• \\ Ryden oneshots // •

Those hopeless two, both pretending to be literature lovers instead

Point of view: 3rd person
Words: 5.2k+

"Read to me."
"Why?"
"Because you go somewhere else when you read. I want to go there with you."
- Alex Light

—

The familiar weight of Brendon's head on his shoulder, and his soft talking voice, kept Ryan awake as he read page after page of the book in his hands. The boy was rambling all about his day, not particularly demanding for Ryan's attention. As the story time of how a guy made a fool of himself in Brendon's lecture continued, Ryan carefully underlined a few sentences he found interesting, that would help him write the essay he needed to have finished by the end of the week.

Brendon was great at telling stories, talking too animatedly about something so mundane like his day. Ryan found it slightly amusing the amount of effort, even if the audience of one single person, that also seemed to be the shoulder his head was resting on, wasn't paying too much attention. Just as Brendon was reaching the part where the guy was leaving the lecture hall behind, completely embarrassed, Ryan turned the page and started a new chapter.

"Anyway, what are you reading?" Brendon piped in just as he finished the story time. And then added, when Ryan didn't bother to give a verbal response, and barely showed the cover for Brendon to read the title as an answer "...that seems so interesting you won't even look at me."

"I was listening, hmm." Ryan answered and shook Brendon off his shoulder, smiling at Brendon's faux offended look. "But I don't really mind what that guy does, or apparently, doesn't do... and this is homework, I need to write an essay about this."

"About what exactly? How were paintings of naked ladies so famous back then?" The question took Ryan by surprise, but Brendon made it sound so genuine that he actually laughed after looking at the cover of the book, getting what Brendon meant with the question. "Please tell me you aren't writing a great detailed description of that image, that's both terrifying and too straight for my eyes."

"You dork, I'm so not doing that." Ryan was full on laughing at that moment, the look of pure terror in Brendon's eyes at the mere prospect of that ever happening was too funny. He felt the need to comfort the boy in a way, "I'm not sure what it's going to be about, but definitely not that. I have to finish it first — And just to be clear, it's a book about a murderer."

Perfume was definitely a unique choice of a book to write an essay on, but who was judging, certainly not him. His teacher was a middle aged man who wore shorts every day to class, and talked too much but barely said anything at all. So far he was enjoying the book, the detailed writing caught his metaphorical mind, and almost made it feel like it wasn't homework at all. He would ace that class in a heartbeat, and prove to his poorly dressed teacher that his writing skills were better than his teaching skills ever would.

"Interesting enough... You're forgiven." Brendon concluded, patting Ryan's head as he stood up from their place on one of the many green areas on campus. "I have to get to my lecture though. See you some other time?"

"Sure, bye. I need your annoying voice to concentrate on this." The little smile on Ryan's face made it impossible for Brendon to come up with a petty comment to match. He reached and pinched Ryan's cheeks instead, before saying another goodbye and leaving.

Ryan repositioned himself, crossing his legs with his bag on his lap, before retrieving his book. And as he got through the first three pages of the chapter, he found himself missing Brendon's head on his shoulder. And a little bit, just the tiniest bit, Brendon's relaxed voice talking close to his ear. But not like he would ever say that out loud, he just missed it.