dernière danse

part ten

"Not a chance."

A comfortable silence lingered in the air before Bette's relieved expression morphed into a sorrowful one. "Leo told me about the sickness. What happened, my love?"

"I was diagnosed with late-stage cancer. It sucked when I found out because I never had the chance to live my life with you."

"Any extra day with you is like a lifetime, my love. We have the next year, at least. Let's make it the best it can be."

"Your ghost asked me to do the same thing. Funny how that works."

"Hallucinations are a part of the soul. What do you want to do next, then?"

"I propose that we go to Italy first. The gelato there is supposed to be divine. Also, the love."

"Their balls are beautiful, as well. The alcohol is so unbelievably exquisite that I would easily promote day drinking."

"Actually, I want a dance first. I'm going to be bedridden soon, so I'd like for us to waltz like we used to."

"I accept your offer, madame, but I think I have something that could make it better."

"What might that be, love?"

"Our dance, but in the middle of the rain."

"Is it raining?"

"I felt a few drops trickle down my face. They might've even run my mascara a little bit."

"Let's go."

They rushed out of the dance floor, eyes lighting up as the rain fell down harder. Their dresses were already soaked, water slowly removing the makeup on their face. Bette asked for Cleo's hand, pulling her closer to her chest.

The downpour was still going, the rain getting ever more jarring. The pair were too spellbound to notice, though, simply swaying over the cement of the pavement. It was intoxicating, even just to look at.

Though their clothing was practically translucent, they continued, temples pressing together. You could tell through the sparkle in Cleo's eyes that their movement was alluring, intense, and hypnotic. It almost looked forbidden, filled with twirls. They breathed each other in, moving nimbly to through the concrete.

Bette made it a point to kiss whenever she could, pushing their lips together in the divine way possible. It made ecstasy flow through Cleo's veins, the nerves of her spine getting knotted and paralyzed. It'd been a while since she felt so carefree, so in love, and enthralled with Bette.

Roping her arms around her waist, Cleo gently left a trail of kisses down Bette's chest, laughing as she got tickled. Though Cleo had already started sneezing, and the rain seemed to worsen, they both continued to risk it. As the sky dotted darker, they continued to hold each other. It was lewd, vulgar, stimulating, and compelling, but it was all that Cleo was hoping for.

Cleo felt her breath beginning to wither away, malaise spreading through her chest. She felt lightheaded, grasping deeper into Bette.

"Is everything all right, my dear," Bette asked, supporting Cleo with her hands.

"I feel like my time has come, darling," Cleo responded, coughing.

"Leo, could you call the ambulance, please!" Bette yelled, scanning the surroundings for a bench. Attempting to lead Cleo into it, she was pulled back, being met with a nodding head.

"If I leave this Earth now, I want it to happen dancing in your arms," Cleo spoke hoarsely, leaning into Bette.

"This would be our last dance, my dear."

"Then make it our best."

-

Epilogue:

The Next Day

"Madame, I am so sorry for your loss. I knew how close she was to your heart she was," Mary said, consoling me. My eyes were still puffy from the night before, eye bags prominent from a lack of proper sleep.

"She would expect me to continue living, and I think that's what I need to do," I responded, roping my hand around hers.

Leo gave the first speech, muttering through tears about how beautiful she was. A few friends pitched in after, and they called me up as well. Nervous, I walked towards the podium, clearing my throat in the mic.

"Cleo Twall Lemarte was the best person I ever knew. She was my best friend, my rock, and most of all, she was the person I fell in love with. I spent seven years of my life with her, living what seemed like a lifetime. She was the reason I woke up in the morning, the reason I'd go to bed, and the reason for me to live. Cleo always found a way to make me laugh like nobody was watching. I remember how beautiful she was the first time we met. She wore something that we wouldn't dare show our parents, pairing it with pearls. I was already drunk, but she made me feel completely sober. From there, we went to picnics, poured our hearts out, wrote musicals for each other, and fell madly in love. I'd love the way her eyes would crinkle when she smiled, or how her lips curled when she got angry. I lost her not once, not twice, but thrice. The first time was in a car accident. Her parents found out about our love and took her back to France. The nurse broke the news to me that she died. That was when I married the man of my nightmares. The second time was when we reunited. She was at a ball, wearing the same dress as our first interaction. I spent a good three hours with her, going back to my husband. I didn't see her for thirty years after that. Now, I've lost her a third time. She went in the happiest way possible, dancing in my arms as the rain drenched us to the bone. For this one, I'm not sad. I know that she'll continue to fight for me. I'll wait for our afterlife. I'll weave stories to tell our children. I'll learn to love her even harder. In another life, I'll let Cleo Twall Lemarte be the best thing to ever happen to me. I love you, darling," I whispered, feeling a few tears begging to dot my eyes.

The audience seemed less enthused about our love, a loud clap coming from Leo. I spotted her in the back though, sobbing.

Walking over, I took her in my arms before kissing her.

"I meant it, Cleo. In another life."

"I'll take up that offer, my love."

Total Word Count (All ten parts combined):

20,036