When new girl Michelle joins A-troupe, everything changes. What'll happen now that Emily's throne is up for grabs? With love comes scandal, sex and secrecy, and with these dancers, there's always a price to pay.
The Next Step TV show reimagined as...
Trigger Warning- Mention of weight, eating disorders, and unhealthy eating habits. Please don't read this chapter if the above will trigger you, it's more important to look after your mental health than it is to read this chapter! <3
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"You've lost three pounds, well done, Max," Lucien speaks with no smile, fake assurance behind his voice as he ushers Max away from the scale.
He does as he's told, placing his shirt and sweat pants back on his body quickly, probably wanting to clothe himself before Lucien changes his mind and decides to make a crude comment about his body.
He measured him, naked apart from his boxer shorts, which were plain black but Lucien still made fun of them. He told him that with all the money he pays for dance he should be able to afford a nicer pair of underwear.
Max just sighed in response, too familiar with his malicious acts of cruelty to even bother to respond. Instead he just stepped on the scale, his eyes glued to the number on the small screen that would indicate his fate.
Max is a strong dancer, probably the best male dancer on the team. They need him, that much is obvious, but I don't think he realises just how much power he could hold at this studio.
He could so easily abuse his talents, launder them over Lucien's head and warn him against ever making another derogatory comment about him or his body again.
I'm sure all of the local dance studios would be more than happy to take him on as a lead dancer on their competitive team, but Max just doesn't see how talented he is because he's been squandered by Lucien's monstrous treatment.
None of them realise just how special they are. They're all too afraid to step out of line, they're too worried that they'll be easily replaced.
Lucien abuses his power more so than anyone I know, it hurts because I can see how vulnerable they all are. They seek his reassurance, it's almost as if they all depend on it. They get fuelled by his rare words of kindness, it's like a drug to them. And they're all addicted.
Max creeps slowly to the back of the room, standing next to the wall but not leaning against it, if he did Lucien would probably make a comment about how he was too lazy to stand for himself. He said that to Tess last week, and ever since that comment was made, no one on the team has dared to sit down or lean against the wall. They all stand with perfect posture, idly staring at him as if they're perfect little puppets that he can manipulate to his every desire.
Max's caramel skin has somehow greyed, and he looks ill. Bags sinking under his eyes, causing him to look as though he hadn't slept in weeks, and his cuticles are torn apart in the same way that Riley's always are when she's anxious about something.
He blinks a little too often, almost as if it were a struggle for him to keep his eyes open. He's tired, exhausted. He looks as though he may pass out any minute.
