For Him (Tracob)

Jacob's pov

Honest to God, Troye is so dramatic, that he's been giving me the silent treatment for the past 24 hours. He won't even let me get close to him. Sometimes he drives me insane. I truly don't understand how he's blaming me when he's literally going to do the exact same thing when he flies to London for a week tomorrow.

I just want him to stop sulking.

Around 8pm, he comes out of our room, dressed to go out.

"I'm going to go get dinner with Marc and Adam and Hari. Are you coming?"

I don't reply for a second because he looks so good it's distracting and it pisses me off.

"Um, no." I say finally. "I'm not really in the mood to go out with you."

"Suit yourself, it's not like I'll miss you." He retorts, which stings, but I know he's just being a brat, so I ignore him and watch him leave.

He stays gone a long time. Around 10, I text and ask when he's going to be home, but he doesn't answer. An hour later I call him, and he still doesn't pick up. By midnight, I pull out my phone and dial Hari's number. Thankfully, she answers.

"Jacooob. Why are you home and not with us?" I can hear the beat of loud music in the background on her side.

"Because I don't feel like being out right now. Where's Troye, he said you were getting dinner four hours ago."

"Well...we did get dinner. Then we ended up at this club and it's frankly awesome. You should be here."

"No, no thank you. Can you send him home please. He's flying to London tomorrow, he can't be a hungover mess all morning."

Troye thinks he's flying to London alone, but I made some changes yesterday after he had a fit.

"Yeah yeah I'll call him an uber or something. Hey, Adam where's Troye?" A pause. "Oh hey, there you are. Come on, you. Jacob summons you home. Oh hi Jacob you're still on the phone."

"You never hung up." I point out.

"Oh yeaaaah." There's a beep in my ear as Hari ends the call.

I toss my phone down. It's 20 more minutes before I hear a car pull up and the front door opens. Troye comes in, dropping his bag down and walking into the kitchen. Nash hops off the couch and runs to greet him. He spots me sitting in an armchair by the window, and furrows his brow. "You're still awake?"

"Yes, I'm awake, Troye, since when do I just go to bed when you're not home?"

He shrugs, pulling his jumper over his head and tossing it onto the floor, revealing the sweated through shirt underneath. It's barely a crop top, but it rides up with his every move, showing off a strip of his midriff, which I find very distracting.

"You don't seem to make much of a habit of being concerned about others," Troye tells me, and that snaps me back to full attention because that's just a low blow. I have just as many negative qualities as anyone else, but I have never been anything less than absolutely caring and attentive to Troye.

"Christ, Troye that's so not fair." I say to him.

"I didn't say I was."

"I have always put you first. Always. I don't even know what you want from me anymore."

"Yeah, well it's not my fault that you don't know what I want." He turns away from me and opens the fridge.

"What're you doing?"

He looks over his shoulder at me. "Making dinner."

"You went out for dinner." I tell him, eyebrows raised.