Reverse Rivalry

Lions Don't Roar Until Provoked I

The lights in the house were dim. It was silent, swirling with an atmosphere that could suffocate. Jale had deflated the moment his butt touched the couch. His inner turmoil was a thunderstorm. It simmered, boiled, cooled and flared until all he could feel was numbness. He was hunched over with his hands clasped together between his legs. He was staring at the carpet under his feet with his vision blurred like it was an out of focus camera lens.

He was thinking but what he was thinking about, he didn't know. Maybe, it was about his mother's upsetting words or was it about Skylar Lain sitting next to him staring daggers into his soul. He wasn't entirely sure.

Skylar was unusually quiet even though Jale had expected him to open his cunning trap and start something. The bastard never passed up a chance to ridicule him for things he couldn't control and for the mess his life was. The bastard was an expert at pouring salt into an open wound.

He couldn't believe, he, with his own mouth, chose to stay in this tiny place with this fucking imbecile over his home. This whole situation had clearly driven him out of his mind.

If anyone dragged a knife across his skin right now, he would bleed regret instead of blood onto the innocent floor. Jale had to refrain from snapping his head in Skylar's direction to give him a handful of his fists. He had no energy to deal with the boy's fuckery. He could feel more than amusement running through the air.

The boy must have been itching to talk, itching to do what he did best, irritate. Jale could feel his jaw locking from just imagining the words that would fall from the boy's lips if he did.

Jale lifted his head to the ceiling and blew out the frustration from his lungs. Skylar should be the least of his fucking problems right now. His so-called father returned from god knows where for christ sake, but Skylar Lain's laidback attitude and scrutinizing gaze were taking a front seat in his mind. He was regretting sitting on this small couch. He should have beelined for the bathroom.

Skylar's presence was nothing good and he just had to be present during one of Jale's lowest moments. The couch material under Jale's butt itched. He was becoming uncomfortable. He was still not used to being voluntarily operating normally in the same vicinity with this psychopath.

Skylar's left leg was only an inch away from touching his. He could feel a slight warmth spreading over his knee where they would touch if he moved his just a little bit closer. Jale could feel the boy's eyes scraping down his side profile. Jale didn't want to know what he was thinking, didn't want to know what cog was turning inside that insidious head. Jale almost scowled from his own thoughts. He was slowly getting pissed yet not one word had been spoken in the last 10 minutes.

Jale snapped turning his head to finally confront the bastard. The incessant staring had clawed at his last nerve. A quiet Skylar wasn't any better than the parrot-mouth asshole he loathed with everything in his being.

"Say it," Jale breathed out holding back the wrath in his stomach that was threatening to pool into his fist.

"Patronizing me will get you nowhere,"

Skylar blinked lifting his head from his palm. His expression was almost blank but his dark pupils were narrowed into slits. Skylar scoffed then leaned his head to the side and smiled. The rage in Jale's system rose from the dead ashes it was buried in.

How the bastard could be such a conniving bitch with just a tilt of his lips, Jale couldn't fathom.

The urge to just rip Skylar's mouth off was tearing him to pieces. The fact that this bastard had the motherfucking audacity to smile-