Sway, Part One
Title: Sway
Author: Desinere (Lyssa)
Pairing(s): Chyan, Mentioned Troyella
Rating: PG-13
Warning(s): Slash… I think that’s pretty much it. :o Well, I guess angst too.
Part One:
Ryan closed his eyes, smiling to himself. He was dancing in one of the empty dance studios of Lava Springs. Step, step, turn, step, step, and slide… His feet were on a constant loop, repeating the moves from number one.
The background noise of Michael Bublé’s infamous song, Sway, urged his feet on, and kept him thinking over and over again. It was the pillar for all things morose and disheartening he felt, and he took to it like a fish to water.
He didn’t care that he was alone, or that he probably looked incredibly ridiculous to any passerby who happened to come along. He just needed peace, and whenever yoga didn’t inspire that within him, he turned to dance and music. They never, ever let him down.
His heart was so empty, so hollow, even though it beat-beat-beat to the rhythm of his feet, and he never knew such pain and void-related feelings could exist within such an optimistic person as himself. An Evans, especially Ryan Evans, never felt heartaches, sadness, or anything of the sort! Of course, he had his moments, but they were fleeting moments he liked to wave hello-and-goodbye to. He was an actor, after all, and acting, covering up real emotions, was a trait he’d picked up easy.
Of course, sometimes acts are hard to keep rolling.
That’s why, whenever he saw the fleeting glances that were shared between Troy and Gabriella, when they thought no one but themselves existed, or whenever he heard them giggling with each other and sharing little kisses during their lunch break, he felt like he’d been stabbed through his chest, right where his heart should be.
But Ryan Evans didn’t feel with his heart. At least, not anything resembling desire, love, et cetera. Of course, he felt things like pride and joy and succession, but that was merely whenever he was on the stage, in the limelight (he liked to pretend his sister wasn’t sharing it with him).
He denied that his heart beat with hope and horribly misplaced faith at the sight of Chad. Chad, who would grin at him whenever everyone else’s eyes were averted. Chad, with whom Ryan spent some of the most intimate of moments with behind closed, locked doors. Chad, who… who was there, always there.
He was what Ryan wanted, what Ryan had. Sure, he had Chad in secret, just for fun as he had put it when they first started seeing each other in the hardly-used pool supply room of Lava Springs, but that didn’t mean he had the frilly-haired boy. He didn’t have a claim on his status; he could go on and date and couple up without seeming wrong. Well, wrong to anyone but Ryan’s eyes.
Whenever he saw Chad wrap his one arm around Taylor’s shoulder in a half-embrace, he felt his blood boil, his feelings numb, his smile tighten. He felt his fingers tighten into fists, his brain turn to a sizzling mass of gooey, pink mush; his lungs cease to fill or deflate with oxygen. He felt an array of things, and he always promptly left the area whenever Chad and Taylor’s moments occurred.
He, Ryan Evans, wanted love, as loathe as he was to admit, and he wanted it with the dunderheaded, insensitive, using, bastard of a jock that was Chad Danforth.
At that final, concrete thought, the conclusion that was annoyingly buoyant Ryan had constantly come up with during his time in the empty dance studio, he would always frown, hesitate in his steps, stop for a few rounds, and then he would will himself to start back up, to rethink everything and give his information at hand a once-over because, as far as he was concerned, he could not, would not, would never let himself fall in such a death trap as love.
Love was the sickening product of media, of the greed of money, of something to believe in. love had to exist because, if it didn’t what other hope was there? What more was there to achieve for an average human?
He sighed to himself out of sheer frustration and crawling acceptance because who could he kid? He knew he was in… love… but he was just too overly stubborn to admit it, even to himself. He didn’t want to get hurt again, to be crushed by the anvil-like qualities of rejection. He didn’t want weakness. He wanted the benefits of such an imaginative idea.
When marimba rhythm starts to play…
The speakers of the rather large music playing system said in the deep, velvety voice that was Michael Bublé. He blinked; just how many times had this song been repeating itself? He must’ve been here for a long time, because he remembered hearing the song-the only song on the CD itself-at least ten times. He set the stereo on repeat, so that his dance-inspiring songs never ended.
He closed his eyes as the lyrics proceeded on like a marching band, smiling to himself. He imagined hands holding on securely like the only two hooks that kept him in what was reality, holding his waist with a kind of protectiveness and ownership that sent thrills coursing through his veins. His Mind’s Eye saw light brown, strong arms pulling him closer, closer, and closer still, and as his mind trailed up, he saw a masculine, well-toned chest sadly shielded with a rather plain but still complimentary white t-shirt. Out of despair and trepidation, he didn’t want to look any further, but his mind had other thoughts. He saw the grinning-from-ear-to-ear face of none other than Chad, Chad the insufferable jock. Chad, the righteous ass. Chad, the one he wasted his time and thoughts on.
His dreamy smile morphed into a shaky frown. He opened his eyes out of frustration, his concentration cracked once more, and he kicked one of the folding chairs in the corner out of spite, hissing when the pain spiked lightly through his designer shoes.
Other dancers may be on the floor, dear, but my eyes will see only you…
It was a little past noontime, so almost everyone in the Lava Springs resort were either busy enjoying the warm sun, eating a light, expensive lunch, or waiting on said people, so Ryan didn’t expect to have anyone bothering him during his little therapy session.
That was the defense he had set up in his mind, because when someone from the doorway cleared their throat in what sounded like amusement, Ryan snapped out of his thoughts and tripped over his own two feet, successfully landing in a pile on the impeccably clean wood floor.
He blinked owlishly at the person in the doorway, and felt himself grow heated in the face and frowning, because there was Chad Danforth, the telltale Hades in the flesh.
“Danforth.”
“Evans.”
I can hear the sounds of violins…
Wordlessly, after that little exchange of greetings, Chad sauntered in the room, as if he owned the place, and, dressed in the customary blue uniform of all Lava Springs staff and a dirtied apron, he offered a dark and large hand to the still perplexed Ryan. He glared slightly at the hand, and then at the person the hand belonged to, and, as if weary of the hand itself biting, he slowly grasped it in his own.
Chad smirked triumphantly, and hoisted the smaller young man onto his feet.
Sway me more… Like a flower bending in the breeze-
He still held Ryan’s one hand with one of his own, and with the other, he untied the knot holding the apron to his frame and tossed the soiled apron onto the back of the folding chair Ryan had kicked, and so suavely, in a way so full of himself, he asked,
“May I have this dance?”
The stereo had paused after the last chords of the song drew out of their speakers, and the mechanical sounds of the CD preparing to replay were the only noises, above the sounds of breathing, to be heard.
Ryan narrowed his oh-so-ocean-blue eyes at Chad with suspicion, but still, he didn’t know why, his head nodded ever so faintly. Chad, with a very gleeful look of victory, looked sated and self-satisfied as his hands, enormous and warm on Ryan’s ever-so-narrow and defined hips, latched onto Ryan’s body, holding Ryan to him in such a possessive manner so that he could barely make any move outside of a dance step. Ryan merely raised an eyebrow, but draped his arms around Chad’s slightly out-of-reach neck. They fell into an unrehearsed but perfect and casual dance, one that they ad-libbed, adding twists and pulls and pushes (the latter was limited in use) here and there.
The chorus of trumpets and other instruments sounded, and Ryan cocked his head to the side.
“What are you doing here? You should be working.”
“Lunch break,” Chad answered evasively, his chocolate-brown eyes half-lidded. He moved his head down, closer and closer his lips moved to Ryan’s own, until Ryan jolted his own head back, out of reach. Chad looked frustrated and a bit annoyed for a moment, and then he looked mildly amused and reserved at the next, leaning his head back up to continue dancing.
“What about you? What finds the ever-so-popular Mister Evans in this lonely dance studio?” Chad teased, and Ryan felt the need to step on Chad’s shoe, knee him in the groin, something of the sort.
“I felt like being alone. Is that such a sin?” Ryan snapped, his mouth forming a bitter scowl. Instead of being violent to Chad, Ryan suited for more resistance with his following of Chad’s steps.
Chad held on more tightly to Ryan, urging him to step then and when and how, looking more and more ticked off.
“No, what is a sin is how damn sexy you are,” Chad grumbled, and Ryan had to closely listen for what he said. Ryan smirked, like he had something Chad couldn’t, and licked his lips for added emphasis.
“Really, am I sexy?” He whispered through his rosy-pink lips; he blatantly ignored the heat that filled his cheeks like liquid fire. He felt satisfaction overwhelm his vision as Chad’s eyes narrowed, as Chad’s facial expression tightened.
“Do I make you lose control, weak-in-the-knees, so very breathless?” Ryan treaded on, knowing he was on unknown territory. He and Chad had never had verbal foreplay of any sort before, and they never discussed the depth of their ‘relationship’, if you could call sleep-with-here and kiss-senseless-there a relationship.
That was why Chad seemed to be at a loss of words, his mouth working for something to utter but finding nothing meaningful in time.
Like a flower bending in the breeze…
“Do I make you feel… naughty?” Ryan ventured on, surprising himself with his brashness. He couldn’t ignore now how burnt his cheeks were feeling, but willed himself to smirk up at Chad, his gaze never wavering.
That one, perfectly executed sentence seemed to snap something within the longtime basketball player, because before the next instant, he had Ryan’s lips successfully locked with his own.
Their lips grew bruised, their tongues were accidentally bitten by the clashing teeth, and they both tasted copper, for one of them had gotten cut from the razors that were incisors that passed between each other’s mouths like ill-kept secrets.
Ryan moaned, Chad growled, and they had to redirect themselves to the cool surface of one of the mirror-covered walls, Chad with either of his hands framing Ryan’s tousled, hat-clad head, and Ryan trapped between the wall and the possessive Chad.
Ryan squeaked like a green virgin when a familiar, calloused hand touched the bare skin of his midriff, traveling wickedly downwards.
Something broke within Ryan too, because he grabbed at Chad’s venturing hands, and fought against that dominating mouth, breathlessly demanding Stop’s passing through his thoroughly bruised lips.
“What is it?” Chad raggedly asked, looking so frustrated and unfulfilled. Ryan looked away, feeling embarrassment and shame enter his system like a raging fever.
Sway with me…
“I can’t do this anymore.” Ryan announced quietly, moving subtly away from Chad and closer to the folding chair.
“What?” Chad asked incredulously, his eyes widened like the plates he carried from the kitchen to tables and back. Ryan slumped onto the chair’s uninviting metal seat, putting his chin in his one hand as he fought to look at something nonexistent. All he saw were, much to his grim amusement, him with Chad standing at his side, staring at him through the mirror.
“I can’t have this… relationship with you. It’s too weird.” He said awkwardly, looking away and at the still-rolling stereo.
“What? Why? What’s the matter, did something happen to you today?” Chad asked with what Ryan felt was faked concern, and Ryan wouldn’t let his heart or mind see the truth and honesty in the worry that lay in Chad’s brown, soulful eyes.
“I’m just so tired.” Ryan whispered, surprising himself with how the tears just sprang to his eyes, and how his breath was stolen away from him so quickly, without proper notice.
“Tired of being misled, used, whatever it is that I’m going through whenever I’m with you.” He sighed, controlling his emotions as much as he could.
“But…” Chad tried, trailing off. He was knelt down at eyelevel with Ryan, and looked so hurt, so confused at once.
“I don’t like this… whatever this is, Chad. Look, I think it’d be best if we just stopped from now on. I just want you to know that… it was fun while it lasted.” He felt his eyes fill with tears once again, and he only let a lone tear trickle down his pale cheek after he had gotten up from that oppressive chair, hurriedly walked to the closed exit, and opened the door to walk out.
Chad was left alone in that dance room, staring with disbelief at the empty, still warm chair that Ryan had been in moments ago.
His only companion was Michael, and he wasn’t very supportive either.
Stay with me, He mocked, Sway with me…
SWAYWITHMESWAYWITHMESWAYWITHME
Author's Commentary: Yes, I know, I should be working on something else, like HermioneRose's chapter she needs beta'ed, but I couldn't focus. I decided to finish this ol' babe up; it's been in my One-Shots folder for a while now, left unfinished, so I felt it had the right to be somewhat completed.
I don't know when Part Two will release... Maybe sometime soon. I'm feeling kind of glum, since my dad bought a house all willy-nilly. I don't know when I'll move, but I really don't want to. Oh well, I'll just let all of that emotion redirect itself in my writings. xD
I hope you liked this, and wait for the second piece; it'll come in time!
Sincerely, Desinere.