This is how it goes: It is a burning desire, a flame unquenchable; lips get chapped from pressing to lips too long, throats choke on the dark fumes rising up. It leaves skin charred to the bone- bones brittle, ready to snap- they snap under their weight- their weight, them, Jacob and Troye. Breaking synapses, memories, into laughter, they're building temples out of it. It hurts, of course it hurts. It has to hurt, to ache. Hearts, beaten and bruised, pounded into by some undefined amount of careless, unclean hands. Giving goods away when the debt is still present in the wreckage.
Its drum still throbs inside of your ribs, love fluttering to life, and it hurts. It hurts really fucking bad, but it's the kind of hurt no one regrets, the kind you would let batter you till the end, it's great. It's the equivalence to intoxication, and being too sober, and the crippling pain the first heartbreak gives. But the difference is, it's worth it. Because despite the feeling that someone is ripping a hole into your chest you have never felt fuller. Jacob loves Troye anyways, and Troye loves Jacob anyways. Because amongst all that really good hurt is this overwhelming emotion. A pride that comes with all of the temples you made out of words you spit, and all the spit that licked its way into your mouth to take away your words.
That feeling is this:
They stand beside each other, the door feet away, but the sign like headlights in eyes. Jacob tears his eyes from it to look at Troye, who is already looking at him.
"Ready?" Jacob asks quietly.
Troye bites his lip, and nods.
They both reach for each others hands at the same time, fingers clasping in lock, eyes glued to the large sign still.
"Wakefield Treatment Centre for Trauma and Abuse"
Jacob takes in a breath for both of them, and they walk inside.
**
Jacob always thought it was about finding that person who could say they love you and really mean it. It isn't. It's about finding that person who can make you feel like a person. It's about that inexplicable connection between your heart and your mind and that feeling you get when your eyes meet and they smile at you.
It always has something to do with the eyes. The eyes, but evermore their eyes - because they don't struggle to understand anything you do, instead, they already understand, sometimes, even without quite knowing yet. It's about looking into each other's eyes, though, and just getting it right. There's a gentleness, a tenderness; it floats around in each sweet, sweet exchange of glances. Understanding each set of thoughts without actually knowing, and then accepting whatever follows. That's the beauty of it.]
Jacob and Caspar graduated the next year from University with their different degrees. It came quick, swept them out from under their feet. One minute they're getting student refunds and blowing it on ridiculous things, dicking around on their skateboards and enjoying their boyfriends, and the next they're stepping off campus without much of a reason to ever come back. It almost felt like they're finally evolving into an official 'adult,' with no more classes, no more textbooks, and no more glorious, glorious student refunds. Fuck.
Graduation day is a flurry of tears and kisses and mums and way too many congratulations. They're trapped in their gowns and hats, and Caspar is so shy and humble, smiling at his family and at Joe and his family. Jacob on the other hand is fake yawning, and rolling his eyes, and sticking his tongue out at his little sisters despite Troye and Carrie's scowling faces.
There are plenty of photos taken, one of Jacob's favourite ones costing him a twenty. But now he has this beautiful photo of Caspar in his gown and cap, and Joe on his knees underneath it. They refused to take the photo in front of their parents, but Jacob already has plans to blow it up, frame it, and send it to their mums for Christmas. Sentimental value and all.
