Halfway to Love | A Joanne Fanfiction

Four

London, October 2017

Right now, Dianne Claire Buswell was living her absolute dream. Somewhat predictably, the beauty and the priest did not last longer than week three in the competition, but she had enjoyed every moment of their partnership. So far, the show, and everything that came with it had been more than she could have ever imagined. But still, she felt like something was missing. She had tried to articulate this to her roommate, but Oti didn't really have the time to listen, and although she didn't doubt that her friend would change her plans for her, she didn't want to ask. Dianne herself didn't quite understand her problem, which certainly was not helping matters in the slightest. She knew that she was having the time of her life, but something inside her was craving for something, anything more. Her job, like most people was part of her identity, and this had only been escalated by the British media. But being a dancer wasn't all that it cracked out to be. Being a dreamer wasn't all that it cracked out to be.

With the extra free time of no longer having a celebrity partner, Dianne was chucked into the deep end of filming the VTs for the various pro dances. As Remembrance Day was approaching fast, and their routine was focused heavily on the theme, Dianne, along with a few others were tasked with dancing with retired servicemen and women.

Dianne was surprised to be so nervous. She didn't interact with old people much, as her grandparents, along with the rest of her family lived on the other side of the globe and she knew that her hair would draw immediate attention to her. She took a deep breath, wiped her hands on the smart dress that she had bought especially for the occasion and followed Chloe into the next room.

She needn't have worried. The people in the room were lively, filled with spirit. Although they were undoubtedly on the frail side, their enthusiasm to know more about the dancers and the way that they talked about their experiences in the armed forces inspired her. Before long, it was time to film them dancing. She watched as the other pros went to ask the veterans to dance, and was about to join in when she noticed him.

He was the only one still sat down, his chair facing the window rather than the makeshift dance floor. He had been staring out of the panes, a thoughtful expression on his face when he slowly turned around to watch the others, showing next to no inclination to dance himself. She approached him cautiously, trying to think of any obvious reason why he wasn't dancing.

"Excuse me Sir, would you like to dance?" she asked, being as polite as possible.

A smile spread upon his wrinkled lips. "I would. Lead the way."

She breathed a sigh of a relief, before taking the gentleman's hand and leading him into an empty space in the corner of the room. They remained almost silent for a while, as they box-stepped seamlessly without even a murmur of instruction from the Australian. She glanced back at him, as she let him lead her with a grace that could have only come with a lot of practice as they waltzed, taking care to avoid the other stumbling couples.

Dianne took a moment to truly look at him. His clothes were smart, and his hair, what was left of it, was slicked back neatly. He was small, and on the thinner side but what took her by surprise was the ease of his movement. She could have sworn that she saw a tear fall from his right eye, but he moved before she could be sure. When the song ended, he squeezed her hand.

"Come with me for a minute. Let me tell you a story." He said to her.

She nodded mutely, unsure of how to respond and followed him back to the chair he was sitting on earlier, bringing up a chair to sit with him. Together they gazed out of the window onto what appeared like a very prestigious lawn before he broke their silence.

He turned to her as he spoke, looking directly into her eyes. "Thank you for dancing that with me." He began, his tone gruff as he struggled to articulate.