I'm A Scar Away From Falling Apart (14)
Title: I’m A Scar Away From Falling Apart (14)
Author: longerthanwedo
Beta: melody_so_sweet <3
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Rydon
POV: 1st, Ryan’s
Summary: I So I’m going swimming.
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters, but the beginning of this plot is based off of a true story. Title belongs to Fall Out Boy.
Author’s Notes: I had lots of fun with this one ;) Comments, as always, are awesome!
Prologue I Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5 I Chapter 6 I Chapter 7 I Chapter 8 I Chapter 9 I Chapter 10 I Chapter 11 I Chapter 12 I Chapter 13
Is it even possible that I own no swimwear? I think to myself as I rifle somewhat frantically through my dresser. I must have something somewhere.
I empty the drawer of all my pants. Nothing.
Now that I think about it, I can’t recall swimming at all in the past couple years. I’ve never been good at it, so I hardly ever go. But now I have to. Or, well, I don’t have to, but it would be in my best interest to.
The physical therapist says that swimming is an excellent way of re-building the muscles in my leg. She says that if I do my exercises regularly, as well as swim, that I should be able to walk very soon. And I’d do pretty much anything at this point to get better.
So I’m going swimming.
But I can’t find anything to wear.
I spend a few more minutes searching halfheartedly before giving up. I’ll just have to borrow from Brendon.
I hobble down the hall and into the guest room that has been serving as Brendon’s bedroom for months now.
Brendon’s messing with his hair in front of the mirror when I come in, not bothering to knock because my crutches make a loud enough noise that he must have heart me coming from the minute I left my room. He smiles at my reflection, and I smile back automatically.
“Hey,” he says, waving at me in the glass.
“Hey,” I imitate. “Do you have any shorts or something that I could borrow? I uh. I don’t have a swimsuit, I guess.”
His smile grows wider, and he nods, still facing away from me. He turns away from the wall and rifles through a heap of clothing in the corner before throwing a pair of blue swim trunks in my general direction.
“Thanks,” I mumble, and clunk my way back to my room.
Much as I hate to admit it, I’m kind of nervous about this whole thing. Ever since he kissed me Brendon’s been acting like nothing’s wrong, like nothing happened. Maybe he’s afraid of my reaction, or maybe he thinks he made a mistake and regrets the whole thing.
I don’t.
I don’t think it was a mistake, and I don’t regret it. Not even a little bit. But I don’t know how to tell him that. I’ve begun to hate my tongue that always ties itself up whenever I need to use my words. I don’t want my social incompetence to get in the way of…well, whatever it is that’s happening.
But I don’t have time to get too worked up.
Before I know it we’re heading out the door and Brendon’s driving fast toward the local pool.
Apparently I’m already signed up, our names already on the list, and we go straight into the dressing room and from there into the chlorine-tainted air of the pool room.
Vicky the therapist is waiting for me, and she greets Brendon and me as we walk up to her.
She shows me several exercises, tells me numbers to repeat, says she’ll be right back, and then it’s just Brendon and I.
I dip a toe into the water experimentally, and I flinch. It’s not warm, not at all. I hear Brendon sigh beside me. I put the foot without the bandages into the teal liquid. I screw up my face against the cold as I slowly lower myself down; inch by inch, getting used to the temperature.
“Ryan.”
I turn around and look up at Brendon who has a slightly evil smirk playing across his face.
“What -” the word barely left my mouth before a hand was making contact with my shoulder, and I was tumbling backwards, flailing my arms and legs and taking a surprised breath that only served to fill my lungs with water.
Brendon cannonballs in after me, splashes my already soaked body with fresh drops and laughes when he breaks through the surface of the water and catches sight of my shocked and annoyed face.
I splutter and cough and attempt to glare at him, but he looks at me and laughs harder, his expression open and happy, and my glare kind of dies down into nothing. My coughing doesn’t stop, though, and Brendon claps a hand on my back, trying to help. That only makes me lose my slippery footing and sink once more into the water while helplessly flapping my arms in an attempt to stay afloat.
Once I’m balanced, I slap my palms down on the surface of the water, covering Brendon’s face in cold water once again.
He laughs and retaliates, and before I know it, we’re in a full-out splashing war.
I don’t even notice when the door to the pool opens and Vicky walks in, an annoyed and somewhat amused look on her face.
“Hey,” she says in a reprimanding tone. “Fun’s over. Come on, Ryan. Exercises, remember?”
Oh, yeah. That.
I smile at her sheepishly and she smiles back.
I kick my legs and move my feet at her command until she has to leave again.
“Do that,” she demonstrates the exercise again. “Fifteen times, and then switch sides.”
I nod obediently, but the minute she walks out the door Brendon slithers impishly over to me. I shake my head at him and continue to do the movements.
Brendon comes up in front of me and grabs my shoulder, pouting, pleading. I move to shove him away, but. There goes my footing, and down I go. Again.
But this time he grabs me around the waist, and my head stays above water.
My head, which is now extremely close to Brendon’s.
I swallow nervously and my eyes flick from his eyes to the wall and back again. He moves a little closer, subtly leans in, and.
His lips touch my own.
My hand finds its way up to his face, and my fingers grip his slippery skin as our lips move together. My nerves tingle where our skin touches, and I move instinctively into him, press myself tight up against him. And this is more, so much more than last time that it makes my head spin. I can’t focus on one thing. My mind darts from the feel of his hand on my lower back, to the wet strands of hair under my fingers, to the taste of his lips; something unique and just Brendon tainted slightly with the bitter taste of chlorine water.
This. This is the best thing I’ve felt in a long, long time. Or, well, ever.
I break away for air, and Brendon kisses my neck softly. A soft noise escapes my lips, and I almost don’t hear the sound of a loud, pointed cough.
Oh.
Vicky’s back.
I take my hands off Brendon’s face and he takes his off my waist and we both look sheepishly up at her. She’s standing with her arms crossed, a stern look on her face and a slight blush on her cheeks. I feel heat rise to my own face, and I slowly drift away from Brendon.
“Brendon. If you keep…distracting Ryan I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Brendon looks up at her with an angelic who me? smile, and I resume my exercises.
I move my foot out against the water, and Brendon reaches out stealthily to tickle it.
I yelp.
Vicky glares.
“Alright. Out.” she points to the door and Brendon pouts at her. She stands her ground, and he slumps up out of the water and into the dressing room.
I keep doing what she asks, and behind her back, in the doorway, Brendon cheers me on.