Up toward the ceiling slowly, my wrists extended and then my hand twisted at the light. Grabbing for a hope, a joy, some kind of feeling that I could not feel. The character I was playing, this young girl of this story, felt no joy for she'd never felt any. Only hopes and dreams, singing a story to tell of those hopes and dreams. Still, though she'd never had any experience of what she prayed for, she was still full of her own light. Telling these things with the wonder and innocence of one who does not yet know the true harshness of the world. Not yet knowing her fate of never knowing these things. 

Mimi, from La Boheme. "Si, Mi Chiamano Mimi", her aria. Trying to find her in there, truly listening to her. Not for any show. For my own comfort. Trying to discover her story, studying her for myself. The song playing over and over in the CD player on stage, the empty chairs of the audience arranged neatly along the walls for this dance floor I'd made for myself. 

I used to make this dance floor when the bar was closed. For many strings of days, I'd come in here and dance. Worried I'd lose my craft if I didn't. Still something to practice, even if I didn't know if another show would ever materialize again. But, slowly, these practices became my comfort in a world where there were so many unknowns. If I had to lose myself in worry, I'd do it somewhere safe. A rare safe feeling, in all that unknown.

Sometimes, I'd turn around and Yuki would be there. Just watching me from the doorway. Sometimes he'd have snow on him, other times he'd be wet from the rain. Completely quiet, studying me as I studied the music. This curious thing, wondering what he meant by it. Hoping, just like Mimi's yearning dream in this story, that it meant what I hoped it did. My own dream. He'd quickly shuffle away once he'd seen my noticing him. But I'd always pause. Wondering about him. 

I was so happy when he finally danced with me. Confessing to me, this beautiful thing. "I like you," he'd said on one normal day. 

He'd started to play piano for me by then. He'd said he wanted to film me for Youtube, that maybe we could make some money together. Wanting to help me, because the bar was floundering. Trying to come up with ways for the bar to make money even though we couldn't do business. So many other businesses were going under. 

He'd been playing "Someday My Prince Will Come". He liked to hear me sing that. It was such a romantic version of it, even more romantic than in the movie Snow White. The way he played it on the piano. A wandering version, as if he never wanted it to end. He claimed he'd created this version by listening to the Elyane Celis version. It was because of this explanation that I'd given him the drag name of Shirayuki, meaning "Snow White". It just fit, even though his real name had a different meaning than the Yuki in this name. I thought I was so clever. It was the perfect name, because my drag name is Briar Rose. Both of us named for Princesses. It was meant to be. 

And then he confessed he liked me during this song. If I could have fallen to the floor, I would have. One normal day, he suddenly stood up and held onto the piano. "I like you," he said, incredibly shy, red in the face. The music had stopped, but this was the most beautiful song to my ears that I could ever hear. 

How deeply I was in love with him. Every moment with him, I felt as if I were breathless. He impressed me more every day. His devotion to the bar, wanting to help. Coming here every day, practicing with me. His passion for it, loving this place. Little had I known, it was because he liked me. He was devoted to me alone. But I'd liked him ever since I'd seen him under the cherry blossoms, falling for him every time I saw him play, every time I saw that shy smile as he walked away from me. 

I wouldn't let him get away again like he did whenever he saw me noticing him. I'd extended my hand to him, and we'd walked to the record player on stage. Like magic, I started the record in there. I didn't care what the record was. It could have played any song. He took my waist, and I pulled him close. It was like a fairy tale, the kind I'm obsessed with. Cinderella Bar, Briar Rose, Shirayuki. The way he looked at me, that same passion in his eyes that I'd thought he'd had for the bar. It was all for me, I realized. The way he looked at me. Wanting to see everything about me all at once. Not wanting to look away. And I realized I was looking at him the same way. 

Dancing with him slowly. Holding him finally. That was my answer. My cheek resting on his shoulder. Not wanting to let go. Holding on for much longer than what was polite. Much too familiar for having only known him this long, but I was desperate to know him. And the look in his eyes had told me that he was just as desperate. A look that goes beyond lust. Something so much more. A look that tells the future, even if we don't know it yet. Because it wants to know my future. 

When I looked into his eyes, caught in his embrace and holding on tight, he leaned in and I felt the warmth of his lips. Their slight wet and weight. The neediness of them, but how gentle his touch. Caring about me, in this gentleness. No need for wild passion, just a tenderness as if asking permission first. Lingering with him, truly feeling it. Slow, exploring. His real feelings, wanting to know me even in this way. Finding out so much about me, through touch. 

How long we kissed. All that desperation went away. Just left with a secure feeling. Kissing in a silence as the single song on the record faded, but the player didn't automatically stop. A hissing of static, but otherwise a silence and little sounds. The sounds of our kiss, tiny sounds. My hand was in his hair from the back, discovering things about him. How short his hair is, how warm. Memorizing the curvature of his back as my arm stayed firmly wrapped around it, trying to truly remember what that felt like. 

It was so different than the passion of one's twenties. If we'd been that young, no doubt there would have been youthful teeth smashing in the kiss and our hands would have been going into places that were too early to explore. An explosion gone too soon. So, maybe it was better that we'd met when we were older. I forgot how much older I was in that moment, but he showed a maturity beyond his years. It felt even, somehow. Like it was meant to be. 

I realized I'd stopped dancing. The song kept going, because it was on repeat on a CD. But I'd forgotten where I was. Lost in this moment of the past, now in the future that his eyes had so desperately wanted to see. 

Our future. I couldn't think about it. That's precisely why I'd started dancing. Trying to forget. Oh, but how could I forget? I didn't want to forget. Even if things got hard, how could I dare try to forget? I'd been lost in myself. My own worries about our current situation. Overwhelmed, trying to soothe myself with what was familiar. 

But, as I hugged myself as if cold, hearing Maria Callas sing Mimi, I just felt more lonely. Lonely, like Mimi from La Boheme. There were so many things she didn't get to experience. She had no more future by the end of the opera. But, I still had a future. Yuki still had a future... One that I so desperately wanted to see with him. Both of us together, no need to long for the other anymore. We'd been together ever since that day he'd kissed me. 

Quietly, I made my way to the CD player. It felt like such a long trek, even though it couldn't have been longer than usual. Because, I knew where I wanted to be and it wasn't here. I turned the music off, then untied and unwrapped my underskirt from around my waist. I let it drop where it fell, stepping out of the tulle. Leaving it there, as I made my way off the stage and to the dance floor once more. I'd been lucky I'd only been wearing it over my street clothes, because I wanted to leave immediately.

Desperately, I left the bar, remembering to lock it up behind me just in time. Too in my sudden thoughts, thinking of Yuki at home. How ridiculous it felt now, going to the bar to practice or do anything at all. 

My Yuki was at home. He wasn't doing well. I had to be with him. Anything else wasn't important anymore. 

With my hand over my mouth in worry for him, I tapped on my phone, trying to get an Uber as quickly as possible. I'd be home very soon. I wanted to hug him, to feel his body. That familiar curving of his back against my arm. Hold him, and never let him go. Kiss him and assure him. Love him. Just love him.