#bailes

always taking his lover to bailes where they are constantly showing out. he takes so much time learning every dance. he would become so confident after their first few huapangos.

he dives so deep into the culture, embracing it with open arms. he would eventually learn to speak spanish to be able to communicate with their family and friends.

it starts when you’re both 12, he had just moved from indiana to your small town in texas. you both quickly become best friends. you ask him to be your chambelan de honor the night of your 13th birthday. plans already set in motion, your family not wanting to have to scramble last minute.

throughout the next 2 years, you hang out nearly every day. he asked you for dancing lessons in that time, wanting to be prepared before your court and choreography was fully chosen.

you and your family invited him to bailes, rodeos, huapangos, and cookouts. allowing him to fully immerse himself, embracing your culture. he stumbled, stared at his feet, and tripped you for a while.

in no time, he was swinging you around the floor with a huge grin. he eventually picked up spanish, as your family hardly spoke english. he wasn’t fluent but your heart still fluttered when he greeted your family in your native tongue.

he’s seated next to your father—6 months before your 15th—grinning widely when you’re trying on dresses. he grins just as widely when he is fitted for his matching suit.

the day of your quince comes quicker than either of you could imagine. dinner going by without a hitch, too many photos of you both grinning at the sweetheart table. cheeks already aching.

he is sweating with nerves as 9pm rolls around, the dinner just finishing up less than 30 minutes ago, guest seated at their tables once again.

as lights dim, so does the chatter of the guests.

his eyes lock onto yours as you stroll down the venue in your royal blue dress. his heart beating a million times a second. not a stray hair in sight.

you maintain the eye contact, heart beating just as hard. taking his outstretched hand, he leads you to the center of the dance floor.

you hang your arms around his solid shoulders, developed in the time you had been teaching him to dance. you hear the boots of your damas and their chambelans as the music cuts on.

steve—years of having you as his dance partner— has no trouble keeping up, spinning you around. he easily held up your body weight, along with the 20lb dress, weighed with jewels and fabric.

as your first dance had finished, you were both gleaming, eyes shining bright. he hands you off to your father for the father-daughter dance.

your father had a hard time keeping it together as you two slowly danced, a song he never wanted to end. your mother was in a similar state, hands holding your face, bringing your head to her chest as she sobs through the dance.

in all your glory—sweat and tears— you made your way back to the changing rooms. steve was there waiting with your ceremony dress. he helped you unzip and step out the ball gown.

“how are you feeling?” he asked, zipping the shorter and way lighter dress up. you held your hair out the way as he did.

“hot and sweaty but im happy.” you smiled at him, when you made eye contact, the world stopped.

for the first time, you were truly seeing him.

the one who gracefully swept you off your feet. the one who gave up every second of his free time to learn your tradition. the one who buried his head in books and took spanish speaking courses.

the one who spent the last two years, night and day, at your side. you finally saw steve harrington.

10 years later.

you made the same walk, this time down the church pews. steve at the altar, dressed in a sharp black suit, ironed to perfection. your big white wedding dress, littered in jewels, just as the one you wore so long ago.

this time around, your father handed you off. this time he didn’t attempt to keep it together, tears rolled down his face. your mother sobbing all the same in the front aisle.

“when i came to texas 13 years ago, i cried the whole way from indiana, begging my parents to turn around.” steve smiled, staring deep into your eyes.

“i am so glad they didn’t. my first day of school, it was winter of our 7th grade year. i was new, of course, you had spotted me standing at the doorway. snatching my hand, you pulled me into the classroom.” he reads from his paper

“you told me ‘you’re my friend now’. you didn’t ask, you simply told me.” he grinned.

“when you had turned 13, we were sitting on your back porch, watching the adults dance. you asked me to be your chambelan, i had no idea what that was but i still said yes. for you, i always said yes.”

“the next year and a half, we spent night and day together. i had practically moved into your house. im actually not quite sure the last i slept at my own parents house since that night.“ he laughed out, the crowd did too.

“a few too many smacks upside the head, you swearing i broke your toe, and being chased with the belt by your mother later. i realized this was it.”

“the night of your quince, when you were walking towards me in that beautiful gown, it solidified everything. that night and every night after, you were the most beautiful woman i had ever seen.” tears slipping past your eyes as he continued.

“when we turned 18, after graduation, i asked your father for your hand in marriage. not a surprise but he said no. he told me ‘por favor, no te la lleves. no estoy preparado.’ so i waited.”

“finally christmas day, 3 years ago. he pulled me aside and handed me a small black box. i opened it to find your grandmothers ring, his own way of telling me he was ready. i was so happy but in all honesty, i would’ve waited a million years more.”

Como antigamente ela mesma fez seu vestido de baile,gastou um pouco mais de tecido desta vez,tinha ganho uns centímetros a mais para cima e bem pouquinho para os lados.