And All That Jazz

A/N I wrote this during Math class. Kill me now.

I pour the hot liquid into my mouth, the sweet burning spreading down my chest to settle in my torso. It fans out across my body, all the way to my shaking fingertips. I glance up, looking for that head of light blonde hair and… there she is.

She is twisting her hips, as thin as the silver smoke at her ankles, eyes closed. Does she know what she is doing to me? Does she even realise that I am only here to see her dance, to watch her skin glisten in the achingly beautiful light that graces her in such a suave way?

No, of course she doesn’t notice. Why would she notice me? I am just the perfect little wallflower, standing in the corner with the strongest alcohol in a cool glass between my palms. Her blonde hair spills over her bare shoulders, as pale as moonlight and sunlight woven together in comparison with her sun-kissed skin. She is perfect, as always, indescribably smooth. I am just… me. Hopeless, desperate. Fragile. Waiting for something that is never going to happen.

Until that one moment, every now and then, that her eyes will fall onto me, a small smile at the corner of her lips. Inviting. Promising.

But the promises are never fulfilled. The invitation is always let loose. For I mean nothing to her, and I never will. No one else seems to understand that yes, you can fall in love with a person that you have never held a conversation with. You can fall in love with someone without first learning their name. Because love is like that. It sucks you in when you least expect it, and in that one moment, your mind is at a loss. Your heart is taken, broken and stitched back together again, all from one glance. Like she’s broken me, fixed me and left me to die. Ruined me for life.

And maybe, just maybe, she can feel the same way if given the chance. But the chance will never come, the promises will never be taken into account, this young girl will never be whole again. I will stand here, night after night, and watch her dance, until she stops dancing and the spell is broken. Until the sun appears over the horizon, breaks the world back into light, and sheds truth onto this situation. She will never love me. She will never even notice me.

I won’t make a sound. I will never make a movement, will never join her on the dance floor, will never hold her back. I am not brave enough. Eventually she will kill me, without even realising it, and it will make no difference to her. For what difference could it make? The little girl who used to watch her dance amongst the crowd suddenly stops appearing?

This is so painfully pointless, and I know it. The sooner I break away from this trance, the sooner I rip my eyes away from her hurtfully beautiful form, the better. I won’t hold her back. I won’t make a sound.

I turn to leave, towards the lighted exit, making the same promise I make every time that I am here. I will not come back. This time, maybe I will actually listen to my own warning and stop coming back. This time, I will leave this room, this world, this body and this spell, leave it all behind me. Now.

I am barely a step away from the door when I feel a hand on my arm. Soft as a petal, yet a firm grip to keep me still.

It’s her.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” She asks, and I am momentarily blinded, deafened, and muted all at once. Her voice is like a tidal wave ripping against the shore, moving the entire of me to a completely new person, and God I love her.

I open my mouth, as if I am about to speak, but no words come out. She is even more beautiful, face highlighted by the electrical lighting. So close.

“No.” I eventually answer. I could never leave; I could never actually break away from her. I will tell myself to time and time again, but I will always be with her in my heart.

“Come dance with me.” She offers, the hand on my arm pulling me back towards the source of music. I try my hardest to stay standing, feet planted to the floor. “What’s your name?”

“Rose.” I reply, voice barely above a whisper. Apparently she has heard me, as her smile widens and she nods.

“Well, Rose, I’m Sophia. Would you please come and dance with me? I don’t have all night.” Sophia. Sophia. Of course. How could she not be named after some wonderful Goddess?

“Y-Yeah, okay.” I say, hardly recognising my own voice. The hand on my arm becomes more insistent, and I give in. How could I ever not give in to her? I allow her to steer me, until we are back where she had been before.

I tip back my head and down the rest of my drink, waiting for that brilliant moment in which I will stop wondering if this is really happening or not. The burning liquid singes my throat, makes my head spin, and there is Sophia, and I am so in love with her.

“I’ve noticed you around...” Sophia tells me, her lips close to my ear.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe this isn’t so hopeless, after all.