For Him (Tracob)

Jacob's pov

Troye is a sleepwalker. He sleep walks. All the damn time. I've gotten used to it now, but there was definitely an adjustment period. The first time he ever slept walked was a week after we moved in together. There I was, thinking it was going to be a quiet night sleeping with my man, and then suddenly he's in the living room staring out the window like he's in a horror movie or something. So that's why I'm not surprised when I wake up in the middle of the night and he's not there next to me. The clock on the nightstand says it's just before 3am. I lay back on the pillows hoping that he's just in the bathroom or something, but after a couple more minutes I'm pretty sure that's not the case. I kick down those warm, welcoming covers, and get out of bed to go look for him, because I honestly don't trust him not to break something or hurt himself but accident. Usually, I'll find him in his small studio that he goes to write in, but he's not there tonight. Tonight he's in the kitchen, standing at the counter with a basket beside him. It's full of hand towels and washcloths and he's carefully folding each one and stacking them on the counter. I would almost think he's awake, except for the fact that he stares straight ahead, never looking down at what he's doing, blue eyes glassy and unfocused.

"Troye," I call his name softly, rubbing my tired eyes. He doesn't respond, so I move closer until I'm just a couple feet away from him. "Troye, you're supposed to be in bed."

I know he can't hear me, but sometimes when I speak to him he'll wake up and go back to bed.

"Come on, Tro."

He turns his head towards me suddenly, starting me just a little.

"Just change the chord progression in the 4th verse. It'll work better," he says, looking directly over my shoulder at nothing. Apparently he has work on the brain.

"Troye...let's go." I reach out slowly and touch his shoulder, careful to move gently and not alarm him. "Let's go."

He doesn't react in the slightest, so I tug him towards me and start to guide him back to bed. "This way, Tro. This way." When we get to the bedroom doorway, I accidentally knock his elbow against it, startling him awake suddenly. His head snaps up, and his knees buckle so he almost slips to the floor, but I catch him quickly.

"Jacob-" he murmurs, vague and disoriented.

I pick him up with ease. "That's right it's just me. Go back to sleep, Tok. I've got you." He yawns against me and buries his face in my neck.

"Where are we?" He mumbles.

"In bed," I tell him, laying him down and moving so he's tucked up against me.

"No, before that.".

"You were sleepwalking. Now go back to sleep.

"Okay," he murmurs, eyes already shut. "I love you."

His voice is breathy and quiet on the last words, like he's already asleep but it's instinct to say I love you, so he says it. I kiss his soft mouth. "I love you too, Troye."

*******

The smell of chicken and ginger cooking up in a skillet on the stove top fills the kitchen. I always like cooking, because it makes the house feel like an actual home, full of the smells of food and life. Nash likes it too, because he knows that if he hangs around in the kitchen with me for long enough, he'll get tasty scraps. The front door bangs open, and Troye comes in, tossing his bag aside, and falling to his knees before sinking slowly face first onto the floor.

This might be a cause of alarm for some people, but I happen to know that Troye is just dramatic.

"So rehearsals went smashingly, I presume?"