Chapter Seventy

“Yes, Roth, can you please come to my room and help me? I have injured my foot.” He said softly.

There was a brief silence on the line, in which Tristan could only hear his own breathing, followed by an alert and wide-awake concerned exclamation from Roth, “How even? Alright, you don’t move, I’ll be right there.”

Tristan took care to hide Roth’s picture under the covers before he arrived in his room. The condition of Tristan’s room was far from well-kept, the clothes from last night were still sprawled on the floor, mixed with Tristan’s own clothes from the day before that he had just left there to tidy up in the morning.

Roth had a worried expression on his face as he entered the room. Not even stopping to take in the condition of the room, he rushed straight to Tristan’s side, “What happened? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just twisted my ankle I guess.” Of course he couldn’t tell him the truth. Roth was now removing the covers from Tristan’s body, disclosing an only boxers-clad Tristan