You shouldn't mention it, but of course you do. I suppose I can take some of the blame for leaving the ticket on my desk. You can't help but be interested in other people's lives. But this is different. We're not friends, so you shouldn't mention it. It's not any of your business. That doesn't matter.
You shouldn't be here, but a part of me expected you to be. I didn't expect you to try and hide your identity. Surely you realise that a mask can't disguise your voice, your opinions and your mannerisms? I haven't given you too much credit, I know that much. Even with the cover, you wear your heart on your sleeve.
I go along with pretending.
You feel different tonight.
We feel different.
We shouldn't, but we do. So very different. So very much more.
It's ridiculous. A mask shouldn't have any effect...and it doesn't. Not inside. I know who you are. You know who I am.
We shouldn't. Again. But you ask and something in your face pleads with me. Are you just asking me to dance? Or are you pleading with me not to break whatever magic is happening tonight? Either way I know we shouldn't. But the magic is fragile, and so we dance.
It's not the dancing either. As much as I like it and however much I'll pretend that it is, it's not the dancing. By process of elimination, it has to be you. And that is terrifying. Moving together; around and around and around on the dance floor, you've gathered the attention of the whole room. I'm not surprised, but I am terrified.
You should know - and I hope that you do - that I've never seen you this way before. I've never wanted to. Tonight is new and exciting...tonight is fun. Nobody would believe we're just friends. They shouldn't. We're not. Not at all.
The balcony is quiet and secluded and I still can't shake the disgusting tingly feeling you give me. If anything, away from everyone you're more beautiful. I don't say it. I can't. Dancing should be as far as it goes. It isn't.
Ridiculously perfectly timed fireworks go off the moment that your lips touch mine. It feels like electricity. Like life being breathed into places that have long since been abandoned. You shouldn't fit so well in my arms or against my chest and lips but you do. And you are comfortable there. It doesn't feel wrong in the slightest...
...but it is.
That doesn't mean I should yell. It doesn't mean I should belittle you or lie, but I do. I do, and your face changes in an instant. All of the wonder replaced by anger. I wish it didn't have to match mine so. Words are spoken far too quickly, far too brashly for them to be taken back and the illusion of the night shatters around us.
I don't know what either of us expected...I don't know what we wanted. I know it isn't a mistake, but it is over.
I leave you behind.
I shouldn't.
I don't mean it.
