Gods & Monsters

XXXI

"Yeah, mate, no problem," Alex says slowly, almost suspiciously. He pauses. "But, Jacob, this honestly isn't necessary—"

"No, it is," Jacob insists, looking over at him long enough for Alex's mouth to shut. "It's more than necessary. And, uh. Well, if it's no trouble, I've been thinking..." He shuffles around a bit, stalling because he's not good at asking things. The back of his neck is itchy and he may or may not have a wedgie. His feet are cold. The carpet beneath him has an orange stain on it.

Alex waits expectantly, eyebrows still lost in his hair, money still sitting rumpled in his hand.

Jacob clears his throat, adopts a strong posture. Just suck it up. "I've been wondering if, maybe, this could be a bit more regular. Me crashing here every night, that is. If you're cool with it. I'll start paying half rent, naturally—"

"Half rent?, Jacob, that's not—"

"I will be paying half rent," Jacob continues, firmer, "and I'll help out with... Ya know. Flat shit. Or whatever. If you want. Up to you."

God, he's shit with words. Maybe he does need to go back to school after all...

Silent seconds pass, carried on by the breeze outside. It rattles gently at the windows, making a sound that Troye would probably insist as being "the wind purring" or something. He says things like that, he says all those precious little things. Jacob writes every single one of them down in his journal because he's so entertained by them. Which is fairly funny, considering that Troye got that for him so Jacob could write his own thoughts; and he does, don't get him wrong—but Troye's quite a large chunk of Jacob's thoughts now. So his journal's just as much as Troye as it is himself and he thinks that probably says a lot, says everything, and it's something that he surprisingly doesn't mind.

At last, Alex speaks.

"Yeah, mate. Yeah. That'd be brilliant, yeah," he nods, still clearly shocked, his eyes wider than Jacob's accustomed to seeing. It makes him snort a laugh which, in turn, makes Alex laugh too. "Yeah," he says again, this time a little less taken aback. "Sounds fun, Jacob. I appreciate the help, mate. You can stay as long as you like. I can clear out that tiny room I use as my closet—"

"Nah, the couch is good," Jacob promises, flashing a casual thumbs up as he slips on his shoes. "Honestly. I just need a couch. Sleep better on them after all these years, anyway."

But Alex's looking at him doubtfully. "Are you sure?"

"Quite." Pause. "But thank you."

It makes Alex huff out another laugh as he turns the doorknob. "You're welcome." He shakes his head, pulling it open. "You really have become the noble little gent as of late, haven't ya? Must be the married life. Settled you down."

Married life, jesus.

But Jacob successfully manages to swallow down his hints of self-consciousness, instead adopting an easy smile accompanied by a bow of the head. "I'm just a boring old man now," he smirks, just as Alex steps outside.

He receives a good-natured laugh in return before the door shuts.

**

Everything is sort of a casual mess right now.

It all just consists of Jacob quietly unraveling at the seams. It's Dylan and Jed being the exact same, all peaceful and prophetic and bright-meets-dark together. It's Troye going to school and studying and rambling about his growing passions while Jacob works shifts at the pub, sweet-talking his tips and working his ass off because it feels good. It's the clock ticking in every fucking room that Jacob enters. It's a sun that always sets, usually when Jacob's in the Sivan household, wearing clean socks on his feet. It's Troye being...everything. The most essential parts of Jacob, at least. And it's time running out.