Drabble Prompt reply
In response to mymushaboomlife's drabble prompt, this is what I came up with. It's not precisely Chyan yet, but I think it's a step in that direction. Enjoy!
(the prompt was: sweat slowly dripped down his back.)
Imperfection
Chad sprawled in his seat, taking up as much space as physically possible in hopes that his body heat would go somewhere-anywhere. The AC was out, and the entire school was a sauna, teachers droning on autopilot about subjects not even they thought were important when compared to the current temperature, not moving except to mop brows and pull sticky shirts away from equally sticky skin-not that it worked. As soon as they released he fabric, it clamped back down. The students lolled miserably and silently in their seats, too hot to contribute even by complaining. The only movements were weak attempts at fanning themselves with papers and notebooks and occasional moves to try to find a cooler position.
He closed his eyes and reached back to lift the mass of hair off his neck, even the hot air refreshing against the sweaty skin. Still holding it, he glanced around to find nothing changed. Teacher still droning. Kids still lolling. Except for Ryan, who sat perfectly erect behind Sharpay and in front of Chad (who’d grabbed the seat in hopes of catching some stray draft from Sharpay’s hand-held fan, but Mr. Monson had demanded she turn it off as soon as he started speaking, so that hadn’t worked out). There he sat, posture insanely perfect, shoulders back, spine straight, chin up, hands lying palm-up on his thighs, pale blue shirt pristine below perfectly styled hair and jauntily placed white-and-blue-striped hat.
Except, Chad realized, staring at the back of the shirt, it wasn’t pristine. There was a single dark spot, one mis-dyed thread. He studied it curiously, never having seen either Evans twin in anything with even so minor a flaw. He examined it, trying to figure out how it had gotten past their inspection and survived to actually be worn by no lesser personage than Ryan Evans.
As though feeling the intent gaze, Ryan’s shoulders finally shifted a bit, uncomfortably, and when they settled back, the spot was slightly larger, and the shirt draped just a bit less perfectly.
Chad blinked, staring at it as understanding crept into his heat-slowed head. It wasn’t he shirt that was imperfect. It was Ryan. Ryan Evans, who hadn’t even sweated playing baseball, was sitting in front of him in a classroom, sweating. Even more extraordinary was the realization that Ryan Evans, drama king of the school, former-lapdog to his formidable sister, kinda-sorta-honorary-Wildcat that nobody quite knew what to do with, richest kid (not counting his sister) for miles around, Ryan Evans was human.
On some level he understood that this shouldn’t come as a shock to him. It wasn’t like he thought he was an alien or something. He knew he was human. It just never really … occurred to him.
Ryan’s shoulders jerked a bit, and the speck grew into a faint line, extending a bit down his back, the shirt sticking rather than hanging loose, and Chad could just make out Ryan’s jaw tightening.
He watched it continue to grow as class continued, totally forgetting how hot he was himself in the fascination of realizing that Ryan was sitting there, almost perfectly still, while sweat slowly dripped down his back. Because he was an actual person, not some kind of a … a strange machine that could manage to do anything it chose without the least effort. He just worked very hard to make everything look effortless. Posture perfect so the shirt wouldn’t touch his back, wouldn’t cling, wouldn’t reveal that he sweated.
Ryan shifted his position very slightly, and the shirt pulled free of skin, draping perfectly again, and Chad watched, mesmerized, as the tiny streak slowly dried, hiding the evidence of Ryan’s imperfection once more.
But when class ended, he saw how deliberately and gracefully Ryan moved, even moreso than most days, and he got it. Ryan was putting on a show, just like everyone always assumed. But it wasn’t to draw attention. It was just to hide the fact that he was just like everyone else.
Chad bit his lip, watching the twins file out of the room with only slightly less than their usual energy, and wondered what, if anything, he’d do with it now that he knew the secret.
Ryan Evans was human.
He shook his head in disbelief and sauntered towards his next class, mind whirling.
X-posted to idontdance
(the prompt was: sweat slowly dripped down his back.)
Imperfection
Chad sprawled in his seat, taking up as much space as physically possible in hopes that his body heat would go somewhere-anywhere. The AC was out, and the entire school was a sauna, teachers droning on autopilot about subjects not even they thought were important when compared to the current temperature, not moving except to mop brows and pull sticky shirts away from equally sticky skin-not that it worked. As soon as they released he fabric, it clamped back down. The students lolled miserably and silently in their seats, too hot to contribute even by complaining. The only movements were weak attempts at fanning themselves with papers and notebooks and occasional moves to try to find a cooler position.
He closed his eyes and reached back to lift the mass of hair off his neck, even the hot air refreshing against the sweaty skin. Still holding it, he glanced around to find nothing changed. Teacher still droning. Kids still lolling. Except for Ryan, who sat perfectly erect behind Sharpay and in front of Chad (who’d grabbed the seat in hopes of catching some stray draft from Sharpay’s hand-held fan, but Mr. Monson had demanded she turn it off as soon as he started speaking, so that hadn’t worked out). There he sat, posture insanely perfect, shoulders back, spine straight, chin up, hands lying palm-up on his thighs, pale blue shirt pristine below perfectly styled hair and jauntily placed white-and-blue-striped hat.
Except, Chad realized, staring at the back of the shirt, it wasn’t pristine. There was a single dark spot, one mis-dyed thread. He studied it curiously, never having seen either Evans twin in anything with even so minor a flaw. He examined it, trying to figure out how it had gotten past their inspection and survived to actually be worn by no lesser personage than Ryan Evans.
As though feeling the intent gaze, Ryan’s shoulders finally shifted a bit, uncomfortably, and when they settled back, the spot was slightly larger, and the shirt draped just a bit less perfectly.
Chad blinked, staring at it as understanding crept into his heat-slowed head. It wasn’t he shirt that was imperfect. It was Ryan. Ryan Evans, who hadn’t even sweated playing baseball, was sitting in front of him in a classroom, sweating. Even more extraordinary was the realization that Ryan Evans, drama king of the school, former-lapdog to his formidable sister, kinda-sorta-honorary-Wildcat that nobody quite knew what to do with, richest kid (not counting his sister) for miles around, Ryan Evans was human.
On some level he understood that this shouldn’t come as a shock to him. It wasn’t like he thought he was an alien or something. He knew he was human. It just never really … occurred to him.
Ryan’s shoulders jerked a bit, and the speck grew into a faint line, extending a bit down his back, the shirt sticking rather than hanging loose, and Chad could just make out Ryan’s jaw tightening.
He watched it continue to grow as class continued, totally forgetting how hot he was himself in the fascination of realizing that Ryan was sitting there, almost perfectly still, while sweat slowly dripped down his back. Because he was an actual person, not some kind of a … a strange machine that could manage to do anything it chose without the least effort. He just worked very hard to make everything look effortless. Posture perfect so the shirt wouldn’t touch his back, wouldn’t cling, wouldn’t reveal that he sweated.
Ryan shifted his position very slightly, and the shirt pulled free of skin, draping perfectly again, and Chad watched, mesmerized, as the tiny streak slowly dried, hiding the evidence of Ryan’s imperfection once more.
But when class ended, he saw how deliberately and gracefully Ryan moved, even moreso than most days, and he got it. Ryan was putting on a show, just like everyone always assumed. But it wasn’t to draw attention. It was just to hide the fact that he was just like everyone else.
Chad bit his lip, watching the twins file out of the room with only slightly less than their usual energy, and wondered what, if anything, he’d do with it now that he knew the secret.
Ryan Evans was human.
He shook his head in disbelief and sauntered towards his next class, mind whirling.
X-posted to idontdance