Gods & Monsters

XXVIII

Jacob swallows. He knows what's coming.

"Yeah?"

"Why... Why don't you talk to your family?"

Instantly, Jacob's stomach muscles tighten. He doesn't dare breathe, just for one moment, just for a moment as he collects his thoughts, assembles words and images into a coherent line of thought. Of explanation. Of...excuses.

"Troye..."

"Look," Troye says, lifting himself atop his elbows. He looks down at Jacob, frown lines etched deep, bringing a hand to rest atop Jacob's heart. Just resting it there, cautious and sweet. Just there. "You don't have to tell me, you know you don't. But... Maybe, like, if you never told anyone... Maybe if you talked about it, it wouldn't be so scary?"

"It's not scary," Jacob clips immediately, lips tight.

Troye falls quiet, blinking downwards.

"I'm sorry," Jacob breathes immediately, pinching his eyes shut. "That was—I'm sorry. It's just. It's difficult. It is scary."

"It's scary to admit things are scary," Troye says quietly, and his shoulders are tight and his eyes look nervous which is... Not okay.

Sighing, Jacob rubs his hands over the tight muscles, breathing through his nose as he slowly feels them relax, feeling his heart pump against Troye's palm.

"You wouldn't like me if you knew the truth," he says quietly. He says it to the air, hoping it shoots upwards and over troye's head, too fast for him to catch.

Troye catches it, though.

"I would," he protests. He sounds so sure.

"You might not," Jacob reasons. He swallows again. Why is his throat so dry? "But I'll tell you."

There's one heavy moment of silence, filled only with Troye's breathing, respectful eyes, and the calming pressure of his hand.

Jacob clears his throat. "So. I, uh. I have five siblings. And Carrie. Carrie's my...uh, my mom. Basically... Basically, I left Her and the siblings, years ago. I left them one night. Just walked out while they were all sleeping—" His voice betrays him, wavering hideously. He tries to swallow again but it's more difficult so he clears his throat again instead, blinking up at Troye's white ceiling, flickering orange from the candles. "I walked out on them because I had too much responsibility and I didn't want any of it. So I never talked to Mom about it. I left instead." He breathes harder, harsher, determined not to let his eyes... No.

He doesn't fucking cry, okay? He hasn't in so long, he can't remember when. He likes that, he likes not feeling, not crying, for fuck's sake.

He continues, determined and emotionless. Troye's fingers press into his chest, his breath quiet. "They adored me. All five of them. Adored me almost as much as I adored them. And so I read them their favorite story—this stupid picture book about flower fairies or something. The villain's this spider-lady. She's bloody terrifying." He huffs a humorless laugh. "So I read it out loud, as I always did. Did all the voices and that." He smiles then, lips sad and hard. "My bag was already packed in me room." His smile fades. A black feeling begins bleeding through him, originating from the center of his body. "I kissed them, each one, on their foreheads as I always did—I was a proper good brother, mind. I was good. Until, you know, the part where I abandoned them."

He feels cold. Utterly fucking cold. And sick.

Face and throat itchy, he turns onto his side, Troye tumbling behind him, hand ripped away from his heart.

"I never said anything to Mom. Just... Opened her door. I wasn't sure if I was going to wake her or maybe just... Say goodbye? But I didn't do anything. Just opened the door. Saw her. Closed it. Then left. That's all. I went to my room and took my shitty bag of nothing and I left, Troye. No word, no contact, no note... That was it."