A Piece of Me (Tracob)

The right choice

*The following morning*

I'm running. There's a long slope, maybe a driveway or something, and at the bottom is a beach, bathed in the orange glow of a sinking sun. I want to get to the beach because it's warm and beautiful and safe there. Except that I'm already on the beach, running down sand dunes holding someone's hand. I'm not sure whose hand it is, because I can't turn my head. Something wet slides across my face and I stop running, confused. My head is warm. It smells weird here. That wet thing keeps licking my face-

"Nash, stop stop, gross, Nash," I push the dog away, groaning, and sit up. Jacob's standing at the foot of the bed, laughing.

"Sorry, I was going to pull him off of you, but I just found him like this, it was too funny. He wants you to get up and play with him, you've been in bed for 32 hours.

"God," I sigh. "My whole body feels like..." I trail off, unable to find the right words. It feels like I've had the flu on top of bronchitis and was also recently battered with large sticks.

Sore, I guess is the word I'm looking for. Very sore.

"But you're talking again," Jacob says brightly. "You didn't much, yesterday."

I rub my eyes. The previous day is foggy, memories hard to pin down. "Yesterday wasn't good," I mumble through my hands. "I don't even remember."

Jacob looks a little disappointed for second, before his brighter face flickers back into place. "You slept a lot. I did too, actually. I don't think it was a bad day, I think it was a-a rest day. For resting, you know?"

"A rest day for resting," I repeat, leaning back into the stack of pillows behind me. I raise my hand to my chest and prod tenderly at the large bandaged area covering it, wincing. "I think I re-opened the cut here somehow."

Jacob frowns. "Is it still bothering you? I should have changed it yesterday, but you were so sleepy, it was hard enough just to get you to drink water, I'm sorry. Do you want me to clean it and put a new dressing on it?"

I lean back further into the pillows and huff sulkily. I could say I'll do it myself, but I can't do it myself and Jacob knows that so he'll say 'Troye you can't do it yourself' and I'll say 'yes, I can' even though I know I can't and we'll just go back and forth. Before I can even open my mouth, Jacob tilts his head.

"Troye..."

"I know, I know, I can't do it by myself..."

"No, I was going to say I'm here to help you, but you have to let me."

"I do let you," I mumble, looking away from him. Jacob raises his fingertips to my cheek and traces the pad of his thumb over my face gently. It feels perfectly sweet and significant.

I want to hand myself over to my impulses when he touches me. The urge to hug him and hold him and kiss him until my lips go numb. I can never tell if it's simply a fleeting feeling, not really what I want, or if I'm just scared to give into it, but deep down it's exactly what I really want, what I need.

I went weeks hardly ever going near him, it didn't bother me, and now everytime I touch him, it's like a little spark travelling through me, easy to become addicted to. Everyday it's not enough, everyday I want more of him. It's like falling in love.

It's the first time I've thought of it in that way, and I find myself surprisingly unbothered by the idea of falling in love with Jacob. Maybe it's because deep down I know this isn't the first time. I know I've loved him intensely before, I loved him so much. I don't remember it, but I can feel it in my chest around him, the heaviness of it. Not heavy in a way that weighs me down, heavy in a way that I can feel so deeply how much I cared.