A/N: I have no idea where this came from... Sorry it took a while.
Disclaimer: I shall never own SRMTHFG. What a big shame. Gee, I always pick the wrong days to be sarcastic.
It's loosely titled... Very loosley...
A Dance with Doom
This was really, really awkward for a guy like Gyrus.
The music was awful. It was the weirdest music he had ever heard. Could make your ears run off and commit suicide it you listened to it long enough.
Gyrus' clothes seemed a little askew to him by now. The doubts were beginning to push themselves to the front of his mind. If only they'd been there when he was getting dressed earlier that evening. And the clothes were very uncomfortable, very different to his normal shirt and shorts.
And he was sweating. Really sweating. Gyrus felt like passing out soon, or maybe vomiting. Perhaps both.
Think of it this way, Gyrus thought to himself. At least you're being recognised by a girl other than the one you beat at space-draughts last week.
But beside the fact that Gyrus was actually holding a conversation with a female successfully, it was still very awkward. Gyrus' eyes were constantly at his feet, checking to make sure he didn't trip over her shoes.
The her in question was rather pretty. It would amaze most people that knew him that Gyrus could manage to get within three metres of her at all. Normally Gyrus wouldn't recognise any of the girls in his school at all. And most of the girls wouldn't recognise him either.
But then, this was the last year of secondary school, and it was a year for the students to make the most of things. It had taken a long time nonetheless for Gyrus to finally ask that nice girl from the art class to the end of year dance.
The speakers thrummed on, the CDs kept spinning. The coloured lights spun around, frantically turning in their sockets in the ceiling, always changing directions. Gyrus Krinkle kept dancing. Or, at least he tried to look like he was dancing.
Gyrus couldn't dance. Not for his life. His mind repeatedly told his brain that his body couldn't dance. And to put it in Gyrus' mind's words: "...so why don't the whole lot of us just get off this floor?"
But the girl Gyrus was dancing with didn't seem to mind. But she hadn't smiled the way some of the other girls had tonight either. Half of them were giddy, spending time with their groups of friends, and a few of the braver ones whispering short messages to their high school crushes as they walked past. The other half drifted around near the tables, nodding to the songs that the hired disk jockey put out. The white tablecloths on the tables were bright, but a few of them splashed with soda and juice.
What a night that was.
Three songs. That's how many songs Gyrus had danced to with his 'date'. A weird number, the number three. He'd never really liked the number three. His date had run off to a friend to ask her something. Gyrus didn't really understand girls in their teenage years.
He never would after that night.
The girl weaved between the rest of the class of students, hitching up her yellow dress and taking at least two minutes to get back to Gyrus.
She shook her hair out of her eyes. "Having a good time here?"
Gyrus nodded numbly, looking over to the speakers just for the sake of looking at something that wasn't her.
"Okay. I've just seen a friend of mine. She's in Advanced Mathematics. She told me something, something I don't necessarily like, but I think it's true anyway...
"I'm in Art. You're in Science and Engineering. I don't think we'll be seeing each other after this year."
Gyrus blinked. He couldn't really manage much else. Not sad enough to gasp and wail, not shocked enough to step backwards from her. But for some reason, it was the worst news he had ever received. He couldn't even shrug.
She, on the other hand, was wincing and lifted her shoulders to her ears. "Another dance?" she asked weakly.
Gyrus wiggled his jaw around nervously before holding out his hand. "I have nothing else to do tonight."
She shrugged. "Me neither."
And he was probably the most intelligent guy in the year. Polite too. Up to a point.
