I own nothing. And yes, I know the title is that of a book/ movie, but it worked for my story. This is a oneshot of an idea I have of a collection of fanart I want to draw. Not sure if I'll draw them, but I wrote this so that's a start.

The music blared all around the gym. All around there were teen couples dancing, More like grinding, Layla thought to herself in the quietest corner of the far too loud gym. "Hm," she sighed.

Still...it would be nice if someone noticed me.

"Feeling lonely?" a smooth voice said. Layla froze, the voice continued, "I know how you feel; being cast out, nobody sees you, it's almost as if your not even real."

"Who are you?" Layla said, turning to the voice.

The man was taken aback for a moment, but quickly regained his composure, "I'm Pitch Black, and you are?"

"I'm Layla, Layla Smith."

"Layla," the grey-skinned man repeated. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Now, might I ask, why aren't you dancing like the others?"

"You said it yourself, I've been cast out."

"Surely you could still have your own fun though? That's what dances are for."

"That's literally what everyone says...but it's not how they feel."

Pitch couldn't argue. He had been at the dance almost all night, sensing the fear of so many worrying their dates wouldn't show up or that others would see them alone. Then there was Layla, she fascinated him. She wasn't afraid of being alone, the look on her face was that of acceptance. She hadn't danced in the hour that the dance had been going on. It's a shame that one as lovely as her should waste her night on the sidelines.

"True, but I didn't take you as one to care what others felt."

"Well, you're right about that, but it's not great being a wallflower."

"Then don't be one, go dance," Pitch wasn't really sure what he was doing, here was the first person to have seen him in hundreds of years and he was almost trying to get rid of her! I just want to see her happy, the back of his mind said, but he pushed those thoughts away.

"No, thanks, I'd rather not."

"Well, seeing as we're both here, why don't we get to know each other?"

Her eyes lit up at the thought of someone wanting to know her. She smiled, "What do you want to know?"

They talked the rest of the night, growing rather close in two short hours. The dance would be over soon and, although they only just met, they both dreaded having to leave. As the night drew to a close the DJ announced the final dance, "Alright, everyone, it's the last dance of the night so I thought we'd take it slow," and a slow, love song came on.

"Would you like to dance at least once tonight?" Pitch offered her his hand.

She blushed a bit, "Sure."

Nobody noticed Layla, as usual, or the fact that (in the average person's eyes) she was dancing with no one. Their first dace wasn't awkward as one might think. She rested her head in the crook of his neck and held her close as they swayed back and forth on the dance floor. She could hear his heart beat and she melted into his warmth as he held her close.

But, the night ended and they left each others embrace, looking into each others eyes and smiling with contentment. Then it happened, in a spontaneous burst of passion and adoration their lips met, and neither pulled away. They continued until they were the only ones left in the gym, only stopping when they needed air. Seeing they were alone, Layla said, "Looks like I have to go." She reluctantly pulled out of Pitch's grasp, still holding his hand in hers.

"Goodnight, Layla," he said, bringing her hand to his lips before she ran out of the gym, "I'll see you soon."