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According to Leon, dancing had been fine last night.
In that it was a successful outing. getting dressed in going-out clothes and complimenting Louisa on her frankly incomprehensible updo had been quite alright. and even the smell of her favorite cologne had been tolerable and A-OK. His suit had lost an iota of it's comforting, perfect looseness and ease of motion. So leon was going to have to lose five pounds or buy a new suit. Before the next time they went dancing.
Being the designated driver that night was fine, because the night wasn't rain dark and the parking garage they always used, had spots free on the third floor. So they could walk straight into the adjoining building without so much as dipping a toe into the roiling mass of night life that covered Boston like a quilt of eels. It was horribly loud in there, like it always was. It was always a shock of adjustment, sort of like dipping your head underwater and re-learning how to breathe.
But at least it was real music, with a steady tempo to ground you, and not some of the "shoegaze bedroom pop" Nica was always putting on during the rare occasions he drove her some distance out of the city somewhere. Or god forbid he owed her his presence at a concert.
Well I digress, the inside of the venue was fine, certainly survivable and quite alright for dancing. The lighting felt nice, actually. Deep reds and pops of orange with velvet curtains hung up acting as the sole bulwark of noise dampening.
Perhaps it wad a swing at a ... late valentines theme? It was still February. The month of love, the month Louisa was born in.
Moving through the crowd was easy as long as you stayed on your toes. leaning against the bar and squinting into the face of the the light-up signboard menus was always something of a trial.
they changed their cocktail menu often, because they were very
hip and classy. of course. Louisa got herself a cocktail with yogurt as an ingredient , of all things. called a "Burn Notice" and laughed herself silly pressed up against him in her nice smooth dress she had bought a week prior. Dancing with Louisa always made her extra giggly. And Leon enjoyed the sound of her laughter as much as he could with the entire world screaming his other ear. She leaned in close and told him that THIS ONE was named after a show about a superspy called michael weston from Miami. and she had kinda thought she had made the the whole show up before tonight because no one else ever seen it.
Leon got the same thing he always got when he was driving somebody home from a party, a cranberry juice mixed with sprite. once their tab was sorted (Louisa hated the idea of drinking to excess more than anything, especially when she was in heels.) They sat around and drank in the atmosphere. There were plenty of younger couples dancing their hearts out, and a few sloppy drunks who had already given up entirely on dancing and had started simply spinning, heels taken off and thrown down right next to them on the floor.
The air felt louder sitting down. He had to force himself with about 75% of his might to listen to Louisa's charming anecdotes about being that age, as she steadily worked her way through the a yakult(?) and tequila cocktail that put a flush in her cheeks that she claimed she would always need before dancing.
Even if it was her favorite date night activity.
Then Leon and her were rising, drink cups abandoned and coats draped over their chairs. Leon spares a thought to the idea that he could be confined to the job of "sober coatrack" all night. Like that honestly quite hilarious night that Nica and Dmitri has taken him along to a (suprise) burlesque night at a gay bar as a birthday party.
But then they were moving, and time slipped away as he got into the mindset of someone who dances. He focused on the feeling of Louisa's hands in his and his feet inside his shoes against the waxed hardwood floor and he didn't check his watch until the first set was completely over.
Both red in the face, they made eye contact and smiled, mid pant, and returned to the tables. Louisa looks up into his face, eyes bright and asks if he'd like this to be overr??? or keep dancing through the next band and thenn quit??? The expectation is clear in her face, she expects him to want to go home, but knows he will agree to stay for around more hour because he likes to make her happy. As micheal has often said (in a variety of moods and tones) He's really fucking predictable.
And so they did. Waking up with a pulsing headache and a racing heart, Leon thinks that he knows it's illogical to hate oneself. Leon has always actually been confused on how people manage to do it. Seeing as how he.. Is made of himself. However the idea of asking the people in his life how it was possible to hate the person that you spend every day existing as being sounds confusing at best and deeply depressing at worst.
He knows Micheal has struggled heavily with addiction, and however true it might be that it Is a part of him he still hopes that one day micheal could just learn to-- This is a stupid tangent to go off on. he can actually talk to Michael about this when he isn't lying in bed unable to convince himself to get up and take an extra strength excedrin.
Leon would be lying if he didnt admit that from time to time he did wish he could just get through life in a way that felt normal.
Now Of course. obviously. everyone has struggles and-He makes his life work for him for the most part and- he could say he's even grown to be mildly successful at it.
He takes care of Nica and Michael the best he can, Dmitri too when he's within arm's reach. But if he's going to be honest with himself, and he likes to think he is. His life is less of a sucessful charge towards some big dream, or thrilling adventure, as it is a series of well executed coping methods for whatever it is that tightens his chest and makes the world appear distant when he doesnt have his phone well charged and in his pocket, or the ingredients for his pre-decided dinner safely purchased ahead of time.
Things are always good, for the most part, as long as he wakes up each morning ready to move heaven and earth to make them that way. As long as he doesn't do anything stupid, like travel, or exceed the limit of activities he knows he can sucessfully complete in one day without condemning himself to the confines of a dark room and a migraine for the next one.
Whenever he is stuck in bed for a full business day after something like dancing. Or a family holiday party. Or a trip to a shopping mall or a theme park or an open mic night. His limitations seem harder than normal to bear. Making up for snow blinding glare of the wide open future takes a toll on him. Something thats become harder with age, not easier, even though hes loath to admit it. That is Not how human growth and progress works! So why.. He has no idea.
No idea what makes him crave the stability of his room. The tidiness, the quiet, the sheets he washed and replaced 3 days ago, the temperature control, the blackout curtains. Actually scratch that, its just plain dark outside now. His stomach is complaining. His blood sugar is sulking. Thats one thrown off routine right there.
But it might explain the unproductive thoughts he's been bombarded with. No one, no matter how comitted to fighting off fits of sentiment, can resist a good hungry cry.
Now, more than ever, Leon misses his childhood cat. She was a creaky old thing even back then, and had died before he had even finished high school, but on Saturday's after a long week of school, she would curl up with him as he slept in the entire morning and part of the afternoon. She was just the right level of excitement, lightly scratching her back to draw out her extra whistle-y purr. Trying to see if he could get away with trying to "tuck her in" with a bit of sheet before she would get up, huff, and make a lap around the bed before returning to sleep just above his head. He snorts with amusement. If only dmitri hadn't insisted on naming her " Shark Week". Poor old dignified beast.
Ah! The front door is opening, Louisa is back from a wedding that had gone late. He was hoping to have mustered up the energy to get up and cook before now, so he grabs his phone from the bedside table and quickly texts her to tell her that he was willing to order in some takeout of her choice after he took a quick shower.
He began to brush his teeth and his phone pinged as she quickly texted back from across the house: "INDIAN!!! 📣😫" And picked it up to text her back "Ok" and smiled as he saw he had seven missed texts from Michael, all about a paragraph long
He resolved to give them his full attention after eating. Once he was out of the shower,dry, and in a new set of sleep clothes Louisa had already planned their menu from her favorite restaurant and had made them each a little mocktail. He felt a rush of gratitude to have her in his life as he went to go grab his card and place the order. Louisa asks him with highly amused fondness if he had a good "sickly victorian lie in" today. And he nods in the affirmative.
They have an enjoyable evening together. Even if leon has almost nothing to say add in commentary to their second pretty little liars rewatch. Micheal turns out to have been texting him that his job is "RUINING HIS ABSOLUTE LIFE AND PROBABLY ALSO HIS HAIRLINE" and then follows it up later with an impassioned review of the new bakery across from his apartment. Leon texts back and confirms plans to meet there soon and "judge their spanakopita like a good little greek boy"
Tonight they lie quietly together in bed until Louisa gets tired of her trashy vampire novel and turns off the light with a deep groan. She giggles and says that she can't believe he's going back for More Sleep! Already!!! And then instantly-out like a light. Something he finds deeply charming about her. But baffling.
In the hour it takes Leon to be lulled to sleep by her breathing he thinks back on his long slow day. And how beyond all reason- it was still somewhat tiring.
Maybe if he stayed completely still, meditating for hundreds of years, he could maybe, possibly, finally feel well rested. But what is he supposed to do? Deny his girlfriend a chance to ever go out dancing? Miss every lively outing or gathering just to protect his impossibly fragile sense of inner peace? Stop going to work? Not possible.
When life comes knocking, what is he supposed to say? No??