Ryan was never nervous, that just wasn't the Evans way.
He thrived in the spotlight and on the hundreds of faces that watched his every move in the school productions.
The stage was his sanctuary. It was the only place where he could truly lose all his inhibitions and be comfortable with who he was.
Or rather; comfortable in whoever's skin he had slipped into backstage.
Palms sweating, pulse racing, dry mouth.
No character to hide behind, not this time. No role to immerse himself in and forget who he was.
That swooping sensation somewhere in his stomach as those lips pressed against his.
Legs trembling, hands shaking, hair prickling on the back of his neck.
Defenseless and completely exposed, the arm around his waist held him close. Brown eyes saw through him, into him, and understood. His faults were on display and accepted, not mocked.
For the first time he could act as he wanted, not as a script dictated.
If only he could stay right here, with the warmth of another seeping through his skin. If only the mouth, right now perfectly molded to fit his own, would never leave.