings on the wall. The garbage bin is overflowing with bloodied pads and bundled up toilet paper. Toilet paper is everywhere, pieces of it on the floor, stuck to the walls. The toilet is clogged; filled disgustingly and Jacob wants to puke. The sink is muck dirty, rust growing like mold, mold growing like mold, god, it's so disgusting.
Troye stands in the middle of the room, staring blankly at the wall, hands shaking at his sides. His lips are parted, shallow breaths escaping quickly and coming back in just as fast. His eyebrows are furrowed, struggling, struggling, he looks so lost, so vacant. His pouty bottom lip starts trembling.
"Troye?"
"Jacob what if he hurts you too?" terror flashes over Troye's face, "Jacob I- no. No. Jacob I don't want him to hurt you, he will, I don't want him to ever touch you Jacob, Jacob-" he chokes on a sob, tears finally forming in his eyes as he looks desperately at Jacob with fear, shaking his head frantically as more rambles of Mark hurting Jacob fall from his lips.
"Troye," Jacob starts weakly, "Troye. Troye, he can't- he isn't here. We're okay, Troye, we-"
Troye closes his eyes, shaking his no, no, no.
"Troye," Jacob says desperately, "he doesn't- he has no idea we are here. Your mum has no idea we are even here, love. We- we're safe," Troye bites his lips, eyes squeezed shut as he shakes his head no.
"Troye," Jacob pleads, "we are safe. The boys got me, and they got you, and I got you. Troye," Jacob swallows, lowering his voice, "you're mine, not his. I won't let him take you, I won't let him ever touch you again. Not ever again, love"
"I'm so scared," Troye says, voice fleeting on the 'so' and cracking off on the 'scared,' his bottom lip shaking. He isn't leaning into Jacob's touch, isn't falling into his arms or trying to curl in on him. He is just... there- quivering in his stance and chewing at his lip as more tears escape his eyes, trailing down Jacob's fingers that are still cupping his cheeks.
