The Way He Moves

"One, two... three!" Chris called, the signal for Nik to begin.

The music started, Nik leaped into a Grand Jeté, the ground slipping from underneath him as he landed with a 'thud.'

Nik's face flushed, as the other competitors looked at him with amused, and pitiful faces.

"I already told you, I cannot do this without my shoes!" Nik shouted. Chris loved that cute little Russian accent.

"It's not my fault you lost your's!" Chris shouted back, truing not to smile. Nikoliv was so easily flustered, and it was kinda cute to see him angry.

The two continued arguing about the ballet slippers, the competitors around them either watching amusedly, or carrying on.

"Um... excuse me," a rich, Swedish voice said from behind Chris, " are these belonging to you? You left them in bathroom." Said Ian, presenting the pair of grey slippers to Nik.

"Ah, thank you very much!" Nik said, scrambling to his feet to receive his slippers.

"And if you expect to viin, you should probably land your jumps, okay?" Ian said snarkily, smiling a handsome smile.

"Vy nemnogo der'ma, ya razorvu tebya!" Nik yelled back, face beat red. Nobody but his coach understood what he said, who wasn't pleased.

'You little shit, I will break you.'