-rainbow cookie, tracob

18,

-

It's easy for Jacob to fall into a routine with Troye. It's sort of like an exhale, to be in love with him, because it's the natural conclusion here. Inhale, and he's with Troye. Exhale and he's with Troye. There's nothing as natural as breathing, after all.

The only thing that changes is the way that now there are kisses, there are touches, there are fond glances that they weren't allowed to do before. It seems stupid, that Jacob was ever so full of caution that he wouldn't let this happen. It's just loving Troye. It's just breathing.

That's the only thing that changes, though. On the whole, their day-to-day life remains unaltered as they go about their routines of work and school and friends. Troye still insists on helping Jacob reach his full potential. Jacob still makes it a point to remind Troye he's a worthwhile human being.

"You're gorgeous," he tells Troye casually one day, when the younger boy has just woken up from a nap on Jacob's couch. He's a mess of curls and oddly-folded limbs with his shirt riding up around his chest and one sock completely missing. Jacob means what he says.

Troye is too sleepy to hold onto the words before they slip away. "Hmm?"

"I said you're gorgeous."

"Oh," Troye says with a blush, tugging his shirt down in sudden self-consciousness. "Erm, thanks."

"I'm serious, you are," Jacob gently insists. "You're the most beautiful person to ever sleep on my couch, and I've thrown a whole lot of parties that ended with people sleeps on my couch."

"You need to find more beautiful friends, then."

"You're not serious?" Jacob asks, even as he realizes that Troye definitely is. "Troye, you know I hate lying- would I lie to you about this?"

Troye's all seriousness now, sitting up on the couch and peering over at where Jacob is perched on the coffee table. He has a deep, worried frown on. "Well. No, I guess. But you could be, like, mistaken. Or biased. Or something."

Jacob matches his gravity. "I could be," he assents with a nod. "But I have facts on my side. Have you even seen yourself? It doesn't take an intellectual to realise that you're most definitely the prettiest boy in the world. Yeah?"

"Um. Yeah, but-"

Jacob seizes the opportunity and leans forward to cup his face with both hands. "Seriously, though, I can't get around it. I do honestly think you're the hottest guy I've ever seen, let alone called my boyfriend."

There isn't a response for a long time. Troye's doing that thing that he does whenever he's processing something new, where he stares at something off to the side with his brow furrowed for a few minutes with one hand picking at his bottom lip. This time the processing drags on for longer than usual, until finally Troye gives up and just looks at Jacob in confusion.

Of course Jacob understands the problem before Troye even does. "Did Thomas ever tell you that you were pretty?" he asks gently.

The usual wince. "No, never," Troye confesses after a moment. "He always told me that I was too... I dunno, too skinny. 'Scrawny' was the word he used, I think."

"You're literally more built than he was."

"Well I didn't always look this way," Troye retorts as he rolls his eyes. "I never worked out before I met him. I only started going to the gym because-" He trails off.

"Because...?"

"Because I thought if I did he would like me more," mumbles Troye.

The textbook-readied response was to tell Troye that healthy relationships don't require someone to change in order to be "good enough," but Troye already knew that Thomas wasn't healthy. Jacob's instinctual response was to say that Thomas had his head so far up his ass that nothing Troye tried would have ever won him affection, but Troye already knows that, too.