The party is... well, it's something.
I'm not sure what I expected, but it certainly wasn't this. The main floor of the station has been transformed, the dull, grey concrete walls draped with vibrant fabrics in shades of blue and purple, the floor littered with cushions and rugs. Soft, pulsing music plays from a corner, the melody alien but not unpleasant. It's festive, lively, and completely out of place.
I'm leaning against a wall, a cup of some kind of juice in my hand. It's sweet, too sweet for my taste, but it's better than nothing. I'm watching the others, the way they laugh and dance, the way they smile and talk. It's like they've forgotten where we are, what we've been through. Like they're just... normal people, having a good time.
Hestia is dancing, her weird little shuffle side to side that she sometimes does, a smile on her face as another girl tries to get her to learn some kind of... twirl. It makes me smile, at least. She's absolutely got no reservations about dancing and having fun.
It reminds me...
That stupid, doomed three day festival Ivan organized in the final three days before...
I swallow and turn my gaze away from Hestia, forcing my thoughts away from... all of that. It's not the time for it. I'm trying to be here. Trying to be present.
But it's hard. It feels wrong, to be smiling, to be laughing, when the people that died only weeks ago are... still gone. When they were never buried. They're still out there, decaying. My friends...
No, I can't. How can I even call them my friends? I didn't even know Riker. That other guard I never even knew his name. And Peter, I barely knew. Ivan was... well, everyone liked Ivan. Sinead... I...
I don't have the right to call them friends, do I? Because my friends... the ones who I brought with, the ones who brought me with...
The angry voice of Cal echoes in my mind.
Traitor.
I can't say it isn't true.
"Sarah!"
I look up to see Arden approaching, a smile on his face. He's changed out of his usual practical clothes, dressed in a loose, flowing shirt and pants, the fabric a deep, vibrant blue. It suits him, I think. He looks younger, more relaxed. As for where he got that... I have to assume there must be left over clothes here from when Ivan left last time.
"Hey," I say, forcing a smile. "This is... quite the setup."
He laughs, running a hand through his hair. "Anna's idea. She wanted to make it special."
"Well, she succeeded." I say, glancing around the room. It's not what I would have chosen, but... I can't deny that it's impressive.
"Come on." He nudges me with his elbow. "Don't be a wallflower. Join in."
I shake my head. "Nah. I'm good where I am."
He sighs, but doesn't push. "Alright. But if you change your mind, the dance floor is open."
"Mmh." I shake my head. "I'm not a person anyone wants to see dancing." I give him a wry smile. "I'll just embarrass everyone."
He laughs again, the sound warm and genuine. "I doubt that. But suit yourself." He claps me on the shoulder, then moves away, disappearing into the crowd.
I watch him go, my smile fading. I'm glad he's having a good time, glad that the others are too. It's what they need, what Lena said. But it's not what I need. I don't know what I need, but it's not this.
My eyes scan the room, taking in the scene. People are talking, laughing, dancing. There's a sense of community, of belonging. It's something I've been craving...
But it's not really for me. I've been here for three... No, I suppose it's close to half a year now. But even so, it's not been long, not compared to these people. I don't know the names of most of these people, know nothing about them.
The people I thought I knew are the reasons we're here now, instead of home.
I don't belong here.
I'm about to turn away, to find some quiet corner to hide in, when I see him. Alistair. He's standing by the doorway, a cup in his hand, his expression guarded. He's dressed simply, in a black shirt and pants, his hair falling into his eyes. He looks... uncomfortable. Out of place.
He looks... kind of handsome.
The thought comes unbidden, catching me off guard. I shake my head, trying to dismiss it. Now is not the time.
But then his eyes meet mine, and something passes between us. A flicker of recognition, of understanding. He's not enjoying this either. I think that's what he's saying to me. But his lips quirk up slightly into a crooked smile. He looks amused. Like he's enjoying my suffering at being here. And I know he is. He's a bastard, after all.
It's just... so normal. So him, that I can't help the little smile on my face. I even lift my cup in a little 'cheers' to him.
I'm about to look away, to break the connection, when I see movement from the corner of my eye. Anna. She's walking towards him, a bright, inviting smile on her face. She says something to him, too low for me to hear, and then she's taking his arm, leading him towards the dance floor.
The sight makes me feel sick. I don't know why. It's not like I have any claim on him, any right to feel this way. But the sight of her touching him, of him letting her, it... it hurts. It makes something twist in my chest, something ugly and painful.
I...
I don't understand. I don't want to understand. I don't want to feel this way. I turn away, my gaze fixed on my cup, my hands gripping it so tightly my knuckles turn white.
Ivan's words echo in my mind, unbidden, like some kind of cruel taunt. 'While you wait to be a good dancer, someone may sweep in and dance with the one you care about first.' I didn't ask for his advice then, and I sure as hell don't need it now.
"You..." My voice is choked, and I can barely recognize it as my own. I don't even know who I'm talking to. I don't think I'm talking at all. "You fucking asshole, Ivan."
I want to smash the cup against the wall, to scream, to do something to release the pressure building inside me. But I don't. I just stand there, frozen, watching them from the corner of my eye. Watching as Anna pulls him into the crowd, as they disappear from my sight.
I feel like I can't breathe, like the walls are closing in on me. I need to get out of here, need to be anywhere but here. This. This was a mistake. I shouldn't be here. I don't belong here. I should be-
"Sarah."
I jump at the sound of my name, turning to see Alistair standing in front of me. Anna is nowhere to be seen.
"Wha- I thought-" I glance behind him, searching the crowd for her.
He raises an eyebrow, amusement in his eyes. "You lookin' for someone?" He asks, tone teasing.
I glare at him, my irritation rising. "I thought... I mean... Anna's pretty determined to get people to dance with her..."
He draws in a breath and makes a face. "She is, yeah. But I hate dancing." His lips quirk up into a smile, and he shrugs. "Told her to dance with Maren."
I stare at him, my anger deflating. "You..." I'm. Not sure what I want to say. So instead, I abruptly drop that sentence and pivot. "I hate dancing, too." I say, lamely.
"Yeah?" He looks around the room, then back at me, that amused smile still on his lips.
"What...?" I'm not sure what he's trying to say.
He takes another step closer to me, caging me loosely against the wall. I stare up at him, bewildered.
"Would you rather me let you go back to your wallflower corner, or..." His voice lowers, and leans in to whisper in my ear. "dance with me."
I can feel his breath against my skin, the warmth of his body radiating towards me. I can't breathe. What the... I didn't think he was serious. I thought...
My heart is pounding so hard in my chest I'm sure he can hear it. My mind is blank, my thoughts a jumbled mess. I don't know what to say, what to do. I just... stare at him, my eyes wide.
"Because I'd rather dance with you." He murmurs, his hand gently taking mine, lacing our fingers together. "Even if you're a terrible dancer."
I swallow, trying to find my voice. "I... I can't dance."
"You can't be worse than Anna." He says, that stupid, charming smile still on his lips.
"I..."
Ivan... Ivan's stupid words. My stupid feelings.
I don't know what I want. But I know what I don't want. I don't want to see him dance with Anna. I don't want to be alone in my corner. I don't want to be... I don't want to be the only one not participating.
So I take a deep breath, and I nod. "Alright."
His smile widens, and he leads me to the dance floor, his hand warm and firm in mine. The music is louder here, the rhythm pulsing through me. I feel awkward, out of place, but he doesn't seem to mind. He just pulls me close, his other hand resting on my waist, his body pressed against mine.
"Just follow my lead." He says, his voice low, his breath warm against my ear.
I nod, my free hand resting on his shoulder. I don't know what I'm doing, but I try to match his movements, to let him guide me.
I'm a bad dancer. I told him that, and I wasn't lying. I step on his foot at least twice, my movements clumsy and uncoordinated. But he doesn't seem to care. He just smiles, his eyes never leaving mine, his hand steady on my waist.
"Relax." He murmurs, his thumb brushing against my side. "You're thinking too much."
I huff, "That's because you're a terrible teacher."
His laugh is a warm, pleasant sound. Then he falls quiet for a few moments, before he speaks again. "Never got to go to my prom." He says, casually, as if he's just making conversation about the weather.
I blink, surprised by the sudden shift in topic. "Oh?" I hesitate, then admit. "Me neither."
He smirks, the expression crooked and lopsided. "Figured." Then his face softens, the humor fading, as he looks at me. "Actually... I'm okay with that." His hand squeezes my waist. "Because. This way, I get to be your first dance."
I don't know what to say to that. My heart is racing, my face heating. I... he's so close, so warm. I can smell him, the faint scent of sweat and something else, something distinctly him.
I don't know how long we dance, our bodies moving together, the music washing over us. But at some point, the rest of the world fades away, and it's just him. Just us.
And I don't hate it.
No... I think I might actually like it.