It used to be cute.
When John used to borrow his shirts, it was cute. When they were only thirteen or fourteen, and John hadn't hit his growth spurt, it was cute. They would have impromptu sleepovers, and John would end up borrowing Dave's shirt. At that age, Dave was taller than John, and his shirts were just a bit bigger. When John wore them, they sagged, and the sleeves were a bit too long, and it was all rather adorable.
It wasn't cute any more.
Now that John was almost a fully grown adult, he had filled out a lot. His shoulders had broadened; he had even developed a bit of muscle tone. Dave, on the other hand, had remained slim, although he had gotten taller. He still had a few inches on John, which he brought up often, leading John to tackle him, laughing, and pin him down with his greater body mass.
Now when John wore his shirts, they barely fit. They stretched tight across his chest and clung to his torso. John wasn't too big for the shirts to not fit, though, so he still wore them, on the occasion he forgot to bring his own shirt. Most of the time, he remembered a full set of clothes. Sometimes though, he would be getting dressed in the morning, and he would give Dave a sheepish look. He didn't even have to say it anymore- Dave would just go over to his closet and toss a shirt at John. He never complained. He never said anything about it, even though every time he would lend John a shirt, he would think to himself that it wasn't cute anymore.
It wasn't cute.
But he did like it.
