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Chapter VI

Jimin

The stage is as bare as our feet. The performance is supposed to fulfil the environment by itself, without any props to engage the audience.

I hold the hands of the most precious human being as we walk to the center of the stage. Her breathing isn't consistent anymore; Her bare feet touching the wood and her skin forming goosebumps in the silence of the auditorium full of expectancy.

I place her in her position after giving her a light kiss on top of her head. She gets so cute when nervous.

I sit behind her like we did when we met, and her head reclines, resting on my shoulder. I put the blindfold on, covering my eyes and taking a deep breath to calm myself down.

It doesn't take long until the music embraces the empty air and we start to move. My body remembers every single sensation and the small details I was so focused on when learning this choreography.

I try to keep the perfect alignment and body placement I've acquired as a professional modern dancer during the very first part.

This time, our bodies have a different connection besides the pure chemistry we felt the first time we danced together. We were puppets and the strings commandeering us were exactly the same. 

Bree kneels in between my legs. I can't see her, but my hands grab her waist as soon as I sense her presence closer to me. She's taking my blindfold at an agonizing pace and my eyes just want to follow every curve of her body. The light falls over her shoulders and her dark brown hair gains a caramel undertone.

I can finally admire her figure as she tries to run away from my warmth. However her whole spirit shouts her crave for me, like mine does for her love. Her embellished candlestick makes her roll over her shoulder and when I put myself over her body my soul is sold to hers. I'm already sweating, and my breathing is mismatched. I might be on top but she's the one in possession of me.

We spin and I finally take the material covering those honey eyes, the ones who anchored me to her, the ones that make me fall in love everytime they lock with mine. Her eyelids unveil my princess' soul and my heart flutters with the sight.

Our fingers interlock and, together, we build the strength to get up as one; we embrace each other on a hug, which once was merely figurative, and now symbolizes a connection I never want to lose.

A connection I don't want to destroy.

She has turned into my instrument, completely under my control, as I play the piece on her. People can't keep their mesmerized eyes and whistles to themselves as the performance reaches it.

When we have to draw away from each other, my skin aches for her touch, for her love; as if she was listening to my desires, she runs into my arms, lacing her legs on my waist. I pull her close to my body, feeling the beat of her heart on my chest as a reward.

I let my princess go and the dance keeps growing in intensity as we express our emotions through our music, our choreography, our history.

I have to fight for her, I need to be closer.

I make her look at me, grabbing her and securing her expression in between my fingers before we slip for the solos.

I'll now be on top for the second time. She lands after the cartwheels and I face her, upside down, locking her caramel eyes with my crescent moons. We roll our bodies, never touching each other, keeping the distance and preventing me from sinning.

I've explored her iris but I never got to draw a map of them. The pattern of caramel and almond streets is always changing. When she cries, when she smiles, when she's embarrassed or when she is taken by lust and desire.