Troye Sivan
Waking up feels like a hangover today. Why? Because I still feel drunk off last night but also regret my every action. I groan and snuggle my head under the soft blankie, shielding my eyes from the harsh sunlight and Mr Bixenman's housekeeper.
"You've got to get up at some time, kid, I've got to make the bed and clean up in here." She chirps, dusting off the already perfectly clean and polished chests of drawers.
I groan in response, peeking my head out, "I've told you before, you work for him, not me. You don't have to clean up after me."
She sighs, "This is a room in his house, therefore it's a room I am required to keep up to his standards."
"So pip-pip, how about you get up and make yourself a cuppa... get started on your day." She persuades, tugging on the blanket.
I fuss, getting up and keeping the blanket and sheets wrapped around my body. I look like a scene out of Monsters Inc. with my bedhead of curls, drained-looking eyes, yet still small and tiny body cocooned in a blankie. As I make a move to step out of the room, the housekeeper pulls off the blanket, making me spin in circles and pout.
She leaves the sheet be, most likely knowing fully well what Mr Bixenman and I were up to last night. I snuggle the sheets up closer to my shoulders and pat my feet out of the room smelling of sex, sweat, and mashed potatoes. Yeah, maybe she did need to tidy up in there.
The little pitter-pattering of my feet are all that's heard as I make my way downstairs until I walk to the kitchen to find a casual looking Mr Bixenman. It's baffling, to say the least, this is the least suited up I've ever seen him in my life, and he's still in a button up and trousers. He chuckles when his eyes land upon mine and turns to the kettle steaming away on the stove. I didn't know he actually made his own tea, I thought he had lines of the best tea makers all around the world to make it for him. Tea makers? Not the best name I could come up with.
Anyway, I sit down on a stool on the island and watch him.
"No clothes today?" He asks.
I rest my elbow on the counter and hold my cheek in my palm, "No clothes today."
He picks out two cups from his cabinet and sets them on the counter next to him.
"Are you alright up here?" He questions, gesturing to his head.
"I'm alright."
He pours tea for each of us and hands me a cup, keeping his eyes on the cup and the cup only.
"Take your insulin and pills once you're finished." He mutters and takes his cup, walking around the island counter and sitting down two stools over from me.
"And take a shower, you smell awful." He adds.
I nod, sipping the tea and holding back from rolling my eyes. For once, I saw right through him. It would be too kind of him to act like he cared so he finished it off with an insult to feed his ego. It's alright though, I've grown used to it and it doesn't bother me anymore.
He finishes his cuppa within minutes and sets his dish by the sink, sighing and walking off to his bedroom. I sit there and sip on the scalding hot tea for much longer, letting my mind buzz in thought.
Eventually, I do get up and do as he ordered, taking my meds and heading into the washroom of the guest room. I decide on a bath this time though, starting up the water and watching water pool at the tub while I let the sheet slip off of my body that's slowly but surely starting to flourish. I'm starting to return back to my old self in little bits, I've even gotten my curls to calm down and bounce back to their normal smooth shine.
Slipping into the mostly cold tub, that being the old way I can tolerate it, I sigh and rest my head back. Water continues to tumble into the tub until it's up to my chin, nearly about to flood out onto the floor. I twist the knobs until the water shuts off and lean back in the tub, sinking down underwater.
I stare at the good foot of water above me and hold my breath, slowly blinking and admiring the world from this point of view. It's breathtaking, quite literally. My hair sways around in the water, peeking into the corners of my vision. I stay under until my lungs hurt, begging for oxygen.
Floating back up, I sigh as my chocolatey hair sticks to my forehead, covering a good fraction of my view. I stare at the water now below and in front of me, my eyes catching my own body. I crack a smile, running my fingertips along my bones that still poke out at my sides.
I remind myself that I'm still recovering and sigh, shimmying back down the water until my ears are covered. I listen to the buzzing life underwater, mostly just hearing my hands hit the sides of the tub as they float back and forth.
I do end up actually getting myself clean and up to Mr Bixenman's standards after a while. As I drain the tub and get out, I pat myself dry and wrap a soft towel around my body. I didn't expect to have a shoe-tapping and suited up Mr Bixenman waiting for me when exiting the washroom, but I've started to expect the unexpected.
"Strip for me."
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a/n: it dawned on me today that there could be/are hundreds to thousands of stories in this fandom's drafts that their authors are too afraid of posting... and like honestly.. just do it! so what if it's absolute shite! so what if you can't get it written just how you like for the life of you! so what if only a dozen people read it! as long as it's yours and it's genuine, that's all that should matter. so if you happen to be someone uncertain as to whether or not you should just post this one story or not, just do it! you have literally got nothing to lose! also, tag me in it or like link me up if you want me to check it out. i'm up 'n down for anything. love you kiddos xx
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sued into submission 🌷 tracob
Fanfiction"troye sivan, you've been served." the man in a black coat says, handing me a folder. i clench my jaw, taking it. "all i did was spill a coffee on the bloke, it's not like i fucked his mother in hindsight."
