Leon wasn't much of a dancer—not that he couldn't dance, he just didn't like to, and he actively avoided it wherever possible.

But he had one vice when it came to the art of moving his body to an upbeat rhythm—and that vice was you, the breath of fresh air in his life of utter misery. He could spend hours just watching you dance—and not because you were any good, which half the time you weren't, but just to see how happy you were as you danced without a care.

You and Leon were invited to a wedding one summer night—Claire's wedding, where both of you had respective roles in the wedding party. During the reception, you practically owned the dancefloor, drawing a crowd with just how vigorously you danced to the classic wedding songs, a smile plastered on your face as you danced by yourself, or with Claire, or Chris, or any of your mutual friends.

Every so often, you'd glance over at Leon. He'd have a glass of his favourite whiskey in his hand, a smile on his face as he marvelled you from afar, yet any silent request to get him to join you was met with a dismissive raise of his hand as he let you steal the spotlight.

That was until you were dancing with Claire to some sort of upbeat pop tune, something cheesy that had you singing along like an excited teenager. In a sudden surprise, Leon had spun you around before clasping your hands in his, urging you to dance along with him—finally bringing him away from that corner.

"I hope you were saving one of these for me," he says with a smile, his moves awkward and janky, but that didn't matter to him when it came to dancing with you.