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“What the hell??” No one told Scaramouche that they’d have to dance at this party. An action that was a staple of celebrations. An action that literally everyone does.
“I mean, we can always just not ,” Mona smirked, as if challenging him. Not wanting to back down (but really, he was falling into her trap), he who stood negligibly taller greeted his fate on the dance floor.
“If you leave me for even a second, you’re dead meat.” Scaramouche’s hissy curses entered Mona’s ears like a victory tune.
“No one’s even gonna look at us, I swear! Everyone’s too busy with themselves.”
Holding on to her promise with a fishing rod, Scaramouche let the sparkly-dressed lady drag him over by the wrist to the area he considered lava.
The man had never been the dancing type, and even less the kind to look into music too much. At his big college age, white noise videos sufficed as his songs and ultimate concentration hack all in one. Nevertheless, it was the semestral break, so any thoughts of studying and having to read for more than two seconds were tucked away at the back of his mind.
Every little goddamn thing you do
Makes me wanna get close–
“–to yooouuuuu~” A slightly tipsy Mona sang.
“You know the song?”
“I’m guessing the lyrics,”
“What?” Scaramouche snorted. “Stupid, if you get them wrong, I have to live with the consequences.”
He meant none of that, of course. Their surroundings were noisy enough to let Scaramouche selfishly keep Mona’s voice all to himself, and in his opinion, the consequences she would have to live with because of his dancing, should other people look their way, were far greater.
“Aren’t most of these songs the same?” Scaramouche crossed his arms, huffing in annoyance. He could barely understand why Mona would spend hours compiling lists of songs that sounded alike.
“I mean yeah, sort of, but they give off entirely different feelings! This song here is basically just pining, and the other is about being completely in love. Like domestic love. You feel me?”
…Despite not understanding shit, it didn’t stop Scaramouche from attempting to learn the craft Mona Megistus held almost as dear as studying the stars in the sky. He leaned over the seated lady, to get a better look at the playlist-filled screen.
“Someday, I’ll be with someone who gets it.”
“As if anyone would want your ass,”
“Hey!”
“Hey Scara, you alright?” Mona asked, interrupting his thoughts.
Giving a short nod, the Inazuman man pondered a little less absent-mindedly. In the months since he and Mona had been dating, he had never considered that he could now relate to those sappy love songs. Take that, stupid people of the world who had no faith in him!
Arms snaking around the sunshine engulfed in a midnight palette, Scaramouche bravely attempted to take the lead, guiding Mona to smaller movements. Huh. This isn’t so hard. Despite the initial surprise of the other party, clumsy footwork soon matched the pace of the percussion.
“Look at you go–a minute ago you just hated the idea of doing normal party things,” Mona teased.
“Shut the fuck up.”
Love me, love me, fool me, seduce me, I’m yours
‘Cause every little goddamn thing you do
Makes me wanna get close to you
Unexpectedly, Scaramouche found himself quite entranced by the song. He never really paid attention to lyrics, but as one song shifted over to the next, he realized that he was starting to understand just what his best friend-turned-lover meant all these years about songs being completely different despite how similar they seemed at first glance.
No other tune seemed to compare with what enveloped the couple when they were dancing. No constellation could rival the beauty of the time spent with Mona.
“Hey Megistus, stay over and I’ll feed you,” If you sit with me while eating I’ll even blast one of those playlists you made.
Baby, when it’s love, I’m bulletproof
There’s nothing else left to choose
The ride home was short and sweet. Scaramouche looked up the lyrics he’d mentally noted from earlier in the night and much to his delight, acquired a title and artist. He played the song multiple times, hopefully just enough for the captor of his passenger seat to get the hint that he was finally starting to have taste in music.