Sweat, Spotlights, and A Stage
Smiles plastered on the faces of girls, too rigid. Hunger in the eyes of the boys, too desperate. The air smelled of nothing but you could almost feel the foreboding of sweat and bodily fluids. Darkness, colored streams of light dancing around, puppet masters to the bodies they honored with their spotlights. It tasted of hunger, desperation, a need to fit in. Alcohol. Maybe that last was just on his tongue. The wooden floor rigid and unbending beneath his wooden shoes. Another time, in a more silent place, he would probably have heard them tap on the floor. The sound. Well it was loud. Heartbeats thumping, forcing yours to thump along. Throbbing heavily in your ears.
A song would change, a long person, oblivious to the crowd would raise their hands in glee, eyes closed. Others would follow, social animals that they had been raised to be. Needing the sweet allure and enticement of alcohol to be able to pretend they could have fun. Could enjoy this. Could force themselves to. Fake it till you make it, right?
Every now and then a song would start that would bring a wave of genuine excitement, screams of pleasure, shouted following a longs of the songs. It would very quickly be erased by the subterranean reality that none of them were having fun.
They were so cute though. He supposed others might be as well. Uncomfortable in the space but so comfortable in each other. And that was all that mattered. When they hugged it was pure, each touch was as if sparks were flying, and they were the cause. They didn’t need anyone else. They understood every glance the other gave, words were meaningless but they still spoke them, losing themselves in each other’s eyes. Sounds not reaching the other in the loud thump thump of the music but the meaning being conveyed through eyes, touch, and affection for one another.
From above, he could see the DJ’s face, blank, impassive, also bored. Beyond measure. He saw different people every night, every week, but he saw the same: faked expressions, desperate attempts to feel in a world that had lost the ability. People’s faces scrunching from forced smiles to expressions of pain, and perverting themselves back to smiles that were not true. Loud music that hid everything. Forced your heart to dance along to it, the excitement enthusing you, infusing your blood, confusing your brain.
A man with the day’s stubble, big, expansive, one hand in pocket, another wrapped around a small glass, walked purposefully around. Or at least pretending to. A girl in white shorts that barely covered her bottom danced, seemingly moved by the music, started dancing more vigorously in the center of the pack she had come with. Safe in their embrace. People with age lined faces, grey on their heads
The air smelled of smoke, sweet, nauseating, suffocating hookah. It didn’t smell of alcohol. Yet. People were dancing to the strings of the spotlights pulling them from above. The air tasted blank and empty. The ground was vibrating with the sound of the music, it too could tell the lack of genuine enthusiasm. The sound was deafening.