Open [boyxboy] ✓

nineteen:: when you just can't help yourself.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

And he still wasn't looking at me, he was checking the sizes on the clothes he'd tugged out and I watched him worry away at his bottom lip. Brown eyes flicked up and as soon as we locked stares again, Paul was smiling.

And I wanted him so bad, it took me by surprise but all I could think of was him now and I sincerely hadn't jerked off in so long, I hadn't had the desire to. Sleeping next to him every night did absolutely nothing but repress me and I was sure this was just a pre-warning before I exploded.

Our relationship status had never been more confusing and I was sure I couldn't ask him to fuck me again but God, I really wanted him.

I really, really, really wanted him.

His lips were moving before I knew it and he was talking, I barely caught onto the end, "-maybe I need to go with you."

"What?"

"To the gym." He was flicking his tongue out to wet his bottom lip  and I wasn't sure if the tension was only circulating me. "You look great, like, really good."

Fuck, he's so hot.

I was trying not to blush, wanting to respond back with something that wasn't so awkward because truthfully, compliments always made me flustered. And compliments from Paul, although an ego boost, had me wondering how he even gave me the time of day.

When he was almost perfect.

"Here," and he tossed me some grey joggers in a size large. I smiled slightly at the way his eyes averted from me as I looked down at the pants, holding them close to the situation in between my legs, "sorry, I forgot that you actually play sports and your calves are built like brick walls."

I'd almost forgotten about my boner at that point and now it was coming back with a vengeance, "Uh, thanks," I'd muttered, biting my lips so hard, they almost stung. I'd managed to nod at Paul and escape to his bathroom.

It would be an understatement to say that I felt shameful for contemplating jacking off in his bathroom before changing.

: : :

"Wow," had escape from Paul's lips, patient grin on his face when I'd entered his room again after changing. I stared down at my shuffling feet, nervously, trying to figure out what exactly he'd meant by that.

I couldn't help but think that his shirt was a little tighter than my normal t-shirts and was hugging my chest way too much. The pants kind of fit perfectly -which was surprising- but maybe Paul wouldn't appreciate me stretching his clothes.

"Does it look bad?" I'd voiced my thoughts, eyes trying to dissect what was wrong and why Paul was making that face at me. I crossed my arms, becoming really self-conscious of myself. I couldn't stop remembering that time Calum told me that my calves were too built for my skinny legs and I had the arms of a thirteen year old girl.

Of course, we were joking but with Paul staring me down, I tried to distract myself with how incredibly unbalanced my body was. With arms that were only barely-defined, legs that were a little too built, a long, skinny frame, and freckles scattered all over my body, I felt like nothing beside Paul.

He was perfect.

I felt his eyes on me and out of the corner of my eye, I could see him bashful let looking down, "No, it's just," looking up as seeking validation, I saw the small smile that crossed his face as he lent over to the his shoe, "You look really good in my clothes."

And I tried to smile at that, hoping it were true and I didn't look as stupid as I felt. Slipping into the roshes he'd tossed to me, I admired how he could completely ruin a shoe yet still have it look as artsy as his personality. They were black with some pain splatters that looked completely accidental but still beautiful nonetheless.