(no subject)
Scandalous and Evil
Spencer/Ryan
Spencer hates Ryan's girlfriend.
Spencer watches her hands slide across Ryan’s back. He feels the burn in his chest, nothing like the heartburn his grandfather used to get after family dinners. He hates the pressure from the burn, like his heart is trying to push through his skin with hot hands. He shivers at the thought, places a hand over his heart nonchalantly. A sigh slips past his lips without even trying. Spencer feels cursed.
Her hands look nothing like his; they’re delicate, small, and soft, probably more graceful than his. To make them more desirable, she pumps the best Victoria’s Secret lotion onto her hands twice a day, when she wakes up and when she goes to bed, and Spencer only knows this from the times she has pried her way into their plans, mostly when she finds out Spencer is crashing at Ryan’s. Spencer never studied her habits, more like hated them.
She likes to intentionally make Spencer mad and uncomfortable. She likes to put Spencer’s secret on the tip of her tongue in front of Ryan, likes to drop hints about Spencer’s secret. She likes Ryan to wonder what she’s saying, implying, but he never knows. It’s embarrassing and fucking scary, and it’s not Spencer’s fault. It’s not Spencer’s fault. She snooped, heard Spencer gasping Ryan’s name, picked the bathroom door lock, saw Spencer’s hand jerking. It haunts him. And it’s not Spencer’s fault.
She feeds like a parasite on Spencer’s visible discomfort. Somehow, Ryan is blind to her wicked smiles and little games, blind to Spencer’s frowns and scoffs. Somehow, Ryan loves this girl, gives everything and anything he can to her.
Spencer sees her hands rub Ryan’s back, trail down to his ass as she glances over at his twisting face. He notices that Ryan leans into it all, cracks the smallest smile at the gesture, and Spencer wants to slap him and shake him. He wants to know what’s wrong with him, what’s wrong with his hands, and why he can’t be good enough for even his best friend.
Spencer/Ryan
Spencer hates Ryan's girlfriend.
Spencer watches her hands slide across Ryan’s back. He feels the burn in his chest, nothing like the heartburn his grandfather used to get after family dinners. He hates the pressure from the burn, like his heart is trying to push through his skin with hot hands. He shivers at the thought, places a hand over his heart nonchalantly. A sigh slips past his lips without even trying. Spencer feels cursed.
Her hands look nothing like his; they’re delicate, small, and soft, probably more graceful than his. To make them more desirable, she pumps the best Victoria’s Secret lotion onto her hands twice a day, when she wakes up and when she goes to bed, and Spencer only knows this from the times she has pried her way into their plans, mostly when she finds out Spencer is crashing at Ryan’s. Spencer never studied her habits, more like hated them.
She likes to intentionally make Spencer mad and uncomfortable. She likes to put Spencer’s secret on the tip of her tongue in front of Ryan, likes to drop hints about Spencer’s secret. She likes Ryan to wonder what she’s saying, implying, but he never knows. It’s embarrassing and fucking scary, and it’s not Spencer’s fault. It’s not Spencer’s fault. She snooped, heard Spencer gasping Ryan’s name, picked the bathroom door lock, saw Spencer’s hand jerking. It haunts him. And it’s not Spencer’s fault.
She feeds like a parasite on Spencer’s visible discomfort. Somehow, Ryan is blind to her wicked smiles and little games, blind to Spencer’s frowns and scoffs. Somehow, Ryan loves this girl, gives everything and anything he can to her.
Spencer sees her hands rub Ryan’s back, trail down to his ass as she glances over at his twisting face. He notices that Ryan leans into it all, cracks the smallest smile at the gesture, and Spencer wants to slap him and shake him. He wants to know what’s wrong with him, what’s wrong with his hands, and why he can’t be good enough for even his best friend.