Troye Sivan
Coffee.
That's what it started with. A damn coffee.
Humming to myself with a fresh cuppa in my hand, I stare down at the divorce papers in my hand. Today's the day, I'm finally getting away from my ex-wife. Crazy, I am. I thought I was in love with her for years, I truly thought I did. Maybe it was just that I thought she was pretty, girls are pretty, and I knew I was supposed to like girls and I found a connection with her. With my parents raising me to marry a pretty girl, work in a law firm for Bixenman Inc, and live a prestige, tight life, there was no room for objection.
I accomplished that much until it dawned on me, really dawned on me, that I wasn't happy. I realised I was paying more attention to my boss than I was my own wife. Watching his every move while rarely watching hers. It would most likely be considered stalking if I didn't work for the bloke. And so I broke it to my lady and broke our marriage off, the two of us going our separate ways. Thankfully, she was completely understanding, even though what I fed her was complete bollocks. I claimed that I couldn't be with her anymore because of work. That it was unfair for her to stay at home every day waiting for me to get back. I blabbed out a load of other excuses until she got the image that I didn't want to be with her anymore. She attempted to make things work, but in the end, I just didn't want to be with her. So we broke apart and she moved back to Ireland with her mother. And that left me to go back to following my boss's every move.
He's like a god here, everyone bows down to him. Well, he is the top-ranking lawyer in London, who wouldn't bow down to him?
He's been kicking judge's arses quite literally for years now, he probably makes more than most of them. His building looks the sharpest and most elegant; most cocky. It practically shouts that he is the best and nothing about that will ever change. We've all come to terms with that and have tried to hook onto his business and earn a profit off of it. Mr Bixenman knows what we're doing, that we're only friendly and obedient to him because we need his money, but he's never spoken up on it. He just lets it happen.
Me, I'm Bixenman's assistant.
Aka, I am Jacob Bixenman's bitch. I do anything and everything for him that he requests, professionally speaking, of course. I retrieve things he needs or desires, I go on business trips for him, hell, I even remodelled his office for him.
I'm actually strutting through that exact office right now, ready to show Jacob my divorce papers and hope he praises me like he did when I told him I was going to do this. I glance back down at the papers and smile brightly, I'm going to be a free man. That is until I crashed straight forward into someone and broke my cup of coffee onto their silky suit.
It felt like it happened in slow motion, the liquid crashing onto the fabric and soaking through, most likely burning their skin. My eyes widen considerably and I backtrack, snapping my head up to see none other than Mr Bixenman.
"Oh my, oh my god! I'm so sorry!" I rush out, watching as anger hits his face.
He slaps the cup and my papers out of my hand and scowls.
"How dare you?! You know what, Sivan? That is it! You're done! Leave, now." He shouts, pointing to the door.
My eyes widen and I give him an incredulous look.
"W-what?" I ask, furrowing my eyebrows together.
He clenches his jaw, "Out. Now. Take your shit with you."
Mr Bixenman points at my papers now soaked in coffee and gestures back to the door.
Tears prick at my eyes and I shrink down a bit. I pick up my divorce papers and coffee and shamefully walk out of Bixenman Inc.
By the time I step out of the building, I've fallen into a deep sob, cradling the wet papers to my chest. I keep them close to my skin all the way until I get to my small ratty studio, throwing them in the rubbish bin and falling down against my kitchen cabinet. I slide down to the floor and cradle my knees, sobbing into my trousers until I pass out from my mental break.
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a/n: ahhh, we're all here. i was listening to lcd soudsystem's "all my friends" and a lyric just kind of urged me to write this. it was 'and if i'm sued into submission i can still come home to this'. idk, we'll see where this goes from here, i wrote this ten minutes ago. i'm working on a few others stories right now so there may possibly be slow updates for a while. we'll see, i hope i see ya in the next chapter. xx
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sued into submission 🌷 tracob
Fanfiction"troye sivan, you've been served." the man in a black coat says, handing me a folder. i clench my jaw, taking it. "all i did was spill a coffee on the bloke, it's not like i fucked his mother in hindsight."
