heaven in hiding 🌷 tracob

20

Jacob's pov

"Sir, please answer your mobile, it's important."

I hear Sara's muffled voice from the other room. What the hell?

Getting up out of the fort, I a bit abruptly walk to the kitchen to find a sleepy Troye laying on his side on the floor, dancing his finger on the edges of my phone.

"Troye?" I ask, my voice low and raspy from just waking up, "The hell are you doing?"

He looks up, eyes droopy and red, and looks back down to the screen.

"Voices help calm me down. I know lots of people call you and stuff so I thought why not listen to them for a little while. Sara seems nice." He oh-so innocently murmurs, not aware of the danger he could be putting us in if he were to call one of the other numbers for a little chat.

I sit down and slowly lean onto my side next to him, propping my arm up and resting my cheek on my hand. He looks up and frowns a bit, "Are you mad at me?"

"No. No, I'm not mad at you, Tro. You just gotta be careful snooping and listening to stuff like that." I place a finger on my mobile and slide it closer to me, pressing home and cutting off Sara's muffled voice. 

"I w-wasn't snooping, I'm sorry. I was just listening, I should've asked, I'm sorry." He's quick to blab out, his confidence dropping so quickly. 

I look up from the screen and shake my head at him, "No, no, pumpkin, it's alright. Calm down, you're okay."

With tears in his eyes, his bottom lip quivers and hands clench a bit as he nods and looks down to the floor. 

"I'm sorry." 

"Don't be," I whisper, "It's alright."

"I've got better voices for us to listen to." I pipe up, smiling at him and looking back down to my mobile.

"You do?" He asks.

"Mhm," I hum as I launch Youtube and type in one of my favourite songs of all time.

I click on it and turn up the volume a little, nudging it back to Troye and laying my head down on my arm. He furrows his brows as the seemingly unfamiliar beat plays from my speaker. As the piano begins playing, he cracks a cute small smile I'm sure will only grow wider as the song continues. 

"Baby, oh, baby."

His eyes widen as he cracks out a huge grin, his cheeks flushing pink.

"I love to call you my baby."

"I love it." He says immediately. 

"Baby, oh, baby. I love for you to call me baby."

"When you squeeze me real tight, you make wrong things right." 

"My mother used to sing it all the time, sang like a bird." I mumble, my eyes surely giving away emotions and stories of my past life as a child. The Old Me.

"And I can't stop loving you, and I won't stop calling you..."

"Baby, oh, baby."

"You look so good to me, baby."

"It's very pretty." He whispers.

"Baby, oh, baby."

"You are so good to me, baby."

We lay on our backs and stare up at the ceiling of my kitchen, our hands subconsciously finding each other and our finger twirling together. We listen to the beauty of a song and wiggle our shoulders around to the beat, living and loving for the tune. 

B-A-B-Y, baby, B-A-B-Y, baby.

I'd love to call you my baby.