Troye's pov

In My Bed: Amy Winehouse

I lay on my bed alone, staring at thousands of pixels on a screen coming together and forming words I look too far into. Or maybe I'm looking just far enough. Those three words from the contact I thought I blocked ages ago. How did you find me again? Why did you come to me? Why after all this time?

"I miss you."

Why would you text me that of all things?

"Marie, get out of my head." I mumble, rolling over on top of my duvet.

I stare out the sliding glass doors in my room leading to the balcony and decide I should put a miniature table and chairs there. I should also block my ex-girlfriend's number again.

"Wish I could say it breaks my heart, like you did in the beginning." Amy muses from the speaker of my mobile, calming my anxious thoughts as the sky casts grey a gloomy Sunday evening. 

"It's not that we grew apart, a nightingale no longer singi-" She is cut off by David Bowie, making me sit up instantly and stare down at my phone.

"What the-?"

A call. It's just a call.

"Jacob?" I ask, bringing the phone to my ear.

"I'm going out for tea, would you care to join me?"

...

Lightning bolts down on the body of water in front of us as we sip our tea, thunder hounding all throughout the two-story café. We're sat alone on the second story in front of a window, looking over what is usually a blissful canal connecting to River Thames. Today, it's absolute chaos.

"She's beautiful today." Jacob murmurs, setting his cup down on his saucer placed in front of him.

"She?" I inquire.

He nods, eyes casted out towards the window, the constant sparks of lightning lighting up his features.

"The storm is female?"

"The storm is female." He responds in seconds, seeming so very fascinated by the sky.

"You know, for an asshole football player, you sure do have a different side unlike them. A side where you like shit like tea with your family and nature." I pause, realising what I'm doing, "I don't know, I guess it's pretty cool."

He lets out a forced chuckle, "Cool that I'm not an emotionless stuck up twat?"

I nod, "Mhm."

He picks his cup up and sips it, looking up and sighing, "Alright."

I mirror his actions and cross a leg over another, the floor then seeming much more interesting than anything else going on. 

"Yeah," I mumble, coming to a blank for words. 

Why did I even say that? 

"You alright?"

"I'm fine," I say far too quickly, only making him suspicious, "Sorry."

He sets his cup down and waves me off, "It's fine."

"Well, you know, back at you." He adds, "I mean with having 'another side' and all. You're not just an antisocial loser, you're also an antisocial loser that dances and sings like no one else is there and hey, I can definitely say you're a pretty good fuck."

My eyes widen and I gulp down my tea obnoxiously, unintentionally slamming the cup down on the saucer in front of me. 

"Thanks." I mutter.

"Mhm, you should know you're allowed in my bedroom too." ... "You should come visit sometime."

-

a/n: (sorry this chapter is kinda shit) my boyfriend was the biggest distraction while i was writing this like can you pretty please stop being the most perfect cute angel baby that has ever existed????????????? maybe for like five minutes then back you go to angelic sweetheart pls n thx oh my fod (hes watching me type this right now)