I'm Still Standing (short story)

The hallway was quiet as Yuki popped his head out of his room. His pastel-highlighted golden hair glimmered in the morning light as he tilted his head to listen carefully, his delicate features intent as he snuck from door to door and peeked inside each room to verify that they were indeed empty. Once he confirmed that he was completely alone in the dormitory apartment that he shared with his three roommates, he eagerly set a chair by the door and hung a cheap pan on the doorknob to give himself a heads up in case someone came home early.

After that, he grabbed his phone and turned his speakers up. As soon as the first blare of loud music filled the place, he began bouncing energetically. His footsteps were light, but he sounded like a herd of puppies running from one end of the apartment to the other as he went to get a thing, forgot what that thing was, wandered back, remembered what he was doing, then backtracked to do what he meant to do in the first place... Repeatedly. While singing at the top of his lungs.

"You could never know what it's like

Your blood like winter freezes just like ice.."

No one attempted to crawl through the walls and windows to murder him for his caterwauling because it was the holidays; His neighbors were visiting family, and most of the building was empty because of winter break. He was mostly free to be as loud as he wanted, so long as he didn't set off an explosion. There were some odd folks still lingering about, but they had all sort of decided on unspoken quiet hours. He could vaguely hear music and gaming happening around him, he only really had to worry about the people he actually lived with sneaking up on him, and putting his antics online.

Again.

"And did you think this fool could never win?

Well look at me, I'm coming back again."

It felt good to let off steam like this though. With school, work, and everything that came with being being on his own, Yuki didn't always feel that he was coping. Here, in his home, away from everyone else, he could just dance, and no one would care, or judge. He stopped in the middle of the large communal living area and started flailing about. It could have been considered dancing, if one was being interpretive, but he was clearly just whirling around and being silly, in between bouts of attempting, and failing to dance properly without laughing at himself. He went on like that for a few moments until he was breathless, then posed dramatically and if he was holding a microphone.

"Don't you know I'm still standing better than I ever did!

Looking like a true survivor, feeling like a little kid!"

Yuki hopped up onto the cheaply made table in front of the equally cheap sofa, and stared at his reflection in the wide and expensive television across the room. He tossed his head back and seductively ran his fingers through his hair so that the rainbow of pastels would glint from beneath the curtain of blond swishing around his ears, and winked at his dim reflection. Then he posed again and belted louder, ignoring a grumpy-sounding thump emanating from a nearby wall.

"I'm still standing! Yeah, yeah, yeah!

I'M STILL STANDING! Yeah, yeah, yeah!"

"You'd better not be STANDING on my table." An unamused growl came from Yuki's left.

Yuki startled so badly that the coffee table he was standing on gave up on life and sent him tumbling to the floor. Spluttered gales of laughter drowned out his terrified squawk, thud, and growls of complaint, but he was soon hauled to his feet and dusted off. Immediately, he attempted to grab the phone off of one of his roommates, but it was already being tucked away.

"Where did you come from?" Yuki grumbled over the sound of annoyed griping about the compromised table leg.

His other friend, who was standing back and still not giving up his phone, smirked and shook his head. "A sock would work too."

Yuki opened his mouth to say something particularly rude, but his other roommate had begun using language worse than what he had planned, and he glanced over his shoulder to keep eyes on him. "Yeah, yeah. I'll pay for it." Yuki mumbled and strode towards his room.

He paused when his second room mate tilted his head, catching his eye. There was still amusement in his expression, but also a silent question. Snorting softly, Yuki shrugged and waved his hand slightly, smiling a little to indicate that he was fine as he continued on.

The grumbling in the hall subsided a little after a few swipes of his cash app, but now Yuki felt all caged inside again. Tossing his phone onto his bed, he flung himself after it and glared at the ceiling, wanting to punch something. A run would be a better alternative, for now. Boxing didn't seem like a bad idea, though.

Flicking his music app back on, he quickly got changed as the speakers in his room murmured to him. Always moving, he swayed and bopped to the mellow beat as he zipped up his jacket against the winter chill.

"And this is what I should have said

Well I thought it, but I kept it hid.."

Yuki's deep blue eyes flicked up to the framed mirror on his wall. His slim fingers gently brushed the subtle rainbow strip glued around its edges, and he smiled at his reflection. For a moment, he felt a touch disoriented, and the room around him seemed slightly blurry. He shook his head repeatedly, but the sensation wouldn't go away, causing him a bit of alarm. All at once, everything snapped back into focus--

____________________________________________________

Yukito gazed down into his rose-gold mirror and blinked repeatedly at his own reflection as his fingers brushed the pearls on the frame. He swayed on his feet, and attempted to collect himself as he expertly and methodically investigated his own physical, mental and spiritual well-being. The mirror on his hands warmed suddenly in his palms and purred at him, "Lord Yukito, you look as handsome as ever!"

Nothing... seemed to be wrong. He was in his home, and had been idly enjoying his day as he listened to the more well-to-do sailors singing chanties as they got tipsy on Aunt Marnie's patio. The mirror in his hands had been a gift, and he secretly loved it, though he did not bring it out to gaze in very much. It was something of a guilty pleasure to have it shower him with praise and compliments. It felt good, even if it was all a bit over the top, and... not real or sincere.

Yukito set the mirror down on the table beside him, and caressed its curved back. Was he getting ill to have felt so off balance and sick just now? It wasn't happening again, so... perhaps it was nothing. Maybe he just needed to get more sleep.

Why was Eugenides suddenly on his mind? How very odd.

"I'm Still Standing" - Sir Elton John