36 Questions: A Joanne Fanfiction

Question Twenty:

What does friendship mean to you?

Thursday evenings were normally stressful since strictly had started, with the looming pressure of camera blocking the next day weighing down the pair. This week was different. The samba had proved an absolute headache for them both, and for the first time they had both truly entertained the idea that they could be going home. It had hit them both hard, and had changed their normal, fairly easy-going dynamic into something more tense. Joe had just returned after a nap at home, the break being their last, rather desperate resort to try and turn their dance into something that somehow resembled a samba worthy of taking them to Blackpool.

"Dianne, are you alright?" he asked, as he entered the studio and noticed his partner sat exactly where he had left her.

She jumped slightly, startled, although she calmed down relatively quickly when she recognised it was Joe who had been the one to frighten her. He looked at her, registering her messy hair, and tired and bloodshot eyes.  "I'm fine, how long have you been here?"

"I've just got here, don't worry." He said, reassuring her.

"Oh okay. Sorry, I'm exhausted." She apologised, rubbing her eyes roughly in an attempt to wake herself up.

"It's alright. Are you sure you're okay?" he asked again, tentatively.

"I- I need a minute." She said, leaving the room suddenly, her red hair streaming behind her, as she ran out of the door.

It closed, and Joe stood in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do. She had said that she needed a minute, did that really mean that he should leave her alone for a bit? At the same time, Joe wasn't confident that this was what she wanted, maybe she'd like some company? Don't girls usually say the opposite of what they actually want? No, she'll be back when she's ready, he told himself, convincing himself that respecting Dianne's wishes was probably the best idea. So he stood, slightly lost, the studio feeling a lot larger and intimidating without her laughter filling it. Not that they'd been laughing as much this week anyway. Either way, it didn't feel right to be without her in the studio.

He sighed softly to himself, and moved to the edge of the room, dumping his stuff and warming up. It was a little while longer, and Dianne still hadn't returned. Joe was starting to become worried, but decided that the best thing to do would be to carry on and start rehearsing without her and made the decision to give her half an hour before checking on her. He figured that he'd be able to tell when he was making a mistake anyway, well at least he hoped so. He connected his phone to the speaker, and pressed play. Determinedly, he stumbled his way through the simplified routine, biting his lip in concentration at every mistake. Despite his errors, he was filled with a sudden bout of fresh energy and carried on, steadily, finally improving.

He had been rehearsing alone for fifteen minutes before Dianne hesitantly returned. She was dreading Joe's reaction to her sudden departure, but she had really needed a moment or two to compose herself. She was about to push the door to enter, before she stopped in her tracks. She stared transfixed at the sight before her. There was Joe, who was sambaing without her, his tortoise mouth on full display as he moved around the studio, his movements still lacking fluidity but were considerably more confident than they had been two hours ago. She smiled, a tear reaching her eye as he continued, messing up the ending slightly, as something inside her changed. Despite knowing that the samba clearly wasn't natural to him she came to the realisation that with him, anything would be possible, anything at all.

She entered the room silently, closing the door gently, not wanting to disturb him when he was clearly so in the zone.  As the music stopped, he turned to her, smiling shyly.