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To be honest, people aren't surprised when they meet. They say to themselves, "Oh, it's finally happened," then smile politely before walking away. One of a slightly better background, both talkative and enjoying the high life. One a little more grounded than the other, one a little more in love with the other. The spark was expected. The spark was expected to explode into a million colours, like firework.
However, nobody expected it to crumble the way it did. Nobody could've seen it coming, after all.
--
-"She's got it- yeah baby, she's got it!"-
--
The sun descended and the moon took it's place; evening breaking into complete nightfall with neon lights flitting about on every structure available. There were specialized places of various foods with waiters grinning outside, inviting. Their smiles on the surface say "Come, try our food- you won't regret it!" What lays beneath is the underlying "--at least, I hope you won't."
And that's how we all feel, right?
As time passes, a nearby group of people dissipate and break into smaller chunks and eventually, move solo. A man hails a cab and heads straight to the docks to which a large cruise liner awaits him, inviting him with it's own charms.
He smiles, finding his name on the guest list. He worked hard to be where he was, through matters clean or dirty; he can't say that his hands are completely clean, nor are they caked in dirt. His suit is a gleaming white, scarf draped carefully but casually around his shoulders and his shoes are polished to the best shine they could attain. He nods politely to a group of nearby women who titter and blush. Slowly, he makes his way to the ballroom.
On his way, he sees various guests; men and women alike. The men scowl, they want to be him. The women swoon, they want to be with him. Some dare break the boundaries of physical contact-- including a strange woman with bright pink hair and a British accent, gently brushing against his side. Surprisingly (or perhaps not), he does not recoil, instead he winks and continues on.
Eventually, the doors of said ballroom greet him, a suited man with hair over one eye takes his jacket and offers him a drink. He downs it in a single shot and steps up, no, he glides onto the dance floor, like an angel about to spread it's wings. The warm lights and various couples are upset; he's stealing the show from them. A solo dancer with quick feet distracting others from their own version of a couple's dance? Impossible, blasphemy!
But this is him we're talking about. Impossible? How queer. How shallow-minded, how... Not how one should think of this man.
All eyes are trained on him, his everything. The way his hips sway and his feet gently push against the floor, the way the rhythm is his and only his, the way he makes himself the king of the dancehall.
But there is an upset.
She appears as suddenly as the change in song. From a slower song by a man with a husky voice comes a girlish pop song, one that a person would play at a school reunion that is catchy and irritating and it just won't leave your head. Somehow, this girl carries the same strange feeling over everyone's heads. Like the rest of the crowd, he is stunned and kept in place as her hips rock and her red curls bounce. Regaining composure, he joins her, knowing the song. The ballroom's audience is left to crowd around the two in awe and bedazzlement.
She is a goddess, a venus, and he is a mere mortal, a man.
The song ends and he kisses her hand, then says his name. She chuckles, brushing him off and turns away. He turns to the closest waiter and asks her, who was that girl? The waiter shrugs in reply and tells him,
"Don't you know? She's the owner of the ship."
--
-“Throw your hands up in the sky,
And wave ‘Emi ‘round from side to side,
And if you deserve a break tonight,
Somebody say all right!”-
--
How many weeks, how many times, has he been going to that boat? He's lost count. There's apparently public parties once a week at the same dock, every week. He always attends, no matter what the occasion. It's not stalking, it's not obsession, it's admiration, curiousity. He won't move too quickly for fear of losing her- if she attends, he will try to make conversation. If she doesn't, he sits around listlessly. He won't force her to tell him her name, but he still tries to learn whatever he can about her, whenever he can.
Time passes and weeks do as well, eventually becoming roughly, maybe just two months. She doesn't attend, people tell him when he asks. They say she hasn't come to her own parties for a long time. At this stunning revelation, it still startles him at how he never expected to see her at the neighborhood coffee shop.
He pulls up a chair and leans in slightly, resisting a smile. She raises an eyebrow, however does not shoo him off. After light conversation, he asks her why, why she decided to stop going. Her reply is one that's been aged, been thought about for a long time. She's tired, she says. Of how everything is handed to her on a silver platter with no competition or challenge. He laughs in reply; most of his life has been a challenge, but those are the breaks.
She smiles.
"Aubrey." she extends a hand.
"... Angel. It's a pleasure." he kisses it.
--
-"Somebody call 911- shawty's fire burning on the dancefloor, oh!"-
--
He remembers what the lifeguard had said, how the lifeguard had recently befriended a brunette who enjoyed swimming and like him, dance. They had formed a... what as it called... A 'crew'? The next time he sees her, he tells her about his lifeguard friend. She contemplates it then leaves him be. He believes that she's rejected the idea and begins to forget about it, until the beat drops to a low and she pulls him aside.
"Lu$h Crew; remember to stand behind me and follow my lead at all times and you won't get hurt."
He can't respond before she turns away again, curls bouncing. Another song comes on and she pulls him against her, they dance in perfect sync. She's on fire, he's just fanning the flames.
By the end of the night, she tells him to practice hard; they've a battle against an underground crew next week and if he embarrasses her, he'll never work in this town again.
...
Did his heart just skip a beat?
--
-"For the longest time while we jamming in the party
And you're wining on me
Pushing everything-
Right back on top of me!"-
--
Though they struggled at first, the dance battle eventually was won by them, the Lu$h Crew. He shook hands with the darker male and the younger boy; she flaunted her win to everyone in the vicinity. The younger boy scowled but his... mentor? Held him back, shaking his head.
He thanked them quietly before doing a little showing off himself. What's not to love about the limelight? It was no stranger to him and though they were not lovers, the limelight and him were close enough to be as such.
To his surprise, every time he looked at his redheaded crew member, she would look more and more radiant. Was he what they thought he had become? The suave man with a heart of gold. Or perhaps she had made him soft? Maybe he was just learning patience or how to properly love a woman.
But no! Alas, this could not be the truth, this could not be fate. They came from such different social standings, such different backgrounds. Their destinies were only to be intertwined for a short moment out of the massive structure that is life.
How poetic, how pitiful, how dull, how sad.
How his heart beats faster at her smile.
--
-"Real love
I'm searching for the real love
Someone to set my heart free
Real love
I'm searching for a real love"-
--
"Are you serious?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Angel. You're confessing your... Undying love to me. On a building rooftop in the middle of the city."
"I.. Is there something wrong with how I--"
"No! It's just... "
"You don't feel the same?"
"Look, Angel. It's nothing--"
"If you want to reject me, feel free--"
"I do like you back but--"
"Whenever you look at me I feel--"
"--uneasy and it makes me feel... Strange! And--"
"--it makes me worried if these feelings are real--"
"--but I know it's the truth and I--"
Suddenly, silence.
Eventually, a kiss.
--
-"Beautiful girls, all over the world,
I could be chasing, but my time would be wasted,
They got nothing on you, baby
Nothing on you, baby"-
--
The news of their relationship spread like wildfire across the social grapevine. They knew exactly who they wanted and who they wanted to be, professional but still maintaining a personal relationship. It was something that rarely worked out, but they would make it work because they were the Lu$h crew, and that's what the Lu$h Crew did; they made it work.
Battle after battle, the duo were soon a force to be reckoned with. She brought the sparkle, he brought the dazzle. She could be the taunt and he could be the tease. clockwork, they fit like two gears that interlocked.
If anyone were to ask how they managed to maintain such a way of life, they would share a laugh without really giving a reply. She would never say, he would only smile quietly. For someone so loud and dazzling, he always seemed quiet when it came to his prime relationship. Lovingly, he called her chica, she would smile in reply and they would laugh.
Laughter, all of it.
When not dancing, his gestures were of the extremely romantic type. There have been times where he waited for her to return from her boat to her apartment with a bouquet of roses in hand-- if he were awake and she weren't in the mood, she would push him away. But he was okay with that. Sometimes, she would come back so late that he would fall asleep. She would contemplate calling the police (she did, one time), but he was okay with that.
He was satisfied for he loved her and she did not take it in vain.
And that was all to make his breath hitch and lips quiver as they kissed again.
But.
--
-"I need you and you need me,
This is so plain to see,
And I would never let you go,
And I will always love you so, I will"-
--
All crews in the city were put on a hiatus under the word of Tan Industries. It left him with time to think and contemplate what was going on, evidently she felt the same and started thinking as well. What happened last night?
A new pattern was born.
He called, she never replied. He called again, she ignored it. He went to her door, she never opened it. He waited for her, she never returned.
The spark began to fade.
Would it ever reignite?
--
-"Been there, done that, messed around,
I'm having fun, don't put me down,
I'll never let you sweep me off my feet"-
--
He continued to pine for her but she would never reply. It was like he was a passing fad and his fifteen minutes of fame were long gone.
Oh, how he wanted to cry! He wanted to weep and smash his hands against the wall until his knuckles bled because so much time, effort, love had been invested for so long only for it all to be thrown away out of lack of communication?
He began to list why he hated, loathed, regretted her. To make himself feel better and realize exactly why she was a mistake.
However as the list grew, he realized that was why he loved her. She was no mistake; no. Correct that previous statement, he had not loved and lost, he still loved and that was what was tearing him apart. He had to say that no, he was bulletproof. She couldn't touch him. She was a super freak; she couldn't touch him. Bulletproof, bulletproof, bulletproof bulletproof and all he needed was to just
why
why did you how could you I LOVED YOU and I still do but you just
Then one day, he passed her in the street, her red curls bouncing behind her. She wore a more formal outfit and still longed for the camera, flashing her wealth.
His heart skipped a beat.
--
-"Should've known you were trouble from the first kiss,
Had your eyes wide open...
Why were they open?"-
--
The hiatus cleared; many of the crews eventually disbanded. It was every man for himself. The blonde lifeguard had disappeared, the man in sports gear had gone back to dance from advertising. The British woman dazzled again and the brunette swimmer began to frequent the gym. The man with hair over one eye wrote haiku. The dark gentleman stopped mentoring the young boy, the loud lady took her hat back from her younger sister. The French twins vanished, Tan Industries was different.
As was she, as was he.
They would face off and something would click between them, a silent fight.
She looks at him and says with her eyes, "I'll never love you again. My true love is the camera."
He quietly smiles back, smile saying "You never stopped loving me. I'll win you back."
--
As they walk past each other, he says quietly,
"I'm ready to break hearts--"
She can't help but smile, just a little.
"--and blow minds."