Dance the Night Away

 

The night is just starting, getting on: the air is hot, blowing against her skin, and the drink on her hand, that Wheein has provided her with, is full of alcohol, tasting venomous on her lips, just as everything surrounding her right now.

She has gone out to enjoy herself, and, yet, she finds herself leaning on the wall, waiting for the night to end, to stop spinning, passing by her eyes: she feels utterly out of place in between flashing lights and shrilling tracks she has lost count of. The room is stuffy and sultry, a sea of bodies moving, jumping, bouncing at the sound of a loud song, with the flavour of sweat and alcohol on the tip of her tongue, a vague, diffuse picture of people coming and going like phantoms underwater, the sense of unrealness, a thorned dream veiled with false fog and humidity, drops falling from the ceiling and covering her skin, giving her the chills. She hates it, loathes the place, the ambience, the roaring music that she doesn't understand; she is too old to mixt with the youngest generation, too old to spend hours on the floor, dancing with strangers - once, she enjoyed it the most but her time is long lost. The ground shakes and trembles and she feels it on her stomach, storming on her head like thousands of thunders. The night might be young, but feels heavy for her, years piling on her shoulders – and every second stretches likes days: long and burdensome. She can hear the delectation of those around her, cheers blending with singing songs without clear lyrics - songs that are a mere blast of noise -, an explosion of voice in a cacophony of unmatched, odd sounds, a chorus thrumming with the force of a cyclone, winding over her, piercing her ears. She can’t stand it, the blare is too loud, the blinking lights are blinding her, patches of golden and silver scratching her eyes, and she wants to go home – there is nothing in here for her, just Wheein, who has been swallowed by the wavering sea of hands and legs that are pushing her against the wall, at the far end of the club, next to the bar, where she has been waiting for over an hour for things to settle (for Wheein to bring her out, relishing onto the fresh air, the stars above her head, the welcoming song of silence surrounding her, away from the hell that is staying here, in this packed room).

She was meant to be having fun with Wheein, but she has ditched her, favouring Hyejin. She has left and Yongsun can only assume that she is kissing her girl in one of the dark corners of the club, hands all over Hyejin's body, a mess of blond and dark hair swill, cascading over their interlocked fingers. Instead, Yongsun is all done and alone, the music pulsing through her temples, reverberating on her brain in swirls of aching pain. She just wants to call it a night, forget that she ever stepped inside Gabbia, looking for solace in loud music and dangerous strangers that she doesn't fancy to discover, to exchange names with. She feels so out of place, with the lights twinkling, all high and spinning, flashes of people coming and going, smiles meaning nothing, mismatched conversations never started and that she can't follow, stumbling fingers curling on her hips encouraging her to dance and that she shakes away, displeased, disgusted, the smell of liquor clouding her senses, tickling her nostrils unpleasantry. She needs to get out of here, with Wheein or not - it is too much to handle, to fight the groping hands and the screamed insinuations, the flirts and the dirty looks devouring her revealed legs under a short skirt. She doesn't need any of these: she has gone out to have fun and forget - and she is having none of that.

The club is cramped and she can't go out, crammed against the bar, with a drink she can't swallow - too strong and bitter for her liking, too much alcohol for her to take it. And the music is blaring, she can't make out the lyrics amid the constant flow of the crew. It is just noise polluting her mind. She pushes with her elbow, tries to advance, makes some room for her between the concurrence but it is useless: she gets swallowed by the crow instead

Yongsun didn't want to go clubbing, didn't want to stand in line to enter Gabbia Club, she didn't want to spend her free night getting a headache - she had better things to do. But Wheein had insisted and, well, nothing can be negated to Wheein - she will always get her way. And, against all odds, she is here, cursing at her friend who has forced her to come despite her protests, crushed among backs and shoulders, shoved and jabbed, jostling to the exit by fists and starts, - she has agreed to under the promise of a quiet night, just the two of them drinking and dancing, having a good night out to clear Yongsun's mind of all the thoughts piling up, to get her heart some solace (though perhaps, the club is not the best option, Yongsun sees it now, to have an honest chat and find a fresh begin). 

Yongsun has been having a hard time figuring out her life, stressed with work and constant shift changing and the sombre reminiscences of Eric loitering on her mind like cobwebs, filaments of recollections of their past shared, all the moments spent together, the closeness between them that was a pretence, fake. The night brings back memories she wants to bury deep down – brings back memories of him, of his tender eyes and soft smiles, strong hands lacing over hers in a loving wrap that made her feel nervous, that she never managed to hold back, always finding excuses to let go, shaking him off. She had never been good to him despite all of her attempts, she knows she hurt him, her actions betraying her words, promises of eternal love. Lately, she has been recalling him and, tonight isn't an exception - he is the reason why she is hating this very moment, all of her being compressed by a rough crowd of bouncing people chanting to a loud tune, - she has been thinking how she messed up, letting him down. She never meant to break his heart but it was for the best - she wasn't enamoured, she only cared for him as a friend, at most, even when she tried her best to fall for him, for this sweet boy, she found it impossible: she was being dishonest to her own feelings. And there was nothing to do but to let him go, see the tears smudging the honey of his eyes, the saddest smile on the way he said her goodbye. Even then he was kind to her and, for that, Yongsun can't forgive herself - because Eric deserves better, more than she could offer. 

The roaring in her ear brings her back to the present. She shakes her head and her curls swept the air, softly hits the people around with whips of chocolate and hazelnuts. She gets on her tip-toes, the stilettos tottering on the ground under her weight and she gives little jumps, trying to find Wheein - but she is so small and the crew so crowded, it is impossible to distinguish her among the others. She is, definitively, on her own, pushing and kicking to get to the nearest exit with her head spinning and a half spilt glass still in her hand, but she is resolute to get out. 

There is a wall of bodies standing in front of her way, and the air is so sultry, suffocating, she pushes them hard, using all of her strength. She pants and heaves, tired already at the never-ending line of people blocking her path, but, not so far there is an empty space and, from there, she can picture the entrance, so she keeps on shoving, keeps on moving forward to that direction, straight to the clearing.  

She stumbles with the person in front of her and nearly falls but a pair of hands hold her, a little small blooming right ahead of her eyes. In a blink, though, whoever has helped her has disappeared and the thanks forming on the corner of her lips dies in a sigh. Yongsun has reached the empty circle, she realises but, before she can cross it, the music changes and, amidst the mist and fog, she emerges, glowing in thousand different colours, the focus hanging from the ceiling highlighting her, making her hair sparks like fireflies and glitter. And, when she moves to the music, everything makes senses and the creed surrounding, all the noises and the blaring, all of her annoyance, it dissolves, exploding like bubbles: floating, escaping, out of reach.  

She is outstanding, breathtaking, gorgeous: Yongsun can't tear her glance from this girl. She dances like nobody is watching, as if she doesn't care. She jigs and glides with precision, feeling the music with every fibre of her body, she vibrates, flaming alive and it is captivating to watch her movements, how she grooves, lost in the song, every motion in sync with the rhythm, beating from her core to her bones. And she is soo free, gleaming with so much enthusiasm and vitality, smiling, elated to be performing, to be doing what she likes that Yongsun heart feels at ease - as if having found her place to be: she has what she needs.

She lights up the room with her own fire, something born from passion, beating through her orb, gleaming like moons and stars. Unlike the rest of the crowd, all dolled-up with fancy clothes and shimmering dresses, she wears a simple T-shirt and jeans and, yet, Yongsun would dare to say that she is the most beautiful from them all, even when her short hair spins around in twirls, cascading on her back, rivulets falling down when she stops and looks around. Her smile is worth a thousand-watt, like a warm sunset, golden melting her heart. Yongsun inhales but the air gets caught on , between breaths. She is stunning, dancing gracefully to the sounds coming from the stereos, leaving her panting, cheeks reddened, blood flowing fast, her heart pulsing under her pharynx and she has never felt this way before, so captivated, charmed, enthralled and delighted by a pair of flickering, smiley eyes the same shade of sunshine on a rainy day.

And then she moves again, floating through thin air, a wave surfing the ocean, lithe and elegant, dancing like she alone, the new song thumbing inside of her veins: she flows like she is the music itself. Like snowflakes falling down, she sweeps the floor, makes them all stare, eyes on her, trailing, following her movements, enjoying the performance. Yongsun is taken aback, absorbed contemplating her, her chest panging heavily, smashing its cage of skin and bones. She has always known that there was something off with her, something different and, watching her dancing she thinks that she can point out the answer. Nobody has left her speechless, taken her breath away like this, leave her stunned, daunted, with no words coming out of her lips. She dances and the stars gleam with her: she is the sky, as incommensurable as the universe. She sheds light on Yongsun, she makes her heart thump the right way like it never did with Eric. Watching her makes all of Yongsun's bits fall into place, finally making sense. Blood rushes through her veins in hot guts and she's all she can see, feel, think about as if she was craved under her skin as if belonging to the music and Yongsun only. And she gets lost in contemplation, wrapped up with her movements, with the beats of the song that are the pound of her own heart, a matching sound with the pulsations of Yongsun's chest.

So this is the explanation to all of her questions, all the wrong emotions that she forced onto herself: it is all summed up to this girl, to every curb of her figure, the shade of her orbs, her lashes protecting shadows under her eyes, the intricate pattern of her smiling lips that are so tender, so sweet, tempting and inviting. She is the reason why she couldn't love Eric - because her heart was waiting for her, somehow, even when she didn't know that she existed. And Yongsun watches her dancing like stargazing: as if she were the greatest wonder of the universe - she makes Yongsun orbit around, getting lost on the shape of her. 

"Unnie, what are you doing?" Wheein shakes her shoulder and it takes a few seconds for Yongsun to react - to get rid of the mist that tastes like the dancing girl. But, when she turns to Wheein, who has reached her, appearing out of nowhere, she is already smirking, her eyes creased in a smile. "Found something interesting?" she teases, following the general stare, chuckling at the realisation of what has caught Yongsun's attention, of what exactly got her so invested, captivated to the point of not noticing her arrival. Yongsun has been complaining all night long, and, now, all alone, she finds her all smiley, focused in something ahead of them, something that float like water, swirling to the tune. "Oh, so it's Gabbia's resident dancer," she says, raising her brows with suspicion, and Yongsun wants for nothing but for Wheein to disappear, for her to be back with Hyejin so she can enjoy the view ahead without distractions - so she can get immerses on the dancer again, the girl who has her enraptured, swooned. 

Wheein puts her hand on her shoulder, stays by her side, contemplating the same scene with a warm smirk, matching the loud song of Yongsun's heart.

Yongsun tries to play it cool, but, with this incredible sight unfolding in front of her own eyes, it is impossible to feel nothing but awe, to be struck with the way she grooves, waving to the sound of the music, all of her vibes with it, a smile on the corner of her lips, eyes filled with stardust and butterflies and Yongsun is aware that she is her why - the reason Eric never felt right for her.

Everything about her yells perfection, even from afar, with the lights shining over her, Yongsun can tell that she is gorgeous, that there is something special around her, below her skin, something that makes her gleam, that keeps them all staring, pulling them like a magnet to the pole of her axis; she can't stop glancing, she is completely absorbed by her, watching the way her hair swirls and her fingers move in sync with the rhythm of the music, grasping the story behind her dancing. 

Wheein smiles, checking the situation. She is aware of how much Yongsun has thrived to fit in, how she has forced herself to be with Eric, thinking it was the right thing to do. She knows that she thinks there is something missing in her, but there is nothing wrong with her unnie, it's just that she has never been into boys, to begin with. And there weren't any Byul to help her realise her true feelings, the blooming, beautiful colours of her heart. And now she is transfixed, lost to the world, watching in surprise to Byul dancing and Wheein can't stop the pouring happiness of witnessing her friend breaking down her fears, putting a name to her emotions, the sentiments she has stored for so long, keeping them tamed, caged - and that are sparkling now on her orbs, exploding like fireworks. She holds Yongsun's hand in her, draws reassuring circles, says the same she once told her when she was scared of loving Hyejin, of being labelled as different. She doesn't want Yongsun to suffer - she has endured enough pain, it is time for her to shine and gleam and to find her own way to her happiness. 

“It’s OK, unnie,” she mumbles, tiptoeing to reach her ear, “you don’t need to be afraid. Love is love and, eventually, it will make sense, even if now feels so alien and strange” she explains and Yongsun nods mechanically, Wheein’s voice a soft wind brushing away her hair. She knows there is nothing really wrong with it, she only needs to stop staring, stop feeling that she is the meaning of her life, that this moment has been meant to be, as stupid as it sounds to her own mind. She doesn't know her, she is just a random girl, pretty and talented and stunning, but that's all there is, this is all Yongsun will ever get. It is hardly possible to meet her and, even if that would happen, Yongsun's tongue is already stuck inside of , all of her limps numb and her mind frozen - she would make a fool out of herself, so it is better to just observe and never cross paths again.

 

Byul is used to being observed, to be the centre of others' attention, but nobody has ever watched the same way, with so much intent as this pretty girl standing next to Wheein is doing - long stares filled with curiosity, interest. Her hair falls over her shoulders, spreads on her back in curls of dark chocolate. Her eyes dart sights to her, round and cheerful, filled with stars and she is so beautiful, a pure smile all over the oval of her face.  She has caught Byul’s attention at first because she had tripped and Byul had just got her back to her feet. She seemed lost but, suddenly, when Byul began to dance, the girl morphed as if suddenly she had found her home. And Byul had smiled at the image of her being at ease all of a sudden, of her glance falling on all of her moves. 

She has continued to observe her, following the trail of all of her movements, the traces left behind in the sky. She watches her as if Byul were on fire, dazzled, fascinated and she can’t hide her surprise at being watched with so much appeal – Byul dances and Yongsun catches her with eyes wide open.

She waits until the music is gone and she can leave the improvised stage. Byul has always loved to dance, always finds at ease performing at the club, even if she doesn’t get paid for it, she enjoys the music and the applause when she is done, the shower of appreciation from the public. Today, though, she feels it is a pity that the show is over, that she has to go, leave this pretty girl that has been so immersed watching her – she would like to thanks her for her attention. 

Yongsun can’t move from where she has been standing, even when the ovation has subdued and Wheein has pushed her, forcing her to walk – she feels rooted to this place, to the girl in front of her eyes, the one that has kept her mesmerized. She doesn’t want to go, she wants to spend another hour here, just watching her, lacing her eyes to all of her movements, to the way her body floats and flows so elegantly, so eloquently, so beautiful and enthralling. 

But the music has changed and the girl has disappeared between the crew and Yongsun is searching for her, needs to see her one last time, has to memorise all of her, to study her face and the flames behind her eyes, has to tell her how talented she is – even if she already knows; she needs to find her to get back the heart she has stolen.

“What are you looking for, unnie?” Hyejin asks, looking at Yongsun with curiosity, flinching between her and Wheein, who is giggling revealingly, waiting for the moment to tell her. Hyejin leans on Wheein, glances over her girlfriend, expectantly. 

“Oh, she has been enthralled by Byul's dance,” she explains, the chuckles turning into a torrent of laughter.

“What did you say?” Yongsun retorts, blinking back to reality. “Do you know her?” she wonders, focusing her attention on Wheein.

“Her name is Moon Byul,” Wheein explains, “she hangs out here, likes to perform at clubs,” and she shrugs, unable to say more – because that’s all she knows.

Hyejin listens to them, finds so much wonderment and affection in Yongsun's tone she has to do something. For weeks and months, and for a long time, Yongsun hasn't been herself, she has noticed. She has been so quiet, so out of character, sadness spreading, taking away her laughter, her passion: she has lost the gleam inside of her eyes but, talking about Byul, part of the old Yongsun feels back and Hyejin would do anything to make it linger on, to bring back the lively girl that Yongsun used to be and that she used to know. So she turns to Wheein and mumbles something rushedly, sends a quick smirk over Yongsun, who watches them with concern.  

Yongsun sees Hyejin turn into a small dot amidst the sea of bodies, feels Wheein’s hands creeping on her arms, holding her, glimpses at Wheein smiling at the direction Hyejin has gone, bouncing, using Yongsun’s biceps as her support – for some mysterious reason, Wheein is all excited, giggling and clapping.

She comes back followed by someone else and when they are near enough, Yongsun’s heart skips a beat: it is her.

Up close, she is even more stunning, tall and slender, with a captivating smile that has Yongsun’s knees weak and shaking: she has never seen anyone like her, like Moon Byul, capable of making her so alive, lifting the veil of fears, clearing her sight. Byul looks at her with stars gleaming in her eyes, and Yongsun trembles like gelatine, all her bones melting, a puddle on the ground.

"I'm Moon Byul," she says, shaking her hand. Her voice is soft and warm, low but crystalline. Yongsun looks up at her and is bathed by the sunshine of her smile. "I've seen you watching me. Do you like to dance?" but Yongsun has no time to reply, to say that no, she doesn't - that it has been too long since last time he did it, that she has forgotten how to move, stiff like a stick. Byul takes her by the waist, pushes her to the dance floor, smirks all the way there and Yongsun wants to fade away, vanish - her hands are strong, fingers curling on hers, the music tattering, she is too agitated and worried to make out what song is on.

She doesn't need to worry at all, Byul takes the lead and she only needs to follow. And it is easy and comfortable, moving in sync, a little smile climbing, appearing on Yongsun's lips. After a few instants together, she finds the straight to speak.

"You are incredible," she confesses and it makes Byul chuckle, the sound of it a dream come true. 

"Thank you, I appreciate it. I would appreciate it more if you told me your name," she says, a hint of a joke at the end of the sentence. Yongsun feels the blush burning her cheeks, curses at her stupidity.

"I'm Kim Yongsun," she replies, wishing for the ground to open. It doesn't, it stays still, with them moving to the rhythm of the song and Yongsun feels more steady when Byul holds her hand, when she holds her whole, pulling her into her arms – it is warm and cosy, the outside dissolving, just their fingers crawling, interlacing and her voice soft, asking her for a dance.

Byul dances as if her life belongs to the music. Yongsun moves as if Byul was the sun and she has to orbit around her, matching to her every little movement. Byul falls into pace with Yongsun’s clumsiness, guides her, holds her by the waist, clasps her hands around her bones, keeping the balance, the song slow enough for them to dance in circles, Yongsun’s chin resting on her shoulder, fits in there perfectly, tasting the citron of her perfume, feeling her fingers on her hip, steadying her steps. And, for once, she relaxes, feels like she is right where she wants to be, dancing the night away with a girl that has just taken her heart - a girl that keeps her stable, a girl that makes her feel, a girl with laughter flavoured like moons and stars, a girl that is offering her a gateway to be who she really is (happy, delighted, alive).