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An empty stage in some dingy underground hideout. He wasn't sure it was completely legal. A plethora of colourful creatures filled the place, a little more than half of them sporting bruises — but none fought here, no. They were tired enough, he'd guessed.
He caught her cobalt-turquoise eyes brushing over the crowd, hope shining in them. An ocean he's scarily found himself sometimes waiting to wade into. They crash upon his cerulean and jade. She holds out her hand, trepidation stains the shine in her eyes. Not enough to dilute her grandeur. Nothing is enough to dilute her grandeur.
He briefly wonders if those eyes shine when she cries; she'd turn away from him the last time she did. How hard does she need to laugh for him to see them? How much does she need to feel safe enough to cry?
He takes her hand. She smiles and he regrets— no, scolds himself, for ever wanting her tears to touch her face.
She asked him to dance. For fear of sounding breathless, he merely nodded. He didn't think her face could get brighter. A given with her; he was proven wrong almost immediately.
For a second it was cold, when she left her grip on his hands to shuffle out her Tarot cards. They spaced themselves out in front of her, some going out of formation to tickle her ears. She giggled. A sound — if it had colour — it'd be the brightest gold he'd ever seen, a colour stars could reach only in death.
Try as he might, he couldn't keep his eyes off her as she spoke. He only half heard what she commanded to the somewhat-sentient cards. Half the sounds entering his ears came from his chest.
Could she hear it? Most of him begged the stars that formed them to not let her hear it.
Another, distressingly curious part of him... He wanted to see her namesake flood her cheeks in all shades, to see her eyes light up in that gentle way that somehow simultaneously rivals the entire night sky, to see her soft yet calloused hands hold her heart as she calls his name with the lightness of a feather falling in a wide and windless field.
The stage is illuminated by hot pink floodlights — courtesy of the cards no longer in front of her. She gets excited in the way she does, stomping her feet, right before left, her fists over her heart. A toothy grin as she extends her hand yet again.
The distressingly curious part of him decided to take another role apparently, and felt offended by the fact that he'd need an invitation.
(I stand here waiting for you to bang the gong.)
She steps onto center stage, giving no indication for him to join. He wants to, but he waits.
He watches as she moves her arms around her face, as if it's in a box.
(To crash the critic saying, "Is it right or is it wrong?")
She steps back, back leg still while her right one, turns on its toes and back. This motion alternates on her feet. Her arms are like a straight line, but try to reach her collar at the elbows, each hand taking a turn. It looked like a string ran through them with how smooth the movements were.
(If only fame had an IV, baby could I bear?)
She lifts her arms up dramatically before sharply pulling them to her sides, her face turns to him. The audience doesn't know what she's looking at. After seeing a new smile form on her face — crooked and warm, he so fervently hopes they never know.
(Being away from you? I found the vein, put it in here.)
She mouths the words, a hand on her other forearm, winking at him with the eye away from the audience.
He rolls his eyes, and only looks back after her gaze is to them.
(I live for the applause, applause, applause. I live for the applause -plause, live for the applause -plause.)
She struts a catwalk, raising her arms away from her, slowly. With each step, and on each 'applause', she flicks her palms. Inwards, outwards, alternating.
(Live for the way that you cheer and scream for me.)
She brings herself to rest, like a ballerina. Quill tips swaying with the stop in motion. One falls a bit too close to her eyes and she blows to away from her face, eliciting giggles from the crowd. Her cheeks stain a pink, near invisible in the floodlights — but he saw it.
(The applause, applause, applause.)
Right hand raised, left hand raised, a step forward.
(Give me that thing that I love. [I'll turn the lights out]. Put your hands up, make 'em touch, touch. [Make it real loud].)
He assumed she opted an 'A' pose to assert dominance. He was wrong.
She swung her right arm around, and her Tarot cards followed the arc of motion, covering parts of the floodlights. The crowd gasped.
She clapped her hands over her head, twice. She turned to him, dipping her stance towards him.
(Give me that thing that I love [I'll turn the lights out]. Put your hands up, make 'em touch, touch. [Make it real loud].)
She broke into running in place, turning herself away from him. The Tarot cards completely covered the floodlights, allowing a brilliant flash of blue to blur across the stage. The lights were now a bright purple.
He copied her 'running'.
She giggled. He smiled.
They both falsely ran towards the other, making it seems like their hands would touch, but they ran past eachother, to opposite sides of the stage.
(A-P-P-L-A-U-S-E [Make it real loud].
A-P-P-L-A-U-S-E)
They both did fancy footwork while she signed the letters in MSL — Mobian sign language.
(Put your hands up, make 'em touch, touch)
They locked eyes. He smirked, she grinned.
(A-P-P-L-A-U-S-E [Make it real loud].
A-P-P-L-A-U-S-E)
Running towards eachother again, a hand held up to give a high five.
(Put your hands up, make 'em touch, touch.)
Missed again, and they slid away from eachother. The audience gasped.
As they stopped sliding, the Tarot cards covered the floodlights again. The light turned blue. Luckily the crowd did have his crazy fast perception, so they couldn't see how he gawked for a nano second when Amy's eyes sparkled.
They circled eachother, coming closer to center stage.
(I've overheard your theory, "Nostalgia's for geeks". I guess sir, if you say so, some of us just like to read.)
A little ways behind her, right arm on his hip as he looked over her shoulder. She furtively looks at him, right arm holding the left. He shuffled to the side, putting his left arm on his hip. She turns her head in sync to his movement behind her, surprisingly. She switches her arms, before putting them on her hips.
(One second I'm a Koons, then suddenly the Koons is me. Pop culture was in art, now art's in pop culture, in me.)
She dramatically puts her left hand on her face as she begins to circle him slowly. He lifts his shoulders one after the other, all in place — kinda like dodging bullets in that one matrix scene, except he doesn't bend backwards. His head follows her trail, turning himself constantly to face her.
(I live for the applause, applause, applause. I live for the applause -plause, live for the applause -plause.)
She finishes the circle, then begins to strut as she did before, but with more gusto. He imitates the catwalk, shadowing her.
(Live for the way that you cheer and scream for me.)
She hops to the side, keeps tapping her feet on the ground, and swings her arm in half an arc, before mirroring it. He follows, mesmerized.
(The applause, applause, applause.)
She holds her hands up to her head, as if she's screaming. Tilt to the right, tilt to the left, tilt upwards.
(Give me that thing that I love. [I'll turn the lights out]. Put your hands up, make 'em touch, touch. [Make it real loud]. Give me that thing that I love. [I'll turn the lights out]. Put your hands up, make 'em touch, touch. [Make it real loud].)
Beside eachother, they sway and shuffle, the floodlights flashing from pink to purple to blue and back.
(A-P-P-L-A-U-S-E [Make it real loud]. A-P-P-L-A-U-S-E. Put your hands up, make 'em touch, touch. A-P-P-L-A-U-S-E [Make it real loud]. A-P-P-L-A-U-S-E)
He signs the word while she calls in her Tarot cards, feet still stomping to the beat.
(Put your hands up, make 'em touch, touch.)
They bob their shoulders up and down, shimmying from side to side, hands close enough to touch. But never touching.
He catches her mouth turning upward before crashing into him, causing them to tumble. His reflexes caught them before they fell.
Their hands touched and she stuck her tongue out at him.
He chuckled and the audience cheered.
(Ooh-woo, touch, touch. Ooh-woo, touch, touch now. Ooh-woo-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh. Ooh-woo-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh. Ooh-woo-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh.)
The music faded for a moment. Just them in a sea of too-bright lights.
"A warning next time, Ames?" He whispered low.
She gave him a small pout, "Fine."
(I live for the applause, applause, applause. I live for the applause -plause, live for the applause -plause.)
They turned back to the audience, did 'A' poses, and swung their arms in circles — while stepping forward and back.
(Live for the way that you cheer and scream for me. The applause, applause, applause.)
They prepared to catwalk. Sonic glanced at the cards quickly moving away from Amy's deck. He looked at her, concerned. She returned his gaze with a smile. He felt his shoulders relax a little at that.
(Give me that thing that I love. [I'll turn the lights out]. Put your hands up, make 'em touch, touch [Make it real loud]. Give me that thing that I love [I'll turn the lights out]. Put your hands up, make 'em touch, touch. [Make it real loud].)
The cards whirled around them, lifting them up in their haze, pulling them closer and pushing them farther away from eachother.
Amy let out a laugh, rich and deep. Sonic froze.
(A-P-P-L-A-U-S-E [Make it real loud]. A-P-P-L-A-U-S-E. Put your hands up, make 'em touch, touch [Make it real loud]. A-P-P-L-A-U-S-E [Make it real loud]. A-P-P-L-A-U-S-E)
The cards began to set them down, spreading themselves among the crowd.
Time seemed to slow, just to torture him. She looked at him like he hung the stars. For her, he would. For as long as she would look at him like that.
He was afraid of being seen for years. But he so selfishly wishes he would never leave her gaze. Her smile is so, so bright.
She is so, so bright.
(Put your hands up, make 'em touch, touch.)
He spun her and dipped her, carefully. One hand holding her up, the other clutching her's. She looked equal parts flushed and surprised.
The second of silence killed something in him, he was sure of it.
She snorted into her free hand, looking up at him through her eyelashes.
(A-R-T-P-O-P)
"A warning next time, Sonikku?"
He could feel his heart doing backflips in his ribcage.
This girl was going to be the death of him.