a/n: power and water are disconnected over here but ya girl is still here to write. i hope everyone is safe and *indoors* (troye im looking at you kid)
Jacob's pov
"OK, Tokyo, South America, Australia, France, Germany, UK, Africa!" Bounces around the walls of my flat, none other than the voices of David Bowie, Mick Jagger, and Troye Mellet booming in my ears.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" I mutter, my voice hoarse and raspy, having just woken up because of the bloke.
I can hear him jumping all around the lounge like a five year old, most likely singing into a remote and being as twinky as ever. The day I believe that boy isn't gay is the day I die.
"Fucking nerds..." I grumble to myself, rolling over and covering my pillow over my head.
"Calling out around the world, are you ready for a brand new beat?"
"Summer's here and the time is right... For dancing in the streets."
"Troye! Turn it down!" I attempt to shout over the music, groaning in irritation and holding my pillow over my head to try and muffle the music.
"They're dancing in Chicago, down in New Orleans, in New York City. All we need is music, sweet music."
I lift my head, "It's fuckin'..." I check the time on my clock and groan, "Seven am, turn it off!"
I've got practice later, I need sleep!
"There'll be music everywhere. They'll be swinging, swaying, records playing."
"Dancing in the street, oh."
Is he really going to make me get up? Me? This kid has another thing coming...
"It doesn't matter what you wear, just as long as you are there."
My Patience Is Wearing Thin.
"So come on, every guy, grab a girl. Everywhere, around the world!"
"Fuck it," I clench my jaw, yanking my duvet off my body, swinging my legs around and off my bed and getting up.
I jump into a pair of used trousers that surely smell awful, my hair bouncing against my forehead and I throw myself around, stomping to the door. I open and slam it shut, storming down the hall and to the lounge, ignoring the dancing boy and going right up to my stereo he didn't bother asking to use.
"They'll be dancing, dancing in the stre-" The boys are cut off as I yank the cord, turning it off the quickest way possible.
"Dancing in the street." Troye whispers in a little voice, making me turn around to see him, of course, singing into a spatula as he flips a pancake twice the size of his face.
"No." I grunt, "This is a no."
"You sing, you dance, you do it at a scheduled time. Put it up on the fucking timetable. From six am to three pm is My sleep time, mine. You mess with it and you mess with me. Get earphones and quit ruining my day." I burst out, hands flying around like a maniac as I explain the logistics.
He stands there unphased, sprinkling... hundreds and thousands... on his pancakes...
Sprinkles... on pancakes.
I roll my eyes and turn around, having enough of this mess of a bloke.
"Jacob?" He calls out as I'm halfway down the hall.
"What?" I mutter.
"Don't have earphones... you know... lost everything in the fire." He murmurs awkwardly.
"Figure it out." I grumble and stomp my way back to my dark room, flopping on the bed and under my duvet.
I huff out and make myself comfortable once more, sleep coming back to me easily as ever.
