Meet Us at the Barre: A Series of SAB Oneshots

just like us (creature au)

Wrote this mid rehearsal break mental breakdown. Enjoy lol

In which Katherine is Asya and James is Roman coffeesandcacti

TW: cocaine

"James?" Katherine asked, hanging her damp towel on a hook on the bathroom door as she untwisted her wet hair from it. "You're still up?" 

James looked over to his wife, a soft, sad smile marking his lips. "Yes." He sighed, plucking his reading glasses off of his nose. They were set down on the table with a gentle clink.

"What's got you so wound up?"  Katherine asked, circling around his chair and rubbing his shoulders. "It's late, babe." 

Her hair still needed to be brushed as the twisted tendrils dripped over her shoulders, but she didn't care about that at this moment. 

James sighed, spinning around in his desk chair. He took Katherine's hands from his shoulders and into his own palms, mindlessly rubbing her knuckles. "You know Elliott Montgomery? Soloist?"

Katherine nodded. "Of course, what about him?"

James was fuming. Yes, the show had gone well, but the costume mistress had just alerted him that a major headpiece had gone missing. 

"Elliott Montgomery. I didn't get his hat back." She explained. 

"That bastard." James muttered, just under his breath enough for her to not hear it. "I'll go find it." He spoke louder, more professionally. 

James had warned the boy the first time he didn't put his costumes back where they had been. Then there was another time that happened. And another. And another. At this point, he was considering demoting him or firing him all together. Elliott Montgomery had simply become careless, though his onstage performances were anything but. 

"Montgomery!" James called, pushing the door open to the boy's dressing room. Most of the performers had left to go home, rest, and ice their feet by now. 

James was stunned at the sight he saw when he pushed open the door. The dressing room was a complete mess. A cracked mug laid in large pieces on the vanity table, costume pieces were scattered about, and were those tissues? Bloody tissues? 

"Elliott!" James shouted, after further inspecting the tissues piled up by the trashcan, almost as if they were tossed and the aim was off. 

The young soloist jumped, turning the corner from the dressing room's add-on bathroom. "Christ, you scared me!" He gasped. 

"They're missing your hat...again." James stated, just folded his arms. "What is all this?" He alluded to all the mess as he ran a finger over the vanity table. 

He lifted his hand to swipe the dust he had just collected off of his finger, but upon focusing on his hand, he noticed he hadn't collected dust. 

The powder residue on his finger was white. Too white. A painfully recognizable white. 

"Elliott…" James started again, looking up at the young dancer. He knew. 

"Sir, it isn't what it looks like!" 

James scoffed. "Really? Because it looks like you're doing lines of cocaine back here, no? And by the sight of that trash can," James leaned aside, catching another glimpse of the area. "You've been doing it a while." 

Elliott's face ran pale and his hands trembled. He brought a knuckle under his nose as blood started to slowly drip once more. 

"No wonder you're reckless, angry, careless. I've seen it all before." James shook his head. 

"With all due respect, Sir." Elliott began, the anger rising in his eyes. "The things I do to keep myself sane in this hell of an industry are none of your business."

"With all due respect, Kid." James remarked back. "The things you do to keep yourself sane in this hell of an industry are quite literally entirely my business, seeing as I am your boss. And trust me you'll be getting fired from more than just this company if you keep going the way you're going." James shook his head, trying to see what this kid didn't understand about the dangers of what he was doing. "And if you think ballet is hell, try overdosing. After that, then you can tell me what is and isn't my business." 

Elliott bit the inside of his cheek. "You don't understand anything about what I'm going through, right now." 

James scoffed. "Fucking try me." He began. "I did this. I did everything you're doing right now. And what happened to me? I got fucking blacklisted from Boston Ballet and ran here. Drove myself crazy and drained all of my money doing this bullshit." James explained, trying his hardest in his anger to empathize with the boy. 

Elliott stood there, stunned, tears in his eyes. He was really about to get fired, wasn't he?

"And for the record," James began walking out of the dressing room. "If I find out you're trying to fuck around with Victoria after doing this shit, I'll deck you myself." 

"How do you know about me and Victoria?" 

James laughed. "It's my company. I know everything." He started shutting the door. "Meeting. My office, six a.m. Go home."

With that, the dressing room door slammed shut. James completely forgot about the hat.

Katherine's skin went pale. "James. Wha--What are you going to do?" 

James put his head in his hands. "I don't fucking know! I...I have to be harsh about it, but I also have to care. Nobody ever cared about me when I was swept up in my addiction, and--"

"Now back that up!" Katherine giggled, feigning offense, trying to brighten the mood. 

James looked up, only partially smiling. "You cared. The company, did not." 

Katherine pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "You won't be able to care well if you don't get some sleep now." 

James frowned, knowing his wife was right. She always was. 

"Off to bed with you. I'll be there soon." Katherine joked, finally pulling a real smile from James. 

James stripped off his hoodie and crawled under the bedsheets. Katherine joined him after brushing out her hair.. 

"They're turning into us." James whispered, pulling Katherine close once she'd clicked off the bedroom lamp. 

Katherine didn't know whether to laugh or cry at that statement. "Did you know he's fucking around with Victoria?" 

"Oh yeah." James spoke. "Next thing we know, he'll get her on coke too. Shit." 

"Don't say that!" Katherine swat at her husband. "We're going to go in tomorrow and nip this right away." She turned, pressing a kiss to the bridge of James' nose. "Why don't you give him that addiction rehab contact you have?" 

James nodded. "Yeah, I could do that." 

"I think you should." Katherine traced James' sharp cheekbones and jawline. "Maybe it'll stop them all from becoming just like us." 

"Hopefully."