Ignite

1. Auditions

The beautiful thing about living is the chances that it takes upon you. A world of opportunities amongst all failure that is placed. If chances are not taken, then how would achievements be made? How would life be able to take its turn? Would anything ever change?

The appalling ringing of your alarm blasted through your phone at its full volume. Unfortunately you were not a morning person, it was almost impossible to wake up, meaning you were to set an abundance of alarms to help wake you up in the mornings, just barely able to wake up by the last alarm.

You dragged yourself out of your bed and grabbed a bowl and poured yourself some strawberry Special K cereal. Everything was still groggy for you, and it wasn't like it was all that early, it was 9:00AM. After you ate, you went back into your room and slipped into a pair of tights, then threw on a dark, muted teal turtleneck leotard over them.

You searched your closet for something to wear over top of your dance attire, so you stepped your legs through the pair of trash-bag pants that you've relied on for years. You filed through the drawers of your dresser to pick out a hoodie, unable to decide which one to choose.

It was ridiculous how indecisive of a person you were. It was just a hoodie, it didn't matter which one to choose, yet you still found yourself contemplating your options. You sat there for a moment to think, as you began to have a wave of impatience flow over and through you as you pulled out a selection of hoodies.

What was the big deal anyways? A normal person would just grab one without taking a look at what it looked like, and you felt resentment towards those who were able to do so. Since you hated the idea of having to choose at this moment, you took the opportunity to make things slightly easier on yourself.

Your phone screen lit up and you pressed the FaceTime app, and called the top contact. If the amount of hours of FaceTime with her were an hourly pay job, you'd have all the money you needed. All the nights of chatting, laughing, crying, and sitting in silence with only the sound of the muffled, staticky feedback.

"What..." a groggy voice said. Her end was completely dark, with the faintest lighting of her face. She was still in bed.

"First of all, why are you still in bed, Sasha?" you questioned. "Are you just not gonna get ready?"

She grabbed her LED light remote and turned the color on to white. Her hand ripped the blankets off of her to reveal she was completely dressed and ready to go.

"One step ahead of you," she smirked, "I got ready last night, silly"

"That sounds uncomfortable."

"I love to be prepared."

"I can see that..." you muttered, judgementfully.

"Listen, Y/N, I need the rest," she alluded.

To be honest, this wasn't too much of a surprise to you, moreso just a concern. Sasha was the type of person to pass out on her bed, still wearing jeans and shoes.

What would be the best word to describe her?

"Absolutely psychotic" you responded.

"Blah, blah, blah, you're one to talk. You can't even decide between the most insignificant choices. How did last night go? Oh yeah, that's right: you couldn't decide which of your stuffed animals you wanted to sleep with for the night, as a grown ass nineteen year old," she teased.

"Okay, first of all, I didn't want to hurt any of their feelings. And second of all, you own your fair share as well. Oh, and third of all, nineteen isn't very old. Speaking of being indecisive, can you help me pick out which hoodie to wear?" you asked, with a cheesy smile on your face.