sued into submission 🌷 tracob

29

Troye Sivan

"Bix!" I call out, jumping to my feet.

"What the fuck? Let me out!" I exclaim, walking to the door.

I hear his nervous chuckle, "Trust me, it's for the best."

"Might wanna stay away from the window too, don't know if anyone's lurking there." He adds, only frustrating me further.

"Tell me what's going on." I demand, much too bold for him.

He sighs sharply, "Watch it. I'm only looking out for you."

I sigh right back, leaning against the bedroom door, "Well it looks and feels like you're only shutting me out and locking me away."

"I'm sorry." He whispers.

His shoes then tap away, signalling him leaving me alone to a room I will surely lose my mind in.

Half an hour later, I've started pacing.

I shouldn't check the window, he made me too nervous to. Should I?

"I don't know," I mumble under my breath.

I walk to the bed and climb over, my fingers fidgety as I sneak my thumb over the curtain and pull it back the slightest. Peeking out, my eyes expand and I quickly close the curtain again, dropping back down to the bed and pressing my back against the headboard, scared to be seen.

"What the fuck?"

There's someone in the garden. Why is there someone in the garden? Why is there a van in the driveway? People out front, cameras rolling.

"Oh my fucking god." I utter.

Without a second thought, I get back up and run to the door.

"Someone let me out!" I shout.

Almost silent steps back to the door, Mr Bixenman clears his throat.

"Keep your voice down." He murmurs.

I set a hand on the doorknob, "I will break this door."

An empty threat, as I am much too weak to do such a thing, is thankfully enough to piss him off.

"I'll break your neck."

"Let me out." I mutter.

"Why would you want out?" He inquires, "Why would you want to see that? What they're saying."

Pressing my forehead against the door, I sigh, "I don't want to see."

"... I don't want to be alone," I admit.

"Troye..."

A flip of a lock, and nudge of the door, he opens his arms and waits as I step forward and into his embrace. I wrap my arms around him tight, hiding my face in his suit.

"Why do they care so much about publicity? A headline?" I ask, my voice muffled from his suit jacket.

He rubs my back, hands around me protectively, "It's their job. They're getting their next paycheck off of your misery and humiliation."

"It's not fair..." I whisper.

"Hm?" He asks, not catching my words.

I lean back, revealing my already teary-eyed self.

"It's not fair. I don't see why this has to be a headline. Why can't other things be put on blast? Like that drug bust case you just helped close or- or that lawsuit against Trump? Isn't that enough?" I rhetorically ask out as he just stands there growing dewy-eyed.