Troye's pov
"This is bullshit!" I exclaim, tossing the piece to my bed frame and leaning back onto the floor, groaning loudly.
Who would've thought putting a bed together would be so damn hard?
The pieces don't fit, I have no tools, I can't hold it up on my own- let's face it, I'm helpless.
I sigh in defeat, deciding I'm giving up. What else could I possibly do? I'm Troye Sivan, we give up and try to forget about things when it doesn't work. That's what I'm best at.
"Watch your language!" Jacob pipes.
I roll my eyes, "Fuck off."
I hear a scoff and footsteps approaching my door, making me get on edge and sit up in moments. He opens the door and peeks his head in, giving me a stern look.
"Unless you want me to occupy that mouth with things other than dirty words, keep your mouth shut while I have company over." He mutters, setting me back just a little.
I gulp and nod timidly, my cheeks firing up.
"You have company over?" I ask from my spot on the floor, bed frame pieces all scattered around me.
He nods, raising his brows and clenching his jaw, "Yeah, so shut the fuck up. You can come meet them if you want."
"Okay," I murmur, looking down at my mess and anything but him.
Without another word, he steps back and closes the door, leaving me to my guilty mind. And I only grew more guilty as I step out of my bedroom to find two little girls and a woman sat on the sofa in front of me.
"Look, Mum, it's the bad guy!" One of the girls say, pointing at me and looking to what I'd assume to be her mother.
"Bad boys say bad words!"
I offer an embarrassed small smile, lifting my hand as a small wave, "Hi, nice to meet you."
The mother nods, "You too, I'm Faith. This is Mary and Trinket."
She gestures between her girls then looks back to me, "And you are?"
"Someone from Jacob's team?" She speculates.
I shake my head, "No, new flatmate. I'm Troye and I'm also sorry you heard me a few minutes ago, I wasn't aware you were here."
She waves me off, "It's quite alright, they're used to it with their father. Just try to keep it to a minimum please, young man."
"Faith, he's a grown adult, you can't try to baby him too." Jacob grumbles from the kitchen, making me look over to see him setting a kettle onto the cooker.
Of course, he's in the kitchen. The kitchen we fucked in not hours ago, his clothes still left on the floor. My cheeks only light up once again, holding my eyes shut for a moment longer to try and shake the memory out of my head.
"The hell I can't. Troye, how do you like your pancakes?" She questions, making her girls squawk.
"Mum!" Mary exclaims, pouting at her.
"Bad word!" Trinket adds on.
"Sorry, sorry, my apologies, girls. Troye?" She turns back to me, raising her brows.
I hum, "Hm, not really picky unless you're talking those god awful American griddle cakes-"
"Oh, no!" She chuckles, "Never."
I smile, nodding along, "My mother liked to make them thin, of course, and stuffed with marshmallow and fruit."
She rubs her hands together while the girls let out little coos.
