come home 🥀 sequel to sued into submission 🥀 tracob

3

Troye Sivan

"You're drunk." Is pointed out.

"And youuu are not, what's your point?" I retort, picking up my mobile and drafting out a text to someone.

"Tell me you're not drunk texting." She frowns at me.

"I am a gardener living the dream. Hush hush now." I proclaim, typing away.

'marry me? the fuck is that supoposed tp mean dipshit?'

"To send or not to send." I question.

She walks over to the sofa and sits down, "Probably not."

"Sent." I grin.

It's a surprise I still know those digits that happen to be Bixenman's phone number.

'why do you even bother with the clichés? (you dont know how much effort it just took to fidn the é oo look i found it agaib) you never loved me'

one

two,

eight texts later, we've got an essay on why I hate the man that is Jacob Bixenman.

It's when I receive one back that I drop my phone and jump back.

"Oh fuck," I let out.

"What did you do? Spill red wine on my new carpet?" Denise asks while I pick my mobile back up and unlock the screen.

'Are you drunk?' He responds.

"No, no i-it's nothing." I stutter out.

'no im troye'

'Where are you? Are you safe?'

I frown, furrowing my brows.

'im fine'

'why would you care' I add.

When my mobile displays the one and only calling me, I gulp harshly. Filled with anxiety, I answer.

I don't say a thing, listening to the silence through the call.

"Troye?" His voice rings in my ears.

My fingers shake as I cover my mouth.

"What do you want?" I ask.

"Where are you? I'll come pick you up." He speaks quickly and directly, catching me off guard.

"Nowhere you'll find me." I mutter.

"Bronx, New York?" He questions, "Didn't see you as the type.

My eyes widen, "How do you know that?"

"Troye? Who are you talking to?" Denise inquires from the lounge.

"I know how to use the internet, Troye." He speaks bluntly, "I'm ten minutes away, grab your coat."

"W-wha-?" I utter, "No, I- I... it's too soon."

"It's been two years. I will see you out front." Is all that's said as he hangs up, leaving me to my own dose of shock.

"Troye?" Denise calls out.

"It's nothing, I'm- I'm going to head out." I make up the first excuse to come to mind, "Don't wait up."

Thinking with my broken heart instead of my brain, I grab my coat and head out into the cold air of April.