The Bluenettes of Sabertooth : Volume II

Chapter 17: Reborn Revolution

The year? He didn't know. But it was long before his time, that's for sure. How he knew? He didn't even understand, but it was fact. Evident.

The air was buzzing with a symphony of  sounds, incorporating the  soft sounds of clinks against glasses filled with impossibly expensive champagne and wine, being picked up, put back down on repeat, by those far too drunk to walk home. Exuberant prattle and laughter coming from men and women while they danced to the sound of an elegant tune playing in a far corner of the room. Keys of a piano, creating a soft, elegant, elysian sound.

The scene was beautiful, one he felt he had seen to many times. Another fact he could not register nor understand. Zayn had been here before and by taking a glance around the room he realized, he could probably name everyone in the room. Regulars, drunkards with too much time and too much money on their hands, dressed in the finest suits and dresses of the era.

It's not the sumptuous structure he's standing in that grabs his attention --or the extravagant crystal chandelier dangling from the ceiling emitting an iridescent light, lush couches and costly chairs strung about the marble floor, large frames displaying portraits of past owners, idolized citizens and celebrities who happen to come across the establishment hung around the walls-- all of it is nothing to him but a speck of dust. Nothing compared to a woman --he was sure he never met-- dancing freely to the music, her body swaying to the beat as men oogled her from behind their wives backs. Her face wasn't clear to him, as in he could not completely register her face as a whole.

She was free in her world, mesmerising to anyone who dared lay eyes on her. While she swayed back and forth, he noticed a slit on her dress, revealing a tattoo. A butterfly.

Suddenly her eyes flicked up.

He could swear she was staring right at him. A playful and teasing smirk on her full lips.

It takes him a moment to realize, she is staring, past, him. A sultry smirk still playing on her lips. He shifts his body and with it his gaze falls upon a man, tall, slim yet built. Standing behind a bar, grasping the handle of a glass, wiping it with a cloth, despite it being spotless.

It takes him yet another moment to realize who he is staring at.

Himself.

He blinked, the scene still playing out in front of him. He isn't sure of himself, until he sees a familiar smirk fall on his lips.

Definitely him.

He watches himself set down the glass on the counter, stepping away from the bar, he walked right through him, heading to the mysterious woman from across the room who kept dancing with an amused face despite being stared down by himself. The music suited her perfectly, as if the composer knew everything about this woman and put it into a tune.

She was like a song.

The scene begins to fade, swirling around as he tries to keep his eyes trained to himself. He already stopped in front of the woman but the scene began to disintegrate before his very eyes.

Before it all came crashing down he heard, what he assumed to be the dancing woman speaking to himself.

"So, the big bad wolf can speak? Did lonely boy miss me?"

Zayn's eyes snapped open. He grasped his sheets, gasping for air. Once he took a couple deep breaths, he passed a hand through his hair, sighing.

The dream he just had, was, unreal. Vivid, euphoric, entrancing, giving a strange feeling at the back of his head. He could still remember all the details, surprising even himself. He couldn't get the image of that tattoo out of his head.