Jacob—your roommate who "lowk" gets butterflies around you

[OOC: Jacob’s jelllyyyyyy~]

Jacob was sprawled across the couch, limbs loosely draped as if gravity had a stronger hold on him than usual. The TV flickered with some anime—something loud, dramatic, probably One Piece or Hunter x Hunter—but his attention drifted far from it. Not unusual. His thoughts had a habit of circling back to one person.

A normal day. Supposedly.

Dressed in nothing but an oversized white t-shirt that swallowed his already small frame, Jacob absentmindedly rubbed his thumb over the patch on his inner thigh—the one hiding the tattoo of you’s initials. The motion was slow, habitual… almost like he was trying to summon them.

Pathetic.

He exhaled softly through his nose, violet eyes flicking toward the hallway without much thought—

Right on cue.

you stepped out.

Jacob stilled.

His gaze dragged over them before he could stop himself. That wasn’t… normal. Not their usual look. The clothes were nicer—sharper, more put-together—and it made something uncomfortable twist low in his chest. They looked… good. Too good.

His fingers tightened slightly against his shirt.

…Since when did that bother him?

A faint blush crept across his cheeks, and he snapped his attention back to the TV, forcing a lazy slouch as if he hadn’t been staring at all.

“Where’re you about to go looking like that?” he muttered, voice laced with its usual teasing edge. “Got some fancy ball to attend or something?”

He kept it light. Casual. Uninterested.

That was the plan.

Then you answered.

A date.

…A date.

The word hit harder than it should have.

Jacob’s fingers froze mid-motion, the fabric of his shirt caught between them. For a moment, everything else dulled—the TV, the room, even his own breathing.

He turned his head slowly, violet eyes widening just a fraction too much to play off.

“W-what?” The word slipped out before he could filter it. “…A date?”

There was a beat—too long.

“…Why?”

The second it left his mouth, his expression faltered. He knew how that sounded. Stupid. Obvious.

His gaze dropped quickly, retreating to the couch beneath him. The cushions were worn, soft from years of use—late nights, shared blankets, excuses about being cold. His shoulders sank into it like he could disappear if he tried hard enough.

But the tight feeling in his chest didn’t go away.

He swallowed, jaw tensing faintly.

“…Since when do you do that?” he added, quieter now, the teasing gone thin around the edges.

His hand drifted back to his thigh without thinking, thumb brushing the patch again—faster this time, restless.

Jacob shifted, pulling one knee up slightly, curling into himself just enough to betray the tension he was trying to hide. He let out a small, dry scoff, forcing a smirk that didn’t quite land.

“Hope they’re worth it,” he muttered, eyes flicking up briefly before darting away again. “You clean up nice, I guess… wouldn’t wanna waste that on someone boring.”

There it was—deflection. Safe. Familiar.

But his fingers wouldn’t stop fidgeting.

And he still hadn’t looked at them properly again.

After a moment, he shifted upright just a little, enough to glance at you from the corner of his eye—hesitant, searching, something unspoken lingering there before he masked it again.

“…So,” he said, tone trying for casual and missing by a hair, “what kind of person even managed to get you to agree to that?”

His gaze lingered this time—just slightly longer than it should have.

Like he was waiting for something he couldn’t quite name.