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Cicada Days
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i can feel something inside me say
[ *  *  *  * ]
Oh man, the laugh. What a prick. No, but now was not the time to be vindictive. Save the return to barely-justified irritation for when the gold-stars and snack crumbs were chilling in the school's dumpsters. On some mostly out of reach level Irene understood that Noah was letting her off easy. Irene was the belligerent, what with the whole 'fuck' and all. If Irene were Noah she would have killed herself for trying to be so fuckgirl. Well okay, Irene wouldn't kill herself because she wasn't about that sort of life. She'd be Noah killing herself. Or, uh, something.

All was forgiven though. Noah liked it! Clapped for her. Whooped it up. Made the dance floor feel even more alive than it already was. Made her feel like she was damn good. Which she totally was.

Even when she was suddenly dangling like a wooden-joint marionette in his arms. His pretty well defined arms. Oof. This is the part where Irene once more felt the compulsion to be killed by not-herself. It was embarrassing. See, she could have stabilized herself in an instant really. All senses were a-okay, her post-flip recovery was top notch. There was no room spinning, no nausea, no urge to blurt out something potentially stupid- okay there was always that urge but it was no stronger than normal at least. There was just her. In his kinda romance novel-ey tender grasp. Whether he intended it or not he had the younger Djezari half ready to swoon. Pulses of blood heavily sloshed through her limbs, now virtual dead weight. Something something knees weak, etc.

"Let's just get through this song without killing ourselves."

Irene could get behind that. The song was entering it's final electro breakdown, so after a few moments of awkward limpness in his grasp Irene brought herself to life. Hastily tore herself away before someone from yearbook had that shit on polaroid.

"Second to catch my breath?" Wait. Had she actually said that aloud? Irene did not just up and surrender, actual injury maybe aside. "Wait no, fuck that. Dance like fuck, Whitley!" Irene rode the kicks out with some level of grace as they looped and looped... hey, the DJ knew how to transition this year!
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The Nights
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Dying To See How This One Ends · At the Dance