Elliot

15 - It's called dancing

The studio was alive with energy, a kaleidoscope of movement and sound. The steady thrum of the music filled the air, blending with the sharp claps of Richard's hands as he guided the dancers. Mirrors lined the walls, reflecting the colorful array of practice outfits and the determined faces of the students.

Zoe and Josephine were near the back, working through their steps for the group number. Zoe, with her trademark green hair pulled into a messy bun, twirled with a carefree grace, her personality shining through in every move. Josephine, ever precise, was a contrast—her freckled face set in concentration as she perfected her turns. On the far side of the room, Damian stretched one leg behind him, his lean muscles taut as he prepared for the next lift with Elliot. His easy confidence was magnetic, drawing the occasional admiring glance from a few of the other dancers.

Aaron stood off to the side, his arms crossed, his intense gaze fixed on Elliot. The tension in his posture was impossible to miss, even as other dancers buzzed around him, chatting and practicing.

"Alright, one more time from the top!" Richard's voice cut through the hum of activity, pulling everyone's focus.

The music began, soft and lilting at first, like the start of a story whispered through movement. Elliot and Damian stood at the center of the studio, their postures poised yet relaxed. As the first note crescendoed, they moved in unison, their steps light and deliberate, each motion flowing seamlessly into the next. Elliot's body seemed to defy gravity, his smaller frame effortlessly gliding across the floor. His arms extended with a grace that belied the strength required, fingers delicately poised as if drawing invisible patterns in the air. He spun, his movements sharp but fluid, a perfect contrast to Damian's grounded strength. Damian followed, his steps bold and commanding, the lines of his body exuding control. Where Elliot was the wind—graceful and unbound—Damian was the earth, solid and steadfast. Together, they created a mesmerizing contrast, their movements like a conversation between two elements in perfect harmony.

At the climax of the piece, Damian stepped behind Elliot, his hands steady as they caught him mid-leap. The lift was effortless, Elliot's body arching into a perfect crescent as Damian held him high, their silhouettes mirrored in the wall of mirrors surrounding them. The room held its breath as Damian spun, his strength evident in the controlled rotation. Elliot's arms spread wide, his gaze lifted, as though he were soaring.

Nearby, Richard nodded approvingly, his sharp eyes taking in every detail. "Good! Stronger lines on the next lift, Damian. Elliot, keep that energy flowing through your arms."

Then, with a seamless shift of weight, Damian guided him back to the floor. Elliot landed softly, their movements synchronized as they flowed into a final dramatic pose, Damian's hand resting lightly on Elliot's shoulder. The music faded, leaving only the sound of their breaths and the quiet murmurs of awe from the other dancers. For a moment, it felt as though the world had paused, held captive by the story they'd told through movement.

In the corner of the studio, Richard's assistant, Clara, gripped her clipboard, jotting down notes while occasionally glancing up to observe the dancers. Her quiet approval contributed to the professionalism of the atmosphere. The tension in the room crackled like static electricity. Sunlight poured through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the polished floor where dancers moved in fluid synchrony. The faint scent of rosin hung in the air, mingling with the occasional squeak of shoes on wood and the hushed conversations of those stretching or chatting between sequences.

Elliot froze mid-step, his body still poised in the afterglow of movement, when Aaron's voice pierced the rhythmic hum of the room. "Don't you think you're getting a little too close there?" Aaron's tone was sharp, his words slicing through the air like a thrown dagger. Several heads turned toward the confrontation, conversations fading into silence. Dancers paused mid-stretch, their gazes shifting toward the small group now at the center of attention.

Damian straightened, brushing off Aaron's insinuation with an air of practiced calm, though his voice carried a pointed edge. "It's called dancing, Aaron. Maybe you've heard of it?"

Elliot, caught between them, instinctively took a step back. Heat crept up his neck, and his cheeks flushed under the scrutiny of the studio. He glanced at the mirrored walls, where their distorted reflections captured the rising tension like a tableau frozen in time.

Zoe, seated on the floor nearby, set down her water bottle with a deliberate thud. Her sharp green eyes narrowed as she took in Aaron's aggressive stance. "What's his problem?" she muttered, loud enough for Josephine beside her to hear.

Elliot cleared his throat, his voice shaky but soft as he attempted to de-escalate. "Aaron, it's just practice."

Aaron ignored him, his intense gaze locked on Damian. "Yeah? Well, maybe you should keep your hands to yourself."

Damian's eyebrows shot up, his calm composure beginning to crack. "You seriously want to start this here?" His voice carried enough warning to draw subtle glances from nearby dancers, who began to edge closer, curiosity overtaking their focus on the practice.

Richard strode toward them, leaving the student he'd been correcting behind, his imposing presence quieting even the whispers. "Enough," he said sharply, his voice resonating over the stillness. "Aaron, step back. Damian, Elliot—take five."

Aaron hesitated, his jaw clenched and his fists tightening at his sides. But the steel in Richard's tone left no room for debate. With a muttered curse, Aaron turned and stormed toward the mirrors, his reflection glaring back at him as he began pacing furiously.

Zoe was at Elliot's side in an instant, her grip firm yet comforting as she tugged him away from the floor. "Come on, let's get some air," she urged, guiding him toward the corner near the water station. "You okay?" she asked, her tone low but brimming with concern.

Elliot nodded, though the tremble in his hands betrayed his words. "I'm fine. He's just... I don't know what's gotten into him lately."

Josephine joined them, her expression a mix of worry and frustration. "Elliot. That wasn't normal. He's not just upset—he's possessive. And it's not fair to you."

As Clara clapped her hands from the front of the room, signaling the dancers to regroup for the next sequence, Damian caught Elliot's eye from across the studio. He gave a small nod, his expression steady, offering unspoken reassurance.

The music restarted, its lively rhythm masking the lingering tension in the air. Yet, even as the other dancers resumed their movements, the confrontation left a shadow over the space. Elliot sighed, his thoughts swirling as he turned back to Zoe.

"What do I even say to him?" he asked, his voice barely audible over the music.

Zoe frowned, her green hair catching the light as she shook her head. "It's not about what you say. It's about what you do. Aaron doesn't get to act like this and expect you to just take it."

Elliot stared at her, her words echoing in his mind. As he rejoined the group, the weight of the encounter sat heavy in his chest. Something had to change—and soon.

Elliot was grateful for his new friends. Throughout the rest of the lesson, Damian stayed close, positioning himself like an unspoken barrier between Elliot and Aaron. Every time Aaron's gaze darkened or his movements grew agitated, Damian's calm presence seemed to ward him off, though it only fueled Aaron's simmering frustration.

When class finally ended, the tension still hung thick in the air. Aaron lingered by the mirror, his expression stormy, while Damian gave Elliot a small, reassuring pat on the shoulder. Before Elliot could even process the relief washing over him, Zoe and Josephine appeared at either side, each grabbing one of his arms.

"Alright, superstar, let's go," Zoe declared, her voice a mix of determination and cheer as she guided him toward the door.

Josephine nodded, her freckled face set with quiet resolve. "No more of this drama for today." Elliot barely had time to grab his bag as the girls ushered him out of the studio, their chatter a comforting distraction.

Behind him, he could feel Aaron's eyes boring into his back, but Zoe tightened her grip and shot him a quick, knowing smile. "You're coming with us," she said firmly. "No arguments."

Elliot didn't argue. He didn't want to be anywhere near Aaron, and with Zoe and Josephine leading the way, he felt a flicker of hope that he wouldn't have to face it alone.