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Wilford takes his hand, leading him out onto the dance floor. A flurry of pastel light brightens within those precarious eyes, which has him completely enamoured with the man in seconds. Music continues to thump all around them, syncing up with their heartbeats in a momentum of movement. His boyfriend's leather clad arms glide up his waist, all of the sudden swooping him into a quick dip before they rise to twirl once more. Studded rhinestones brush up against silky satin within their ecstatic motion. They'd decided to swap outfits admist the party for fun, Wilford now clad head to toe in rainbow leather while Ken donned a pink maxi dress.
He's unable to describe the blinding euphoria he feels dancing in such a beautiful dress. In barbieland, they'd had their doll clothes specifically tailored to them and it was never changed. Reminding him of fleeting moments among rose-tinted memories where he'd stare longingly at Barbie in her own outfits, a gorgeous dotted pink dress adorning her petite frame as the softened fabric flowed around her legs. She'd just looked so free, as if she were made of magic itself. For so long he'd thought that maybe he was in love, but now, fluttering around on the dance floor, all of the sudden he realises maybe it hadn't been her.
Ken yelps as he's lifted off the floor in a moment's notice, weightless in the air as shining lights flicker and fly over him until reality's reunion. The handsome man below meets him there, pressing a smiley kiss upon surprised lips. The other's lethally large palms grip his waist in a gentle possession, rising from his hips as the pads of fingers begin to press down on blush silk at random intervals, leaving him in a breathless haze. Even the smallest of contact, when drawn out, has him yearning to be held and kissed senseless until he's unaware of his own name. Wilford's attention is pulled elsewhere, a seething look etched with an intensive focus. It isn't something Ken sees very often, only when a person is needlessly rude to him or maybe checking him ou- oh.
Giggles begin to bubble up in his chest, softly expelling as he brings one hand up from mindlessly fiddling with sterling zips upon tasteful leather. This beautiful man was so painfully oblivious about Ken's endless adoration and that needed an immediate fix. Cupping the other's chin, he redirects Wilford's gaze, grinning from ear to ear watching him drink in the sight of satin lain tight against his sculpted body.
"Have i ever told you just how jaw-droppingly gorgeous you are my darling?"
Ken can feel his cheeks begin to ache with the way Wilford has him smiling like this all the time. They'd graciously dabbled in make-up the last couple of nights out and this time a matching display of glittery silver highlights their faces, undertones of blush bringing out the best of their features beneath an array of shining lights. He notices several smudges across his boyfriend's glitter, where he'd rubbed his fingers multiple times in-between passionate locks of lips and stilted breath. Ken finally replies with a shrug of nonchalance, desperately trying to hide his permanent grin. "You may have mentioned it, once or twice.."
They twirl around once more as he's lost within bedazzling rays flowing over them before pulling away for a distinctive movement. He grasps the other's hand in a fervour of excitement, emboldened to switch and impress Wilford with his own set of dance moves. Within one breadth of a second, a flash of blonde hair and pinkish tint cascade his vision, blinking down on him in obscuring brightness. Blazing pulses begin electrifying over deafening music, leaving him uncoordinated and twisting around as a creeping sense of terror builds within him. Hardened nails pull his body forward.
Crowds of blistering pink overtake him in a blur of motion, a classic barbie song rushing through his ears all the sudden. No, no he can't be back, why is he here? President Barbie shoves him onto the dance floor, bronze skin flickering in annoyance upon a perfectly sculpted face. That's right he's- it's the ken's dance number now, just like every other night, why was he stumbling so much? He slams onto pristine white flooring in what he hopes looked graceful, flipping onto his side in tandem with several other kens before clapping twice simultaneously. Again, steps 1, 2, 3, 4 and twist and back, remember to wink at Barbie because he needs to grab her attention tonight, 5, 6, 7, 8, jump forward, twirl around, it wouldn't be like other nights, he really believed that she might just notice him this time, 9, 10, 11, turn-- no wait, 12? Or was it backwards? Ken almost trips over his feet as another doll bumps into him, between a rough shoulder check, a disappointed scowl stares him down, his heart begins to race as he struggles to realign his dance moves.
Heart? No, he shouldn't have one? He was just a plastic doll in a pastel world, that's it. All he'd ever have to cradle close was the fleeting touches and looks of everybarbie else, sometimes they even appeared pleasant. The fabric of his golden jumpsuit itches horrendously, his brain scattered between the rhythm of movement and a flashing ball of silvery light. Could this be a disco? Ken always felt that their whole routine was more of a glorified stage, an endless spotlight of dance and yearn and beach and repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, Barbie doesn't care, repeat, repeat, repeat- she never has-REPEAT!
"..Doll?"
A murmuring voice sounds from above, soothing gravel resonating over loud music. NO! He doesn't want to be a stupid doll anymore! He can't take it! This pink fuelled loop is all he's ever known but he desperately wants out, a scathing choice of freedom from hard plastic and perfect monotony. For once in his continuous existence he just wants to stop moving. Ken listlessly follows Barbie home every forsaken night knowing the same answer that always awaits. It's girls night every night and she always chooses them. It's girls night and what would they even do, what worth has he ever held in the eyes of Barbie?
"Sweetheart, look at me.. you're okay now"
The blissful respite lays warm across his body, wrapped around him in a grounding presence of underlying care. He bends toward it, soothed by the hands that glide over silk and satin in a heated constant. Blinking sluggish watery cries that begin anew, Ken breathes in his surroundings with a mix of grief and panic swirling within his chest. They're outside, whisked away in a multiversal jump. A darkened sky greets them, stars shining quietly in the absence of a half-crescent moon hidden behind several fluffles of dampened cloud. It takes him a few moments to realise where exactly he is, heart hammering as the juxtaposition of past and present fizzle out from one another.
His own rhine-studded jacket had been placed over his shoulders, Wilford's arms now bare within a sparkly white singlet as they stay securely enclosed around his waist. Sweet nothings mumble close to his ear, comforting among the hands rubbing slow circles onto his silkened skin. It's mixed between his own rambles that trickle through, an unstable string of sobbing murmurs. "Please, no, i don't- don't make me, please! I wanna go home, don't- I can't do it, please-" is shakily spoken above gasps of air and salted tears crying out. In response, a rumbling sensation of calm protects him from the repeated memories that dance across his mind.
"I'm right here my love, I would never let anything happen to you. Take a deep breath with me.."
A couple minutes pass within dreary whispers of the night. Two slow sets of breath can be heard upon the dune, one stilted in response before slowly beginning to even out with the other. Gentle waves crash in the distance as the lull of an ocean grounds him, sifting spools of resonance laid solemn beyond the beach. They breathe a little longer, basking in eachother's presence as he's still not all.. there, yet. Midnight hair tickles the side of his upper cheek where saline dries, leaving him silent in the wake of solace within a warm embrace. Ken had never experienced something so vivid and terrifying in his own head. He loved barbieland, right? He always had, it was Barbie and Ken against the world and he'd forever adored his existence even amongst the worst of moments. At least he thought he had.
They stay intertwined until he can breathe again, until the sand beneath them feels real under his tightening grip. Grains of beige separating within a clenched palm. He shifts, a silent exchange passing between the two before Wilford is shuffling just a couple centimetres away, keeping one hand splayed across his back. It slides down, settling over a slight dip in his waist and tracing delicate patterns to pass time.
"They made me feel so important.."
Ken sniffs, gently brushing his thumb over his cheek.
"They were so.. happy to see me. I'd been created just for her and they... they used to love me"
He's unable to make eye contact, staring off into the distance in the hopes of stifling the heavyweight building in his chest.
"I don't know when it happened but.. something changed and.. i wasn't important anymore, wasn't.. needed. I- I wasn't one of them.. and i didn't know what to do with that, none of the ken's did we- we fought so. much. Because no one else would fight for- ..."
Ken's voice trembles below a whisper.
"I- I don't know what I did wrong"
Reeling in a shaky breath, he fights the overwhelming urge to cry. Within the salty breeze, a crippling sense of loathing unearths from inside, years in the making. Carved into him at an agonising pace just waiting to be noticed until he couldn't take another day of ignorance. Ken had found himself in a bond so deeply woven and sacred, a relationship he had only dreamed of on the loneliest of nights upon pinkish sand under the moonlight. He was real, he was someone. He'd never known what it meant to be loved endlessly. At some point, the thought of returning to his old life had become a searing gesture, unknown and unwanted as he once was within it.
Toughened arms wrap themselves gently around his shaking form, one hand running through his hair in the most careful ministrations. He's so impossibly loved that he doesn't know where to store it all, pouring out from his heart and spreading through all of him until he's flushed with the feeling. An unbending notion holds itself close within the kiss pressed upon his head, soft lips meeting blonde locks in the promise of a kind future. The other's words vibrate through him in the hopes of being remembered vehemently.
"You haven't done anything wrong, for you were made only to be loved"