Jiley and TRITTANY Oneshots

Coping

A minor accident during work at the studio causes Riley to question how well she is doing as studio head, and it is down to James to convince her otherwise.

Riley's POV
I stood in Studio A, my face inches away from the mirror, and feebly touched two fingers to the swollen skin around my eye. It had already turned an ugly shade of blue and black with a rim of red and purple. I winced as pain shot through it at my touch and dropped my hand to my side again, sighing and looking back at my pathetic self in the mirror.

I still wore my black pants with the silver zips and my dark blue top which exposed my back. There were black sneakers on my feet and my usual rings glinted on the usual fingers. My hair hung loose around my face, curving slightly after being pulled free of its hair tie.

I backed away from the mirrors and walked slowly across to the bench that sat outside my office window. My usual dancer muscles burned as I sat down, and the newly added weight of my exhaustion was weighing on me now too. I was beginning to think that excepting the studio was my first mistake, followed by my second: not listening to James.

James' backpack sat on the floor beside my feet, his drumsticks poking out of the side pocket. I sat staring at them for a while.

Two wooden sticks, scratches at the end of either. That's all they were.

But to me they were more than that. They were James's entire life. They were James's future and James's passion and James's dream. I had always thought that James's future would've been with The Next Step or some other breakdancing company. I thought he would've stayed with us, stayed with his family and stayed with me. I was sure he would've been a dancer. They were what James had given up fourteen years of training for. Fourteen years of laughing in dance class, fourteen years of winning and losing and competing, and fourteen years with the same people. And yet these drumsticks had been his choice. They had been worth giving all of that away.

James was happy with the new career direction. He had found his future and knew where he was going. His plan was on track.

And mine wasn't.

Staring at myself in the mirror just minutes ago made me realise how everything was slowly beginning to fall apart in my plan. I wasn't on A-Troupe anymore. I didn't compete at competitions or train endless hours in the studio. Everyone else was off pursuing things that were working out for them. Giselle was touring in a dance company, Stephanie was in LA being an actress, Thalia was back in Poland, James was being a drummer in an increasingly popular band. And I was here running the studio. No sleep, constant headache and now a throbbing eye.

James POV
I opened the door to Studio A and let it close behind me, carrying an ice pack and antiseptic liquid and tissues. The studio upon first look was empty, the lights dimmed slightly and the dance floor clear. It was completely silent. But I knew Riley was in here.

I walked around the office and came upon her sitting on the wooden bench by the window. She sat leaning forward with her elbows resting on her thighs and her legs spread slightly apart, fiddling with her thumb ring. Her hair fell in front of her face, hiding the redness of her eye.

I smiled sympathetically and went over, kneeling in front of her and setting down the stuff I had fetched from the first aid kit. Riley barely acknowledged that I was there, just kept on fiddling with her ring.

I had a strong urge to say 'I told you so' the irritating way Riley always did when she had warned me about something and had turned out to be right. But now I could see she was hurting.

*Flashback*

I looked around Miss Kate's old office, which now belonged to Riley, as if I thought she was hiding somewhere. I had headed here straight after band practice to drive Riley home but once again she wasn't sat at her desk on the computer or even filing A-Troupe information, she wasn't here at all.