Hey, guys!
All I really need to say is that I've been shipping Kyder (because, let's face it, that sounds so much better than Ritty) so hard over the past few weeks and I need it to be canon in Season 5! I mean, Lights Out just became my favourite episode because of the Kitty/Ryder interaction in it!
Anyway, here's my little offering to this wonder-ful (see what I did?) pairing :D
Hope you enjoy it
EDIT: 'mad not sad' has brought to my attention the fact that some phrases in this story are similar to some of her's and I just wanted to state that I did not knowingly copy her works. I am sorry for making her feel uncomfortable in this way but it was certainly not intentional. I hope this won't infringe on your enjoyment of this story.
it's not just all physical,
i'm the type who won't get oh-so critical,
so let's make things physical,
i won't treat you like you're oh-so typical
Closer - Tegan and Sara
He sees her in the hallways from time to time, always surrounded by a group of loyal followers hanging on her every word, always perfectly made up and always, always with that tilted smirk carved carefully onto her sinful lips.
He watches her as she struts down the hallways, her short skirt swinging teasingly around her swaying hips as she thrives on the unfaltering attention lingering on her. The thing about Kitty Wilde is that she's good but she knows that she's good and it's this knowledge that gives her a certain sense of power over everyone else; it creates an aura of reverence about her which makes her practically untouchable to the rest of the student body.
And she uses this power, this control, to make people fear her. Kitty Wilde quickly becomes synonymous with 'head bitch'.
He sees her from time to time, exchanging a few seconds of momentary eye contact, but they never, not once, share a single word.
She sees him in the football field every Tuesday, always so determined to win, always following every single victory with that embarrassingly adorable dance of his and always, always painfully oblivious to the admiring stares gifted upon him by the others.
She watches him as he goes around his team, making sure to congratulate each and every player for their part in their win, exuding an aura of confidence that touches upon an element of cockiness. The thing about Ryder Lynn is that, without even meaning to, he epitomizes that classic idea of 'the hero'. His rough physique creates a contradicting picture to his gentle nature and his boyish charm which, she suspects, attracts more female attention than he is even aware of.
If she squints hard enough, she imagines she can see a hazy halo crowning his mop of dark hair, simultaneously lighting up those perfect 'fuck-me' eyes of his.
She sees him from time to time, acknowledging each other's presence with brief, barely there nods, but they never, not once, share a single word.
They both decide to join Glee Club during the same semester, finally giving them each a reason to talk to the other. Yet, with Kitty set on winning Jake back and Ryder pining solely after Marley, they barely even have time to register each other's presence within the same room.
The thing that really pisses Kitty off is the fact that people still assume she's not over the now infamous break-up between her and Jake Puckerman. Which, in a certain light, she isn't but for different reasons than what everyone else naturally believes. She got over the male in question without any problems whatsoever (not that it was that hard to do with constantly having to watch him flaunt his relationship with Marley 'Kiss-Ass' Rose right in front of her); no, what really gets her is the fact that Jake chose that over her, head Cheerio and bitch extraordinaire. She has worked so hard to be perfect in every single damn way and for her to lose him to a wallflower (one born with the genes to become the next biggest threat to the world's food resources, no less) is simply unacceptable.
So, she sets out to prove once and for all that she, Kitty Wilde, can and will have it all. She bargains, she blackmails and she bitches like she's never bargained, blackmailed or bitched before, driven by an inexplicable rage deep within her, all against one Rose. And what is she rewarded with? The news that another popular football player with a drool-worthy body and perfect 'fuck-me' eyes has fallen head over heels for the wallflower's dull charms too.
For her, it's the final blow to an already fragile ego.
It's not fair, she thinks, completely baffled by the brunette. Here she is, having worked so hard to be utterly perfect, having woken up early every morning to be seen as flawless, having spent hours carefully analysing which connections would give her the biggest pay-offs and even having forced herself to throw up what little she'd eaten (if at all) for months in order to be in the running for the coveted role of Head Cheerio. And, yet, quiet, unassuming Marley with her mousey brown hair, lacklustre eyes and tedious personality still manages to win, still manages to be perfect without having done any of the work. Kitty doesn't understand what is so special about the other girl to have two insanely popular boys fighting over her. Kitty can't understand why Marley always manages to win.
So, driven by that inexplicable rage, Kitty shows Marley what it's like to have cracks beneath that perfect façade.
It's when Marley faints during Sectionals, completely ruining any of their chances at winning, that Kitty realises she's gone too far for it to be fun and games anymore.
He approaches the choir room slowly, concern evident in his eyes for the brunette sitting by herself, a lone juice box propped up against a chair leg, empty of its contents. He clutches the granola bar in his hand, handing it over when she looks up forlornly at him (he ignores the slight ache in his heart at the sight of her). He watches as she slowly unwraps the package, keeping a constant vigil over her, making sure she swallows every single bite until all there is left is the empty, shiny wrapper. He takes the wrapper from her, their palms softly brushing against each other's, the crinkle echoing loudly in the otherwise silent room, before standing up to throw the plastic away.
"How-" Marley hesitantly clears her throat, the hoarseness of it unfamiliar and harsh to his ears, "how is everyone?"
He doesn't reply until he disposes of the wrapper and sits down onto a stray chair beside her, staring at her profile when she refuses to share eye contact with him.
"Understandably gutted with the loss," he replies truthfully, watching as she flinches at the consequence of her foolish actions. Because, to be absolutely honest, it was foolish. Yet, he doesn't find it within him to judge her actions or blame her like Tina has been doing for the past five minutes, ranting with renewed vigour whenever someone brings up Marley's name, "but they're more concerned about you."
"They must all hate me, huh?"
He doesn't answer because it really is too soon to tell how everyone else will react once the shock has worn off. He knows that the club had been given one last chance to win or face disbandment and without Glee Club...well...
Instead, he simply takes a hold of her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, and they both sit in companionable silence.
She's thinking of going to the choir room with every intention of apologising, knowing full well that everyone else is outside in one of the hallways, each processing tonight's events in their own manner. She decides it would be easier to apologise whilst they are alone rather than if they are surrounded by the others and she be forced to bear the weight of their judgements.
So, she gets up, having accepted her guilt in the situation, and plans on explaining everything when she abruptly stops in front of the door, her hand outstretched to push down on the handle.
She watches as Marley receives comfort from Ryder, watches as she still receives sympathy from that love-struck fool when everyone else blames her for their defeat.
(they may not say it out loud but she can tell from the bitter glaze in their eyes- she's seen it far too many times in Coach Sylvester's and Mother Dearest's eyes to mistake it for anything else)
Watching them, she feels something snap deep within her. Because even when the whole world ought to be blaming her, Marley still wins.
Without another moment's hesitation, she swiftly walks away, her earlier intentions burying themselves deep into the recesses of her mind.
Kitty makes it her mission to devote herself entirely to the Cheerios, intentionally leaving less and less time for Glee practice because she knows that seeing everyone fawning over the poor wallflower will grate on her last nerve. Everyone has always been, and will always be, on Team Marley, seeing her as the martyr who got manipulated and pressured by the Queen Bitch herself. Each morning she pushes the feelings of guilt further and further into her mind and, each morning, it gets that bit easier to pretend like nothing happened, to ignore her damning part in the whole mess.
She picks the lesser of two evils, choosing Coach Sylvester's degrading rants and the constant aches in her muscles over the badly covered up scandals that always seem to happen during Glee Club. She can feel herself slowly reverting back to her former self, back to pre-Glee Kitty Wilde, the Head Bitch In Charge who didn't give a damn about anything or anybody. She pushes a few random people into lockers when walking down the hallways just because and goes back to ignoring the Glee losers, mocking them with that extra bit of unnecessary aggression that she manages to summon from deep within her.
(she pretends not to notice the wounded and confused looks that flash across their eyes the first time she forgoes their usual table at lunch for the popular one)
In short, she's phasing herself out of their world and back into the world where she rightfully belongs, the one where she's worshipped and where people don't know about the cracks just beneath her shiny surface. And, slowly but surely, things return to how they're supposed to be.
She's walking, no, strutting down the hallway with her usual air of confidence and superiority, her usual smirk firmly in place, her short skirt swishing around her swaying hips when her eyes meet those perfect 'fuck-me' eyes that she sometimes finds herself inexplicably dreaming about at night.
(she usually spends the rest of the night refusing to go back to sleep for fear of seeing a love-filled gaze that is meant for another girl, not her)
And, in those eyes, she can't see the lust or awe or admiration present in other eyes when looking at her- no, she distinctly sees disappointment.
For a second, she's stunned. Disappointment? He's disappointed in her? But, surely enough, that disappointment slowly mounts into that achingly familiar anger, that all-consuming rage she's gotten so used to lately. He's disappointed in her?
She grits her teeth, clenching her fists and mentally counts down from 10 because she can't punch him in the face...8...shouldn't punch him in the face but what right does he have to judge her when he's the one pining after someone who will never love him back...6...5...as if he couldn't get any more pathetic than he already is...3...2...1...
She musters up all her anger and her own disappointment (yes, that's right, she has something to be disappointed about as well) and packs it all into the best sneer she can manage. Without waiting to see how he reacts, she keeps on strutting, she keeps on smirking and she keeps on swishing down the hallway.
(she squashes the little voice in her head telling her to go back and apologise for everything as she keeps on walking away, her back straight and stiff as she can still feel the heat of his gaze boring into her from behind)
It's next Tuesday, the only day when both the football team and the Cheerios are practising at the same time in the same place, when he finally corners her by the changing rooms. She's just about ready to leave, taking her ponytail down because, though she gets that it's an enforced requirement, it doesn't mean that the back of her head isn't left throbbing from the pressure applied to it every day, when an arm extends out of nowhere and blocks her exit, causing her to run straight into it. She recoils from the sudden force pushing her back, grabbing a hold of the door frame to steady herself as he makes no attempt to help her whatsoever. She glares up at him, a hand coming up to massage the ache on her forehead.
"What. The. Fuck?" She spits out, narrowing her eyes at the frowning male. "If I get a fucking bruise from that, Frankenteen, I will hunt you down with my very own pitchfo-"
"What is your problem?" Ryder snaps, all boyish charm and gentle manners gone as he stares down at her with a very heated gaze (heated for all the wrong reasons, she thinks mournfully).
"Alright, first of all, don't ever interrupt me because, not only is it bad manners, Boy Scout, but it also really pisses me off. Secondly, mind explaining what you're going on about or do you expect me to just pluck it out of your empty brain like a bloody mind reader?" She fumes, running her hand through her hair to smooth out the flyaways.
"Look, I get that you've got this whole bitch thing going on but how about you drop it for just this moment so that we can have an honest-to-goodness conversation without me wanting to strangle you with your own hair?"
Honestly? She's shocked by his authoritative behaviour (and damn it if it doesn't turn her on just that little bit ), being far more used to his passive personality and she supposes he takes her speechlessness as an affirmative because he opens his mouth to start talking once more.
"You are aware of the fact that Glee Club was given another chance after Sectionals right?" He asks her, his arm still outstretched to block her way. She suppresses her urge to roll her eyes at his patronising tone.
"Yes, I'm aware," she sneers, "I can't get through one lunch without picking up on the poor, pitiful and pathetic vibes just pouring out of your loser table and I honestly don't know whether to laugh or put you people out of your misery by just giving each one of you freaks a slushie facial myself. That and the fact that I have this urge to vomit whenever I see whatever Marley's wearing...," Kitty's voice trails off because, even after all this time, it turns out that it's still a pretty damn touchy subject.
"'Our loser table'?" He points out, one eyebrow raised in disbelief. "If I remember correctly, you used to be a part of 'our loser table' too."
"Your point?" She mutters, uncomfortable under his unwavering gaze. "So, I grew out of Glee, what's the big fuss about?"
"You didn't 'grow out' of Glee, Kitty," Ryder snorts, a bemused expression on his face yet she can still see that steel glint in his eye that belies his seriousness, "you pushed it, us, away. You forced yourself away from us because you were scared."
"Oh, spare me the lecture, Dr Phil. You don't know me so don't act like you do," she laughs bitterly, ducking beneath his arm and, once again, she's walking away from him. She's halfway down the hall before she turns around, lips pursed mockingly in thought. "Just to satisfy my curiosity, what exactly would I be 'scared' about?"
He looks at her for a moment, really looks at her, and his eyebrows are knitted just that little bit whilst she waits for his answer, steeling herself for what she's sure will come next.
"You were scared," he starts, "of being judged. You were scared of everyone else judging you for what you did to Marley."
She pauses for a second before bursting out in laughter and, this time, she doesn't even have to pretend because he couldn't be farther from the truth. She catches the slightly unsettled look that passes through his eyes before he regains his indifferent composure, those perfect 'fuck-me' eyes staring her down but for all the wrong reasons.
"Exactly my point," she throws out over her shoulder as she heads towards the exit, "you really don't know me at all."
(she ignores that little part of her that wishes he did)
She watches as the New Directions shimmy and shake around the stage, that familiar exuberant energy encompassing them as they seamlessly perform yet another routine while Mr Schue looks on, a proud smile lighting up his features. With one final note belted out by Unique, the music comes to a slow stop and they're all high-fiving each other, jumping around and laughing in their safe haven.
She muses how they would react if she were to walk on and join them right there and then and, suddenly, she realises she's seriously contemplating the idea, itching to dance and sing and laugh alongside them. She's about to cross the entrance into the auditorium when Tina looks up and spots her, a brief frown flashing through her face before turning to the person on her right. That's all it takes to dissuade her from walking the rest of the way in.
By the time Ryder looks up, she's gone.
"Can I talk to you?"
Kitty cocks her head, raising her right eyebrow at the mousey brunette in front of her.
"If this is about you and Puckerman, you can walk away right now and go find the dumpster you furrowed through to find whatever you're wearing and throw it right back in because, my God, does it look hideous," she slams her locker door shut and leans against it, clutching her books lazily against her chest.
"No," Marley mumbles, crossing her arms self-consciously over her chest and shifting ever so slightly, "I just...I never got to say...sorry. To you. About...about Sectionals..."
Kitty's thrown for a loop, a genuinely surprised expression on her face as her mouth parts slightly in shock.
"It's just...I've said sorry to everyone else about ruining their chances but not to you and I figured I should because you were part of us then too," Marley takes a deep breath, fidgeting with the sleeves of her jumper that sits just that bit too loosely on her body to be considered as fashionable. Kitty's not sure on how to respond to the poor girl's apology, especially when it should be her apologising instead for everything she's done to the other girl.
And, out of nowhere, that anger ignites deep within her once more because, once again, Marley's acting like the fucking martyr everyone views her as.
"Why are you apologising to me after everything I've done to you?" She snaps, tightening her grip on her books. "I gave you bulimia for fuck's sake!"
"But it was me who actually started doing it; you never stuck your fingers down my throat, I did it myself!" The brunette whispers, eyes darting around and Kitty understands because it's not like the poor girl needs any more ammo used against her by the rest of the student body.
"I might as well have with all the times I told you to do it!"
"Look, I didn't come here to argue about my...bulimia," Marley begins, running a hand nervously through her hair. "I came here to say sorry and, now that I have, I can get out of your way. Bye, Kitty."
"Wait," she finds herself saying, her mouth working faster than her body, "I'm sorry. I really, truly am so, so sorry," she's desperate for the other girl to believe her, so desperate that words and feelings start blurting out of her before she can even think about stopping them. "I just needed someone to feel everything that I felt and you were just there, somehow managing to be perfect when I've tried so fucking hard and still miss the mark every fucking time. You're not even anything spectacular yet you have Jake and Ryder and the whole of the New Directions in your back pocket while I always have to be so careful of my every action because one single misstep could lead to me being kicked off the Cheerios and that just can't happen because I've worked so hard...," she finally manages to stop herself, shaking ever so slightly from unloading her every single problem onto the frozen girl in front of her who is now so painfully aware of the cracks just beneath the blonde's shiny surface.
Kitty closes her eyes and leans against the lockers, aware of the dull throbbing in her knuckles, aware of the possible moon-shaped puncture marks on her palm but she can't seem to care because she's suddenly so tired.
Her eyes pop back open when she feels two arms encircling her neck and pulling her close, the itchy material of the jumper scratching at her exposed throat and arms. She tenses for a second before letting all pretenses drop and just relishing in the feeling of being held.
She supposes that whoever said actions speak louder than words was right after all.
It's lunchtime and she's holding onto her tray of food, deftly manoeuvring between the stray backpacks and chairs that litter the canteen floor. She's heading towards the popular table, reserved solely for the top dogs of William McKinley High School, when a shout from the other side of the room garners her attention.
She pales faster than she ever thought was possible when she realises it's Marley, standing up and waving her over to an empty seat. One quick glance shows the rest of the New Directions focusing on their food, determined to try and fade into the background whilst Jake is tugging on his girlfriend's sweater to try and get her to sit down, whispering words into her ear which she shrugs off stubbornly.
And then there are those perfect 'fuck-me' eyes staring back at her, not judging, not disappointed, just curious.
Kitty looks back at her posse laughing at God-knows-what at the head table, lounging luxuriously in the knowledge that they are respected and feared by the rest of the school and, before she can second guess herself, she's strutting in the direction of Jake (whose eyebrows are raised in surprise), Marley (with her victorious grin displaying her obvious happiness) and Ryder (she thinks she sees a ghost of a smile drifting over his lips at the sight of her).
Seating herself down on the spare chair, she schools her face back into its usual indifferent expression, rolling her eyes and trading appropriate barbs with the rest of the New Directions, making sure they damn well know that she is still the Head Bitch In Charge, regardless of whether she willingly came to sit with 'the losers' or not.
But she can't stop the grin that emerges onto her face whenever she thinks no-one's looking.
(she also can't stop the flush in her cheeks when she realises she can feel his gaze on her throughout the entire lunch break)
Mr Schue greets her return without any questions and her daily life falls back into the pattern of Life Before Sectionals.
Slowly, ever so slowly, she feels herself smiling (her genuine smile, not the bitch-smirk she so regularly gives everyone else) and laughing more within the walls of the choir room, easing up in a way that being on the Cheerios never allows her to do.
She's still a bitch, jumping on any chance to mock and ridicule her fellow team members but they've accepted that the same way she has and don't take as much offence as they used to, often matching her quips with their own snarky replies.
Then the lights go out and he finds out about the cracks beneath her shiny surface too.
(she starts to wonder whether he could help her mend them with his boyish charm and 'fuck-me' eyes)
She raises an eyebrow when she sees him leaning against the lockers near the female changing room, shouldering her bag and loosening her ponytail.
"Well, at least you're not waiting for me directly in front of the door this time. My forehead thanks you for that," she smirks, wrinkling her nose at him.
"Who said I was waiting for you?" He grins but, nevertheless, shoulders his own bag and falls into step beside her on their way down the hall.
"Let's see, half the Cheerios are dumb, happy go lucky airheads whilst the other half are vicious, spiteful bitches who willingly drop their panties for every other boy in this school just to get ahead and none of them resemble a one Marley Rose. Therefore, you must have been waiting on me," she concludes, nudging him lightly with her shoulder. He chuckles and the hair on the back of her neck stand on end at the deep sound.
"What I don't understand is why you always bring up Marley in every conversation we have together," he muses, glancing down at her beside him. "Like now, not even a minute in and her name's already popped up."
"It's so you can save your pride by having me mention her first," she catches his confused look and rolls her eyes, sighing all the while. "Don't act like you still don't pine after her like a lost puppy with your 'fuck-me' eyes an-"
"My what eyes?" He laughs, the tips of his ears turning a shade of red.
"Your 'fuck-me' eyes. Oh, please, like you haven't noticed! Remember the latter half of the Cheerios I was telling you about?" He nods. "Well, the majority of them would be more than happy for you to be one the boys they drop their panties for."
"No, I heard you, I just wanted to hear you say it again. Besides, the majority of the Cheerios have dropped their panties for me," He grins like the Cheshire Cat, rubbing the back of his neck in an effort to stave off the embarrassment yet, she notices amusedly, he stands a bit taller and walks with that little added bit of swagger in his step.
"Right, of course, I hear bits and pieces during locker room talks," she winks,"but, like I was saying, your 'fuck-me' eyes trail her across the room whenever she walks in and, don't even try to deny it, you're always staring at her and Puckerman snogging in the choir room with that lost expression on your face," she states, opening the door and a breath of fresh air envelops her, cooling her aching muscles and sweaty body. He holds the door open whilst she passes by, letting it shut after him.
"Sounds like you've been paying a lot of attention to me and my 'fuck-me' eyes."
"How could I not? It's embarrassingly obvious to everyone in Glee Club," she suddenly swerves in front of him and presses a flat palm against his (very chiseled) chest, stopping him in his tracks. "Seriously, all jokes aside, you need to stop pining after Mike and Molly's daughter. Not only is it pathetic, frankly it's a sorry sight to see. Hell, even I've stopped scheming to get Jake back because it's so obvious that he and the wallflower are in love. So, just save yourself what's left of your dignity, and move on."
"Move on, huh?" He echoes, the corners of his lips quirking upwards. "Anyone in mind?"
She hesitates briefly before rising to her tip-toes, resting her palms against his chest as she leans in, her lips positioned a hair breadth away from his right ear.
"Well, I've heard that the Cheerios are a very, very limber bunch," she whispers, her breath pleasantly tickling his ear, "you know, if you're interested."
She comes back down onto her heels, a mischievous smirk painted onto her lips. He stares down at her, smile vanished, and a small shudder runs down her spine at the sight of his darkened eyes. Licking her lips slowly, she gazes up at him from beneath her thick lashes, tilting her head ever so slightly, one eyebrow raised in challenge.
"Kitty," he growls and, before she can register what's happening, his fingers are digging into her hips and his mouth is on hers, his tongue running over her bottom lip three times before she gains enough sense to part her lips willingly. Her own hands linger over his biceps and broad shoulders before they settle in his hair, fingers threading themselves deftly through his thick, dark strands. She's faintly aware of him moving her, though his rough lips remain steadfastly on hers, and then she's pushed up against a wall, the rough brick surface digging into her skin through her rumpled Cheerios uniform. Looking up, her half-lidded eyes meet his hungrily before she feels one of his hands on the back of her left thigh, his touch scorching her skin.
Breaking contact with his lips, she swiftly uses his support as leverage to wrap her legs around his waist, resting her head against the brick wall as he attaches his lips onto her neck, grazing his teeth against the exposed skin before soothing the pleasant sting with his tongue. His hand slips down onto the back of her knee, softly stroking the sensitive skin there causing her to let out a small whimper at the sensation running through her nerves. He groans in response, his lips trailing from the base of her neck up to her chin whilst she wraps her arms tightly around his neck, directing his mouth back onto hers.
A car alarm going off is what finally brings them back down to reality. Kitty leans against the wall, breathing hard to try and catch her breath back as she stares at Ryder, grinning at his mussed hair, swollen lips and darkened eyes. She runs a hand through her own hair, tugging gently to get rid of any tangles. The heat radiating from her face tells her that she's more than flushed from their kiss and just the reminder of it causes her to blush a deep red all over again.
"That was...," he clears his throat, the huskiness of it creating a small shiver down her spine.
"Yeah," she blinks, her chest still heaving from their exertion, "yeah, it was."
She's smoothing down her skirt when she looks up and catches his eye and, sure enough, she can feel a smile creeping onto her pink, swollen lips.
They make it a point to wait for each other every Tuesday from then on.
They agree to keep whatever the thing between them is a secret, knowing all too well how something can break and fall apart under the scrutiny of their judgemental peers. They end up resorting to stolen kisses in deserted hallways, brief but lingering touches during Glee Club and even those clichéd, heated make-outs underneath the bleachers. Apart from that, their attitudes towards each other stay the same- she the ever-present bitch and he the indifferent hero. No one looks twice at them and no one suspects a thing.
Yet, all good things must come to an end. She supposes she should've known that they had an expiry date from the very beginning.
It strikes her one day when she's in the middle of Glee Club, watching from the sidelines with the rest of the New Directions while Ryder and Marley perform a soft ballad, their voices mingling together into the perfect harmony. That uncomfortable feeling gnaws deep within her, her breath hitching whenever the two get just that bit too close for it to be nothing but a performance. As the notes draw to a slow end and the others clap and laugh and congratulate, everything becomes far too crystal clear to her for it to be comforting anymore.
That is what perfection looks like, she thinks tiredly, joining the rest of them in applauding the singers, her body going through the motions but her mind racing at an impossible pace. The hero and his damsel-in-distress, both kind, both loving and both adored. Together, they make quite the pair.
(the ideal picture, she thinks snidely, and you're not in it)
She realises her mistake in thinking he could mend the cracks beneath her shiny surface because the truth of the matter is he can't, no matter how hard he kisses her, no matter how sweetly he smiles at her, no matter how many times he whispers sweet nothings into her ear. She's broken and he's not her remedy.
A hand grips hers and she looks up in surprise, her eyes meeting those perfect 'fuck-me' ones of his.
"You okay?" He asks, gently running his thumb over her knuckles, smiling down at her adoringly, like she's his everything. She manages a small nod, a winning smile and, casting a quick glance over the room and deeming everyone else as too busy to notice, a lingering kiss on his cheek. She watches as his smile brightens, brushing her fingers over his right cheek, watches as he leans ever so slightly into her touch yet her mind plays over one sole thought in repeat.
He's not her remedy.
He sees her in the hallways from time to time, always surrounded by a group of loyal followers, always perfectly made up and always, always with that tilted smirk carved carefully onto her sinful lips.
His eyes follow her every move, his jaw clenched and his eyes hardened as she flirts her way through the male half of the student body, her short skirt swishing teasingly around her swaying hips as she struts her way around William McKinley High School.
He catches her sometimes with her guard down, the corners of her lips pulled downwards and her small body pulled in tightly around her as if she's creating a shield to protect her from the outside world.
He sees her but they never, not once, share a single word. And he walks away, mourning for what they could've had.
She sees him in the football field every Tuesday, always so determined to win, always following every single victory with that dance of his and always, always painfully oblivious to the admiring stares.
Her eyes follow his every move, teeth gritted and a false smile plastered onto her mouth at the sight of him with the wallflower, his perfect 'fuck-me' eyes focused solely on the brunette, the sound of his laughter reverberating around her, ringing in her ears even when she's left the same room as them.
She catches him sometimes with his guard down, his eyes downcast and his shoulders stiff. It's during these times that she has to forcibly shove away the itch to take him into her arms and soothe his worries away with her soft kisses.
She sees him but they never, not once, share a single word. And she walks away, mourning for what they could've had.
You don't even know how much of a relief it is to get this off my chest :D
So, yes, hopefully you liked it and, do me a favour guys, write your own Kyder stories or recommend me some amazing ones because I feel like we're seriously lacking here.
Fingers crossed for Season 5! :D xx