The Waltz
Shido

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One, two, three. One, two, three.
I count the steps in my head as I watch the couples all following the same pattern, the movements of a dance long followed. It's traditional, almost, that every person must follow the waltz at least once.
It's as if the dance itself is symbolic of life; or the romance shared by these young lovers. Crush, Love, Heartbreak; an almost inescapable loop of life.

One, two, three.
A certain pair dancing catches my eye; they twist and turn together, sensing the other's movements perfectly. I move a little from the shadows to gain a better view.
People slowly begin to cease their own dance to allow the pair more space; watching them follow those three constant beats. Seeing them together, you could almost imagine them as a couple; perfectly matched, the darkness and the light balancing one another like the delicate powers of yin and yang.

One, two, three.
However, we all know better than that. No matter how well the pair may match in action and in look, they will never be a couple.
Perhaps that is part of the mystery about them. Two young boys, one gay, one not; but only their closest friends know the order.

One, two, three.
The music comes to an end and the pair complete their dance, bowing to the crowd as they move from the floor.
Two young boys, one stunning Japanese, the other a breathtakingly beautiful American. Most imagine that I would have became infatuated with the young Japanese, Heero Yuy; but when have I ever listened to the voice of reason?

One, two, three.
I count it out once more, for luck, brushing my own long hair over my shoulder. Perhaps, at next year's party, rather than counting it; I will step forward and join the waltz.