All They Could Do Was Just Dancing

He was sitting on the edge of the bed with his back slightly hunched. Quietly, he watched her slow dancing in the centre of his room to the medley of ballad songs. He did not know where the songs from, though it was played from his laptop but those were not the songs he had in his playlist. But then, his mind wander, he had never seen her this beautiful in her short grey dress as if she was fleeting with the melody. Inhaling her cigarette in between her small steps. Maybe the way her neck was exposed as she had her hair tied up into small bun that looked slightly messy, curls falling off on the sides next to her ear. Maybe the way she looked very fragile in her movement while closing her eyes. Maybe because he knew this would be the last night before he had to let her go.

She never liked dancing. The concept of moving along was strange because she grew up hiding behind still things; books and drawings. Hence, it explained the lack of confidence built in her. But tonight, she would just like to drown herself into the song, as if she could prolong the night, away from tomorrow, and away from her doubts. That was why she opened his laptop when he was outside, looking up online to the song that was not on his playlist, the unfamiliar, the one he did not need to know and remembered, the music she could slow dance to. This was better, she thought. Then, her thoughts wander, what day was it, would she still remember tonight in a year? Would she regret her decision to break the relationship that she thought could save her from falling, in the morning? But how could she feel this heavy, as if she was sinking to the bottom of the ocean?

He was so close to change his mind but he knew his life was not a motion film. Although this beautiful being was dancing before him, there was no story board or a script that change the truth that he was still lost and he could not take her with him. Not that he did not want to, he wanted her tonight more than any other days since the first time they met on the last day of Winter, but he could not shake off the thought she was worth more than being lost with him. He could not see where he was going, and he thought wherever he goes, there would be this darkness that follows. And she shines, so bright, he was afraid he would take the lights off her, turn into debris of his wasted constellation, if she were to stay with him.

She crushed her cigarette butt by the ashtray, replacing the empty spaces between her fingers with a glass of wine that she left on top of Jack Kerouac's book. The taste of white wine calmed her, but not like the way he did. Almost. Almost, she grinned. Caressing the side of the glass as if it was his palm, finding how worthless the word almost was, the insufficiency engraved in the syllable. It was there but not quite. The part where it should matter, was just not enough. She closed her eyes again, deeper into the hums and thinking, he was almost the guy of her dream that all she ever wanted, but he could not see himself, gleams with potential, looking charming as if God created him to start jealousy. But he could not see it, he just could not. And she was, too, his almost-love that was just too bright it burned instead of light him up.

He stood up from bed, approaching her to have a better touch of what he had to let go. Her steps slowed down as she noticed he was getting closer. She wanted to be saved, but she knew he could not do it. Gently from behind, he put his arms around her waist that soon welcomed by her hands, placing on top of his. He could feel a touch of cold crystal glass stroke his palm before her warmth dismiss everything he was ever doubted. She was worth more than being lost with me, he repeated. She leaned her head on his chest, slightly to the side, letting his resting on her shoulder. She could feel his breath on her neck and the weigh of his world that she would like to help to carry but she did not know how. She could not saved him either. In the corner of their distinct minds, they knew they had to let these hands go.

Now they were in the same rhythm, dissolving into the last verse of the song, only a fabric away from each other's skin, longing to stay a little while longer. But in that moment, all they ever were just two souls that met in wrong disposition. And all they could do was just dancing, till the morning sealed their fate away.