|5×𝑭𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑬𝑫|
"C'est la vie" (French) - "That's life" or "Such is life." It's often used to express resignation or acceptance in the face of life's ups and downs, similar to sayings like "That's how the cookie crumbles" in English.
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POV: You're a dancer that has been slowly falling for your pianist, and now every time you dance to their playing it becomes an embodied love letter.
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In the monochrome world of the studio, where shadows and light dance along the polished floor, I am blue. A quiet, muted blue that seeps into every corner of the room, mingling with the soft hum of the piano. The keys beneath your fingers sing a melody that wraps around my soul, coaxing my body into motion. Each note you play is a whisper, a secret meant for me alone. And I let it seep into my bones.
The way you play is different now. Subtle, but I feel it. The way your fingers linger on certain keys, drawing out the notes like a caress, or the way the tempo slows as if you want to stretch this moment between us, to make it last just a little longer. And every time I respond, my movements echo the emotions you infuse into the music.
Whenever I dance these days, it's no longer just a performance. It's an offering. A love letter, I'd name it, written in the language of movement and breath, of glances and fleeting touches. My body speaks the words I can't say aloud, words that feel too fragile to voice in the silence of the studio. So I let them spill out in the curve of my arm, in the arch of my back, in the way I turn and spin, always returning to you.
You never look at me directly. Your gaze is always on the piano, on the keys, as if you're afraid that meeting my eyes would break something. Is it my heart that you're afraid of breaking? I would be glad if you did. It can't be worse than this silence.
You never look at me directly. But I feel your attention, the way your eyes linger on me when you think I'm not looking, the way your music shifts to follow my lead, to match my rhythm. And I wonder if your fingers long to touch more than just the keys, if they yearn to trace the contours of my skin the way they glide across the piano. In those moments, we are perfectly in sync, as if we are the only two people in the world.
I don't know what that shadow is in the corner. It is a muted grey. The same colour as the edges of our moments. A reminder that this is fleeting, that it exists only in this space, in this time. Outside, in the harsh light of day, the lines between us are too stark, too defined. Here, we can pretend that your world is black and white, and I am the blue that fills the space between.
Every day, I feel a little more, the blue in me deepening with every touch of your music. But I know that just as surely as autumn gives way to winter, this too will end. The music will stop, the dance will cease, and the grey will settle in, cold and unyielding. And yet, I dance. Because in these moments, when I'm spinning in your music, I can believe that the blue is enough to keep the grey at bay.
In black and white, I'm blue. And when I dance to your music, I'm home.
WC: 557
A/N:
Blue roses are often used to symbolise secret or unattainable love. Blue colour is often associated with feelings like sadness, longing, and melancholy—and courtships between men.
Solas by Gibran Alcocer is an absolute masterpiece. Someone in the YouTube comment section mentioned this POV, and it paired up like wine and dark chocolate—bittersweet and intoxicating. Trying my hand at LGBTQ romance with this one. Enjoy!
