fly me to the moon

doused in neon lights,  she flashes red   &   blue in a crowd of bodies;   into the dark, into the light.  momentarily swept  by the drunken haze that intoxicated those around her,  lost somewhere and nowhere in between a sea of bodies and the emptiness of space.  she sways to a nonexistent rhythm, mane slightly disheveled and glittery mascara smudged down her cheeks. if you’d asked her a couple months ago, she’d tell you clubs were placed where people had fun, where they laughed and drunk and hung out with their friends.  but now, clubs felt a lot like a bottomless abyss, like a void looking in  - nothing was real and nothing could touch you, for that slipper of a second, you felt like a phantom of yourself - the music turned to silence and your thoughts were muffled.  it’s like stripping yourself of the burden of existence.   she wouldn’t often come to them, unless the agency demanded her presence but -  she hadn’t really been out anywhere in forever.  not since…    she bumps into a body - another, then another - eventually the feeling of scout’s fingers between her hands are a distant memory;  then either by fate or coincidence, take your pick, she wobbles and staggers backwards just in time to catch glimpse of a familiar face. classical pavlovian conditioning. any sign of carefree glee is wiped clean;   the noise pumps sound back into her year  &   reality slips back through the cracks, bringing a heavy dose of resentment with it.    @willfitzgcralds​

prying eyes weave through a sea of people, searching for one in particular. he hadn’t planned on coming out tonight, his friend practically dragging him out of the house. he holds a glass of whiskey in his hands, top shelf, neat. he sips on it as he waits for fate to bring him what he desires most --- and he always gets what he wants. he reaches up to loosen the tie around his neck, just enough to breathe a little easier. the suit he wore made it almost unbearably hot, but he wouldn’t be caught dead going out in anything less. he searches the crowd again, -- one more time, he tells himself -- desperate to find her, if only just to look at her again.