An odd sensation of warmth overtook me. Unfamiliar clothes and accruements. I was in a ballroom of some sort. Sandra’s holovids have shown me similar rooms before. I wonder why I was here.
It was a new dance, and therefore a new dance partner. She let me bow, then curtseyed. As she finally let her eyes travel upwards, I realised. It was her. Her auburn locks were obvious, although I’d never seen her in such attire before. Dress orange and vibrant, warm like a fresh Tatooine sunset. Something felt wrong. I tried to get away from her, but before I could retreat she grabbed my wrist and began the intricate waltz routine.
“What are you doing here?” He bit out between steps, chewing the inside of his cheek.
“Thought I’d join the wanderer for a dance.” Her tone was too calm, eeriely so.
“I never knew you to dance.”
Her eyes had never left mine despite the conversation, and she was still managing to execute the steps flawlessly. With each step, I’d fall deeper into her hazel gaze. Her slightly metallic digits fit perfectly into my hand, I began to realize.
“Please. I wear stuff like this all the time.” There was an amused huff, sensing the accusation in my voice.
“Really? Then care to explain when you-”
She guided my left hand to find the small of her back, enough to make my breath hitch and any accusations towards her die in my throat. Silence. She made the distance between us slightly smaller, so that an onlooker wouldn’t notice, but I would.
I had always felt lost after teacher’s death, most of my entire life now. No one understood me a lot of the time and nowhere comfortable. Until now. She felt so light in my arms as they stepped and spun, I don’t think I want to let go. I won’t let go, not again.
He’d blink awake, a small noise from his bed as he stirred, the familiar grumble.
The ceiling held his gaze for the rest of his night, his feet and hands moving in a sort of dance, although nothing he’d done before. He’d mutter something but not bother turning his head to look down at the subject of his words.
"We are akin to wildflowers that have never bothered to bloom when we should have bloomed and it’s as if the sun has become disgusted with waiting for our blossoms.”
And with small breath, he’d close his eyes. No ballroom this time, just darkness. Cold and familiar, almost comforting.