The Next Step Oneshots

9. Frappuccino - Michemily

She'd found a new studio to work with. A professional one where she could make a living off her dancing, as well as her choreography. It was brilliant; she'd missed her days of being a dancer.

The thrill that came from an aerial; the wind in her face when she did her à la seconde turns, her fouettés. The feeling of flying as she soared through the air with her grand jetés, her calypsos, her tilt jumps. The pure joy of her signature hair flips. She'd missed this.

She'd been too young to retire from her position as dancer, she realises. She'd been so caught up in the drama and responsibilities of her home studio, that she'd forgotten that she was still young; that she had so many years of dancing left in her. She didn't regret her decision.

But there was one thing that she missed. And that was her best friend and other half. Her once rival and lifetime partner in crime.

--

It was tough running the studio without her working soulmate. They'd parted on good terms, but she missed her best friend. She reminisces on the times they'd had together; from enemies, to co captains, to rival teams, to co studio heads.

Bored of her paperwork, she grabs her phone, logging onto social media. There, she sees a new update on her best friend's profile. Apparently, her ex co-studio head had been recruited to work at a professional studio, working all day.

She thinks back to the times they'd brought each other coffee. That first time where she'd bought Frappuccino's after she'd taken the bus for the first time. And she can't help but come up with a plan.

"Nick, I'll be back later. Can you look after b troupe today? It should be fairly peaceful without a troupe or j troupe here."

 "Sure. Where are you going?"

"I'm going to visit someone. I'll be back tonight to wrap up."

She talks to him as she's packing up her things. Grabbing her trusted membership card, she walks out to her car.

--

She's working on some choreography in the huge dance studio, so she can teach a class tomorrow. The room's silent; all the dancers had gone for a lunch break. But she didn't want to go with them. She didn't quite fit in with them yet.

She's running through the dance without the music, the only sounds the soft thumping of her footsteps, when she hears a knock. Thinking it's one of the other dancers, she doesn't think twice to let them in.

"Come in!" She yells, mindlessly still going over her choreography. She could check who it was later. Finishing up her final moves with her signature hair whip, she finally takes the chance to look at the door.

"Emily?"

--

The receptionist had let her in easily, with a quick registration and visitor pass given to her. They'd even helpfully directed her towards the dance studio Michelle was in, where she had knocked softly on the door.

Now, she stands near the doorway, admiring Michelle's dancing. As a teenager, she'd never admit it. But Michelle was an amazing dancer. But now, she was her best friend, and she could truly appreciate her talent.

She smiles at the shocked look on her best friend's face.

"Frappuccino?"

She holds up the strawberry Frappuccino, grasping a bag of food in her other hand. Walking in properly, she presses the drink into her dazed friend's hand, sitting down on one of the benches.

"Well. Are you going to join me or what?"

--

She shakes herself out of her reverie. Taking care not to drop her prized drink, she walks slowly over to the bench, not quite believing this turn of events.

"What- what are you doing here?"

"Visiting you, obviously. Why else would I be here?"

"I don't know- to find someone else? How did you even find me?"

"You have something called Instagram, you know."

"Right. Wait, are you stalking me?"

"In your dreams, Michelle. In your dreams. Now. Scone? Or sandwich."

She doesn't know what to say. Perhaps it was the universe responding to her wishes. Or maybe it was just a coincidence. But all she knows, is that she's glad that her best friend is here with her.

"Sandwich, please."

She takes the sandwich in hand, gratefully taking a large bite. She hadn't noticed, but she'd worked up an appetite dancing all morning.

"So. How's the next step?"

"Different than usual. A troupe's going to Dancemania, and b troupe's going to nationals, surprisingly."

"And you let them?"

"Well, the next step has always been a studio which helped dancers make it professional. So Dancemania is a good opportunity for them."

--

"You don't want them to go, really. Do you."

She thinks back to when she'd injured herself at nationals. It was one of the core reasons that she'd been adamant that a troupe compete there. She didn't want them to miss out on such a huge opportunity that she'd missed out on. Her sister and the team had gone to internationals, for goodness sakes. They were known worldwide. Why wouldn't it be the better option?

"Not really. But they wanted to, so I had to let them."

"Wow, Emily. Taking into account the dancers' feelings first. That's unusual." Her friend jokes. She rolls her eyes.

"I'm not that mean. But you're not wrong. I'm becoming you at this rate. Please stop me if I start doing hair flips and wearing pink."

They fall into an easy rhythm of jokes and seriousness. Despite not having seen each other for a month, their conversations had no indication of their separation.

"Why didn't you text?"

"I thought you were still mad at me. So I didn't want to bother you."

Was she really seen as such a petty person? That even her best friend didn't want to contact her in fear of being annoying?

"I wasn't mad, you know. I thought you'd know better."        

"Sorry, Em. I just didn't want to take the chance to make you even madder."

"It's fine. I get that I'm not the best person with this kind of thing."

Her friend gives her a hug. And she gladly accepts it. Like her surrogate sister, and unlike her biological sister, she's not much of a hugger. But she was always willing to receive hugs from special people. And Michelle was one of them.

--

Eventually, she has to get back to work. And her best friend needs to go back to her job. Sighing, she packs away the food packaging, brushing crumbs off her leggings.

"You should go. Nick's probably going to need you soon."

"Yeah. And you should get back to dancing."

"See you soon? I'll text you."

"Sure. And I'll bring a Frappuccino again?"

 She laughs.

"Sure, Em."

Her best friend is a great person, and an even better Frappuccino delivery service. She appreciates her so much. Whether her best friend knows or not.