A/N: In my attempts to forget Haruka…
I wrote about someone else.
Someone equally appealing, equally amazing…
But she's just not Haruka.
She watched her.
Watched her sway, watched her move. Watched her breaths, watched her sing along to the music.
She watched her.
"Winter, are you even going to dance?"
The one called Winter looked up, a faraway look in her eyes. She shook her head lightly, and shouted over the music, "I'm thinking of a word; it starts with 'n', and ends with 'o'."
"I guess that's 'no'," Kula shrugged, and twirled herself back to the dance floor.
It was a Friday night, the night of the Welcome-Back dance. It was stupid, really, just a crowded cafeteria with a disco ball and too-loud music pumping out of too-loud speakers. So stupid.
And yet, Winter paused, she was there. That irrevocably amazing presence, that beautiful face, that… that angel.
Winter sighed, bored (despite the fact that she had someone to ogle), and ran a finger through her short, dark blue hair. It had been a spur of the moment thing, really, dying her hair. She had gone to get it cut, but that bottle of dye looked so appealing, so… beautiful. So she dyed it dark blue. And (an added bonus), it was her favorite color.
She was untouchable. In her own world. It was a world filled with adventures, and charming males, and hip-hop music pumping from miniscule headphones.
But she wanted so bad to touch her, to make her feel all the things… She wanted her to look in the mirror, to see everything she saw. To see the features that made her heart stop, to see the beautiful things that just brightened up her day. To just see herself from the eyes of an admirer. Winter sighed.
The last hour of the dance. It was quite a long dance, actually, and yet everyone complained how short it was. The music was getting slower, getting more romantic, and more couples were out on the dance floor, twisting, turning, holding each other.
Winter watched her as she sat there, simply sat there! She wonderedhow anyone could resist her, how anyone could think she was ugly, or simply 'pretty'. Pretty wasn't good enough. Pretty was for those fake, plastic people. Those liars, those cheaters.
Beautiful was her. She was beautiful; all beautiful.
She watched her for a while. Watched as her face brightened at each up-tempo song, and revert into a bored expression at each slow, love song. She watched as, one by one, all her friends stood, deserting her to go dance with boys.
It was strange. She was so good at dancing – she had danced all other songs… but the slow ones. It was like a trance she was in, not noticing the music, just watching her. And she looked so lonely, so forlorn, so hopeful for someone to ask her to dance…
Winter grimaced, and stood.
"Hey, Ellen," she plastered on a weak smile, "Why aren't you dancing?"
She looked at her through those thick-rimmed, light blue glasses, and made a gesture towards her ear. I can't hear you.
"Why aren't you dancing?" Winter leaned a little closer, spoke a little louder.
"Oh," Ellen shrugged, smiled a little half-moon smile, and tucked her dark hair behind an ear. "No one asked."
"You should be dancing," Winter said in a joking tone. "You're good at dancing!" I sound so stupid, she grimaced inwardly, and scowled to herself, I'm an idiot.
"No one to dance with," Ellen repeated again, eyes twinkling in the dim disco lights. "Dance with me?"
It was a joke, a silly joke, Winter knew, and yet… Winter's heart fluttered, and she blinked quite a bit before shaking her head. "Me?"
"Yeah," Ellen smiled a little wider, and stood up, "Dance with me!"
Just then, the song ended. It was a slow song.
Fuck. Winter winced. I am so dead. Now she won't want to dance with me at all.
Ellen paused, and thought for a moment, but then… "Dance with me anyway."
"Now?" Winter paused in disbelief. She still wants to dance? Isn't she… afraid? But then, Afraid of what? Of what they think? What do they know about this, anyway? And without any last-minute thoughts, Winter laughed and nodded. "Yeah, sure."
Ellen grabbed Winter's arm, just below the elbow, and dragged her out in to the dance floor. Winter's heart was beating so loudly; she must have heard it!
"I remember you,
Do you remember me too?
Born on the fourteenth of July,
The smell of roses made her cry."
Winter's ears perked up with recognition. "I know this song," she murmured, for lack of anything else to say.
"Really?" Ellen put her arms around Winter's waist and grinned, "What song?"
"Hey, hey, back off!" Winter cracked a joke, "I'm the man in this relationship!" She gingerly removed Ellen's arms and placed them on her shoulders, expecting at any moment for something, or someone, to jump out and ruin the moment. But nothing did.
Winter's arms went, cautiously, like a hiker up a dangerous mountain, around Ellen's waist. She could feel the warmth that radiated from her skin, she could feel (was she imagining it?) her heartbeat.
They stood, neither really knowing what to do. Gently, so gently, Winter stepped closer, eyes closed in a frozen wince. Please, please, please…
And to her surprise, Ellen edged closer as well, until they were simply centimeters apart.
"I would give
I would give everything,
To be your everything."
Winter, who's eyes had found an interesting stain on the floor, looked up. Straight in to those deep, brown eyes. "Uhm…" She stammered, and panicked.
But Ellen kept her cool. She smiled coyly, and moved a hand up to Winter's dark hair, sifting through it. "I love dark blue," she smiled, standing even closer. "I absolutely love it."
They were touching. Touching.
Winter could feel her stomach, pressed gently against her own, feel her eyes on her face, feel… her heartbeat.
And at any moment, someone would come and ruin the moment, that she was sure of. Any moment… The couples around them were too absorbed in each other, and the crowds of onlookers had yet to figure out that two girls – girls! – were dancing. Really dancing.
"Uhmm…" Ellen was inching closer, still smiling, still smiling that half-moon smile.
And their lips were inches apart, just inches…
It was soft. So soft. A lot softer than she had ever imagined. And kind of wet, but not slobbery. Just wet, because she had just licked her lips.
All of her body seemed to just freeze, and she just stood there, like a statue. Or a mannequin.
And then her instinct kicked in, and her arms tightened, and she pulled Ellen closer.
But then she ran out of air, and they had to stop.
"I want to be your everything," Winter breathed, face flushed. "I mean – the song. It's called Everything."
"Oh," Ellen nodded, eyes still on her face. Still watching her. "Winter?"
"Yes?" She was eager, eager to do whatever Ellen wanted.
"Kiss me again."
And she did.