Reverse Rivalry

Lions Don't Roar Until Provoked II

Jale's aggravated question was loud enough to echo off the thin walls of the room. The warm glowing light flickered a bit like a response to the turbulent emotions storming inside Jale's churning gut. He was too conscious of the laying pest beside him and that bothered him. It bothered him too much.

Jale stared down at the curled up figure of Skylar Lain who had his back turned. His shirt was pushed up exposing the smooth unblemished skin of his back from his overly excessive movements. Jale scowled at the display dragging his hand back. He ignored the subtle warmth that spread over his fingers from almost touching it. Jale's eyebrows deepened in an unknown flurry of rage. Something was tugging internally, warping, coiling, pushing but Jale didn't know what.

An impulsive heat seared through him travelling up his toes to crawl through his veins even though the room was cold as Antarctica and the sheets that were thrown off him tattered at the edge of the bed. Jale felt a cog tighten in his stomach as the bastard causing all his problems was relaxed, nonchalantly stretched out.

His laid-back disposition irked Jale to no end, always seemingly calm in every fucking situation that was so uncomfortable to Jale. It made him feel like needles were being jabbed into his skin. It clawed at his already unstable sanity. Jale snarled, wanting the boy to respond, to get up, to say what he needed to fucking say. He knew this was a trap, a trap he was willingly falling into but it was agonizing to imagine.

He didn't know why Skylar's unusual behaviour was messing with him with his head. He hated when the boy opened those lips and spoke so why did he want the bastard to spew words he knew would make him send him into a different universe?

But this, he knew for a fact he did not like. It sent chilling anxiety up his spine.

Skylar moved, lifting his body slowly to sit up on the bed. He lifted his head to stare up at Jale's twisted sour expression. His hair that was slightly wet fell over his face immediately shielding his dark, dead eyes.

The bed was anything but small but Jale almost jerked back when Skylar's movements brought his face too close causing their nose to almost bump. Jale held his ground and tried to ignore the tingling that went through the small organ. Jale gripped the sheet under his palm to steady himself, to anchor whatever fire was tearing him apart.

Skylar's eyes narrowed slowly. He looked like he was on the verge of spitting in Jale's face. They were immediately filled with contempt analyzing, judging, mocking.

"No, enlighten me what the fuck is your problem, Kierson?"

"Why, in the middle of the goddamn night are you acting like a little bitch?" Skylar's words were harsh, tantalizing and washed over him like hot air. Jale expected no less. He expected the familiar sting in his chest.

Jale turned his torso fully, pushing his hand forward to lean more, even closer to Skylar's face to hiss what was torturing him from the moment he laid on this godforsaken bed.

"You think I don't know you, Lain. You think I don't know what games you're playing at. Stop touching me, you fucking freak,"

Jale unclenched his fisting of the sheets to sink his nails into the mattress. Skylar's expression didn't disappoint but what he didn't expect was Skylar moving the hand that was near to his to grab his wrist and pull him down further until even their lips could touch. Jale twitched when his eyes couldn't help going down to glimpse Skylar's moving mouth.

"Don't bullshit me, Kierson, you're the one playing games, getting riled up by one single mistouch of my feet. It's not me, golden boy, it's you. "