Inspired by the Rihanna song, Please Don't Stop The Music.
It's a Friday night and my visitors absolutely will not let me stay home. They let me pick where we're going, so I give them a name. My favourite on the few occasions I do chose to go out. It's a small, hole in the wall bar, underground, but that's why I like it.
Lights flash, music blares and people socialize. I order my self harsh alcohol, knowing I am most definitely not the designate driver, an attempt to numb myself somewhat as I listen to my companions idly chattering beside me.
Suddenly them music changes, and my mood with it. I don't know why.
I wouldn't say I'm a particularly big fan of music, but the song the DJ has playing oddly captures me. I abandoned the people I came with, my cousin Riku and his younger boyfriend Sora, to stumble ungracefully onto the dance floor. I let the music take me. I never learned how to dance, but with each note played through the speakers I find the movements come easily to me, like reading the words from a book.
I throw my hands up on the last beat of the song and with a final last twitch I claim is a dance move, stop. There's a man across from me, dancing alone as well. His blonde hair sticks to his face with sweat and it drips down his body, creating small dark spots on his yellow t-shirt, advertising a band I've never heard of. At the same time I caught sight of him, he seems to do the same. His eyes dart to the bright band around my wrist, rainbow coloured, and he seems to know it's purpose for being worn*. He smiles mischievously and invitingly.
I approach the blond man as a new song starts. Tipsy and judgement hazy from the drinks, I placed my hand on his cheek and run it down his face, along his jaw line as I begin to move my body once more with the new music. I'd been planning to leave the dance floor after the first song, but now I don't think I could bring myself to.
This man, who's name I didn't even know yet, places his hands lightly around my waist as our bodies moved in sych to the music. A sway this way with one beat and a pulse of our chest with another.
As the music changes tempo, slowing considerably, I put one of my own hands over one belonging to the blonde I'm dancing with. He pulls me closer to his body, our chests touching and I look up. For the first time I get a good look at his face. Or his eyes rather, as they draw me in. The blue of his eyes tell me as much about him as I need to know about him, and I envy every bit of it. I notice the pure joy in his eyes, perhaps from the dancing, from the music, a particularly good day, who knows. Along with that, I see the youth there, as it should be. And I'm jealous.
I know that he's staring back in my eyes, noticing things about me the same way I notice them about him. Only he's seeing a completely different person. My eyes, I'm fully aware, are cold, harsh and old. The flat grey of my eyes houses no warm, comfort or love in the same way this man's do, they only reflect the neglect and hardship that's filled my life.
He seems to notice me dwelling on his eyes, and staring at them with a look I think I would describe as akin to lust, if I could see it myself. Leaning down, he kisses my cheek and seductively whispers into my ear, "You're beautiful." That's all it takes for me to be lost.
From then on, the night was a private show.
*It's, ahem, advertising Zexy's gay...if you didn't get that :|