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i really liked the instrumental part! but i felt overall it was rather slow and iām not in a slow music mood so i wonder if it just wasnāt clicking
Tarantism - The urge to overcome melancholy by dancing.Ā
Even when you are well-adjusted and living the best version of your life that youāve had so far, some days are still strange days. Some days, you are attending your ex-boyfriendās wedding where your other (now married) ex-boyfriend is standing up as one of the groomsmen.
Sure, there isnāt any bad blood, and your role at the wedding is to make music, not bear witness, but still, itās hard not to feel just aĀ littleĀ melancholy.
Thank goodness, then, for dancing.
Lots of dancing, including a tarantella that leaves all of you gasping and laughing and nearly in a pile of lace and tangled heels when your former roommateās husband accidentally gets dragged the wrong way and missteps and nearly brings the whole wedding party crashing down. But the bride laughs, the groom gives a pithy one-liner after gently helping her to her feet, and nothing is ruined, so the party continues. Even those of your friends who are usually sticklers for propriety just laugh and pick themselves off the ground. Even Nathaniel.
Youāve been talking, the two of you. Not obsessively, or anything, but exchanging likes and comments across social media, messaging privately with good news from time to time, to offer updates on your lives and to share funny stories. If youāre honest with yourself, which you are better about these days, even when it really takes effort, one of the reasons your melancholy is not worse than it could be is because you knew you were going to see him and talk to him in the flesh, not through some electronic filter that gives you more contact than you would have had, like, a century ago but still takes out some of the nuance that only a face-to-face conversation can give.
It also kind of (definitely) helps that heās also flying solo, which means you arenāt the only person in your immediate friend group without a date.
No other reason.
Unfortunately, there hasnāt really been time to talk yet, just the two of you, what with your role in the wedding proper, because you are still always a little nervous before a performance and because many of your friends are his friends, too, and they have their own conversations to catch up on and you donāt want to be totally āOā about seeing him again.
Still, you catch him watching you as the bride walks down the aisle, and thereās a light in his eyes that hasnāt dimmed with the years and it doesnāt make youĀ bloom, exactly, but it does make you sit up straighter, and look right back. Not long enough to forget yourself (itās not such a worry any more), but so that he knows that you see him, and if that look was something real and fluttering that you could catch in your hands to keep, you would.
You want to dance with him but you reallyĀ reallyĀ want to dance with your friends, too, and apart from the disastrous tarantella, he spends most of the evening deep in conversation with your other friends and former coworkers and your gurl group is justĀ so prettyĀ in their dresses and all of you are giggly with champagne that you all get caught up in having a good time and before you know it the night is mostly over.
Your chance arrives shortly before midnight, when the floor hasnāt emptied but the music has slowed, and the bride and groom remain at the center of the floor, gazes locked, and your friends have drifted apart to wrap their arms around their significant others, their pinching heels now dangling from their fingers. Then you turn and, with light-headed determination, head straight for the MountainTop guest table.
Like most of the other tuxedo-wearing guests collapsed in their dinner chairs, Nathaniel has shed both jacket and tie, but he has also gone the additional step of unbuttoning and shoving his sleeves up to his elbows. Itās a good look for him ā one you canāt imagine him have ever done when you first met, and almost all the more unfairly attractive for it.
Not that it hinders you the least in approaching him.
āThereĀ you are,ā you say, faux-annoyed, entirely teasing, grabbing his hand and tugging hard, delighted by the solidity of him.
āIāve always been here,ā he protests, unfolding out of his chair and following you easily, which is true, has always been true, but just a matter of timing, and you shift so that your hand is nestled in his and your other hand rests on his upper arm, his other hand settling comfortably in the middle of your back.
You keep your shoes on despite the ache from all of your dancing, because you canāt afford to lose the extra inches, and itās almost like the first time the two of you did this, only now there is no nefarious plot, just two guests at a wedding who can enjoy each otherās company.
āHi,ā you say breathlessly, because as much as you love grand words, youāve never needed them when the two of you are together.
āHi,ā he returns, matching your grin. Heās always had a nice smile, and you like how easily he shows it these days, not just with you but with everyone.
(Even if you are pleased that itāsĀ yourĀ smile on his face.)
āYou sang really well tonight,ā he says, and itās not a smooth comment, but itās charming, and your pulse stutters and spikes to hear it. Your body is cranky at you, not just for the shoes and the spanx and the dress but because your body remembers his body and itās finding this extra distance to be rather absurd.
To the side of you, your married ex (not the just-married groom but theĀ āoldā married ex, two years in and happy as a clam, and about to be a father), catches your eye and looks between the two of you, eyebrows raised as if pleasantly surprised. You flap a hand at him to mind his own business; he laughs and his wife looks up and immediately comes to your defense, tapping his nose to redirect his attention towards her. He smiles and turns his head to whisper first in her ear and then bends downwards, addressing the bump under her dress, and you smile at the sight. While there is the occasional twinge of melancholy over what could have been but wasnāt, mostly itās a quiet kind of joy, to see him moving forward in his life with such giddy anticipation.
Nathanielās gaze follows your own, and you hear him huff a tiny laugh.
āIām going to have to fly out again in a couple of months, wonāt I?ā he says, in a tone that would be exasperated, were the fondness not so obvious.
āThatās not unreasonable,ā you say, refusing to be sympathetic, because that means heās back in person and you will get to do this again. āAnd no complaining about people not organizing their life-changing events around your schedule. Youāre not that kind of lawyer anymore.ā
āThat doesnāt mean I no longer appreciate a good schedule,ā Nathaniel objects, almost affronted, and you roll your eyes but let the comment slide, because the fact is that these days Nathaniel considers a good schedule to include something beyond just work commitments, and that even if balancing life and work is a pain, it is worth the effort, and you like it.
āYou can just send the largest stuffed animal you can find,ā you point out. āIf you really donāt want to visit.ā
He rolls his eyes at you, which you interpret asĀ donāt be an idiot, Iām still gonna do both,Ā even if that isnāt what he means.
āPlus, youāre back for good in a few months, anyways,ā you point out. āThereāll be plenty of time for baby visits. Catching up with the echelons of West Covinaās elite. Catching up and all that jazz. Getting your groove back and falling into step with all the rest of us.ā
āRight,ā he says, and nothing else, because thereās still something left heavy between the two of you, like baggage or emotional stones or whatever visual metaphor works best, that you both know intrinsically, but that you canāt address just yet. Because right now it is almost like a dream, how he can reappear when you want to see him most, rather than the reality of seeing him every day, and as much as you want the reality, you are both figuring out what is reasonable to expect from each other.
Exhaustion pricks in your eyes, and you hide your face in his shoulder to smother your yawn.
āLong night?ā he asks, his voice low and gentle.
āThe longest,ā you mumble, and you let yourself surrender to what the tired animal of your body wants and steps closer so that your personal space merges gratefully into his, so you can rest your cheek against his shoulder, imagine that you can feel his heart pounding beneath your cheek, evidence that he is here, for now. And will be soon back for good, in the future.
Ā Until then, you have dancing.
You hold each other and the melancholy, pale as a flame, extinguishes entirely.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
ā Live Streamingā Interactive Chatā Private Showsā HD Qualityā Free Actions
Free to watch ā¢ No registration required ā¢ HD streaming
I get paid on Thursday and yet mentally Iāve already spent most of my wages lmao. I can make it work though, think I can buy at least my other photos for WCC (Ian Bohen, Arthur Darvill and maybe Matthew Lewis) and I think I might just about be able to buy at least my entry tickets for both Ultimates events and book the hotel for at least Agents Assemble. AA is my priority but Iām so worried that the tickets for Elseworlds are gonna sell out fast lmao. London can wait until after Christmas, I will try and figure it out then. The rest of my wages will be for Christmas presents I guess lmfao wish me luck
also Iāve been watching HTGAWM again and itās making me want to write so maybe Iāll get shit done soon. I have all of my threads which Iāve owed for about half a year in my drafts lol. Iām the actual worst and this blog needs a complete makeover bt effort dlgjaldgjds
