sued into submission 🌷 tracob

4

Troye Sivan

It was much different than I expected. It was colder, sleeping outside. Colder and more intimidating. I mean it wasn't intimidating because it was dark out or anything, Bixenman's yard is always lit up like it's Christmas. It was intimidating because of the cars never seeming to stop zooming by and the insects all buzzing around me. They could surely find a way to kill me in my sleep. Gnaw on my skin or something. I don't know, okay, but I do feel vulnerable to the maximum.

I'm huddled up by the gates of his stupid mansion, rubbing my hands up and down my arms in attempt to warm my shivering body. It was only a matter of time until it got light out and the realisation of how little of sleep I'm ever going to get dawned on me. So when I heard Jacob clear his throat through the intercom by the gate, I flinched then groaned.

"Don't think I won't call the police, Mellet. You need to leave." His muffled voice through the speaker means little to nothing to me.

I ignore him, keeping quiet and still shuddering as the wind doesn't let up.

I didn't expect him to give up so easily so it wasn't a shock when I saw him in his pearly white car roll out the gates.

"You better be gone by the time I get back." He threatens.

I stare up at the grey gloomy sky, not giving him the satisfaction of a response. He huffs, rolling up his window and zooming out of his driveway and out of the neighbourhood. The bloke is probably off to some boring meeting he would usually bring me along with, making me feel all special like I was the only twink on earth. I couldn't care less anymore, he's the one that ruined my life.

When he did return later that evening around ten and saw that I was still there, he just clenched his jaw and glared at me. He punched in his gate code and sped into one of his many parking spaces in his oversized lot. I didn't expect him to come back, but when he did only standing in knickers, then I was surprised. He threw a blanket soft like cashmere at me and turned right back around, walking back to his house. I should have made him stop, I should have thanked him. Instead, I curled up into the blanket and got a few hours of shut eye.

Days passed, I stayed in my spot outside the gates of Jacob Bixenman's house, cold, hungry, and feeling a tad sniffly. It's to be expected. I'm a diabetic and without my insulin and carbs I need, my body is shutting down. Usually I'd be running to the loo having to relieve my bladder but since I haven't had water in over seventy-two hours, I've stopped having to urinate as well. My skin has started to pale and my curls have gotten more and more tangled.

Let's face it, I'm going downhill. I should just leave already and go find a homeless shelter. This is getting pathetic.

"Mellet," Jacob calls.

Shutting my eyes, I listen to him step up to me, his heeled shoes clacking against the pavement.

"Hmm?" I hum out.

"You're still here."

I peek my eyes open, seeing the suited up bloke giving me a stern look. With his hands tucked in his pockets and his hips jutted forward as he stands on the backs of his feet, I curse myself for biting my lip desirably.

"Mhm."

"You're scaring off my clients, you know?" He chews on the inside of his cheek, almost looking at me with a dash of sympathy. Almost. It's clearly forced, this is Jacob Bixenman we're talking about.

"It's your fault I'm out here, you know?" I retort, crossing my arms and looking out at the road in front of us.

"I've been kind enough not to call the police, don't sass me, Mellet."