heaven in hiding 🌷 tracob

48

Jacob's pov

"Tok! Oh, dear, Tok!" Troye's mother exclaims as she's met with Troye in a wheelchair outside our infirmary building.

She leans down and embraces her son in a big hug while his father stands back holding his hands in front of his chest as he watches the two reunite.

"Mum," Troye smiles tiredly, "I- how did you find me?"

She stands back and takes Troye's father's hand, "When we heard that you were found and reported as safe in the papers, we just had to find you."

"I met this young girl Charlotte, who I eventually found out was part of the Renegades, and asked if she had seen you, giving her your childhood picture. She helped me track you down to the Crusaders. We went through the sacred ritual to get in, we moved down here to come back to you." She explains, looking between Troye and his father.

I don't know about these two. Something seems suspicious.

"Why didn't you say something to either one of us sooner? You joined- what, three months ago?" I interrogate, arms crossed over my chest.

"You see," She starts, "He looked so different now, so easily spooked. Sure, he was an anxious child growing up, always cared about others more than himself, but this was different. We didn't want to spook him. We were going to wait and have him find us himself, but he never came..."

"So we waited until there was a good time." Troye's father steps in, "Your mother told someone and had them get you down to us, but we all see how that turned out."

He gestures to his son who's now in a wheelchair and looking exhausted as ever, and he wasn't even the one who endured the battle against the Renegades, or Sarah's stitching. He's put himself through hell most likely physically and mentally. He's tired. He needs rest.

"You put him in danger," I point out, "All of us."

"You put life as Crusaders at risk as it is," I add, not as their son's lover and caretaker, as their boss.

They are the ones that led Charlotte into the Crusaders and got Troye hurt. Troye sits back, seeming all kinds of nervous and fidgety. I hold my hand down for him to take, him grasping it immediately.

"I don't know what to say," Troye whispers, "I never planned on coming back."

"Wh- wha-? Troye? My dear, don't you see, we came for you." Troye's mother mutters, "We want to take you home."