Last Dance

We've walked into the ballroom so many times together. Hand in hand, we went to the center. People in suits and gowns turn to look at us as they see us enter the room. The cups served have sparkling champagne, the color of the room's walls. People sip from them, leaving lipstick stains on the rims. Some may drop those glasses when they turn around, all shattered on the floor. We both look identical, the same color of the skies at night over us. We stand out from the crowd as our colors sparkle and glimmer while the other mute themselves, putting them in the wings every  time.

We're not alone, though. Other princes and princesses like us have also taken to the floor. And every time they walked into that room, everything seemed to stop. All the whispers stop in their tracks, and the silence breaks through the breaking of the glass. Nobody dares to make a sound when they are around. We always had that sense of power over them, too. They're watching every time. The music stops, and the lights look a little brighter around the real stars of the night.

We look into each other's eyes, windows to our souls. That's when I see we are detached despite always having been together. There's always been a tear between us, getting bigger each time we perform this ritual. But this time, I notice that we are fully detached despite looking like the same person.

I started to wonder why we were even invited to this. The royalty around us seem so happy with their partners, and I can't even think of smiling at mine. Everything feels so lifeless inside despite the sparkles around us. The black hole in the galaxy of love.

Before I could think of voicing my thoughts, we slowly started the things people wanted to see. Your hand touches my back, and I take your other hand. A gentle touch on the shoulder from me, and the music starts. You sweep me around the floor, the skirt of my gown reaching to touch whoever it could feel, not embracing a soul. We begin to look the same as the others.

We grace the room, and people smile and applaud. They love us. They have always loved us. We were always there to please them. You spin me around, not breaking your eyes away from me. I fall around backward and forward, seeing the smiles and hearing the whispers as they talk about how beautiful we have always been, how beautiful we are, how beautiful we once were.

I had noticed the ruse long ago but was too afraid to bring it up because maybe I was going insane. They never knew what happened behind them. They didn't know that I was being driven insane. They were watching us when we were at their best. Yet they never seemed to notice that we were falling to our worst. We could die dancing for them. Nobody would have known we were falling apart. Holding on to what was while it decayed in our hands. And every time we graced that dance floor, I would hope that one day they could see that the beauty in their eyes had faded so long ago. And it had gotten ugly faster than ever.

Yet here we are. I'm here wondering if you're also feeling this way too. We never talk anymore, at least like we used to. Your hands take mine, and we switch positions to keep their attention. We twirl, dip, and you lift me off my feet. Nothing feels the same anymore. Not like it used to be.

I look at the others around us and remember that one of them had an argument. I'm not one for voice recognition, but someone was falling out, too. If only I could tell them about this. But would that break the sacredness of this dance?

Out of my eye's corner, I notice a silhouette towards the back. I walked by him as we entered the room. He's clad in all red. You don't care that he's watching our every move as we dance together. But not like everyone else. We are their prop, but to him, he waits to rescue me. It's like he can see that I was suffering all this time. And it feels like, sometimes, I feel the silhouette's owner around me. And I think I've been in love with him for the longest time.

It's a strange feeling, wanting someone when you're dancing with someone else. But while the others have made everything official with their princes, I've yet to make you mine. Maybe there's still time before everything becomes official, and I'm locked to your side.

Then, all of a sudden, the music that we were dancing to seemed to fade to nothing. The champagne walls are starting to fade away. The people watching us are fading away. It's just you and me. I look into your eyes, hoping to save us from the fate of our lost souls. But at that moment, I noticed it was too late. You're still there with me; I can feel your hand on my back as before. I can feel your shoulder in my hand. Our other hands are intertwined as we move.

But the thing is that you look different. Everything had changed when I blinked; even the color of the stars was replaced with red. It's then that I realize that you're gone. This person who is dancing with me; I recognize him. He's the one with the silhouette watching us. He was approaching us as everything started to fade. I thought he didn't make it. But here he is in front of me. The moment I knew it was him, I pulled myself closer. Letting my heart touch his, let him into my life with a warm embrace.

We're spinning around, and I notice people watching us. Those people finally have color in their outfits, with the same power as mine and my new dance partner's clothes. But the best part is that they're dancing too. They're dancing with us, looking intimately at their own partners. Too invested in them to be seeing us together again.

The ballroom has vibrant, dark red walls, similar to the new partner's outfit but a few shades off to be blatant. At least on three of them, the fourth wall is a mirror from the ceiling to the floor. The room looks bigger with it. More people are dancing, and more people are serving champagne to the wall flowers. More musicians are playing music that moves the heart more than the body. I notice that as my eyes sting in his arms.

I know how horrible this is. I shouldn't be doing this or feeling this way. But I can't help but feel so good in this situation. His touch is electric, the same way we were once before. I start to wonder if he's my prince, but I can't help but think that it shouldn't have ended up this way. Despite my resentments, it should have been you. But I'm glad to finally have something in common with the princesses around me now.

Slowly, the song ends, and we all stop dancing. We both look at each other. Small smiles on our faces. Both of them meant for each other. Someone said, "She found him. She found her prince." in the background. His hand comes to my cheek and brushes the tear falling down my face. He touches my chin so gently, and he uses it to pull me closer to him. He lets his lips brush mine, and it's falling in love again. The feeling is so beautiful, and I never want it to end, even with the conviction behind it.

But while I found true happiness, I still wonder where you went. You were dancing with me for a moment, and then the next, you were gone, and I was in someone else's arms. I don't recall anyone asking to cut in. Nobody shoved us out of it; it just felt natural. But then I look in the mirror and notice you're standing there. Everyone's watching you watch me on the other side of the mirror. Neither of us is on the other side. It's like we are reflections of each other.

My dance partner asked me if something was wrong, and I answered honestly. I told him it felt like I had been dancing with someone else, but they're in the mirror. I can't be the judge of what he sees. He holds me closer and tighter and tells me he doesn't see anything. But if something was there, he would be there for me and protect me. We turn to leave the room, his arm wrapped around me, my arm wrapped around him. It was then I realized that I lost you, but he was my gain, and that's all that really matters here. He was my last dance with the chaos that was what we were, and my first dance feeling free at last.