Real.Doc - Part 2 - Joe (English Version)

Rock rock rock rock n'roll!

Excerpt inspired by Tom Cruise's (in underwear) performance in the movie Risky Business. Jase isn't old enough to have seen this movie when it was released, but he definitely knows this iconic scene.

The house was filled with a strange energy that night, an odd mix of tension and relief, like the calm after a storm. Despite Joe's lover being there, something about Jase's unrestrained happiness made it impossible not to smile. His joy was contagious, infectious even. It seeped into the cracks of my worry, filling the spaces with light and laughter. I decided to sleep in Joe's bed, just as we always did when everything was okay, when it was just the two of us against the world. Despite everything that had changed, I had no problem sleeping alone that night. It felt right, somehow—a quiet acknowledgment of the shift in our lives.

I was already in my nightgown, ready to surrender to the solace of sleep, when the first notes of an old rock song filled the air. The familiar melody wrapped around me like a warm embrace, pulling me back to memories of simpler times. Before I could even process the moment, the bedroom door swung open, and there he was—Jase. He was a sight to behold, dressed in nothing but a shirt, underwear, socks, and a pair of dark sunglasses that were too big for his face. His voice, deep and raspy, sang along with the music as he danced into the room with the reckless abandon of someone who didn't care who was watching.

Jase was a whirlwind of energy, a force of nature that couldn't be contained. He jumped onto the bed, the mattress creaking under his weight, and extended a hand toward me. "Come on," he urged, his voice filled with excitement. "Dance with me!"

I couldn't resist. How could I, when Jase was so full of life, so utterly free? I took his hand, and soon we were both dancing and jumping on Joe's bed like two children who had just discovered the joy of breaking the rules. The music blasted around us, drowning out the world outside, and for a few precious minutes, there was nothing but the two of us and the music that made our hearts race.

When the song finally ended, I collapsed onto the bed, breathless and laughing. "What's happening?" I managed to ask between giggles.

Jase grinned down at me, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "We have the floor to ourselves," he declared triumphantly. Then, without missing a beat, he added, "Now, mambo."

Before I could protest, he was already changing the song. The new track was Cuban, a vibrant remix that blended traditional rhythms with modern beats. It was a masterpiece, a celebration of life in every note. Jase held out his hand again, and I took it, letting him spin me around the room. We danced as if we were the only two people in the world, our movements fluid and synchronized. He dipped me low, making me laugh, and then pulled me back up, his eyes never leaving mine.

That night, we were children again. We forgot about the weight of our responsibilities, the pain of the past, and the uncertainty of the future. We made popcorn, our laughter filling the kitchen as we tossed kernels into the air and tried to catch them in our mouths. We had a makeshift fashion show, strutting down an imaginary runway in whatever ridiculous outfits we could find. We even attempted to bake a chocolate cake, though it ended in a flour-covered disaster. It didn't matter that we went to bed late, dirty and sweaty. What mattered was that, for the first time in a long time, we were happy.

Morning arrived quietly, the sun filtering through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. I woke to the sound of voices drifting up from the kitchen—Joe and Amy, their words too low for me to make out. I could already feel the tension creeping back in, the fragile peace of the night before beginning to unravel. I threw on a robe and headed downstairs, finding Jase already at the breakfast table, his sunglasses now perched on top of his head, his hair a tousled mess.