Stupid and Anxious || Lake & Ryder
Patience, patience, patience. Ryder tried oh so desperately to cling onto the word, oh so desperately to give it meaning and purpose and value. But the word was empty. He simply didn’t know what patience was. What was it supposed to look like, sound like, feel like? He’d never been taught patience. There were too many things he hadn’t been taught, so much so it was almost pathetic. At times, he could only offer an arched brow and a few blinks of confusion. He didn’t understand compassion, and even if he thought he did, he saw no appeal in it. He didn’t understand unconditional love, and he didn’t understand half of the morals most people held. He was ignorant in so many forms of the word, and patience was just another thing to add onto the list of terms he’d have to drill into his head at one point or another.
Words, or rather a poor attempt at words, were heard, though they were distant, as if they were being spoken on the other side of a tunnel. Still, the young man could hear them, and it wasn’t long before they were ringing. Lake spoke so softly that Ryder’s brows furrowed as he tried to pick up the words. But the slight quivering of Lake’s form and the aversion of Lake’s eyes caused Ryder to slow himself with a long, steady breath. Getting all worked up over nothing was easier for him to do, yes, but it wasn’t right for Lake. Lake was sensitive. Not sensitive in the sense Ryder normally thought of. Lake wouldn’t cry at the drop of a hat or run and cower in fear when something intimidated him. No, he was much too prideful for that. He would stand his ground and speak his mind, and Ryder couldn’t help but admire that, even with the other’s withering self-esteem. There was a fire in his eyes, and it was a fire that Ryder couldn’t help but watch kindle away, flames dancing, taunting, beckoning him to touch. It was a fire in which Ryder wanted to be engulfed. He wanted to feel the heat on his flesh. He wanted to be burned.
It was never his intention to scare the other. In fact, that was the furthest thing from his mind. So, at some kind of attempt to calm Lake--something he was so horrible with when it all came down to it-- he allowed a small smile, though it was more of a smirk, to lift at either side of his lips. His words may have been a bit condescending, but it was the best he could manage. “Would you relax?” he murmured, his voice slow and just barely audible. He allowed the tip of his index finger to smooth down Lake’s front, leaving a trail of feather touches. “We’ve already established I’m not gonna hurt you…” Taking hold of the other’s hip with the cup of his hand, the raven-haired boy pulled the younger closer, his other hand set on the back of Lake’s neck, stroking softly at the hairs in another attempt to soothe the tense body before him.
Lips found their way to lips once again, and Ryder tried to build up the heat of the moment once more, pressing his chest to Lake’s, leaning the other against the door for a moment before he walked the other-- this time without flared nostrils and a death grip on the poor boy’s wrist-- to his bed. After he sat himself down and secured his position, he set a tentative hand on the back of Lake’s thigh, pulling the other on top of him, allowing the younger male to straddle him.
