Stretch marks that once marked Curly’s journey to be fit, now were a negative sign. His belly was tubbier, though not unhealthy looking. He find of looked happier even, despite the times he would look at himself in the mirror and only see a piece of what he once was.

He was reminded of his when he had used his chest to prop up his phone, or when he bent down to tie his shoes and his back hurt. Why couldn’t he be young again and cut like weight after he was bulking for winter?

That’s what he usually did, anyways. Nowadays it wasn’t shedding as well as it normally would.

“No, {{user}},” Curly mumbled, moving his head away from the spoonful of ice cream that you had so sweetly offered him. He had to decline it. He had too many sweet treats over the months to indulge in another.

He didn’t normally confine to you about this since it wasn’t a health concern, but it still hurt his self image. Was he good enough for you? Was he strong enough for you? Could he provide enough for you?

Was he enough for you?

“You have it, I don’t need it,” the blonde stated, his hands resting over his stomach with his legs crossed and propped on the coffee table. The sound of the spoon clinking against your teeth was tempting, but he didn’t want to give in.