Jacksepticeye Oneshots

Have You Always Been Able To Dance Like That?

FLOOF

Clair de Lune played softly from the dance studio's speakers, piano keys echoing throughout the room as you positioned your feet and waited. Relaxing your shoulders, you pointed your toes and lifted your arms, breaking your starting posture as you began the dance you had been practicing. For weeks you taught yourself a routine to Debussy's "Clair de Lune", a difficult song to make a dance from scratch as you had quickly realized, but it was worth it. There was a talent show in one week that you desperately wanted to win, and you were surprised you managed to squeeze it into your schedule.

Two months ago, you met Jacksepticeye at a convention and the two of you hit it off. A friendship quickly formed, and you admitted to yourself that you would be content with something more, but for Sean's sake you left the relationship alone. You used what you assumed to be unrequited love to fuel your creative drive and passion for dance, which ultimately landed you in signing up at a concert hall for the hell of it.

Your heart ached as you turned and fell into the music, your feet moving and positioning themselves as if they had a mind of their own. In your old t-shirt and leggings you weren't exactly in the proper dance attire, but it was late at night and there was no one around to call you out. You were surprised the janitor let you stay so late, but you thanked him nonetheless and promised to be out by eleven. Days passed with you walking home, legs sore and Debussy stuck in your head as you walked the L.A. streets. Sean had protested many times about you walking all on your lonesome, so you made a deal that if he was awake he could pick you up from the studio.

Now, Sean respected your wishes when you asked him not to enter the building. You were embarrassed to dance in front of him - even if you were excellent at it - because there was something in you that would despise Sean witnessing you pour out your heart and soul. Only this time, when your phone vibrated with texts from Sean you were focused on your footwork and ignored the world around you. So, Sean took it upon himself to pull up to the studio, walk in, and find you to get you home and well rested.

As he pulled open the front door, Sean passed by the janitor and hesitated trying to explain his arrival. "I'm here to pick up (Y/N)," he said. The janitor, a kind old man with snow white hair, chuckled and pointed down the hall to the room you occupied. "She's been in there since I started my shift. Good luck getting her out." The janitor lifted a wet mop from a yellow bucket, and Sean watched as soapy water spilled out and onto the white tiled floor. "Thanks," Sean replied before heading towards the sound of a familiar song.

He was eager. Sean couldn't help but wonder if you would ever let him see you dance. When you first brought up your hobby, he was just meeting you at a PAX convention and since then he had grown curious as to how well you could dance. All he knew was that you specialized in contemporary and ballet, so when he pushed open the glass door to the room you were in he was shocked.

You leaped into the air, turning like a spinning top before you spread your arms and lifted a leg into the darkness of the studio. Your dedication to every rotation, every facial expression, piqued Sean's interest and left him in a state of awe. Even if the mirrored wall allowed you the capability to see the door, you hadn't noticed Sean entering the room until he smiled and let out a low whistle, impressed.

You would have gasped if it wasn't for your loss of breath, the routine having exhausted you of all oxygen. Instead you placed a hand over your rapid heart, hands shaking due to exertion as Sean tucked his keys into the back pocket of his jeans. A silence fell between you.

His eyes took in the sight before him, the last few measures of the song you danced to playing out and adding an amusingly romantic aura to the situation. A window on the right side of the room allowed moonlight to fall over you, clad in an old grey shirt and your hair frizzy from perspiration. Sean's heart skipped as you smiled nervously and let out a quiet, "What?" Opening his mouth, Sean struggled to find the right words to say. He settled on: "Nothing, it's just..."

"What?" You asked again, this time with a more demanding edge as you walked towards him and bent down to grab your gym bag. Sean's gaze followed your every move, his mind frozen as if he had just solved a puzzle after years of not being able to decipher the patterns. Three months into your friendship and it was the first time Sean had ever looked at you with such high esteem. The feeling had him wanting to say something about it - he wanted to voice whatever the hell he was sensing in hopes that you would understand as well.

Sean tilted his head a bit, his green hair a darker shade in the studio because of your need to dance without lights on. You liked the comforting feeling of the night as you danced, but whatever senses you were feeling as you looked up at Sean, well, you weren't sure if you appreciated them.

"Have you always been able to dance like that?" Sean asked, his voice quiet as if the janitor down the hall could hear your conversation. You nodded, moving to unplug your phone from the aux cord the studio provided before pushing hair from your line of vision. "What did you think I do at a dance studio?" You inquired, amused.

Sean smiled, blinking as heat crept up the back of his neck. "Well you never let me watch you dance, so I didn't know what to expect." As he replied, you sat down on the bench and switched out your dancing shoes for flip flops. "Now you've seen me," you stood up and added, "What did you think?"
Sean answered without thinking.

Thanks for reading <33