come home 🥀 sequel to sued into submission 🥀 tracob

11

Troye Sivan

"You're shaking," Jacob points out as we sit on the balcony smoking my cheap cigarettes.

I look down at my hands, one holding a burning smoke, and shrug subtly.

"You're here," I respond weakly.

He nods, scooting closer to me on the swing I installed with Denise last summer.

"My therapist recommends I speak out my comfort words when I get anxious. It helps calm me down." I explain.

Taking a drag of his cig, he looks out to the busy street below us, "I'm listening."

"That's why I don't want to speak," I whisper.

"It's okay." He murmurs, "I'm not going to judge you."

I let out a little sigh and relax my tense shoulders, looking up at the sky.

"April twenty-third, June fourth, Jagga, lilacs, Lynn Avenue." I close my eyes and picture each precious piece of my comfort box, it only being a room over if I really needed it.

"Can I ask a question?" He asks.

I open my eyes and nod, not wanting to look over at him just yet. What if he's looking at me wrong?

"What does that mean to you?" He inquires.

I raise a shoulder as I think, "... Well, a lot."

"April twenty-third is the day we- it's just a memory... June fourth, you kissed me for the first time." I pause, "Jagga is the name of my childhood dog, I picture lilacs when I'm calm and comfortable... and Lynn Avenue is the street I grew up on."

"That's nice." He speaks soothingly.

"I didn't know you were sentimental about us." He infers.

"Well, yeah..." I whisper, "You were my everything for as long as I remember."

"I still remember the first day I met you, fresh out of college and
I'm meeting the most praised lawyer in Nottinghill, better yet, the best in the UK. You looked at me and I knew that couldn't be just it." I find myself speaking with my racing heart, "When I was accepted as your employee, I quit my all three jobs. I moved out of my parents and bought a ratty little studio flat as close to your building as I could. I ate scraps for years and was treated oh so differently around you. I had a purpose, a reason to get onto my next day. I had a duty."

"Now..." I trail off, taking a hit of the half gone cig.

"You don't feel that way anymore?" He asks.

"Hm?" I hum.

"A reason to live. Do you have one?"

Looking down at the ground, I shake my head no.

"I can't think of one reason why I belong on this earth, right here... and right now." I utter, my voice a bit raspy. It would've shocked me if I cared so deeply about what I sound like anymore.

"You see, whatever I say, whatever I do, it's not going to get better. I'm not going to wake up one day and feel like everything is and will be okay. I'm stuck, Jacob. I'm stuck and there's no way to get out."

"Don't say that." He says in a broken little voice.

"Don't say that to me." He whispers.

"You do have a reason to live, Troye. It's for yourself. It's for more first times and more memories and joy and happiness, don't you see that?" He inquires, "And if that isn't good enough..."

"Live for me."

"Live for us until you're strong enough to love for you. And if you decide you can't love me anymore, that's okay. I want you to love yourself. I want you to Live for Yourself." He speaks so softly, my heart wrenches in warmth.

"Can you try to do that?" He asks.

A tear falling down my cheek, I nod.

"Yes," I practically squeak out.

"Good. Why don't we get out today? Show you some beauty? Some more reasons to live?" He pauses, "Would you like that?"

I nod, "Sure."

"Okay, go get ready kiddo. I'll finish that there cigarette of yours." He picks the cigarette from my fingers, making me suck in through the filter harsher to get my last hit, smiling at my dumb arse.

"Okie."

-

a/n: if you want to make mine and everyone else here's day, comment one reason you should stay alive. it can feel like nothing special (or the opposite) or maybe even silly, no one minds, you won't be judged or replied to by some douche. we all here for love. hugs. xoxo