Original Oneshot: "Wallflower"
Title: Wallflower
Type: Random oneshot inspired by a song.
Warnings: None. Generic drabble.
Comments: Wrote this after spending all morning listening to Blaqk Audio's new song, Bon Voyeurs. Wrote it quick, so it's not that great. The idea sounded better in my head before I wrote it down.
-----
Wallflower.
That's what they called her at the clubs. Always in a beautiful dress, always left behind by her friend. Always standing by the wall, always looking shy.
If she would speak, she would speak of how she longed to dance. And of how afraid she was. Afraid of all those prying eyes, all those insinuating smiles, all those lustful glances. She wanted to dance. That's why she allowed her friend to take her to these demon filled pits. That's why she never left.
People would ask her; grab her hand, smile, and try to bring her to the floor. But she knew. She knew they wanted what happens when they leave. She knew they only wanted to brag about who got the Wallflower. It had become a game now. A contest of who could win the beautiful prize.
Across the hall, behind all the prying eyes, sat a single pair of curious ones. Not curious about what's under the dress, but curious about what's behind her eyes and in her chest. “That's the wallflower,” he was told, “she never dances. But is always there. I heard that she only dances when everyone is gone.” “Why's that?” he asked, only to be told “no one knows.”
She stood there, leaning against the wall. Her purple dress contrasting against the dark backdrop. It was true, she sometimes danced when everyone was gone. When she was the only one left, the DJ would play one more song. Just so she could dance with no devil eyes upon her.
The man from across the hall decided he wanted to meet this Wallflower. Even if she wouldn't dance, he wanted to meet her. So he made his way across the floor, weaving between dancers and spilled drinks.
She saw him coming. She lowered her head and looked away. She thought she knew what was coming. She only partially knew.
He didn't speak right away. He waited for her to speak. He stood beside her, watching the dance floor. Eventually, she looked up at him. He was slightly taller. “May I help you?” She asked, her delicate voice only reaching his ear.
For a brief second their eyes met. Bright aqua contrasting dark. He noted that her eyes almost had a purple hue to them. It almost matched her dress.
“May I ask you a question?” He asked her, softly with a gentle smile. She was still looking down. Her fingers fiddled with the hem of her dress, her toes wiggled together in her boots. “I... I guess...” She mumbled her reply.
“Who cares who's watching you?”
She looked up, surprise eminent on her features for a split second. No one ever asked questions like that. She looked him in the face, unsure of how to answer.
“Let them say. Let them say what they will. If they watch you dance, who cares? Give them a show to be proud of.”
She watched him speak, how his lips and mouth articulated each word perfectly and precisely. How he was so calm and sure. How in his eyes, he cared. Or maybe he didn't. Mysterious, but somehow trustful, she thought.
Still unsure of how to answer, she watched the dancers. How every so often, eyes would turn to her. He saw it too, but they saw it differently. She saw darkness, demons, claws, danger. What he saw didn't matter. They were just people. Just regular human beings.
She looked away. Her chest hurt. She doesn't know what to do. Her fingertips on her dress tightened, her toes curled in her boots gripping to the bottoms.
“You want to dance, don't you? That's why you stay.” He said. She shyly nodded. “Then why don't you?”
Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she actually spoke. She was still unsure of what she was saying. “They watch. They watch with hungry eyes. Demonic eyes. Lustful hands.” Dark eyes met his aqua ones. Hers showed fear, confusion, longing. His showed comfort, and something else. She couldn't place it. He smiled again.
“It's a shame,” he said. “Why?” she asked. “You should dance. You might find it thrilling.” She shook her head. “If they watch me dance, I wouldn't mind,” he said, looking back out to the crowd. “The experience would be better that way.”
“How?” She asked, genuinely curious. “Because who cares who's watching? It doesn't matter. It's just me, the music, and the floor.” He explained, cryptically. “You can do that with no bystanders.” She stated.
He grinned at her. “But isn't it more fun to ignore them? To show them that they don't matter? To make them realize you don't care about them? That's the good part.”
She looked back at the dancers. There were less of them now. The music beat through the air, the lights danced off the floors and walls. Slowly, very slowly, her view changed. The people's dark silhouettes turned to nothing. Soon, all she saw were the colours and the music. The spaces on the floor where her feet could be. The gaps in the air where her hands and arms could be.
“Why wait 'till the floor is empty? Let's give them a show that they might find alluring.” He stood in front of her, speaking cryptically, and obscuring her new visions. She looked around him. “Who cares who's watching you with me?” He said, catching her attention. She truly looked at him for the first time. Bright eyes stood out against dark hair. His lips formed a smile that suited his face.
He held out his hand in front of her. “Why wait...” She repeated, looking out at the floor again. Still seeing only spaces and no longer shadows.
Her eyes met his again. They stood that way for what seemed like minutes. Taking in each other, reading each other. He stood still, his smile never fading. She fidgeted less and less, as a smile slowly grew across her features.
Bowing slightly like a courteous man, he asked “May I have this dance?” She did a small curtsy in reply. “You may,” she said with a true smile.
Leading her by the hand, they made it right to the center of the floor. “You look much better with that smile, Wallflower.” He complimented, using her nickname. She blushed, he laughed a little. Looking him in the eyes again, something she had almost grown used to, she whispered, “Let's dance.”
Eyes stared at them while they danced. Words and observations were exchanged. No one had seen her dance before. Now everyone was.
She was nervous at first, but slowly adapted to it. She begun to have more fun than she had dancing alone. She smiled, she laughed, she allowed him to hold her while they danced. He smiled, he laughed, he allowed her to dance they way she wanted to. She did the same for him.
Their bodies fit together, in and around each other. Before long, no one cared anymore. Not the curious party goers around them, not he, not her.
“You were right,” she whispered, laying her head on his chest. Their breathing was heavy and nearly in sync. His arms held her against his chest. They stood still like that for a few moments while they regained their energy.
The floor was almost empty now, she noticed, finally looking around. Switching her glance back to his, she grinned. “Again?”
Type: Random oneshot inspired by a song.
Warnings: None. Generic drabble.
Comments: Wrote this after spending all morning listening to Blaqk Audio's new song, Bon Voyeurs. Wrote it quick, so it's not that great. The idea sounded better in my head before I wrote it down.
-----
Wallflower.
That's what they called her at the clubs. Always in a beautiful dress, always left behind by her friend. Always standing by the wall, always looking shy.
If she would speak, she would speak of how she longed to dance. And of how afraid she was. Afraid of all those prying eyes, all those insinuating smiles, all those lustful glances. She wanted to dance. That's why she allowed her friend to take her to these demon filled pits. That's why she never left.
People would ask her; grab her hand, smile, and try to bring her to the floor. But she knew. She knew they wanted what happens when they leave. She knew they only wanted to brag about who got the Wallflower. It had become a game now. A contest of who could win the beautiful prize.
Across the hall, behind all the prying eyes, sat a single pair of curious ones. Not curious about what's under the dress, but curious about what's behind her eyes and in her chest. “That's the wallflower,” he was told, “she never dances. But is always there. I heard that she only dances when everyone is gone.” “Why's that?” he asked, only to be told “no one knows.”
She stood there, leaning against the wall. Her purple dress contrasting against the dark backdrop. It was true, she sometimes danced when everyone was gone. When she was the only one left, the DJ would play one more song. Just so she could dance with no devil eyes upon her.
The man from across the hall decided he wanted to meet this Wallflower. Even if she wouldn't dance, he wanted to meet her. So he made his way across the floor, weaving between dancers and spilled drinks.
She saw him coming. She lowered her head and looked away. She thought she knew what was coming. She only partially knew.
He didn't speak right away. He waited for her to speak. He stood beside her, watching the dance floor. Eventually, she looked up at him. He was slightly taller. “May I help you?” She asked, her delicate voice only reaching his ear.
For a brief second their eyes met. Bright aqua contrasting dark. He noted that her eyes almost had a purple hue to them. It almost matched her dress.
“May I ask you a question?” He asked her, softly with a gentle smile. She was still looking down. Her fingers fiddled with the hem of her dress, her toes wiggled together in her boots. “I... I guess...” She mumbled her reply.
“Who cares who's watching you?”
She looked up, surprise eminent on her features for a split second. No one ever asked questions like that. She looked him in the face, unsure of how to answer.
“Let them say. Let them say what they will. If they watch you dance, who cares? Give them a show to be proud of.”
She watched him speak, how his lips and mouth articulated each word perfectly and precisely. How he was so calm and sure. How in his eyes, he cared. Or maybe he didn't. Mysterious, but somehow trustful, she thought.
Still unsure of how to answer, she watched the dancers. How every so often, eyes would turn to her. He saw it too, but they saw it differently. She saw darkness, demons, claws, danger. What he saw didn't matter. They were just people. Just regular human beings.
She looked away. Her chest hurt. She doesn't know what to do. Her fingertips on her dress tightened, her toes curled in her boots gripping to the bottoms.
“You want to dance, don't you? That's why you stay.” He said. She shyly nodded. “Then why don't you?”
Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she actually spoke. She was still unsure of what she was saying. “They watch. They watch with hungry eyes. Demonic eyes. Lustful hands.” Dark eyes met his aqua ones. Hers showed fear, confusion, longing. His showed comfort, and something else. She couldn't place it. He smiled again.
“It's a shame,” he said. “Why?” she asked. “You should dance. You might find it thrilling.” She shook her head. “If they watch me dance, I wouldn't mind,” he said, looking back out to the crowd. “The experience would be better that way.”
“How?” She asked, genuinely curious. “Because who cares who's watching? It doesn't matter. It's just me, the music, and the floor.” He explained, cryptically. “You can do that with no bystanders.” She stated.
He grinned at her. “But isn't it more fun to ignore them? To show them that they don't matter? To make them realize you don't care about them? That's the good part.”
She looked back at the dancers. There were less of them now. The music beat through the air, the lights danced off the floors and walls. Slowly, very slowly, her view changed. The people's dark silhouettes turned to nothing. Soon, all she saw were the colours and the music. The spaces on the floor where her feet could be. The gaps in the air where her hands and arms could be.
“Why wait 'till the floor is empty? Let's give them a show that they might find alluring.” He stood in front of her, speaking cryptically, and obscuring her new visions. She looked around him. “Who cares who's watching you with me?” He said, catching her attention. She truly looked at him for the first time. Bright eyes stood out against dark hair. His lips formed a smile that suited his face.
He held out his hand in front of her. “Why wait...” She repeated, looking out at the floor again. Still seeing only spaces and no longer shadows.
Her eyes met his again. They stood that way for what seemed like minutes. Taking in each other, reading each other. He stood still, his smile never fading. She fidgeted less and less, as a smile slowly grew across her features.
Bowing slightly like a courteous man, he asked “May I have this dance?” She did a small curtsy in reply. “You may,” she said with a true smile.
Leading her by the hand, they made it right to the center of the floor. “You look much better with that smile, Wallflower.” He complimented, using her nickname. She blushed, he laughed a little. Looking him in the eyes again, something she had almost grown used to, she whispered, “Let's dance.”
Eyes stared at them while they danced. Words and observations were exchanged. No one had seen her dance before. Now everyone was.
She was nervous at first, but slowly adapted to it. She begun to have more fun than she had dancing alone. She smiled, she laughed, she allowed him to hold her while they danced. He smiled, he laughed, he allowed her to dance they way she wanted to. She did the same for him.
Their bodies fit together, in and around each other. Before long, no one cared anymore. Not the curious party goers around them, not he, not her.
“You were right,” she whispered, laying her head on his chest. Their breathing was heavy and nearly in sync. His arms held her against his chest. They stood still like that for a few moments while they regained their energy.
The floor was almost empty now, she noticed, finally looking around. Switching her glance back to his, she grinned. “Again?”