The sun shone brightly on the school courtyard, casting long shadows on the ground as the distant chatter of students filled the air. Hanaria, was still fuming from the morning's incident where some dog had dug up her flower beds, walked briskly towards the dojo, her duffel bag slung over one shoulder. Her thoughts were a whirl of frustration as she rounded a corner, nearly colliding with someone coming from the opposite direction. She skidded to a stop, barely avoiding a crash.
"Watch it!" a sharp voice snapped.
Hanaria looked up, meeting the cold gaze of Alexis. He was listening to music through his headphones, his own duffel bag slung over his shoulder, clearly on his way to the ballet studio.
"Maybe you should watch where you're going!" she retorted, not backing down. She recognized him immediately—distant, aloof, and as irritating as ever.
"I don't have time for this," Alexis muttered, brushing past her with a dismissive air.
Irritated by his attitude, Hanaria turned on her heel and followed him, determined not to let him off the hook so easily. "What's your problem anyway? Can't you just apologize?"
Alexis sighed, turning to face her with a blank expression. "Apologize for what? You're the one who wasn't paying attention."
"Why you—!" Hanaria's hands clenched into fists. "Is it that hard for you to say sorry? Or do you disintegrate when you try being nice for once?"
He raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "I don't have time to deal with such trivialities," he replied coldly. "I have more important things to focus on."
"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Perfect," Hanaria sneered, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "I didn't realize being a self-absorbed jerk was part of your schedule!"
Alexis's eyes flashed with annoyance, but he maintained his composure. "I don't expect someone like you to understand," he said condescendingly. "You wouldn't know what it's like to be constantly pushed to perfection."
"Someone like me?" Hanaria repeated, her voice rising with indignation. "You don't know anything about me!"
"I know enough," Alexis replied, his voice cold. "You're just another loud, brash girl who thinks she can solve everything with words. But that doesn't work in the real world."
Hanaria felt a surge of anger course through her veins. "And you're just another stuck-up pretty boy who thinks he's better than everyone else just because he can twirl around in tights!"
The two stood in tense silence, their eyes locked in a battle of wills. Alexis's calm demeanor only fueled Hanaria's frustration, while her fiery defiance grated on his nerves.
"What's the matter?" she challenged, crossing her arms over her chest. "Too scared to admit you're wrong?"
Alexis's expression hardened, his patience wearing thin. "I'm not scared of anything," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "And certainly not of someone like you."
Before Hanaria could respond, a dog ran up to Alexis, its white fur covered in dirt as it clutched onto his leg, the mud staining his leggings.
Alexis's eyes widened in surprise as the dog jumped toward him. "Milkshake?" he asked in confusion. "Why are you here? Go back to the shop," he commanded, pointing towards the gate.
"Pft, Milkshake?" Hanaria burst out laughing. "Which kindergartner named her?"
"Hah?" Alexis snapped, wiping the dirt from his outfit. "What's wrong with Milkshake!?"
Suddenly, the bell rang, signaling the end of the break. Students began to flood the courtyard, breaking the tension between the two. Alexis turned away angrily without saying another word, leaving Hanaria standing there, laughing.
"Wait, that dog..." Hanaria paused as a realization hit her. "That's the dog that dug up my flower beds!" she thought to herself. "That dog is just as infuriating as its owner..." Hanaria sighed, deciding to let it go for the sake of her pride.
But as much as she wanted to hate him, something about his words lingered in her mind. The way he had spoken about perfection, about pressure—it struck a chord with her, even if she didn't want to admit it. She knew what it was like to be pushed to the edge, to feel like you had to be flawless at everything you did. But she refused to let him know that, and refused to show any sign of weakness in front of him.
Shaking her head, Hanaria forced herself to focus on the upcoming training session. She wouldn't let Alexis's words get to her. She had her own goals, her own challenges to face. And she wouldn't let some arrogant dancer get in the way of that.
Later that day, Alexis stood in front of the mirror in the ballet studio, his reflection staring back at him with a cold, impassive gaze. He tried to push the encounter with Hanaria out of his mind, but her fiery words kept echoing in his head.
"Twirling around in tights... tch," he muttered to himself, a bitter smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. She had no idea what it was like—the pressure he faced every day, the expectations that weighed him down like a leaden cloak.
But why did her words bother him so much? Why did he care about what some loudmouthed girl thought of him? He had more important things to focus on—his dance, his training, his relentless pursuit of perfection.
And yet, despite his best efforts, he couldn't completely shake off the frustration that had built up inside him. Frustration not just with Hanaria, but with himself, with the emptiness he felt every time he danced, with the way he seemed to be going through the motions without any real passion.
He started to dance, his movements sharp and precise, his body moving with practiced ease. But as he twirled and leaped, he felt a familiar hollowness creeping in. The same hollowness that had plagued him for months now.
"Damn it..." he muttered, coming to an abrupt stop. He clenched his fists, his breathing heavy, his mind racing.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to find that spark, that connection to the music that used to come so naturally to him. And now, on top of everything else, he had to deal with someone like Hanaria, someone who seemed to be the complete opposite of everything he stood for.
But as much as he wanted to dismiss her, to write her off as nothing more than an annoyance, he couldn't deny that there was something about her—something that got under his skin in a way no one else ever had.
He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He didn't have any time for distractions, especially not ones that were as infuriating as her. He needed to focus, to push himself harder, and to find that missing piece that would make his dance whole again.
But as he resumed his practice, the memory of their encounter lingered in the back of his mind, a stubborn reminder that no matter how much he tried to ignore it, there was something about Hanaria that he couldn't quite shake.
