He only came because his friends came. He didn't want them to think he was lame for not wanting to come to a stupid New Years party. Actually, during the short car ride to the party's location he actually thought there was a small possibility of having a good time. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Boy, was he stupid.
His friends have all gone their separate ways, each having a place at this party, whether it be dancing, drinking, flirting or chatting. He had no place at this party, a puzzle piece thrown into the wrong puzzle box. The music is too loud. The stench of alcohol; overwhelming and the whole party scene; depressing and disappointing.
And now, he sits alone on a couch in someone's basement. House parties are stupid, he thinks. And he prays that he will disappear until this experience is over. But a small part of him prays to be noticed, and he can't fathom why.
An artificial, overused dance melody is pumped into the air via a rented DJ. She can feel the sound's vibrations in her chest. She sighs internally, any proper dancer would never use this trash as accompaniment, but no proper dancer would be dancing in a place like this. They would be traveling with a company or ballet, not alone in a sweaty basement. But beggars can't be choosers, and this meager stage will have to do. She sets her drink down and steps onto the floor.
She takes in the surroundings. There are two types of dancers; partnered dancers grinding against each other, basically having clothed sex, and group dancers, friends jumping up and down, obnoxiously singing along with the song. She shakes her head. She intends to be a new kind if dancer.
She begins, combining elements of her classical training and modern fads. Her dance gains watchers and they form a circle around her, clapping a new beat for her to follow. She gets sloppier and cheekier in her performance, knowing her audience doesn't care for the quality of her dance. Oh, how my instructor would have my head, she thinks, but, oh, how the crowd compels her. It's electricity she feels, coursing through her veins. She knows that everyone is watching her. She is revered, admired, envied, and she loves every minute of it.
She pulls members of the audience into her circle, wanting to share her electricity. More people crowd around her, they become part of her, and she a part of them. She knows that they think she is special. And while she knows this feeling of power is temporary, she savors every moment of it.
He watches from afar. He has spent most of his life watching from afar. He can't help but smile, he knows he will never join in. He's not good at that sort of thing. He's better at watching, listening, remembering. He isn't the one who leads things, says things, makes things happen. There are other people for that. He tries to convince himself that its better that way, that he wouldn't be any good at starting things. The part of him that wishes to disappear accepts this as truth. But the small part of him that wishes to be noticed is hopeful. It thinks that maybe one day, he will start something , and it will feel bloody brilliant.
I wonder if he already left, she thinks. She is still dancing, but her heart is no longer in it. She has let her mind wander to other places. I don't know why he bothered coming, she thinks, he never has any fun at parties like this. A small part of her hopes that he came because of her. She pushes this thought out of her mind. It's stupid to think like that.
She stifles a yawn, her audience has drained her of her electricity. The "dancing" grows tedious and she leaves the floor. She watches as the beautiful thing she started disintegrates into nothing more than musical strip tease and bad karaoke, just as it once was. She sighs, what is an organism without its brain?
What time is it? She checks her watch. Only two more hours until she can go home. She wonders why she even bothered coming, she never has any fun at these sorts of parties, but then she remembers. She came because she knew he would be there. Such a stupid reason.
From his spot on the couch he has seen exactly three couples go into a seemingly private room and have sloppy, loud, drunken sex. One went in the bathroom, one went into the closet and one went into the storage cabinet under the stairs. None of them noticed his presence and even if they had, he doubted they would've cared. He just hoped that another couple didn't come waltzing into the area he was occupying because there were no more private rooms, and he certainly didn't want to see them do it in the middle of the floor. He wonders how people can have sex so casually and if he is the only virgin at this party. He concludes that he probably is an feels both proud and ashamed of this.
She looks for her friends on the dance floor, not expecting to find them. She can predict where each of them is. Otogi is having sex with probably more that one partner. Yugi is helping whoever the hell is hosting this party make chex mix or buy beer and Jou is doing something stupid or illegal (probably both) with Honda. But where is he? Where does he fit into the party scene? He doesn't, she concludes, and she decides to go look for him.
She walks to the other side of the basement and sees him sitting on an outdated green couch. Summoning a bit of her lost electricity, she walks over to him. He's never been very approachable.
"Hello, Ryou," she says.
Ryou snaps out of his daze and looks to see who is talking to him. It is no one he would've expected.
"Oh, Hi Anzu," he says.
"Mind if I join you?" She asks.
Ryou wonders if this is a hallucination. Why is she talking to him? Not that he minds her speaking to him, in fact he quite enjoys it (maybe a bit too much). But Anzu could be talking to loads of people, cooler people, funnier people, better people than he. So why him? Why does she want to join him on a moldy green couch when she could be having a better time elsewhere?
"Sure I don't mind," Ryou says.
Anzu sits onto the couch and stares at her watch.
"Only a half hour until this thing is over. I hate parties like this," she says.
Ryou raises his eyebrows in surprise.
"Really? I saw you dancing over there and it looked like you were having a magnificent time."
"You saw me dancing?"Anzu asks, suddenly feeling subconscious. She wished she had been more refined in her technique.
"Yes and you were fantastic," Ryou blurts out.
Oh shit, he thinks, that probably sounded creepy. Anzu blushes. She hopes that the dim lighting of the basement hides it from Ryou. It doesn't.
"Have you been sitting here this whole time?" Anzu asks, hoping to change the subject from the disgraceful display of dancing she performed earlier that night.
Ryou shifts in his seat trying to think if a proper way to answer this questions. If he lies and says that he only just sat down, he'll have to make up some bogus story about what he'd been doing the rest if the night. This bogus story will also have to factor in the time he spent creeping on her. This bogus story will also have to be believable so Anzu doesn't think he's lying, and Ryou just doesn't have the creativity for that. Plus he doesn't want to lie, so he doesn't.
"Yes I've been sitting here the whole time," Ryou says quietly, realizing how lame it makes him sound.
"Well, it must be a great place for people watching," Anzu says, trying I find the positive side of things.
"Ah yes, that it has been. Three lovely drunk couple have stumbled there way through here and locked themselves into the bathroom, the closet, and the cupboard under the stairs," Ryou says, gesturing to the three rooms.
"Five bucks says Otogi's in one of them," Anzu remarks.
"Well you would have just lost five bucks, I heard he's in the main bedroom upstairs having a devil's fiveway," Ryou says, matter of factly.
"What in god's great creation is a devil's fiveway?" Anzu asks, crinkling her nose in disgust.
"I don't even want to know," Ryou says.
"Hey, Ryou you want a drink," Anzu asks.
"Yeah, sure why not?" Ryou says. Immediately after saying this he realizes he's never had alcohol. This should be fun.
Anzu returns with a bottle and two shot glasses.
"Vodka," she says as she pours each of them a glass.
They clinks their glasses together and dump the contents down their throat. Ryou is expecting a horrible burning sensation like many if his peers described, but feels none if this. It tastes exactly like water. Is it water? he wonders. But them he sees Anzu coughing and gagging on the liquid and thinks, maybe I'm just drinking it wrong. So he mimics her and pretends it tasted like vodka.
They do shot after shot and Anzu is growing tipsier by the minute but Ryou feels no effects. It's just tastes like water, he thinks, puzzled. But it is fun acting tipsy with Anzu. They do awkward klutzy dances, sing horrible karaoke, tell embarrassing stories and laugh together. And Ryou knows he wouldn't be doing any of these things if it weren't for the fact that Anzu is so drunk she probably won't remember any of it tomorrow.
"Ya wanna know a secret?" Anzu says, her speech slurring.
"What?" Ryou says, copying her speech patterns.
"I dumped all the vodka out of that bottle an filled it with water just to get you to have fun at this party," she says.
Ryou feels his face turning bright red. All those stupid embarrassing things he did, she's going to remember them. She was faking this whole time, he thinks, I probably look so stupid. Why am I so stupid?!
Ryou's spiral of dread is interrupted by a mob of people shouting a count down.
"It's almost midnight!"Anzu squeals.
"Anzu I-" Ryou stutters
"Why did you-"
"You know what it doesn't matter-"
"What I meant to say is-"
"Oh, god I'm bad at this-"
"I know I'm screwing this up-"
"I need to ask you-"
"Oh, screw it all!" Ryou says finally.
He leans in fast and kisses Anzu on the lips.
"MIDNIGHT!" The crowd screams in unison. A loud celebration ensues. Poppers pop, small fireworks ignite and aud lang syne blares from the stereos.
Meanwhile, a quiet celebration ensues on the couch. Ryou takes Anzu's face in his hand and kisses her again. Anzu is prepared this times and deepens the kiss. Everything feels fresh and new, just as it should. It's is a new year afterall.
A/N Happy New Year! I got this idea at 2:30 in the morning while having a random bout if insomnia. I hope you enjoyed this bit if fluffy hostshipping, I know I enjoyed writing it.