(Untitled)
HELLO, FLIST AND UNKNOWN STALKERS
So it's come to my attention that I have not given out a single Valentine yet today. I do have two plans for gifts for my girlfriend and girlfriend-in-law, but those probably won't be finished for a little while longer.
To make up for this, I've decided to host a
FUCKED-UP LOVE MEMESee, I'm bad at things ( Read more... )
So it's come to my attention that I have not given out a single Valentine yet today. I do have two plans for gifts for my girlfriend and girlfriend-in-law, but those probably won't be finished for a little while longer.
To make up for this, I've decided to host a
FUCKED-UP LOVE MEMESee, I'm bad at things ( Read more... )
“Looser, Ryan. I can see you straining. Try that again.”
Sixteen measures.
“Still too tight. Again.”
Sixteen measures.
“You’re fighting against your own legs, I fucking swear. Again.”
Twelve measures.
“Your arms, Ryan, your arms and your legs need to move at the same time. Again.”
Four measures.
“Stop. Come here.”
Five steps.
“There’s no one here but you and me. Why are you so nervous?”
A hand on his shoulder.
“You never look happy when you dance. Not when you’re warming up, not during practice, not even in any of the other shows we’ve done. I’m looking for love of the art and all I see is concentration.”
A look of concern.
“If this part is too much for you-“
“I can do it.”
“I’m sure you can. But are you going to hate it?”
“I can do this, Pete, don’t think I can’t.”
“It’s hard to believe you when you’re hiding so much from me.”
“What am I hiding?”
A hand on his waist.
“See? You’re tensing up, right there. If you can’t even stand me touching you I don’t know how we’re expected to believe that you’re seducing anyone.”
Two hands on his waist.
“You dance beautifully, more beautifully than any of the girls, that’s why I gave you this role. But you’re all technique and no emotion.”
Fingers tightening on his hip.
“Your white swan is fragile and beautiful, but not innocent.”
Breath on his neck.
“And your black swan is graceful and powerful, but tries too hard.”
“I wouldn’t be dancing if I didn’t try hard.”
“You wouldn’t be trying so hard if you’d just relax and let it come naturally.”
Lips on his jaw.
“Pete-“
“Relax.”
Lips.
“Open up for me, I’m trying to help.”
“Pete-“
Tongue.
Hands.
A gasp.
“That’s right, there you go, loosen up…”
Hands on his back, hands on his thighs, hands on his ass-
Ryan shoves Pete away, breath coming short. Pete reaches back out for him, but Ryan’s already rushing to pick up his things.
“Wait, Ryan, come on,” Pete sputters, following him out the door as he starts to leave the studio. “You were so close, I could tell, you just-“
“I just need to go home. It’s late.”
“It’s nine o’clock.” Pete puts a hand on his shoulder, but Ryan shrugs him off and keeps walking.
“This isn’t going to help me. I just need to keep practicing until it’s perfect.”
“No one’s perfect.”
“Not yet.”
Pete stops following him. Ryan walks home with music running back and forth through his head and Pete’s face behind his eyelids.
His phone buzzes as he enters his empty apartment. 1 New Message: Brendon.
Ryan sets his things down and goes to take a shower.
When he takes off his jacket, his wrists are red, scraped raw, pink lines running all the way up his arm. They hurt, and when he rubs at them a little, his hand comes back bloody.
He turns on the shower and climbs in as quickly as he can. There’s not much blood, so he holds his wrists up to the water and waits for it to be washed away, but it doesn’t stop. He wipes one with a wash cloth, soaking up the blood that just keeps coming until the white cloth is mostly red. His forearms start to hurt, and then the blood’s dripping off his fingers, the floor’s turning rust-red, the cloth looks like it was used at a crime scene.
Ryan nearly falls and cracks his skull as he hurries out of the shower to find the bandages. They’re in the bottom drawer, and Ryan unrolls about two feet before checking his wrists again to see just how much he’ll need-
His arms are fine. Just skin and water.
The cloth lying on the floor is still white.
Ryan shuts off the water.
When he goes back to the kitchen for a snack, now dried off and wearing sweatpants, his phone buzzes again. He picks it up off the table.
3 New Messages: Brendon.
Ryan flips his phone open.
hey theres a band in town tonight, wanna take a break from tchaikovsky? :D
working late again? don’t let pete bite too hard!
well i heard the band’s not that good anyway, never mind. seeya tomorrow
Ryan hits Reply, stares at the blank screen for a few seconds, and shuts the phone.
When he falls asleep, he dreams of hands tongue breath gasp legs neck stretch pull touch moan Brendon Pete Brendon Pete Brendon Brendon Brendon?
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Ryanina oh god dying.
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I suppose shower horror does make everything better though.
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