Gods & Monsters

XXI

"That was so fucking amazing!" Troye's saying, probably for the tenth time, arms outstretched and pointed upwards towards the night sky, fingers reaching up, up, up.

It's funny because Jacob's never heard him swear before, but tonight he's just letting the expletives fly from his moist lips, his body flushed and bright as the sweat dries from his flesh in the cold air. Maybe it's the drink. Maybe it's something else.

"You liked them?" Jacob asks, grinning, watching from a few steps away with an amused grin. His hands are in his pockets and his neck prickles with the licks of the sharp air lapping up the residual moisture there, but he pays it little mind as he watches troye in this moment—this bright, sweet creature he's never quite seen before.

After the set was over, they'd opted to pop outside for air while everybody else rammed their bodies back to the bar and, honestly? It was the best fucking decision ever. Because it allowed Jacob to see Troye burst out into the night, the door swinging wildly behind him, his hair billowing around him in rays, laughing like a fucking maniac as his feet hit the pavement and he ran, just ran. Of course, Jacob followed after him wordlessly, praying that dylan wouldn't see (Jacob never runs, ever) as he huffed his ass forward, the laughter soon becoming infectious. They were still damp and sticky and pumped with blistering melodies and they were probably disgusting, probably stunk just awfully, but it didn't matter, did it? Not when Troye threw his arms out and spun in a circle, face cracked open with spilling laughs as the moon bathed his face. It didn't matter when Jacob was out of breath and watching him with quieter laughs, when Troye kept looking to him, just to look. Just to let their eyes slot together, before gazing back up and spilling more praises and obscenities that sounded insane but felt like they made sense.

And now here they are, twenty minutes later, in the same exact fucking spot. And Jacob just continues to stare, wondering if his pupils look like black holes, the same way Troye's do. They're outside of the pub, far enough away from the smokers to be secluded, close enough to hear the drifts of their laughter. The street's empty and, from this spot, you can see the glimmer of the river that lies ahead, across from the train tracks.

"I loved them," Troye shouts, words lifted in a half-laugh, as he whirls around, hands loose in the air as he nearly stumbles over his own feet. "I've never been to a gig before. Never seen a band or any live act. It was... It was amazing, Jacob." He directs his smile to him, throwing it with the force of a grenade; it lodges in Jacob's chest and explodes upon impact, sending him into a billion, trillion tiny pieces.

Troye looks so rowdy and proud of himself.

Jacob can only laugh, blood pumping.

"You're certainly in rare form tonight," he comments, walking up to the boy before he even registers it, just because Troye has a pull and tonight Jacob's letting himself be pulled. He reaches out a hand when he approaches him, brushing down the wilder strands of Troye's hair, tucking bits behind his ear and untangling them from his eyelashes.

Troye stills, his smile whispering away as he watches, eyes soft and cutting at the same time, reflecting the silver of the moon.

"Thank you," he says quietly, still a little out of breath, and his lips look burnt from the cold.

Jacob lets his hand fall. "For what?" he asks curiously.

"For taking me here. For everything." Troye shrugs. "Just. Thank you?"

Jacob nods, heart pinched and body humming. "Thank you," he says back, and Troye's eyes flicker with surprise, but he doesn't question it, instead reaching out to take Jacob's hand, hot and cold mixing together.

It feels terrifying for a flash of a moment, but then it's gone, and Jacob grips Troye's hand back. No thinking tonight. Just fun. Just Troye. Just them.