FicWad

Vices (Virtues)




“You’re so perfect, Ry.”

It’s the first thing to be said this morning, my soft sigh of honesty filtering through the peaceful silence like sugar over strawberries. I wanted to wait a little longer to break the golden hush of my bedroom but there are just some things that simply have to be said the split second you think of them. The perfectness of the boy mangled in my bed-sheets next to me being one of those things.

I still can’t believe that he’s older than me, not with the way his eyes dazzle with the kind of innocent wonderment that I thought only a child at Christmastime could possess. To me, especially when he’s all sleepy like he is now, it would be much easier to believe that he’s twelve rather than eighteen, thankfully, though, that is not the case; or else I’d most likely be in prison at this current moment in time for having explicit relations with a minor.

I prop myself up on my elbows and smile down at him, his eyes following me like two super-charged magnets. My hand reaches out to instinctively ruffle his hair, the action teasing a pretty little giggle out of his lips. His lips; my favourite part of him. Not just because they give the best kisses I’ve ever experienced but because, when they want to, they can sing. Only for me, though, and only on Ryan’s terms, but they do. Sometimes we duet, his soft voice swirling around with my own strong tones like dance partners. His lips are good for talking, too. Saying all of those deeply profound thoughts and sweet small flirtations that only work because Ryan Ross is saying them.

“So perfect.” I mumble again, my gaze stranded on his face, refusing to leave him. “My perfect little Ryro.”

In one swift action he’s propped up next to me with his head resting on my bare chest, just listening to my heart beat as I savour the way his breath feels against my skin; we’re here, we’re real and we’re together. That’s all we really care about, those three things. Everything else can sort itself out or go to hell, so long as I’ve got Ryan and he’s got me.

“Nah, I’m not perfect, Bren.” I stop stroking his hair and throw him a questioning look; I want to hear why he thinks that so I can swiftly tell him that whatever reason he has is complete bullshit. “I’ve got too many vices for that.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

He looks to be in deep thought and I can practically see his stunning mind racing back and forth behind those enticingly deep irises, just zooming around in a flurry of artistry and knowledge. Whilst he thinks I grab my glasses from the bedside table and slide them on, sighing in blissful satisfaction at seeing Ryan without anything to hinder the beauty of the sight.

I can still remember when I first saw him two years ago, can still recall exactly how many beats my heart skipped when he flashed me a welcoming smile with the warmth of a tropical sun. God, I love his smiles; so discrete, so sincere, so… Ryan Ross.

“I’m cocky, I’m oversensitive and I still watch Disney movies even though I’m eighteen years-old.” He pauses, looking up at me with a stare that sees straight through me and into his own thoughts; like I’m some kind of mirror into his mind. “Also, I’m weird and I get all possessive over you.” He nods, more to himself than to me, and clamps his arms firmly around my waist as though to prove a point. “See? Plenty of vices. And that’s not even all of them. Not by half.”

A chuckle works it’s way out of my mouth, not through finding this to be funny in any way but at the incredulousness of it. It’s hard to imagine Ryan, my Ryan, thinking that he has so many so-called ‘flaws’ when, in my eyes anyway, he’s absolutely perfect.

Just like I said.

Okay, so maybe he does have those ‘vices’ but, really, who decides if those traits are good or bad? It’s all subjective, like the views he’s just expressed are those of his father and the kids at high school; not the views of the people who actually matter, like Spencer and himself and me. I bet if he asked Spencer he’d feel exactly the same way, anyone who knows my boyfriend properly would. Apart from himself.

And that makes me hurt in ways that I can’t quite put into words. It kind of feels like guilt because I haven’t made him feel as wonderful as he truly is, but at the same time it feels like hate; pure, unbridled hatred for anyone who’s ever made him see invisible flaws in himself.

I nuzzle into his hair, breathing it in and appreciating the scent, before rubbing our noses together in an Eskimo kiss in a bid to lighten the mood, whilst trying to get a little bit of warmth into his icy nose. He’s always cold, I guess it’s a side effect of being so skinny, but that’s okay; I’ll always be here to let him share my body heat.

Always.

“Those aren’t vices, Honey.” He blinks up at me, silently begging me to make him feel special with my honest words. Naturally, my immediate response is to oblige. “I mean, to some people, yeah, I guess they could be. But not to me; not to anyone who actually matters.” I pause to sweep my eyes over him, taking a minute to consider what it is to have someone like George Ryan Ross the Third sharing a bed with you. I think it gives you a certain level of responsibility to make the boy see himself for who he is; perfect. “Vices and virtues, they’re all the same really. It just depends on who you ask. Like, I don’t think you’re cocky; you’re just confident and sure of yourself, which I think is actually a very admirable trait. So virtue, not vice.”

There’s an instant of conflict in his features before he wriggles to be at my height, resting his head lazily on my shoulder. I like the way he fits there, like the moon resting in the night sky; beautiful and just meant to be there, shining bright. He’s like that, like the moon, I guess. Alluring and stunning in his own unique little way; there’s nobody quite like my Ryro, just as there is nothing quite like the moon.

“Tell me more? Please?” Comes his quiet plea, begging to be told more good things about himself.

On anyone else it might sound vain, but not on Ryan. On Ryan it just sounds like someone who’s been beaten up too many times asking for disinfectant, for someone to take the sting of reality away. Refusal just isn’t an option, not that I would go for it even if it were.

“Oversensitive isn’t bad; just because you aren’t an emotionless dickhead it doesn’t make you any less perfect. In fact, being in touch with your emotions is a positive, especially for someone as creative as you. Virtue, not vice.” My voice is steady and certain, not a hint of doubt to be heard anywhere within my words purely because I don’t doubt them; they’re true and I’ve got to make Ryan see that too. “I still watch Disney movies, Ry. Because they’re awesome and it takes a special kind of grown-up to appreciate that. Virtue, not vice. And you’re not weird; you’re just unique and different and not afraid to be you. Certainly not a vice, just pure virtue there, Honey.”

Before I can even finish pronouncing the last syllable something cuts me off; lips. Ryan’s lips on mine; sucking and pressing and tasting and rubbing. Giving so much yet demanding so little, giving everything but taking nothing. Not until I start offering it anyway, which I do almost imminently, putting as much fight into it as he is. Kisses like this, fuelled by need to please and desire to be pleased, are always the best with him.

All virtue, not a single vice about it.

When we finally pull apart he just smirks smugly, clearly pleased with himself. Not that I can blame him, having been on the receiving end of that kiss.

“Was that you being possessive?”

He just nods, a strange twinkle lighting up his eyes like a firework on the Fourth of July.

“So not a vice, Honey. So not a vice.”






A/N: Just a little bit of Rydon fluff for part ‘V’ of my Alphabet Challenge. I hope you liked it and please let me know what you think! :)