Before I Met You

I watched, transfixed, for what seemed like an eternity.

This boy seemed to suck the very air out of the room, making me feel breathless and fragile in a way I knew that was not serious enough for me to really pass out, but to want to continue watching him dance forever. He was anything and everything, the oxygen and all of its components, when he danced. The smooth, graceful movements seemed to be the very reason why his body was created, and I fell in the depths of his talent as soon as I witnessed it.

Pale and shaking, my hands came to cover my mouth as I continued watching the show. It wasn't enough to see him here, on stage. What sort of person was he off of it? Was he... lovable? As handsome as he seemed on the stage as he was when simply holding a conversation with a stranger? So many questions flooded my amazed mind in its state of pure awe. Befuddled but still somehow managing to hold onto that one thread of consciousness, I watched the whole show with undying attention while it seemed the rest of the world looked on.

At some point though, all things come to an end.

So when the curtains closed, lights dimmed, and oxygen was suddenly restored in the theater, I felt the dreamy feeling the boy had given me slip quietly away into the cold, dark night. Turning almost regrettably away from the stage, I followed him into the crowded corridors and prepared to leave this safe haven in return for the realistic bitterness of the world outside. Not only did this mean I'd lose the yearning for the mysterious boy over time, I'd eventually come to feel even more dead as the days crept by, even if I was still breathing.

Outside, I shivered as the cold air assaulted my delicate frame. He asked me if I was cold once observing this, but I shook my head no as I tried to reassure myself that things would get better. That in a way, they had to.

"Want me to walk you home?" my companion asked sweetly. Glancing over at him, I saw the painful emptiness that had taken to settling itself in his usually bright eyes as he witnessed my changing from the girl he had loved to this shell of who she used to be. My desperate thoughts were shoved aside for a split second of time as I actually thought about him as a real, living being for once.

Then, as quickly as those kindred and worrying thoughts had appeared, they vanished.

"No, but thank you," I responded in my quiet voice. "Thank you for everything."

Smiling painfully, he ran his hand over my cheek. It only touched there for a few moments before he pulled away and turned slowly to walk home. His feet slapped the pavement as he moved, the hunch of his normally relaxed shoulders revealing every doubt and worry he had failed, once again, to fully reveal to me. Thoughts threatened to overtake me, their power whirling as fast as ever as I took my first step in the opposite direction of the theater to the place I'd like to name home one day.

Taking the first step was always the hardest, but once you get past it, you can move on so naturally you'd think you were born to do so, or I'd always thought.

My next few steps were still thought-filled worries, but after surviving through those, I moved on again. Like I always seemed to do these days. My warm, cloth boots hit the cold sidewalk, acting as the soundtrack to my silence reverie. Continuing was my specialty. It didn't make me stronger or weaker, it simply... existed.

The night was so promising. My thoughts didn't seem to matter as I looked upwards into the eyes of the poor soul who had stumbled into my broken form.

It was him. My dancing boy.