The entire world lit up when the song came on.

He'd insisted we listened to the Top 40's hits of the 80's while we did our homework. Being less than enthusiastic about most pop music, I normally would've said I couldn't care less and might've even suggested a classical station instead, but the hidden desperation in his voice made me realize he was probably holding out for a certain song or two. I smiled and pretended like it was something I was into as well. By the relieved look on his face, I knew I'd picked the right answer.

We worked in comfortable silence, sans the faint synthesized bubblegum dance hits playing in the background, for almost an hour before that song came on. We were both lying on our stomachs, propping our arms up on long fluffy pillows, more so lazing about than actually getting any work done. I had zoned out beforehand, getting lost in the patterns that the rays of sunshine created as they filtered through my bedroom window. It was a warm spring afternoon, a Saturday to be exact; but we were inside doing our homework anyway. What else were self-proclaimed nerds like us supposed to do?

Anyway, the song of a nearby bluebird was starting to sound more rehearsed and enticing than the run-of-the-mill cash-grabbers the radio was churning out. That is, until a faint gasp sounded to my right and immediately the radio was turned up.

I could no longer hear the bluebird. Looking over to my companion, my suspicions were confirmed when I saw that excited expression spreading across his face.

"You don't mind, do you?" he asked sheepishly, his cheeks a little warm. I said no, of course not. Who was I to deny someone the pleasure of listening to their favorite song?

Even if that song happened to belong in the soundtrack of Mamma Mia.

He stopped writing in his notebook as he listened to the song. It was hard to tell what he was looking at, or if he was even looking at anything at all; music does that to people. Just makes them feel lost and weightless, but not in an uncomfortable way. It doesn't happen often, but sometimes there comes a song that touches the heart so strongly that aimlessness and detachment to reality occurs naturally. The feeling that anything can happen, that you can accomplish anything you want, just because the song is so good…I've certainly felt it. And baring witness to it was something else entirely; it was happening to my companion right next to me, and his positivity and relaxation was palpable.

The song was important to him. I didn't dare speak. To interrupt his moment of clarity and buoyancy would've been offensive to an unbelievable degree.

So I watched him instead. Not like he would've noticed in his current state. I was starting to feel light and happy too; his mood was extremely contagious, and I couldn't help but smile despite my efforts to remain inconspicuous in his mind.

But by the time the chorus came around for the second time, he started to sing. I quickly snapped my head back down to my algebra book, surprised; a moment later I glanced back, satisfied that he wasn't looking back at me. His singing voice was quiet, shy, like it normally was when he spoke; but he kept up with the song perfectly. His eyes were closed and he brought his hands up to his chest. In my peripheral vision I caught his feet swinging back and forth, like he was itching to dance.

I couldn't imagine him doing such a thing, and almost laughed at the thought. There was such a thing as being lost in a song, but he was embedded within this one. Suddenly the idea of this kid dancing by himself to the song didn't seem as absurd as I thought. He really was the kind of person who hid his secret passions from others…something I could very well relate to.

A faint memory seeped into my mind…of a tiny hand, grabbing my own reluctant one. Swinging us around in time with the music in the background. The owner of the tiny hand creating his own words that would end up making their way out of my mouth soon after. My hesitance had turned into laughter as quickly as the song came and went.

The tiny hand gripped mine harder, and suddenly the owner of it changed. The tune behind us sped up, as did the blood rushing in my ears. Eyes traveling the length of the pale arm stretched out in front of me, I saw deep brown eyes and soft hair lining his flushed face, hiding the birthmark on his forehead.

I saw his nervous smile and gave him the confident one I'd always wanted to be able to give.

I asked him for a dance.

We assumed our positions, the song he adored so much growing fainter as the sound of my heart grew noticeably louder, and he was laughing like he didn't want to do this. He wasn't a dancer, so why were we doing this? "Only for you and your nerdy face", he confirmed. Very adamant that he would never dance with anyone else.

The song ended.

I came back to reality suddenly, hit by the realization that I was staring. The laughing in my daydream had been real; next to me, he was cracking up at his own silliness.

He covered his mouth and looked away in embarrassment, unable to stop his laughter. It was infectious. I let out the hearty laugh he once told me was so uplifting to hear, and threw my pencil at his red face. He fell over and melted into a giggle fit, and I joined him, our shared laughter drowning out the new pop song I couldn't care less about that played next.

I never thought such a cheesy song would invoke that kind of feeling inside of me. The feeling that I could do anything and succeed. The feeling of simultaneously being purely myself while being nothing at all.

That uneventful afternoon, I'd gotten that feeling of unadulterated happiness. But I think I was wrong. It wasn't the song that made me feel that way.

Dipper's smile widened when we locked eyes, and I felt weightless.