Blurred
The lights in the room are all smoky-looking, but that could just be Kukai's imagination playing tricks on him. It's all fuzzy, like luminous blurred circles or something. In fact, everything in this dim club, with its deafening bass and claustrophobic spaces, seems to be blurring together.
And yet, one lone figure burns brighter and clearer than all of the rest. He isn't sure why he is so fixated on her of all people. Maybe because she's a familiar face in a crowd of strangers, dancing like she doesn't have a care in the world, or maybe the couple of drinks he has had in the past hour were finally getting to him. Whatever the reason, Kukai just knows that she grows clearer and clearer the more and more he stares.
Something seems to be different about her, Kukai realizes. She seems more…mature. (Is that even the right word to use?) Is it the lack of pigtails? The uncharacteristically attractive little black dress? The way she sways and twirls to the pounding beat? How she seems to neither notice nor care about the constant staring? Kukai can't settle on a definite answer, but whatever it is, there's something about her that gives off a feeling that he never associated with her, and it is making him nervously entranced.
The lights were becoming fuzzier and fuzzier as the bass thumped louder and louder against his ears. You're drunk, Kukai thought haphazardly. Go home.
Then again, Yaya is still here. Enamoring, mesmerizing, alluring Yaya who pulls him further and further toward her the longer and harder he looks.
Sighing deeply, Kukai sets his glass of to the side and stands up. His eyes never leaving the figure burning clearly in his line of sight, he strides boldly toward the crowded dance floor.