Something in the language of freedom... [MileApo AU]

~1~

"And a few more shots. Let's play with the light, Mile!"

"Sure. Let's play."

Change of posture. Click, click, click. Change of posture. And so on in a circle.

And then we'll play with a smile at the official dinner, we'll play with the mood at the cocktail party, we'll play...

"No, no," the photographer shakes his head, "something is wrong. The concept suits you. But something is wrong. Let's take a few more shots."

Or a few hundred, right?

He has noticed a long time ago how he has to play all the time, depicting a look always burning with enthusiasm and a radiant smile on his beautiful face, which the camera loves so much. And this photo shoot in Jamaica did not stand out among the previous ones. Not until tonight, anyway.

"Where are you going, Mile?"

"I'm going for a walk on the beach. Or am I also not allowed this without an escort?"

The staff chuckles:

"But the event is not over yet."

"Yes. But I have already played my part on it."

He doesn't expect a response. He goes outside the hotel and then down to the sea. The wind ruffles the light fabric of his shirt, unbuttoned by a third, revealing the top of the tanned chest. Mile takes off his espadrilles and walks barefoot through the warm sand. Somewhere in the middle of the way, the rhythmic sounds of Jamaican drums are heard. He comes closer and notices that several holidaymakers of various ages have gathered around a group of drummers. Their instruments are easily recognizable by their red-yellow-green color. But that's not all. A barefoot man, or rather an adolescent boy, is dancing in the center of the circle. He's wearing nothing but black capri pants. A strong golden chest glistens in the rays of the setting sun. Mischievous lights play in his eyes. He moves gracefully and at the same time defiantly. At first glance, there is a disorderly waving of the arms and confused movements of the legs. But everything is much more complicated. With every line, every bend and every turn, he seems to be telling the spectators: look how free I am. Will you ever dare be like me?

Perhaps for the first time in a long time, Mile does not think about how he should stand up, smile, whether the light falls correctly on the working side of his face... He does not need to think what to answer and do it so, that next day the Internet is not full of headlines with his words taken out of context.

He, as if enchanted, looks at the young dancer, who tirelessly tramples, for sure, already white-hot sand.

Some girl in a full skirt with flounces joins him. Mile grins: the beauty is undeniably pretty, but does not fall in rythm with the exact movements of the guy at all. But the young man plays along with her. Or is he flirting?He slides his strong hands over her slender body, swings in the rhythm of the waves, dropping his palms on her bare shoulders. Mile swallows and licks a drop of sweat from his upper lip.

I wonder... are you just an amateur or are you making money on the show?

Mile looks for some kind of box to collect money, but does not notice anything like that. Little by little, the crowd disperses and at some point only he remains. And the young man keeps dancing and dancing.

Mile is embarrassed. A suspicion creeps into his heart that this guy is dancing... hmm... for him. Because I'm still his spectator?

Then Mile combs his hair back with his hand and, awkwardly averting his gaze to the sea, steps aside. The guy immediately stops moving. He stands with his legs wide apart, resting his hands on his sides and asks Mile in Thai through his rapid breathing: