It was one of those nights that I needed to dance. To let go, to find myself again, and connect with my people. I found myself at a rave. A proper one, in a warehouse, with lots of people from all backgrounds. Everyone in the room was glowing with the permission to be exactly who they are.

I was already a few drinks in, moving through the crowd, half-dancing, half-watching. The party had bloomed into full swing: shirtless bodies swaying under the lights, sweat glistening, the air thick with bass and heat and flirtation. That’s when I noticed him.

He wasn't the kind of guy who immediately stole the spotlight. Not loud. Not overly confident. He stood near the edge of the dance floor, alone, shifting from foot to foot like he was working up the nerve to let go a little more.

He was young, soft around the edges, with a dusting of dark hair peeking from the collar of his tee. Round in a way I find beautiful, real and warm. His eyes were darting around, soaking in the energy, maybe a little hesitant, but he was there. He wanted to feel it.

Over the next hour, I kept catching glimpses of him. He danced with a small, careful rhythm, not quite letting loose, but the music was pulling at him. And with every track, he moved a little more freely, his smile a little wider. He was finding his community.

I felt for him, because I was him not that long ago. Alone, shy, trying to accept myself in full—who I am, what I represent, what I want to become. He was on the same journey. And nights like this are important for such a journey. The freedom of others, the sparkle of your peers, can be so inspiring and so freeing to witness.

In a sea of topless, sweaty bodies, he was the only one fully dressed. The whole night he was looking at others with awe, trying to find the courage to be himself.

And then it finally happened.

I looked over just in time to see him reach down, grab the hem of his t-shirt, and peel it off in one smooth, decisive move. For a moment, he stood there, bare-chested, chest rising with breath, a fine layer of hair catching the lights like gold.

He paused. Just a second. Like he was feeling the weight of the moment.

And he started dancing.

He didn’t try to match anyone else. He didn’t shrink or second-guess. He moved with joy, with full, unguarded pride. His arms up, his belly bouncing with the beat, his grin unshakable. And something about it… it hit me deep. Not in a lustful way, not just that. It was bigger than that. He looked so pure, so innocent. Like a toddler discovering the joy of standing up.

I found myself smiling, full-chested and warm. My drink was forgotten in my hand. All I could do was watch him, this beautiful, brave man owning the dance floor like it had always been waiting for him.

Other guys started noticing too. Some smiled, some cheered. He was magnetic. Not because he was trying to be, but because he was being. Fully. Freely. Shamelessly.

I wanted to talk to him, but I didn’t know what to say. I went over and smiled, as truly as I could. He smiled back, as if understanding where I was coming from, what I wanted to convey. And then we danced. Hours and hours dancing together, losing ourselves in the music, in the crowd, in the shared pulse of it all. It felt effortless, electric, like we were speaking a language without words. When the night began to wind down, he leaned in with a soft "thank you." And as he turned to go, I grabbed him and gave him a kiss. A gentle, grateful, real kiss. Soft on the lips, but heavy on the heart.

He gifted me another smile and turned to leave. But something had changed. He turned back to me, gave me the most deep look I have ever been given, and approached me slowly. And he kissed me again. Again and again. It felt like we forgot to breathe. The most passionate kiss I have ever had.

So cinematic. The lights were red. House music, full of emotion, as intense as it should be. Sweaty bodies were dancing in ecstasy around us. And we stood there, in the middle of the dance floor, kissing. I didn’t know his name, and he didn’t know mine. But we knew each other. 

His final words still echo inside my brain. “This is a dream”, he naughtily smiled as he was walking away, with tears of joy running down his rounded blushed cheeks.

Wherever he is now, I hope he still dances like that. And I hope he knows—someone saw him. And thought he was beautiful.

J.