One shot - unedited.
It was nice, but painful.
She sat to the side, twirling on her bar stool as the DJ blasted the music, her shoulders shuddering every now and then from the constant thump of the changing bass line. Her friends crowded on the dance floor below, a few of them embracing as the beats slowed down. It wasn't that she didn't want to be down on the wooden floor, clapping and shouting as acquaintances dragged others into the metal dance cages and prevented their attempts to squirm their way out. She just preferred sitting on the sidelines with her camera, catching glimpses and quick memos of the times they all spent laughing.
Though, she had to admit – if someone asked her onto the dance floor, she'd accept.
Not that anyone would.
Letting out a quick sigh, she spun around a few times on the stool. She hated to admit it, but it was a little boring. Her mind was littered with "What-ifs" – What if someone asked her to dance with them? What if someone asked the boy she was fond of to dance? What if he himself asked someone? The thoughts swirled through her mind as she continued to spin on the stool, not minding so much that her mind was wandering. Usually, she'd attempt to snap back to the here and now instead of looking off into the reality that wasn't there. But tonight was different. She didn't feel like keeping her consciousness in the real world – it just brought hopes, dreams, and wishes that would quickly come crashing down.
As her mind strolled freely, like it was a dog with no (or an extremely long) leash, her facial expression went blank and vacant. She hated it when she worried others, but no one was looking – not that people would notice anyway – so she let her guard down. Not that she really thought she was looking differently than she usually did. The others that weren't used to the 'clubbing scene' around her didn't mention anything, so she assumed that nothing was out of the ordinary.
She turned around on her stool once more. Behind her, there were a few of her seniors whom she would rarely, if ever, see again. It would even be a miracle if she spoke to any of them now that the one thing that brought them together was over. This was their celebration to the end of something great. This was their celebration to honor those who wouldn't return the following year. But, she thought, was it really something worth celebrating?
Her mind wandered.
From the corner of her eye, there was a flicker of movement. Someone had moved, and soon enough, that person was walking in front of her.
But he didn't keep walking.
"What's up?" He spoke to her, and she wasn't sure why. Was there something wrong? Or, perhaps, was he going to ask her to dance? Not that there was any chance of that. In her mind, she chuckled at her foolishness. After all, he was going to leave her world soon enough, and of everyone else, why would he want to ask her? They knew each other by name, and that was about it. And, generally, those sort of acquaintances didn't ask one another out onto the dance floor; especially not during a 'slow song.'
She blinked, and he continued. "You don't look all that happy."
Her eyes widened slightly and she rushed to smile and shake her head. Was it really that obvious that she was off in her own little world? And more yet – was her jealousy of the couples below showing through?
"Well, see…" She stumbled, trying to find a valid excuse. "My mind was just wandering… thinking of school tomorrow and other unpleasant things." It was half true, at least. While she really wasn't thinking about her classes the next day, she was letting her thoughts rest on those who were wrapped in one another's embrace, and how she wished that, by some chance, she could be down there with the others.
Of course, something like that would never happen.
"Ah, I see." He nodded, and turned to watch the dance floor as well. Suddenly, she felt relieved that it was dark in the club, for her face was flushed. This was the most they'd ever spoken to each other – usually it was a short exchange of a few words here and there, but nothing over a full sentence. In fact, their conversations were over with so quickly, she hadn't noticed his accent before. She couldn't quite place it – it wasn't a Southern sort of speech, but not Eastern either. However, she hadn't really listened to various dialects, so she was in no spot to judge its origin.
They sat (well, he stood) for a few moments (which seemed like forever), and she found herself wishing that the song would never end. A girl walked past them, then returned, pulling along a boy her junior. The two went down onto the floor and disappeared into the mass of people, the boy's arms flailing as he was dragged against his will. There was a short silence before he spoke up, and she tried not to crack up.
"Poor sucker." That was it. She covered her mouth with her hand as she laughed. He returned her giggles with a brief chuckle and a grin. Though she was in no place to assume what he was thinking, it felt as if he was relieved to see her smile. She soon dismissed the thought, as she happened to be smiling the entire time he was talking to her, though it wasn't really a 'smile' and more of a forced upturn corner of her lips. There was no way he could've noticed that it wasn't true – even those she hung out with on a daily basis didn't see through it. But what if…
What if he actually could see through her façade?
It was a scary thought, but deep down, she found herself not minding all that much. At first, it seemed like he was just planning on walking straight past her. At second glance, it seemed like he was, just maybe, going to ask her to dance. At third look, it seemed like he was there just to cheer her up and make her smile.
If his true intentions were that of her third assumption, then he succeeded. And, honestly, she was glad. It felt good to smile and laugh for real – after all, anything was better than ending the night with the bitter taste of envy for those who were living out something that she could only dream of. He had turned her depressing dreams into clean white nothingness, and it was lovely. She just had to sit next to him and enjoy the night as it was meant to be.
The song ended, and the DJ called out 'Closing time' over the speakers. Everyone on the dance floor slowly trickled back up the stairs. He bid her farewell, and she returned it with a nod and brisk, "See you." This feeling she currently held – she couldn't for the life of her name it, but she loved it all the same. It was the feeling of talking with an old friend, or perhaps making a new one. It was the feeling of being, for the first time in a long while, not the one behind the scenes. For the first time in a long while, she wasn't just "the friend of the girl," or the one who's never remembered.
She was noticed.
Even though she never once set foot onto the dance floor with its purpose in mind. Even though it was nothing more than idle chit chat. (After all, if he really wanted to dance with her, there were plenty of opportunities to ask. So, she concluded that dancing must not have been his true intentions at all.) She was saved from sinking deeper into the background. She was saved from becoming no more than part of the scenery. As simple as it was…
He let her have her own story for the night.
She sat to the side, twirling on her bar stool as the DJ blasted the music, her shoulders shuddering every now and then from the constant thump of the changing bass line. Her friends crowded on the dance floor below, a few of them embracing as the beats slowed down. It wasn't that she didn't want to be down on the wooden floor, clapping and shouting as acquaintances dragged others into the metal dance cages and prevented their attempts to squirm their way out. She just preferred sitting on the sidelines with her camera, catching glimpses and quick memos of the times they all spent laughing.
Though, she had to admit – if someone asked her onto the dance floor, she'd accept.
Not that anyone would.
Letting out a quick sigh, she spun around a few times on the stool. She hated to admit it, but it was a little boring. Her mind was littered with "What-ifs" – What if someone asked her to dance with them? What if someone asked the boy she was fond of to dance? What if he himself asked someone? The thoughts swirled through her mind as she continued to spin on the stool, not minding so much that her mind was wandering. Usually, she'd attempt to snap back to the here and now instead of looking off into the reality that wasn't there. But tonight was different. She didn't feel like keeping her consciousness in the real world – it just brought hopes, dreams, and wishes that would quickly come crashing down.
As her mind strolled freely, like it was a dog with no (or an extremely long) leash, her facial expression went blank and vacant. She hated it when she worried others, but no one was looking – not that people would notice anyway – so she let her guard down. Not that she really thought she was looking differently than she usually did. The others that weren't used to the 'clubbing scene' around her didn't mention anything, so she assumed that nothing was out of the ordinary.
She turned around on her stool once more. Behind her, there were a few of her seniors whom she would rarely, if ever, see again. It would even be a miracle if she spoke to any of them now that the one thing that brought them together was over. This was their celebration to the end of something great. This was their celebration to honor those who wouldn't return the following year. But, she thought, was it really something worth celebrating?
Her mind wandered.
From the corner of her eye, there was a flicker of movement. Someone had moved, and soon enough, that person was walking in front of her.
But he didn't keep walking.
"What's up?" He spoke to her, and she wasn't sure why. Was there something wrong? Or, perhaps, was he going to ask her to dance? Not that there was any chance of that. In her mind, she chuckled at her foolishness. After all, he was going to leave her world soon enough, and of everyone else, why would he want to ask her? They knew each other by name, and that was about it. And, generally, those sort of acquaintances didn't ask one another out onto the dance floor; especially not during a 'slow song.'
She blinked, and he continued. "You don't look all that happy."
Her eyes widened slightly and she rushed to smile and shake her head. Was it really that obvious that she was off in her own little world? And more yet – was her jealousy of the couples below showing through?
"Well, see…" She stumbled, trying to find a valid excuse. "My mind was just wandering… thinking of school tomorrow and other unpleasant things." It was half true, at least. While she really wasn't thinking about her classes the next day, she was letting her thoughts rest on those who were wrapped in one another's embrace, and how she wished that, by some chance, she could be down there with the others.
Of course, something like that would never happen.
"Ah, I see." He nodded, and turned to watch the dance floor as well. Suddenly, she felt relieved that it was dark in the club, for her face was flushed. This was the most they'd ever spoken to each other – usually it was a short exchange of a few words here and there, but nothing over a full sentence. In fact, their conversations were over with so quickly, she hadn't noticed his accent before. She couldn't quite place it – it wasn't a Southern sort of speech, but not Eastern either. However, she hadn't really listened to various dialects, so she was in no spot to judge its origin.
They sat (well, he stood) for a few moments (which seemed like forever), and she found herself wishing that the song would never end. A girl walked past them, then returned, pulling along a boy her junior. The two went down onto the floor and disappeared into the mass of people, the boy's arms flailing as he was dragged against his will. There was a short silence before he spoke up, and she tried not to crack up.
"Poor sucker." That was it. She covered her mouth with her hand as she laughed. He returned her giggles with a brief chuckle and a grin. Though she was in no place to assume what he was thinking, it felt as if he was relieved to see her smile. She soon dismissed the thought, as she happened to be smiling the entire time he was talking to her, though it wasn't really a 'smile' and more of a forced upturn corner of her lips. There was no way he could've noticed that it wasn't true – even those she hung out with on a daily basis didn't see through it. But what if…
What if he actually could see through her façade?
It was a scary thought, but deep down, she found herself not minding all that much. At first, it seemed like he was just planning on walking straight past her. At second glance, it seemed like he was, just maybe, going to ask her to dance. At third look, it seemed like he was there just to cheer her up and make her smile.
If his true intentions were that of her third assumption, then he succeeded. And, honestly, she was glad. It felt good to smile and laugh for real – after all, anything was better than ending the night with the bitter taste of envy for those who were living out something that she could only dream of. He had turned her depressing dreams into clean white nothingness, and it was lovely. She just had to sit next to him and enjoy the night as it was meant to be.
The song ended, and the DJ called out 'Closing time' over the speakers. Everyone on the dance floor slowly trickled back up the stairs. He bid her farewell, and she returned it with a nod and brisk, "See you." This feeling she currently held – she couldn't for the life of her name it, but she loved it all the same. It was the feeling of talking with an old friend, or perhaps making a new one. It was the feeling of being, for the first time in a long while, not the one behind the scenes. For the first time in a long while, she wasn't just "the friend of the girl," or the one who's never remembered.
She was noticed.
Even though she never once set foot onto the dance floor with its purpose in mind. Even though it was nothing more than idle chit chat. (After all, if he really wanted to dance with her, there were plenty of opportunities to ask. So, she concluded that dancing must not have been his true intentions at all.) She was saved from sinking deeper into the background. She was saved from becoming no more than part of the scenery. As simple as it was…
He let her have her own story for the night.
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