The Things I Can't Say (Rywalk)
Title: The Things I Can’t Say
Author: noahatthedisco
Rating: light NC-17
Pairing: Rywalk yo
POV: first Ryan, “you” Jon
Summary: Why is it so hard to say I miss you?
Disclaimer: Last time I checked, neither Ryan nor Jon had come out. So this is fake as far as I know.
Author Notes:This was a really kinda spur of the moment thing. I know it’s short, but that’s how I wanted it. Rywalk is one of my Ryan-related guilty pleasure pairings (along with Ryncer and Rockett) but I’ve never actually written one before. So, comments would be helpful and such.
Why is it so hard to say I miss you?
When we part for the first time after a long tour. The hours we spend on the phone melt away, but I still can’t say it. I ask you about home, about Chicago and your parents and your cat and your friends. You tell me stories and pointedly don’t ask me about home, because you know I hate it here.
You tell me about seeing Tom again, and the prank you play on your brother. I talk about Hobo and being dragged shopping with Spencer. Everything feels weird, because we’ve never talked so much before. We spend hours describing things that we’re used to just living through. And I still can’t say that I miss you. But somehow, I think you get it, because you tell me you miss me.
Why is it so hard to say I’m grateful?
When you show up at my house unannounced, after a red-eye flight from O’Hare to McCarran. You look like shit, awake for almost 36 hours straight. I know that look from touring, we’ve all worn it. I freeze up when I see you standing at my doorstep. But I can’t say I’m glad you came. It dies on my lips when you kiss me.
You drop your bags and your coat by the door and kiss me. Hobo barks at our feet, but we ignore her, to wrapped up in each other. I try to push everything I haven’t said into your mouth through the kiss. Maybe you understand, because you cup my face in your hands and tell me you missed me. That your glad you came.
Why is it so hard to say I love you?
As our skin slides together, slick with sweat. I feel you everywhere, in me and around me and in the air I breath. Our bodies pulse together with the rhythm of this thing which I don’t dare to name. I can’t say it, but you do. You whisper it into my hair as you slide in deeper, against my neck as you stroke me into bliss. We become one.
We finish together and lay in the silence of the city, which is never quite silent. Again you whisper the things I can’t say into my ear, your voice edged with sleep. You missed me, your glad you came, you love me. I breathe in your smell, and hear your breathing, and see your peaceful face curled against my chest. I draw strength from you, because your always so steady, and whisper in your ear. I whisper that I love you too, and that I missed you, and that I’m glad your here. But I think your already asleep.
Author: noahatthedisco
Rating: light NC-17
Pairing: Rywalk yo
POV: first Ryan, “you” Jon
Summary: Why is it so hard to say I miss you?
Disclaimer: Last time I checked, neither Ryan nor Jon had come out. So this is fake as far as I know.
Author Notes:This was a really kinda spur of the moment thing. I know it’s short, but that’s how I wanted it. Rywalk is one of my Ryan-related guilty pleasure pairings (along with Ryncer and Rockett) but I’ve never actually written one before. So, comments would be helpful and such.
Why is it so hard to say I miss you?
When we part for the first time after a long tour. The hours we spend on the phone melt away, but I still can’t say it. I ask you about home, about Chicago and your parents and your cat and your friends. You tell me stories and pointedly don’t ask me about home, because you know I hate it here.
You tell me about seeing Tom again, and the prank you play on your brother. I talk about Hobo and being dragged shopping with Spencer. Everything feels weird, because we’ve never talked so much before. We spend hours describing things that we’re used to just living through. And I still can’t say that I miss you. But somehow, I think you get it, because you tell me you miss me.
Why is it so hard to say I’m grateful?
When you show up at my house unannounced, after a red-eye flight from O’Hare to McCarran. You look like shit, awake for almost 36 hours straight. I know that look from touring, we’ve all worn it. I freeze up when I see you standing at my doorstep. But I can’t say I’m glad you came. It dies on my lips when you kiss me.
You drop your bags and your coat by the door and kiss me. Hobo barks at our feet, but we ignore her, to wrapped up in each other. I try to push everything I haven’t said into your mouth through the kiss. Maybe you understand, because you cup my face in your hands and tell me you missed me. That your glad you came.
Why is it so hard to say I love you?
As our skin slides together, slick with sweat. I feel you everywhere, in me and around me and in the air I breath. Our bodies pulse together with the rhythm of this thing which I don’t dare to name. I can’t say it, but you do. You whisper it into my hair as you slide in deeper, against my neck as you stroke me into bliss. We become one.
We finish together and lay in the silence of the city, which is never quite silent. Again you whisper the things I can’t say into my ear, your voice edged with sleep. You missed me, your glad you came, you love me. I breathe in your smell, and hear your breathing, and see your peaceful face curled against my chest. I draw strength from you, because your always so steady, and whisper in your ear. I whisper that I love you too, and that I missed you, and that I’m glad your here. But I think your already asleep.