a/n: i can be so sheltered sometimes i honestly forgot how idiotic trump supporters are for a minute & i just saw a really horrible post about people praising trump for the attack on syria and now i'm fired up guys. enjoy, ily
Jacob's pov
"He's a dumb arse!" Troye yells as we get home from school.
I thought we were tired as can be, but Troye over here is all riled up. Some kids at the academy were high-fiving each other and cheering about how Trump finally made action as president of America. News flash kiddos, that's not how a proper president takes action. He practically handmade a target himself and stuck it right on America's back, inviting others to attack back.
"What an actual wanker! I'd really like to do unholy things to him." Troye continues, trying to cool it with the cursing. He has told me before that he rarely curses because his father told him cursing is for dirty boys. That speaking dirty words will make him filthy. So I have assumed that anytime he does let a normal word in my vocabulary slip past his pretty lips, it must mean he's really fired up.
I nod and watch him from the couch as he paces around the living room. He stops for a second and switches on the telly, flipping it to the news channel and turning up the volume to a ridiculous volume. The sound of the anchorwoman speaking about the weather blares throughout the flat, Troye pacing and waiting for her to get to the good stuff.
"And today, President Trump released an airstrike against Syria, the missile fired from Tampa, Florida and hit western Syria. The strike left more than eighty-five dead and hundreds more injured. US officials say about twenty planes were destroyed in the attack on the Shayrat base. US defence officials are claiming that the strike was to prove that any use of chemical weapons were not to be tolerated. Continuing on, Donald Trump himself tweeted a congratulation to America's military for representing their country and the world so well in the attack... Uh, Paul, back to you."
"What the hell?!"
"This is so... what the hell, Jacob."
"This cannot be allowed, can it?"
"Can it? Oh my god..."
"He's insane! He's actually gone mad."
He blabs on for about a half hour until he gives up and falls down onto the couch, drained from yelling and pacing around.
"Feel better now?" I ask quietly, this being the first time I've responded to him since he started shouting at the telly.
Troye scoots closer to me and cuddles into my side.
"No."
I bring my hand around his side and rub his back gently.
"I wish there was something we could do." He mutters, shutting his eyes and letting his head fall down on my chest.
"Well, there is. We can contact our government, well, there's not much they can do- at all really. But we can go up to the post office and send our views to Trump. It goes right to the white house."
Troye opens his eyes and leans back staring up at me.
"Really? How do you know?" He asks curiously, tilting his head to the side.
My lips impulsively twitch up into a smile, "Was never a fan of Bush. Me and Ange used to send letters all the time."
He gives me an amused look and shakes his head, laying his head back down on my chest.
"Could we go do that tomorrow? Send him our regards?" Troye asks, running his fingertips along my tummy, making me tighten up a bit. He makes my tummy swirl like he's making candy floss in me, stopping and picking out sugary cotton piece by piece.
