heaven in hiding 🌷 tracob

9

Jacob's pov

"What happened...?"

"Just fooled around with a new friend, don't worry about it." I dismiss his concern, trudging to the washroom and flicking the light on. I leave the door open, knowing the curly haired boy is hot on my heels.

"Are you okay? Does it hurt?" He asks, standing a good distance away from the washroom.

I shake my head, picking up a rag and wetting it, blotting it on my nose and chin.

"It's fine, I said not to worry about it." I speak a little too orderly, having been around too many of my workers today.

He sinks back, his frown growing stronger.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you." He whispers, staring down at the floor.

I sigh, holding the rag to my chin as I turn to him.

"No, I'm sorry. You're alright, I've just had a long day." I mutter, offering him a small smile.

He looks up, nodding though he doesn't twitch up a smile like usual.

"I'm sorry. What happened?" He speculates, holding his arms behind his back.

I switch the light off and walk past him back into my bedroom.

"Some workers slipped up, made a big mistake and a few had to pay the price. I had to do things I don't enjoy doing. Just a long day is all, no need to worry." I wave him off, stripping my shirt off and tossing it into a pile on the floor.

I carefully unwrap my knuckles, wincing as I reveal my bloody and scraped up skin.

"Oh my! What happened to your hands?!" Troye comes up behind me and covers his fingers over his mouth.

I quirk an eyebrow up, impressed that he didn't catch on immediately. He doesn't know.

"Uh, slipped and fell." I mutter out the only excuse I could think of.

He seems to swallow that lie down easily, concern flooding his eyes welling with tears.

"I don't know what to do! C'mere, to the sink!" He rushes out, taking my wrist and dragging me to the kitchen.

I sigh, letting the boy do as he pleases. He turns on the sink and tests it, taking my wrist and putting a hand under the faucet. I tighten my jaw and furrow my brows, refraining from hissing out and jerking my hand away.

"Are you okay? I'm so sorry. How could this happen?" Troye rambles more or less to himself than me, softly and slowly running his fingers over my open-wounded knuckles. Blood drips down and mixes with the water spewing from the faucet, my hand going numb after a few minutes.

"I just fell, it's fine." I try to explain. It's no help, he's so wrapped around the thought of me hurting.

When my hand is tingly in feeling again and less dirty and coated in dried blood, he places it on the side of the sink and takes my other. The hand I used to knock a few runners unconscious today. It was expected for me to grumble in pain, whipping my head to the side and glaring at the wall.

"Shit," I utter, grinding my teeth together so harshly my jaw aches.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Troye whispers, cleaning off my much more tattered knuckles than the others.

"You're alright- oh fuck!" I grunt.

He nods through furrowed brows and finishes up, turning off the water. Troye takes both of my palms in his hands, pulling them up to this lips and kissing my knuckles.