I'll Keep Dancing On My Own

-- this is my first fanfic, please let me know what you think --

Alina Abelard has always been a bit of a scatterbrained dreamer. She is consumed by a passion for life until her lovely little realm inside her head is tainted by reality- the death of her father and the murder of her best friend. It's only a matter of time before the drug addicted painter breaks.

Then she meets a reckless, beautiful boy whose perfect world collides with hers.


1. Sunset

Your name sounds like a sweet melody, 
Singing just for me.
You’re all I can think about lately.
Seeing you makes my heart race insane.
Yet what a shame, 
You don’t even know my name.
If you are looking for a clue, 
I’m in plain sight,
And enchanted by you.

       The words left her pink lips as she sang, her soft musical voice carried by the slight breeze that lifted strands of her dark auburn hair and waved them in her face. The young woman tilted her head to the side as, with paintbrush being twirled absentmindedly between slender fingers, she tried to decide the best way to capture the warm salmon-pink glow cast by the sun as it dipped behind the horizon, waves crashed and kiss the shore only to pull back in on itself once more.

     Alina Abelard was completely alone on the beach, save for a stray dog and a few seagulls. The seemingly endless stretch of sand glistened in the last few rays of sunlight, the gulls soaking up what warmth and diving for what fish they could still get. The seventeen year old's tresses cascaded down her back in soft, curling waves, her aubergine knitted pullover slightly baggy over her small, skinny frame. With it, she wore a pair of leggings and her toes wiggled in the sand, her black ankle boots and leg warmers having long been abandoned and tossed to the side with her messenger bag. She was lovely with pale skin, caesious-colored doe eyes, and heart-shaped lips with high cheekbones. With an ever-present lost look in her eyes that seemed to be able to see into the depths of one's soul, she had a kind of haunting beauty.

     The teenager had a way with acrylic paint, her delicate hand and imagination worked together and were able to conjure up images of fairy realms or hellish nightmares so detailed, so realistic, that it was as if Alina had really been there and experienced the wonders or atrocities or abominations that made an appearance on the canvas. It was rare to look at the paintings and not be impressed. Alina's works had been published in the papers plenty of times, some saying that she was better than Da Vinci. Of course, she thought they were getting a little carried away. Many art schools were dying to have an artist like Alina on their campus but were reluctant to invite her. And she understood why no school wanted her.

     It was no secret Alina had a long history of drug abuse. She knew she would tarnish a school's reputation.  

     Her close-knit community, on the other hand, loved the soft-spoken girl, who was as docile as a lamb, and openly showed it. Many knew Alina from when she was just a small child and still thought kindly of her despite how awry she had grown up. They all knew Alina's story, why she was the way she was- a girl who seemed to be an old soul that looked through child-like eyes. A girl who felt deeply and loved mightily and couldn't hurt a fly. They all looked out for her, beginning when her father had died in a horrific car crash four years ago. The little beach town had been devastated by the news- everyone was fond of Alina's father, a gentle giant of a man who was just a walking ray of sunshine. Everyone knew Sarah, Alina's mother, had then turned to alcohol to ease bitter pain after she learned her husband crashed on the way to a paramour's house. During the days leading up to the funeral, Sarah completely ignored Alina, in shock and numb. Then she was consumed by hatred for her own daughter and the spiteful drunk often kicked Alina out of the house after beating her without any good reason. 

      Alone and mourning, it was only a month after her dad's funeral when Alina began to sate a revenous hunger for escape with drugs.

      Still, Alina never found herself sleeping on the streets. If she didn't stay at her best friend's house, sometimes she would step into the open arms of the old lady who owned the bakery or the ex-marine who would let Alina take care of the abandoned kittens he had taken in. There was something so vulnerable about the young woman- what with the dreamy far-away look in her eyes, the way she wandered without thinking about where her feet would take her, her gentle and soothing voice. She was different in every sense of the word and so... the little beach town, in its own way, adopted the little black sheep.

     Last night, her mother had blown a fuse after Alina asked for a recipe of a casserole her dad used to make all the time. Sarah, in a rage, had thrown a plate that hit Alina right on the chest and chased her out, screaming obscenities at her for daring to bring up her 'unfaithful, pathetic, piece of shit' husband.

     After thanking the young mother who had taken her in for the night, Alina immediately made her way back to her house. Finding all the windows and doors locked and bolted, she simply scavenged her bag full of art supplies out of the bush she stashed it in for times when she was unable to get (or sneak) back in. This way, she could head down to the pier or beach and create and paint and mix colors until her hand cramped and she had used every last drop of her creative juices.

     "It'll be too dark to paint soon, hurry up and pick a color..." she muttered to herself. Finally, she settled on mixing a light shade of orange with a darker shade of pink. With precise and swift moments of her hand, the deft strokes soon created an exact replica of the sunset Alina had been waiting all day to paint. She took a deep breath and took a step back, examining her work.

     Then, stepping forward again, she took the canvas in her hands and crashed it down into her rising knee, a gratifyingly loud chorus of cracking and tearing as the canvas snapped in half. The look of intense concentration replaced with a look of satisfaction, she chucked the canvas into the water. Grabbing her paintbrushes, she trudged down the shore to rinse off the paint before throwing them back in her bag. Snatching her shoes off the sand, she made her way up the beach to the sidewalk and continued to walk barefoot down the street. 

- - - - - -

     "Yeah, of course you can stay here. I'm surprised you'd even ask," Joanna was saying. The blonde,  busty, and curvy young gal stepped aside and let Alina enter the condo where she and her own mother lived. A gracious smile appeared on Alina's face as she stepped over the threshold and pulled her best friend into a hug.  Joanna squeezed hard before grabbing Alina by the wrist, turning to run up the steps that led to her room with Alina in tow, excited about the fact not only was her best friend staying the night but her mother would be gone for the next two days for some convention and that meant Joanna had the house to herself. It didn't take long for invitations to be sent and they found someone to buy alcohol within a matter of minutes. So long as Joanna provided the money.  

     The two girls had known each other for a little over eight years now and were like night and day- both in appearance and personality (not to mention Joanna had a strong bond with her own mother). Joanna was tall, towering over Alina. She was loud, Alina was quiet. The blonde was obnoxious, flirty, with a habit of talking extremely fast. Alina was short, spoke slowly (if at all), and boys were the last thing on her mind. Yet, somehow, she managed to be friends with everyone, just as Joanna was, though they both preferred to be in only each other's company. It might be the fact that Joanna could talk as much as she wanted without being interrupted or told to shut up. But that wasn't only it- Joanna genuinely liked Alina as a person. She found she could confide in the strange girl and weep onto her shoulder over the most trivial things and not be judged. Alina was fascinating. She was a gateway to a different dimension- she taught you how to see beauty in the most broken of places,  make you see things you've never noticed before like the lovely chrome green of a flying beetle instead of the fact that it was a bug. She kept Joanna on her toes with random questions about spirituality or the like and Joanna liked the deep, intellectual conversations Alina brought on. Though she wasn't the most talkative or comedic person Joanna knew, Alina still managed to be interesting. And that was why Alina was her best friend. 

      "I'm going to take a shower. Mind if I borrow some of your clothes?" Alina asked, already setting her bag down and making her way to the closet. 

     "Sure, if you can find something that fits," Joanna answered, laying down on her bed as she scrolled through her phone. 

"Well, there goes my hopes of wearing one of your cute bras." 

"Why does it need to be cute? Thinking of letting your ta-ta's make an appearance?"

A ghost of a smile appeared on Alina's face. 

"How 'bout this with some black skinnies and your boots like this color? Maybe match it with some gold earrings and a necklace," she finally said, pulling out a crimson off-the-shoulder sweater and holding it up.    

"Wear my black skirt with it," she paused, "And pantyhose. I got a pair. No shoes. Tonight, I will ban shoes from my party. It's too formal," Joanna said as Alina held the top against herself, "But yeah, the gold would go nicely with it. Now, go shower stinky."    

     This time, Alina laughed. 

      "Wait, I gotta find the skirt." She began digging through the shelves in the closet for the skirt Joanna had mentioned as Joanna rummaged through a drawer to find the pantyhose. Despite having her own batch of clothes here, Alina liked wearing Joanna's stuff. Her blonde friend had a nice style. 

     Finally, after gathering everything she needed, Alina clutched articles of clothing to her chest as she went to the bathroom. Joanna returned to her bed and went back to going through her phone, sending out information and kept a mental list of who was coming when her finger froze and a look of utter disbelief flashed across her face before her mouth parted and out came a blood-curdling scream cut short by a phone that slipped through fingers and landed on the blonde's face.


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