sued into submission 🌷 tracob

6

a/n: i'm writing this while in a moving van wassup (it's so bumpy and it's four am rip)

Troye Sivan

"Don't you need to eat after taking insulin?" He asks on the car ride back to his place. His car I've always despised, with its decorative interior and how sharp and prestige it always looks. I just hate it. But today it doesn't seem so bad.

"Um, yeah..." I whisper, staring out the tinted window.

He takes a sharp right turn into a drive through, strumming his fingers over the steering wheel.

"Jac- Mr Bixenman- uh it's fine." I stutter out, my cheeks lighting up like a flame.

"Don't worry about it," I add, my eyes now darting around the vehicle.

It's no use trying to stop him, he simply ignores my request and pulls up to the intercom.

"What do you want?" He asks while scanning over the options.

"Mr Bixenman," I try. I don't need his help... at least I wish I didn't. "It's fine."

He rolls his eyes and rolls down his window, "Excuse me, what's the most sugary sweet thing on your menu?"

"Um... we've got this new shake that has been claimed as 'diabetes in a cup'. It's just chocolate upon chocolate upon chocolate with a dash of carmel and brownie." The worker chirps.

"Offensive, I love it. I'll have two of those and two salads please." He mutters and fishes through his coat, pulling out his wallet. His Gucci fucking wallet. Only he would pay seven hundred pounds for a wallet. He opens it up to reveal his picture he changes every two months, a few cards probably holding a good million quid or two, and cash he always keeps at hand.

"Alright, that will be seven pounds at the window." She informs.

Ja- Mr Bixenman nods though it isn't seen by anyone but me, and drives up a metre or two to the window with a young looking ginger waiting for us. He flashes her a charming smile and hands her a twenty.

"Keep the change." He winks and closes his wallet, storing it away in his cashmere coat pocket.

The girl blushes and averts her gaze, smiling and thanking him while retrieving the food.

"Thank you," I croak, my throat feeling awfully scratchy. He turns to me, his eyes scanning up and down my body.

"You okay?" He asks.

I nod, swallowing the iron-tasting blood down my throat and letting out a small cough to relieve the itchiness. It grows worse, making me slouch over a bit and hack my lungs out, aka cough up more and more blood until my palm is sticky and painted in red.

"I'm dropping you off at the house, you are to rest. I will go fill your prescriptions, get you shit you need, and get you better. Alright?"

"Alright," I whisper, leaning back on the seat and rubbing my icky hand on the trousers he lent to me.

"Any other illnesses I should know about or are we clear?" He questions while the lady struts back to us with two shakes and a brown bag wrapped around the salads. He mutters a thank you and takes the goods, speeding off before she could embarrass herself and try to talk to him. Jacob Bixenman doesn't do flirting. He would shut her down in seconds and skip on to the next lad or lady to fluster. It's just what he does, it's his nature.

"Just diabetes and pneumonia as far as I know... my family had a history of liver problems though. Probably just because behind closed doors they were drunks and addicts though." I laugh bitterly, taking the bag with open arms as he tosses it onto my lap. He sits the drinks in between his thighs, him having one of the most expensive cars on the lot but it having no cup holders.

He nods and shrugs, "Same here, what was their poison?"

I raise my brows, unaware his parents were the same. His life isn't actually perfect? Jacob Bixenman has actually gone through something other than a Gucci hand bag?

"Cheap rum and heroin, sometimes they'd do both on bad nights." I think back to the nights when my parents found out their firm was going to shit and started bringing home bottles of liquor. When they lost their business and started going downhill. When Dad went off the rails and brought home cocaine, Mum deciding to dabble in a bit too. It only escalated from there. Expensive bottles of liquor and cheap cocaine soon turned into a few quids worth of rum and 90% toxic waste/10% whatever the hell heroin is made out of. I wouldn't know, I left every time they took it out. I'd come back hours later when they were strung out and stay up looking after them. Then come morning they wouldn't remember a thing and act like nothing happened.

No matter how fucked up they were though, they still did get me through college and buy me my first flat. It's too bad Dad committed last year. Mum sure does miss him, but at least she started cutting down on the drugs and began going to AA meetings. She's getting help.

"How about you? What about your parents?" I inquire.

He looks to me and shakes his head, "That's for me to know and you to never find out."

"Now, let's see how fast this thing can go."

Pretty fast, I soon found out. When he hit eighty in a forty road and were back to his place within ten minutes, that's how soon I found out.

Mr Bixenman rushed me in the house with the food and drinks, stating that he'll be back within half an hour with medicine and to put his food in the refrigerator. And so that's exactly what I did. I put his salad and shake in the fridge and ate in the kitchen, standing up by the counter. Quite unappealingly, I scarfed down the salad within two minutes and sucked down the shake within three. It was almost sad how quick that was. I tossed my rubbish and stood in the kitchen. My tummy still rumbles for more, yelling at me to eat every last thing in this house. Though, I do have some self-control and block out the sickening feeling in my belly. I trudge up the stairs to the guest room and do as told, getting into the bed and resting. a/n: resting sounds too good rn, i'm so tired man

The memory foam mattress feeling like the puffiest cloud in the sky, there's no kidding when I tell you that when my back hit the bed I was out. My body just gave up and went limp, forcing me to fall asleep. And so that's what I did. I fell asleep dreaming of the other puffy clouds in the sky.