Stumbling out of bed for the morning, I stretch until my bones click, before reaching for my glasses. Placing them onto my face with numb hands due to sleep, I reach out to my closet for a loose shirt.
Why did I put my glasses on first?
I sigh at my own mistake. Every. Damn. Time.
Due to stubbornness, I keep the glasses on my face, and find a larger shirt that definitely won’t knock my glasses off. The famous “I love my mother” shirt is almost on the floor, begging to be worn as it peeks out into my bedroom.
“Fine,” I mumble, pulling the shirt over my head. My glasses don’t even wobble. I am good at this.
I leave my bedroom and stand outside of the guest bedroom, deciding against knocking, and just opening the door and walking in.
All tousled hair, half-open mouth, and messy sheets, Troye lies chaotically on the bed, curled into himself. One of the pillows has ended up on the floor, and although with anyone else, this could be a sign of troubled nights, I know that this trainwreck is a sign that Troye slept comfortably.
Creeping closer to him, I begin to whisper his name, elongating the vowel sound. I kneel next to the bed and put my face next to his. He stirs, and I know he’ll force his eyes open any moment.
His eyelids flicker and he takes a deep breath, before blinking his big blue eyes at me.
“Morning sunshine,” I say quietly, as I boop his nose with mine.
“Piss off,” he mutters through a chuckle before turning over. I walk around to the other side of the bed with a mock scoff and jump onto it, crossing my legs next to him. “No need to be so grumpy!” I jest, and I watch him try not to laugh into his pillow. “I was wondering what you wanted for breakfast. But I’m not sure you deserve any, after the mess you’ve made of my guest bedroom.”
“I’ll fix it later,” he sighs. “When my eyes don’t sting when they’re open.”
“Sorry, that’s my radiating beauty.” I say quickly.
“Shut up.” Troye rubs his eyes before opening them again. “I like your shirt.”
I look down, even though I remembered what I was wearing as soon as he said it. “Thank you,” I say, before turning slightly to the side and tilting my head. “Next issue of Vogue.” I wink at Troye, and he takes a pillow from next to him and feebly attempts to hit me with it.
“Great aim there, Troye.”
“Make me breakfast.”
“Rude.” I pick the pillow up and drop it on top of his head before leaving the room.
“Pancakes?” He calls as I’m in the hallway.
“Sure!”
After running back to my room to grab my Polaroid, I prepare the pancakes in the kitchen, humming mindlessly as I pour the mix into the pan. I hear footsteps, followed by a coarse morning voice.
“I estimated that it was about time to flip them now.” Troye says, leaning into the wall as if his body is too hard to carry upright.
“Just about.” I tell him as he rests his head on my shoulder to peer over and into the pan.
“That pancake is pathetic.” He spits, balancing out his acidic tone with a cute nudge of his head into the side of mine.
“Just because it’s not as big as all the other guys doesn’t mean it’s worth any less.” I tell him, before turning my head in a way uncomfortably owl-like to look at him. “Apologise right now.”
He rolls his eyes with a sigh. “I’m sorry-“
“Pete.”
“... Pete. Pancake Pete.” Troye giggles but I glare at him stonily.
“This is no laughing matter. Apologise more sincerely, please.”
“Uuuuugggh.”
I blink at him. “For me?” I beg in a baby voice. He grins and rolls his eyes back in a nod.
“Fiiiine, for you.” He clears his throat. “I’m sorry, Pete, for judging you on your size.”
I nod. “Better. I think he’s ready to flip now.” I pull the pan off the stove and begin to shake it in the air to loosen it.
“Wait. I should flip this one. As a bonding exercise,” Troye says, and I hand the pan over and stand back, spectating vigorously.
“Stop looking at my ass.” Troye chuckles, as if he could read my thoughts.
“Don’t flatter yourself.” I push him away with my fingertips, before crossing my arms and inspecting the pan.
“3, 2, 1... Oup!”
Pete turns over perfectly and lands square in the middle of the pan. I burst into applause, and Troye bows.
“Thank you, thank you-“
There is a splat noise as Pete cascades to the floor after slipping over the side of the tilted pan. Troye sees, and stops abruptly in mid-bow.
“... Oops.”
“I can’t believe you would betray Pete’s trust like that.” I tut disapprovingly, shaking my head. I see the Polaroid next to me, and decide now is a good time for a picture. I aim at Pete’s torn, helpless body and press the button, shaking the picture when it prints. When it is done, I see that I have managed to capture Troye’s foot to the left, looking irrelevant and out of place.
I turn it around and show him. “This is evidence that you killed a man.”
Troye sighs. “My mother will not love me after I tell her this.”
“I love you, you filthy sinner.” I pinch his arm, before pointing to a black sharpie next to him. “Pass me that.”
He hands it over. “Anything for you, my love.”
I snicker. “You smooth criminal.” I wink and nudge him as he gets stuck in an expression in the middle of ‘that was such a terrible joke’ and ‘that was the wittiest thing to have ever been said’.
I pick up the picture and put the pen lid to my lip, deciding what to write on the white space at the bottom. I scrawl it, and run for the book, slipping the second picture next to the first, the white of which I decided to leave blank. I show Troye the writing on the new picture, and he nods solemnly.
RIP Pete <3
***
#Pray4Pete2k14
This chapter was a lot longer than the first (thank god), and I expect most of them to be about this length. I'll try and keep my A/Ns shorter too, since the last one was waaay too long.
Feel free to vote and comment and stuff ^.^
Until next time, love and hugs, Maya xx
YOU ARE READING
Polaroids - Troyler
Fanfiction"Troye... Can we try something?" Tyler purchases a Polaroid camera just before Troye visits him in LA. So of course, Tyler sees it fit to put the two together, and document their time together in a more personal way. Expect fluff!
