Dance With Me
Tomoyo sat drearily at the small black table, watching half-heartedly as the fags and queens, trannies and dykes all danced to the monotonous Western 80's beat. She didn't even know why she came that night.
It was a conservative gay club. If it hadn't been for the place's reputation, along with the signs posted here and there stating the place to be a gay club, it wasn't hard to mistake a lot of the people in there as straight. Except for a few wildly pierced and masculine-looking women and the far-less rare but extremely fascinating effeminate male dressed in fishnet stockings and/or lace, (and of course there were always the jowl- faced women with their perfect, tiny figures yet oddly square chins and flat hips)... alright, maybe it was pretty obviously a gay bar.
Tomoyo never danced or mingled. She merely watched. At first she told herself it was because she didn't go for the interaction but the pleasant combination of alcohol and eye-candy. Then she realized the truth. Which put quite simply, was this: she was chicken-shit.
What if I'm not ready? She asked herself. What if... what if I meet somebody, but just end up thinking of Sakura-chan?
What if, what if, what if.
What if I go out there, and I dance with someone, and they ask me back to their place, and I get to know them really well, or maybe they just give me their number and we talk a lot and... what if... what if she realizes she loves me, but I'll be with someone else...
The grey-haired teenager sighed, resting one pale cheek in the crook of her elbow as the music switched from "YMCA" to "Material Girl". It was nearing 2:00 a.m., and then she'd have to hightail it uptown to somewhere respectable so she could call her mother's bodyguards to pick her up. Honestly, she didn't think her mom would mind finding out where she was, (in fact, she'd probably be proud). Maybe that, she thought, turning the concept around in her head for a bit, was it. Her mom would probably be very proud. And tell everyone she knew. Hell, she'd probably start trying to figure out when she went, so she could come, too.
Daidouji Tomoyo shot back a butterscotch and scotch, her favourite drink. She liked it because it tasted like liquid candy, going down smoother than most alchohol. It also meant she got drunk faster, which was also good. Being drunk meant she could watch the pretty people dance, fantasize about Sakura, and then go home and whack off in peace without anyone to disturb her.
In short, being drunk was neat.
She watched the crowd dancing, trying to focus on the women. Her eyes narrowed in distaste. Why were all the other lesbians always so frumpy? She clucked her tongue in disaproval. That gothic-looking girl with the bright red hair would look a million times better in a tight black corset with a long jacket and matching red boots, maybe. Those dirty, baggy black jeans and that loose grey sweater were hideous on her. Off to the far left she thought she could make out a curly blond... was it a woman? She paused a moment. Nope, it was either a transexual or a transvestite... with impeccable taste, of course. Tomoyo snorted. When all else failed, that was the way you could tell-no women in their right mind were able to attain such heights of perfection. Sakura could look that good, she amended silently, but only if she let someone else with superior taste give her things to wear.
Tomoyo downed her last shot and waved a hand in front of her eyes experimentally to see whether she was drunk or not. Then she waited a few minutes, letting her eyes drift lazily over the crowd of dancing people on stage... some very convincing drag queens and a straight friend of theirs, she was guessing... and then tried the hand-thing again. Damn. Still not drunk enough.
I want noodles, she thought suddenly. I want ramen. Ramen and kappa maki.
This was yet another sign that Tomoyo wasn't drunk enough. When properly pissed, eating was not an option, even when it came to her favourite foods. She glanced lazily over in the direction of one of the club's drink lineups to assess whether getting up was really necessary.
It was damn long, but not long enough to dissuade her, so she began to get up-- when her sight fixed on this one absolutely adorable couple.
Off to the side of the dance floor, far from the centre of things, two men were dancing together quite intimately. Not intimate as in they were doing innapropriate things with one another in front of everyone; no, it was a different kind of intimacy. It was a gentle sort of closeness that defied obscene acts of open sexuality; a quiet and sensous and loving sort of dance. Quite close together, yet not quite touching, they grooved together evenly and synchronously to the thrumming beats that shook the room. One was tall and very obviously dark-haired Japanese guy in a white shirt and faded bluejeans that were ripped in one knee. Beside him, in front of him, and sometimes behind him was a paler guy that Tomoyo guessed had to be caucasian. It was hard to discern their features partially because of the drinks and also because they were partway across the room, it was quite obvious, however, that while they were there to dance to the music, they were also only there to dance with one another.
Tomoyo felt a very Sakura-like cry of "Hannnyannn" escape her lips. It was the first time in months that she hadn't wanted her best friend to be the star of one of her videos. She suddenly found herself daydreaming about different ways in which she might sneak in her camera, although she understood the no-photography rule better than anyone seeing as she knew what it was like to want to go to the odd gay club without worrying about being exposed before she felt like coming out.
Drinks forgotten, the under-aged clubber sunk back down in her seat, eyes focused on the couple. The pale-haired man bent forward to recieve a kiss on the forehead. The dancing resumed. Then the song changed, and slower music came on... some American-sounding band she'd never heard before, and the slightly taller dark-haired man cradled his companion gently in his embrace, recieving the odd peck on the cheek.
Tomoyo wasn't usually one for watching the men at this club with any great intensity, but she felt the drool gathering at her chin only after sitting through a few minutes of watching the lovers alternating between dancing emphatically and giddily embracing one another and whispering into the other's ear. She found herself wishing she knew what they were saying, wishing that she would one day know what that felt like, to be out there on the dance floor with someone she knew only wanted her, that only wanted to dance with her.
And then all too soon the announcement came: "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE BAR IS NOW CLOSED. I REPEAT, THE BAR IS NOW CLOSED."
Tomoyo blinked at the empty cup she'd been nursing for the last hour as she'd lamely slurped what alcohol residue managed to blend with the melting icecubes in her empty glass of sake. Damn! She bit her cheek, chastising herself mentally. Now she'd have to go home only slightly drunk. That was no fun.
But sometimes in life, you just have to cut your losses and go before things get worse. As the last song of the night began to play, Tomoyo glanced at her watch. 2:10. Traditionally, this place closed at 2:15 which meant that now was the time that everyone began trying to pair up with everyone else. It had been funny to watch the first few times before she'd been propositioned by an older woman who definetly had not been her type. Of course, being quite drunk at the time, Tomoyo hadn't known how to refuse properly and, well... to make a long story short nothing had come of it, and she'd ended up apologizing to the woman and calling her drivers to come and pick her up anyway.
No, it was time to go now, before anyone got the wrong idea. So she gathered up sky-blue pullover that she'd made herself and began slowly brushing her way back through the crowd, fumbling in her pocket for the coat-check tag she knew had to be in there somewhere.
Making her way out of the main dance floor and into the dark hallway that led down to the street, avoiding come-hither glances from an extremely cute but obviously attached pair of girls that didn't look much older than she was.... Tomoyo wasn't ready to give up on her dream that Sakura might wake up gay some day and break up with Syaoran yet. It was a lame hope, as well as an extremely counter-productive one seeing as she'd been a major instrument in their getting together, but that's what was great about being drunk. You let yourself think about all the little things the rest of you knew you weren't supposed to. It was funny. It was like, there were two people inside her head, but only one was allowed to manifest itself, to "come out", as it were. Ha ha. Hanging back, she squinted her eyes hoping to get a closer look at the pair of people in front of her. It was them! It was the couple she'd been watching all night!
What if they'd seen her staring at them? Self-conciousness washed over the teenager anew, and she hesitated, eventually settling on staying at the top step until they left the building.
She watched blearily as the taller man helped his fair companion into his jacket. Her heart melted...
...And then some loud obnoxious queen came charging out of nowhere, bumping her off-balance and she was falling stumbling crashing into the coats and flying everywhere were the coat tags and the boy at the front desk was yelping and another queen burst out of nowhere and before anyone knew what was going on they was a fight happening right in front of them, and nobody could get out the door....
And Tomoyo-chan fell down, down, down through the screeching fags, and straight into a very bemused young couple.
"Daidouji-san?"
Tomoyo blinked, finally recognizing Kinomoto Touya for the first time that evening. "T-Touya-san...." she gasped, picking herself up off the floor.
Tsuishiro Yukito smiled hesitantly. "Y-you d-d-... you dropped your bag," he said, holding the girl's purse out for her to take. His hand was trembling slightly.
"Uhm," Tomoyo was blushing a furious scarlet by now, she was sure of it. It wasn't the fact that they knew she was there so much as the idea that they might tell a certain someone... she just wasn't ready for that yet.
And then she took in Yukito's outfit. Woooh.
"Wow," she said before her brain could stop her. The older boy flushed and started buttoning his jacket closed. She diverted her eyes.
"Do you need a ride home?" Touya asked. His tone was friendly but his smile was strained. And then it hit her. He was thinking the same thing she was....
Don't tell Sakura....
"Uh. No, thankyou, that's alright. I... have a ride. Do you, uh, either of you need one?"
Yue's other self shook his head. "We're splitting a cab," he voiced softly. He looked thoughtful. Tomoyo wondered if he'd just realized she was really too young to legally be there.
"Ho ho ho ho! Well, then, I'll just be going. Bye!" And with that, she fled. Days later, she'd wonder what on earth had possessed her to run away like that, but it had seemed like a good idea at the time. Nobody knew yet, and it was supposed to be her place to go. Her place! How dare they go to her place?!
Then again, it wasn't as if the club had been erected primarily for her own use. Other people went there too....
This, of course, brought her back to the one and only reason why she kept it secret. What if, she thought, what if I told Sakura how I felt about her? What would she say?
What if, she wondered seriously for the first time ever, what if I phoned her up right now and told her? Right now? Would she still love me? Would she still look at me the same way? ...would she leave Syaoran for me, in all honesty, would she?
And the answers came as quick as wildfire, and she could see the scenarios all clear as day within her head, Yes, Yes, and No.
And then things became simple. And clear. For the first time in her life, she knew what she wanted to do with her life. For the first time in her life, she realized that she couldn't just be an observer anymore. What had just happened today with Touya and Yukito-san exemplified this....
Too long had she sat on the sidelines, in the shadows, orbiting other people.
Too long had Daidouji Tomoyo been content with being a minor character in the interludes between the acts of her own life. It was her life, and she'd be damned if she was going to live it quietly. She wanted to live as hard and loud as she laughed. She needed to grow up and liberate herself. She needed to be free.
She'd just have to find somewhere else to go, she decided.
Somewhere else to go.
Somewhere with more girls.
And next time, she reasoned, she'd have the courage to let go of her fear, to rip down that untouchable pedestal... that blasted gilded cage she'd unfairly put her best friend and first crush in, perfect and untouchable in her mind. Next time, she'd get up and she'd go for it.
How else was she going to find a partner, if she never had the courage to get up and dance?
Tomoyo sat drearily at the small black table, watching half-heartedly as the fags and queens, trannies and dykes all danced to the monotonous Western 80's beat. She didn't even know why she came that night.
It was a conservative gay club. If it hadn't been for the place's reputation, along with the signs posted here and there stating the place to be a gay club, it wasn't hard to mistake a lot of the people in there as straight. Except for a few wildly pierced and masculine-looking women and the far-less rare but extremely fascinating effeminate male dressed in fishnet stockings and/or lace, (and of course there were always the jowl- faced women with their perfect, tiny figures yet oddly square chins and flat hips)... alright, maybe it was pretty obviously a gay bar.
Tomoyo never danced or mingled. She merely watched. At first she told herself it was because she didn't go for the interaction but the pleasant combination of alcohol and eye-candy. Then she realized the truth. Which put quite simply, was this: she was chicken-shit.
What if I'm not ready? She asked herself. What if... what if I meet somebody, but just end up thinking of Sakura-chan?
What if, what if, what if.
What if I go out there, and I dance with someone, and they ask me back to their place, and I get to know them really well, or maybe they just give me their number and we talk a lot and... what if... what if she realizes she loves me, but I'll be with someone else...
The grey-haired teenager sighed, resting one pale cheek in the crook of her elbow as the music switched from "YMCA" to "Material Girl". It was nearing 2:00 a.m., and then she'd have to hightail it uptown to somewhere respectable so she could call her mother's bodyguards to pick her up. Honestly, she didn't think her mom would mind finding out where she was, (in fact, she'd probably be proud). Maybe that, she thought, turning the concept around in her head for a bit, was it. Her mom would probably be very proud. And tell everyone she knew. Hell, she'd probably start trying to figure out when she went, so she could come, too.
Daidouji Tomoyo shot back a butterscotch and scotch, her favourite drink. She liked it because it tasted like liquid candy, going down smoother than most alchohol. It also meant she got drunk faster, which was also good. Being drunk meant she could watch the pretty people dance, fantasize about Sakura, and then go home and whack off in peace without anyone to disturb her.
In short, being drunk was neat.
She watched the crowd dancing, trying to focus on the women. Her eyes narrowed in distaste. Why were all the other lesbians always so frumpy? She clucked her tongue in disaproval. That gothic-looking girl with the bright red hair would look a million times better in a tight black corset with a long jacket and matching red boots, maybe. Those dirty, baggy black jeans and that loose grey sweater were hideous on her. Off to the far left she thought she could make out a curly blond... was it a woman? She paused a moment. Nope, it was either a transexual or a transvestite... with impeccable taste, of course. Tomoyo snorted. When all else failed, that was the way you could tell-no women in their right mind were able to attain such heights of perfection. Sakura could look that good, she amended silently, but only if she let someone else with superior taste give her things to wear.
Tomoyo downed her last shot and waved a hand in front of her eyes experimentally to see whether she was drunk or not. Then she waited a few minutes, letting her eyes drift lazily over the crowd of dancing people on stage... some very convincing drag queens and a straight friend of theirs, she was guessing... and then tried the hand-thing again. Damn. Still not drunk enough.
I want noodles, she thought suddenly. I want ramen. Ramen and kappa maki.
This was yet another sign that Tomoyo wasn't drunk enough. When properly pissed, eating was not an option, even when it came to her favourite foods. She glanced lazily over in the direction of one of the club's drink lineups to assess whether getting up was really necessary.
It was damn long, but not long enough to dissuade her, so she began to get up-- when her sight fixed on this one absolutely adorable couple.
Off to the side of the dance floor, far from the centre of things, two men were dancing together quite intimately. Not intimate as in they were doing innapropriate things with one another in front of everyone; no, it was a different kind of intimacy. It was a gentle sort of closeness that defied obscene acts of open sexuality; a quiet and sensous and loving sort of dance. Quite close together, yet not quite touching, they grooved together evenly and synchronously to the thrumming beats that shook the room. One was tall and very obviously dark-haired Japanese guy in a white shirt and faded bluejeans that were ripped in one knee. Beside him, in front of him, and sometimes behind him was a paler guy that Tomoyo guessed had to be caucasian. It was hard to discern their features partially because of the drinks and also because they were partway across the room, it was quite obvious, however, that while they were there to dance to the music, they were also only there to dance with one another.
Tomoyo felt a very Sakura-like cry of "Hannnyannn" escape her lips. It was the first time in months that she hadn't wanted her best friend to be the star of one of her videos. She suddenly found herself daydreaming about different ways in which she might sneak in her camera, although she understood the no-photography rule better than anyone seeing as she knew what it was like to want to go to the odd gay club without worrying about being exposed before she felt like coming out.
Drinks forgotten, the under-aged clubber sunk back down in her seat, eyes focused on the couple. The pale-haired man bent forward to recieve a kiss on the forehead. The dancing resumed. Then the song changed, and slower music came on... some American-sounding band she'd never heard before, and the slightly taller dark-haired man cradled his companion gently in his embrace, recieving the odd peck on the cheek.
Tomoyo wasn't usually one for watching the men at this club with any great intensity, but she felt the drool gathering at her chin only after sitting through a few minutes of watching the lovers alternating between dancing emphatically and giddily embracing one another and whispering into the other's ear. She found herself wishing she knew what they were saying, wishing that she would one day know what that felt like, to be out there on the dance floor with someone she knew only wanted her, that only wanted to dance with her.
And then all too soon the announcement came: "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE BAR IS NOW CLOSED. I REPEAT, THE BAR IS NOW CLOSED."
Tomoyo blinked at the empty cup she'd been nursing for the last hour as she'd lamely slurped what alcohol residue managed to blend with the melting icecubes in her empty glass of sake. Damn! She bit her cheek, chastising herself mentally. Now she'd have to go home only slightly drunk. That was no fun.
But sometimes in life, you just have to cut your losses and go before things get worse. As the last song of the night began to play, Tomoyo glanced at her watch. 2:10. Traditionally, this place closed at 2:15 which meant that now was the time that everyone began trying to pair up with everyone else. It had been funny to watch the first few times before she'd been propositioned by an older woman who definetly had not been her type. Of course, being quite drunk at the time, Tomoyo hadn't known how to refuse properly and, well... to make a long story short nothing had come of it, and she'd ended up apologizing to the woman and calling her drivers to come and pick her up anyway.
No, it was time to go now, before anyone got the wrong idea. So she gathered up sky-blue pullover that she'd made herself and began slowly brushing her way back through the crowd, fumbling in her pocket for the coat-check tag she knew had to be in there somewhere.
Making her way out of the main dance floor and into the dark hallway that led down to the street, avoiding come-hither glances from an extremely cute but obviously attached pair of girls that didn't look much older than she was.... Tomoyo wasn't ready to give up on her dream that Sakura might wake up gay some day and break up with Syaoran yet. It was a lame hope, as well as an extremely counter-productive one seeing as she'd been a major instrument in their getting together, but that's what was great about being drunk. You let yourself think about all the little things the rest of you knew you weren't supposed to. It was funny. It was like, there were two people inside her head, but only one was allowed to manifest itself, to "come out", as it were. Ha ha. Hanging back, she squinted her eyes hoping to get a closer look at the pair of people in front of her. It was them! It was the couple she'd been watching all night!
What if they'd seen her staring at them? Self-conciousness washed over the teenager anew, and she hesitated, eventually settling on staying at the top step until they left the building.
She watched blearily as the taller man helped his fair companion into his jacket. Her heart melted...
...And then some loud obnoxious queen came charging out of nowhere, bumping her off-balance and she was falling stumbling crashing into the coats and flying everywhere were the coat tags and the boy at the front desk was yelping and another queen burst out of nowhere and before anyone knew what was going on they was a fight happening right in front of them, and nobody could get out the door....
And Tomoyo-chan fell down, down, down through the screeching fags, and straight into a very bemused young couple.
"Daidouji-san?"
Tomoyo blinked, finally recognizing Kinomoto Touya for the first time that evening. "T-Touya-san...." she gasped, picking herself up off the floor.
Tsuishiro Yukito smiled hesitantly. "Y-you d-d-... you dropped your bag," he said, holding the girl's purse out for her to take. His hand was trembling slightly.
"Uhm," Tomoyo was blushing a furious scarlet by now, she was sure of it. It wasn't the fact that they knew she was there so much as the idea that they might tell a certain someone... she just wasn't ready for that yet.
And then she took in Yukito's outfit. Woooh.
"Wow," she said before her brain could stop her. The older boy flushed and started buttoning his jacket closed. She diverted her eyes.
"Do you need a ride home?" Touya asked. His tone was friendly but his smile was strained. And then it hit her. He was thinking the same thing she was....
Don't tell Sakura....
"Uh. No, thankyou, that's alright. I... have a ride. Do you, uh, either of you need one?"
Yue's other self shook his head. "We're splitting a cab," he voiced softly. He looked thoughtful. Tomoyo wondered if he'd just realized she was really too young to legally be there.
"Ho ho ho ho! Well, then, I'll just be going. Bye!" And with that, she fled. Days later, she'd wonder what on earth had possessed her to run away like that, but it had seemed like a good idea at the time. Nobody knew yet, and it was supposed to be her place to go. Her place! How dare they go to her place?!
Then again, it wasn't as if the club had been erected primarily for her own use. Other people went there too....
This, of course, brought her back to the one and only reason why she kept it secret. What if, she thought, what if I told Sakura how I felt about her? What would she say?
What if, she wondered seriously for the first time ever, what if I phoned her up right now and told her? Right now? Would she still love me? Would she still look at me the same way? ...would she leave Syaoran for me, in all honesty, would she?
And the answers came as quick as wildfire, and she could see the scenarios all clear as day within her head, Yes, Yes, and No.
And then things became simple. And clear. For the first time in her life, she knew what she wanted to do with her life. For the first time in her life, she realized that she couldn't just be an observer anymore. What had just happened today with Touya and Yukito-san exemplified this....
Too long had she sat on the sidelines, in the shadows, orbiting other people.
Too long had Daidouji Tomoyo been content with being a minor character in the interludes between the acts of her own life. It was her life, and she'd be damned if she was going to live it quietly. She wanted to live as hard and loud as she laughed. She needed to grow up and liberate herself. She needed to be free.
She'd just have to find somewhere else to go, she decided.
Somewhere else to go.
Somewhere with more girls.
And next time, she reasoned, she'd have the courage to let go of her fear, to rip down that untouchable pedestal... that blasted gilded cage she'd unfairly put her best friend and first crush in, perfect and untouchable in her mind. Next time, she'd get up and she'd go for it.
How else was she going to find a partner, if she never had the courage to get up and dance?