Dancing By Myself
On New Year's Eve, Ami refuses to dance with anyone.
At the Ohashi High school, music echoes inside the school gym. Students dance with each other, drink punch and generally have fun in any way they can think of. Their steps change in accordance to the music, from pop to slow waltz to rap. The young people inside the gym are as diverse as the music they listen to. All kinds of teens had gathered at this party – nerds, jocks, bullies, the popular kids, even some of the outcasts and students that really couldn't be classified in any of these stereotypes (*caugh* Haruta *caugh*).
Among all these mismatched party-goers a lone girl weaver between their small groups. She is a beauty to behold. Her black dress hugs her curves nicely and her long hair has been pulled up into an elegant bun, exposing the pale flesh of her neck.
She twirls a glass of punch in her hand, watching with no real interest as the liquid inside drifts from one side to the other. It's half-full – or half-empty, depending on how you looked at it – but Ami doesn't care either way. There's only one thing she cares about, or rather one person, and he isn't here.
Even if he was, Ami muses morosely, it doesn't change how things stand between us. There's a bitter taste in her mouth whenever her mind wanders to such topics and Ami acknowledges it for what it is:
Jealousy.
That's right, Kawashima Ami, model and upcoming actress is jealous of a flat-chested mess of a girl that's as tall as a kindergartener. She hates being jealous of someone like Taiga, but she hates it even more that Taiga has the one thing she wants above all else. The one thing she will never be able to claim as hers. She hates Kushieda too – though, hate is a very strong word, but she still envies them.
They both have a place in his heart, the heart she wishes would belong to her and her only.
That's why on New Year's Eve, Kawashima Ami refuses to dance with anyone.
A lot of boys ask her, and all of them are denied – some even multiple times (*caugh* Haruta *caugh*).
"Please, Ami-chan, won't you give me a chance?"
After the tenth time she lets out an irritated sigh before grabbing Haruta's wrist and all but dragging him to the dance floor. If her grip is too tight or too forceful, Haruta is apparently too ecstatic to notice. Ami can see his dorky friend – Noto, was it? – glaring at them from the corner of her eye.
Koji is babbling like an idiot about something Ami isn't listening to. They start to dance, but the Class Clown apparently doesn't know when to shut up. She'll have to remedy that.
"Haruta-kun?" she asks quietly, timidly, even though all she really wants to do is smack the guy across the face and tell him to shut up.
She can almost feel him blinking "Eh? Yeah, Ami-chan?" his tone reveals that he's eager to please. Good.
The model smiles, almost self-deprecatingly "Could you please be quiet for a while? I want to dance." He doesn't say anything after that, though he probably wants to, and leads her in clumsy steps all too eagerly. His partner doesn't mind though.
Ami doesn't care for Haruta in any particular way, sans perhaps getting a few kicks from the pranks he's pulled on Taiga or whoever.
As they move, Ami closes her eyes and imagines that the tall man leading her has seemingly frightening features and the kindest heart she has ever come across. She pretends that he's holding her tight, in a gentle, loving embrace and sighs contentedly. She imagines a kiss, whispered "I love you"s passing between them in soft caresses.
Ami thinks that, if there were such things as Christmas Miracles, she'd open her eyes to the face of Takasu Ryuuji – the only boy who saw through her masks; who was too slow or maybe too socially awkward to acknowledge her hints and provocations; the one boy who wasn't head-over-heals in love with her even though she'd give anything to make it so.
When she opens her eyes she is greeted by disappointment, as she had expected, but there's also the irrational urge to scream and wail and perhaps even choke on her tears – but she is in a room fool of people (who admire her, no less) and she would never let that happen. She's a good actress after all, even Ryuuji had complimented her on her skills.
She doesn't look up as she feels Haruta slowing down to a stop, maybe out of self-preservation or maybe because she wanted to hold on to her little fantasy just a while longer. It doesn't matter, anyway. It's all over now.
They break apart, and Ami can feel something heavy in her chest shifting, breaking perhaps. She thanks Haruta for the dance and politely excuses herself.
She doesn't dance for the rest of the night, no matter how many boys ask her or how many times they try – none of them are Ryuuji and Ami can't pretend anymore.
AN: Another drabble, I seem to be doing a lot of those lately. Anyway, what do you think? Like it? Hate it? Love it? Want to set it on fire and throw it out a window? Let me know!