Troye's pov
"Dad, we need to talk."
He looks up from his plate of food, concern flooding his features immediately.
"Everything okay?" He asks.
I sit down, nodding, "Yes, yes, of course. I just gotta tell you something."
A subtle realisation casts upon his face, though I'm sure this isn't too much of a surprise. Surely, he's seen the boxes and heard our murmurs.
"What is it?"
"We're moving, Dadda. Moving out and just a bit away." I subconsciously look out towards the window by the front door, practically counting down the days until we leave.
So much excitement but so much anxiety. What's it going to be like out there?
"How far?" He questions.
"Rainham, thirty kilometres."
"Rainham?! Wha- I mean, why?" He tries his best to mask up a calm expression, "Why Rainham?"
I shrug a shoulder up, "It's where we found our flat, it's near River Thames and I don't know, it's just perfect."
"Is this what you really want?" Dad asks.
"This is everything I've ever wanted."
...
"Ange!" Jacob exclaims as the frail girl runs up to us.
He is quick to wrap her up in his embrace, holding her up in the air for a brief moment before setting her back down onto the tiled floor.
"I've missed you so much." He mumbles in her ear, running his hand up and down her back.
She nods and steps back, "You too, Jake."
We make our way to the tables in the visiting room and sit down, Angelina sat across from us.
"How have you been? What's it like in here?" He inquires, making me crack a smile. I would somewhat know.
What's it like being hospitalised? It's-
"It's boring."
Bullseye.
"Boring?" Jacob questions.
She shrugs, setting her elbows up on the table and sitting her chin on her hands.
"Not much to do here besides talk about your problems and pretend you're getting better so you can get out sooner." She admits.
Jacob shoots me a stern look when I scoff, trying not to laugh.
"What? She's not wrong." I whisper.
She titters while he sighs, shaking his head at us.
"Not funny. You're supposed to be getting better, recovering, no drugs." He mutters.
"There are no drugs here." She says as if it's obvious.
He rolls his eyes, "But if there were?"
"We'd get fucked up bro-"
"Ange, no." He cuts her off.
I slide my hand over the table and fist bump her, her offering me a small smile.
"Troye," Jake scolds, "Not helping."
"I'm sorry, but she's just being honest. Addiction is addiction. If she really wants to feed hers she will. We just have to trust her not to. You may be able to get it out of your system but it's probably always gonna still be lurking in the back of your mind. I could be wrong, this is just what I think, but I'm quite sure-"
