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“Fierce.”
Emily turned a pen in between her fingers. She sat in a judge’s chair, occasionally rotating her leg to ease the throbbing in her knee.
“Loyal.”
A voice rang in her mind, no matter how hard she tried to banish it.
”But once you gain their friendship, anything is possible...”
The pen slipped from her fingers, clattering. It skittered across the floor, rolling down the steps and towards the stage. A foot trapped the pen before it could disappear into the dark.
She found herself taking her time to meet West’s eyes, inhaling for longer than necessary as he crouched down, picking up the pen.
“Am I allowed to interrupt your thinking time?”
A string of confetti was still looped around his ear. It was green, like the costume he was still wearing, even though the competition had finished hours ago. Even the celebration dinner she’d left early must be over.
But the warmth in her chest still burned. She wasn’t sure if it was about the trophy anymore.
She cleared her throat, and pretended with the action that her discomfort melted too.
“By asking that question, aren’t you doing it already?”
Her tone did not have the desired effect. He seemed to hear the prickly, sharp edge to her words as an invitation. He leaned dangerously on a chair. She stopped herself from worrying he would fall. He looked surprisingly stable.
“Maybe I can join you. We can think your thoughts together.”
He spoke like a Dr. Seuss riddle. She found herself understanding him though, finding comfort in the roundabout paths his sentences always took her.
She leaned backwards into the judges’ chair, “I’m thinking about how much this chair suits me.”
Staring down at hopeful dancers, holding their fate in her hands. With that power, she wouldn’t have to be subjected to it anymore.
If she was honest, she lived for the competition, but only because sometimes it felt like she would die if she didn’t win. She wondered if she would forever live caught between those two states.
He nodded seriously, leaning back further. She swallowed, watching the way he teetered, balancing on nothing but thin air. “Let’s try this power out.”
West leaped in a way that made her flinch, pulling himself onto the stage with strong arms. He was probably the most athletic on the team, and yet his talent was quiet. He didn’t have to constantly prove it to anyone.
He raised his arms towards her in an almost Shakespearean-like manner, standing tall and puffing out his chest. “Judge Emily, I present to you, the Fire Fairy dance.”
Something caught in her throat. Maybe it was a laugh. Maybe.
Music didn’t play, but she could hear it. In her mind, the soft starting melody as his body came alive in ways no-one else’s could. His eyes fluttered shut, and he became something more than human.
West didn’t jump, he soared. The thudding pain in her knee melted as she watched his body move like it rested on the wind, and then quickly become a storm, the music in her mind becoming a crashing cacophony.
His every move told a story, and it should’ve been awkward, she should’ve told him to stop making a fool of himself, but she couldn’t bring herself to want to say anything at all.
His body came to a dramatic stop, and his chest heaved with gulps of air, and his eyes locked with hers.
The fire fairy of his dance had started small, had grown, had almost crumbled, and then ended stronger than ever.
She pursed her lips, feeling her heart beat irregularly against her chest. But there wasn’t panic beneath her lack of control. He never stopped looking at her, and her fear unravelled into a bridge between them.
“Your turns could have been sharper.” She said dryly, but there was no way to hide the smile that crept into her tone, spread across her lips.
His shoulders lifted and dropped in a shrug, his smile so sudden and brighter than any stage lights. “Nobody’s perfect.”
He didn’t tire of the constant brick walls she laid between them. He kept finding holes to peek through, kept finding gaps in the wall to press his fingers into and climb until he reached the top.
She wondered if what she wanted was someone to smash those bricks into pieces. Pick the pieces up and rearrange them into something beautiful.
But after everything that happened, the dance captaincy being ripped from her, the ugliest parts of her being magnified and thrown back in her face by everyone she knew, nationals almost disappearing in front of her very eyes, she found she was good at picking up the broken pieces all by herself.
So what did she want? And why did she keep looking at him as she wondered what the answer was?
”I tried to bring you back some pizza, but I ate it all on the way.” He said matter-of-factly.
“West.”
They were both surprised she’d spoken, but he recovered faster. “Emily?”
She shook her head, a smile growing soft on her face. Something about the sound of her name in his voice made things clear. She didn’t have to say anything at all. She got the feeling he’d wait, and she could tell him tomorrow.
Or the day after.
Perhaps he’d keep waiting.
She liked the idea of that. Days where he’d listen. More than that, she wanted days where she’d listen too. She often found the things he said replayed in her mind, his words nothing she could ever predict.
“Are you still thinking?” He questioned genuinely, but his lips turned up as if whatever her answer, he wasn’t planning on leaving her alone.
“I’m going to dance next season.” She said suddenly. The words were a dare. She wondered if he’d try to say what she knew Riley would, what her mother would. That her career as a dancer was probably nearing its end. That her injury wasn’t a simple one.
West thought for a moment, before leaping back down into the stands. He climbed over chairs until he reached hers. He lifted his hand up towards her, eyes shining with sincerity and a spark of something that only lived in him.
”Why wait until next season?”
“I can barely walk.”
The words cracked and splintered, sounding nothing like she had tried to make them sound. She had aimed for anger, and missed, landing on bitter terror.
His hand still waited.
Emily didn’t move for a moment. But it wasn’t for doubt. Doubt faded to nothing when she looked at him.
She simply wondered how she could lift herself out of her chair without falling, when his arms swooped over her body, pulling her upwards. He didn’t carry her, but rather took the pressure off of her leg. He tilted himself so she would lean into him, and they walked slowly, silently.
He gripped her waist, and lifted her only once, to bypass the steps that lead to the stage.
He met her immediately, standing before her and placing his hands on her shoulders to stabilise her.
“You don’t need to walk. Just move.”
He started to hum, leaning backwards. She screamed as she lost her balance, falling into his chest. She thought they would both tumble to the ground. But he was solid, letting her fall. He knew what he was doing, even had the energy to laugh at her.
He kept laughing, even as she slapped his chest as hard as she could. He kept laughing, until she was laughing. And then he was humming and laughing, leaning from side to side, leading their bodies in an odd, swaying dance, where their bodies naturally became one because it was the only way the dance made any sense.
At some point, the leader changed, and she would lean back recklessly, knowing he would yank her upwards just before she hit the ground. Then she was shrieking from the thrill, and his hums became a ridiculous song.
The song faded into words and deep breaths.
“You done thinking?” He asked casually.
She nodded. “For now.”
They were still moving, but the movements were softer now, completely synchronised.
She basked in the warmth of his skin against hers, of how easy it was to meet his eyes, of the comfort of their dance.
“Am I winning you over?”
“You’re going to keep bringing that up, aren’t you?” She teased, stepping around the words that tried to escape her. How could she be sure of what he would do once he heard them?
”You think once I get my answer, I’ll stop trying?”
He stopped dancing, and her hands came to rest over his chest. He spoke plainly, and his heart beat a rhythm beneath her fingers that echoed hers.
He winked, a cheeky West-like grin growing on his face. “I never stop. Life’s too short to take anything for granted, or let chances run away from you. I just have to keep running to catch up.”
”Why?” She asked, the ugly word she hadn’t wanted to ever speak. Questioning her worth in front of anyone was pathetic. But she had to know why he was running towards her. There were no more walls left for him to climb.
”Why not?” He asked back, like it was simple. As simple and as sure as their identical heartbeats, as simple as the dance they shared. It wasn’t all that grand, being someone’s fire fairy.
You just were.
West pulled the pen she’d dropped earlier from his pocket, and bent down. He drew a four-leaf clover below her injured knee, gently pressing the pen against her skin so it wouldn’t hurt.
“A lucky charm.” He explained, before she could ask what it was. “Just don’t shower for about three weeks, to really let it take effect.”
She shook her leg, brushing him away with an eye-roll. He fell backwards onto his forearms, and stared up at her with a warm, amused expression.
His gaze never left hers alone. She was standing without his help, she noticed. She stretched her arms out, holding first position without moving her feet.
“Beautiful.”
He murmured, words leaving him without hesitation.
She struggled to keep a neutral expression, eyes fluttering shut as she shifted her arms into second position.
“I know.” She exhaled, focusing on keeping her balance and not smiling.
She didn’t avoid his words. Didn’t question what he meant, or whether he would always mean what he said. She didn’t think at all. She just let him watch as she practiced the positions of ballet, the very first things she’d been taught by her dance teacher, and relearnt what it meant to breathe again.