Romance Me

Taming the Beast - Part Two

He lay in bed, the sheets tangled comfortably about him, the clock resting in front of him. Light spilled from the window, and a cool breeze brushed across his bare back, prodding him to rise. But he didn't. He didn't want to.

10:00am... this was the latest he'd ever stayed in bed. Putting off life. For what life had he to go to?

A damn, terrible one.

The man groaned, burying his head in the pillow.

He had waited and worked for two years, two years at that school to establish relations, get the inside ear, build connections - and then finally, he had succeeded in entering one of the widest international dance competitions in the country. Agents would be flocking - and the winners could have every job they could dream at their fingertips. He was in. And then...

Jessica, his dance partner, dropped out.

"I'm sorry, Derin, but--"

"Mr. Cain."

The woman stared at him, the fury in her face deepening. "See? This is what I'm talking about! You refuse to cooperate. You refuse to listen to my opinion. And you won't even let me use your first name! How are we supposed to perform a duet when you're so cold to me during rehearsal? I am telling you now - and I won't repeat again. I am quitting. I never wanted this, and I definitely don't want it now! So goodbye, Derin. I hope you find an amazing door-mat partner."

The man watched in shock as the woman ripped off her dance shoes, shoved them in her bag, and left.

"Wai--"

The door slammed.

"And with it, my future," the man muttered into his pillow. "Great job, Derin. Great choice, Jessica, you selfish b--"

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Derin groaned, putting his hands over his ears. It rung again.

"Are you pouting in there, boy? Hiding from the world in your sorrow of misery?"

The familiar voice pierced through Derin's ears, causing him to scowl.

"Are you going to stay in there forever?" There was a pause, then slowly, the voice spoke again. "... I expected more from you, Derin."

The words cut through his chest, sending fury and indignation through his muscles. Ripping off the sheets, he walked through his apartment and unlocked the door. An aging man stood on the other side, his stature smaller than Derin's, but his face far more determined.

"Ah. You opened the door. Thank you," he said. A small smile played on his mouth as his eyes lighted in wry amusement.

"I do not pout," Derin countered grumpily, immediately turning to back to his room. Kicking aside days-old laundry and clutter, he made it back to his bed, falling down with a groan. His elder - who had followed him in - chuckled, grabbing a chair to sit.

"Ah, then perhaps you brood instead."

The man - or, in this case - boy, grunted in reply.

"I have heard that you lost your partner for the competition."

Derin sighed. "Really? Is that what happened? I felt that she more stabbed me in the back and then ran away unscathed."

"Oh, stop your grumbling. You have been met with harder times. Did I tell you that when your father was alive he had to dance on a broken foot for one of his biggest opening nights?"

"Yes, you did. You also told me he hit fame right away and gave it all up for one woman."

"Fame is fickle, Derin - and yes, he did. It made him the happiest man alive."

Derin scoffed, opening one eye to observe the old professor. Mr. Kelik and his father had been good friends when they were young, and when Derin sought a position at the dance school, Mr. Kelik had given him an opening. Ever since then, the man had seemed to self-appoint his old soul to becoming Derin's guide and counselor - and sometimes a second father.

Which is very rude and reckless. How dare he do that, Derin thought half-heartedly.

The professor chuckled again, seeming to discern the pattern of his thoughts. As always.

"Well, what are you going to do? Give up the competition?"

"No! Who do you think I am?" The man sat up on the bed, his voice vehement. Mr. Kelik raised an eyebrow, causing Derin to clear his throat. "The problem is getting a new partner. My standards are very high."

"I know."

"And the submissions are finalized tomorrow."

"I see."

"So..." Derin said, trailing off as he waited for Mr. Kelik to fill in the blanks.

"So you better hop to it!" the professor exclaimed. Suddenly standing up, he took a stray book and smacked it over Derin's head.

"Ow! That's not what I was going--"

A set of clothes flew onto his face, and he removed them with his hand, about to protest again when something lodged in his mouth. He took it out, and found himself staring at the wrapper of a breakfast bar.

"Up, up, up!" Mr. Kelik cried. Before he knew it, Derin was prodded - clothes and breakfast bar in hand - out his room, through the hall, and into the cold morning air. He turned around just in time to see Mr. Kelik's face peeking through his apartment entrance.

"Oh, and one more thing," the professor stated casually. "Some students are complaining of your teaching methods - and it was confirmed that you even threatened to expel a girl from the school. Is this true?"

Derin stared, unable to speak.

"Yes, well, if this is true, I'd suggest you make amends and give a special apology to that girl, as you have no authority to do such a thing." The elder stopped with a sigh, shaking his head. "Some days, Derin... I see your father in you. Passionate, driven, reaching for the stars. Yet you also have not learned to correct the cold, unforgiving streak that runs in the Cain family. In fact, sometimes I feel you hide behind it. Hmm... well, perhaps you can fix that today too."

With that said, the professor closed the door. A click sounded, and Derin stared in shock as he realized that he'd just been kicked out of his own apartment.

"And remember you have to teach Modern at eight!" Mr. Kelik called through the door. "Don't be late - and don't forget to apologize!"

What the hell?! Derin thought to himself. He decided to vocalize it.

"What the hell, Mr. Kelik? Let me in! You have no authority to--"

Classical music began to blast through his door, and a horribly wretched voice began to sing with it. Derin cursed, removing himself from the entrance like it had suddenly become infected with the plague. He looked around.

A middle-aged woman stood in the hall, staring at him with red cheeks and a basket of laundry in hand. Suddenly self conscious, he cleared his throat, running a hand across his bare chest in habit.

"What are you looking at?" he growled. The woman jumped, her mouth babbling as she fled for the stairs. Derin watched, then quickly donned his shirt as he grumbled to himself. He stared at the door one more time.

Damn Mr. Kelik and his meddlesome habits.

With a groan, he pulled the set of jeans over his boxers, taking ample time to glare at the door. Then, against all his will and all his inclinations, having no idea where he was going, he left the apartment complex.