Asya rearranged her breakfast for the umpteenth time with her fork, moving the strawberries to the left, the waffle to the right, and rolling the blueberries between the two sides. Sinking back into her chair she exhaled heavily and wondered if the muesli she'd already had was enough.
She'd enjoyed the hotel's continental breakfasts for the last few days, especially the fresh fruit and pastries, but she couldn't keep being so careless with her eating. They were going back today, and she ne
It was a busy day.First, an early morning fitting for Nutcracker costumes, then company class at eleven, coaching during her lunch break, and then try-out rehearsals for Bayadere in the afternoon. They'd barely touched down after Margate and she was already cascading through the company whirlpool again.
Roman lounged lazily in the leather chair in Bastian's office. The artistic director had asked to meet with him, presumably to discuss his roles for the upcoming season, a conversation Roman had been dreading ever since arriving in London.He'd been firm in his contract, adamant that he wasn't doing big stages for a while and that he needed time to rest and...Straighten out his personal life. Small performances were helping to keep him in shape, but he wasn't ready for the Opera House.&nbs
Roman slammed the door gracelessly behind himself, shrugging out of his coat and kicking off his shoes. Maybe his aggression was slightly misplaced, but nevertheless, a stubborn throb of irritation sat in his chest. He wasn't angry, he told himself, just irked. Irked.God,why?
Roman smothered an irritated groan into his pillow and pulled the covers over his head, desperate to drown out the city's noise. He had been tossing and turning for what felt like hours, unable to sleep a wink.With an indefinite amount of time on his hands, he'd thrown around a few theories to try and explain his insomnia. Homesickness, which was unlike him, but maybe. Indecision about Bastian's offer, which was unlike him, but maybe. Or the ballerina at the centre of it all, unlike him,
'Straighten her, Ridley!' Debbie yelled, shaking her head disapprovingly at the two dancers in rehearsal. 'She's completely skew!'Roman yawned tiredly as he watched from the mezzanine. Ivan and Asya were running the act three pas de deux again, under the supervision of Asya's coach, Debbie. Castings forBayadèrestill hadn't come out, and the whole company was holding their breath.
Roman fled to the auditorium. He couldn't look her in the eye. Not now.What was he supposed to do? He couldn't, he couldn't get through to her, couldn't get her to come to him, trust him. Instead, she just runs back to Ivan, falls at his feet, gives herself to him and eats out of his hand even though he'll later choke her with it.
Roman's thoughts were interrupted by Debbie calling on Ivan and Asya for their rehearsal.Jolted back to the present day, he watched as the young ballerina stepped on stage. Under the harsh lights she looked different, she'd washed her face, put on some makeup and changed into a different leotard. But she still seemed distracted, still seemed a little rattled, even as she stepped into Ivan's arms.
Asya got wrestled out of his grip eventually. He wanted to yell, scream, just tell them to be bloody careful with her, her body is her livelihood, but instead he just froze.She wasn't there- he couldn't hold her, he couldn't protect her.Julian bu
Asya rolled over lazily, tangling in the soft covers as she closed her eyes for another snooze. Her cheeks were warmed with early morning sunshine peeking through a chink in the curtains, casting a thin beam of light over the bed. With a contented sigh she drew the duvet up to her chin and snuggled farther under the blankets to shield herself from the frigid winter air.She couldn't even remember the last time she slept in. Her days always started with some kind of routine, some sort of plan to map out the tasks she needed to get through. But currently, wrapped up in warmth and pillows, she had no idea what time it was, or what the rest of her day would look like.It was a commotion downstairs that eventually prompted her to get up and leave behind the comforts of her bed. She pulled a loose-fitting grey jersey over her pyjamas and set off to see what the rest of the house was up to.Entering the kitchen, she found Roman, still in sweatpants and a hoodie, sittin
Moments after Roman closed the door behind him, Asya started pacing like a caged lion around the room, racking her brain to try and make sense of the last twenty minutes and the utter loop it had thrown her for.It's too much, she told herself. Way too much, he had asister,that was hissister,she met hisfamily, he trusted her to meet his family, let her into his life, his whole life,thatpart of his life.Dropping her bag on the Chesterfield couch at the foot of the bed, she unzipped it and saw that her hands were shaking, a faint tremor passing through her long fingers every few seconds, accompanied by a too-wild hammering in her chest.Oh god.
Asya was still contemplating making a run for it as she got into the passenger seat of Roman's car. There was still a smarter decision that involved bolting back to the life she knew, the life she could control, the life she could predict.With no idea where they were going or what she was getting herself into, and nevermind the fact that she was with the guy she'd promised herself she was going to stay away from, she was still irrationally willing to follow him anywhere.'Ready?' Roman asked, starting the ignition. She gave him a sidelong nod and settled in her seat, drawing her legs into her chest and hugging her knees.They drove out of the parking garage next to the company headquarters and Asya rested her head against the window. The heaviness in her eyes wasn't
Who the bloody hell did he think he was?!Asya stormed downstairs, fuming internally as she made her way to her floor. He couldn'tcontrolher. He couldn't just snap his fingers, click his tongue and she'd come. Who in the bloody hell did he think he was?!No, she'd spent the better part of her life trying to please people, trying to win their approval by doing what they thought was best for her and being controlled bythosevery people. But she'd grown up and grown sick of it. Control over her own life, her own decisions, that was essential. She knew better than anyone else what she needed.And yes, being around the Oper House during the busiest time of the year would probably be a little painful, but she...She could handle it. And she didn'
The next morning Roman was back in Bastian's office.It had been a week since Asya's injury, and unsurprisingly, the company director had called him in for another meeting. Roman had a good feeling what Bastian would be wanting to discuss with him.Who will be Asya's replacement? Who's second-best? Who's the other option? The mere thought was laughable to Roman.'How is she?' Bastian asked, shifting in behind his desk.The artistic director looked tired, Roman remarked, some darker than usual shadows under his eyes and the faint lines on his face more prominent. It was a busy time of year, he supposed.'Coping.' Roman said coldly, not wanting to think too much
It was noon when Asya finally stumbled into the living room, and from where Roman sat on the couch, he almost laughed at the sight. She looked as confused as a chameleon on a rainbow, her hair tangled, clothes creased, eyes sleep-heavy.'What time is it?' she yawned, stumbling into the living room.'Late.' he replied, running his hands distractedly through his hair. 'I was about to make dinner.'She averted her gaze and flopped down on the couch next to him, crossing her legs.'Hungry?' he asked, watching her reaction intently, looking for clues that what had plagued his thoughts for most of the day had any basis in reality. She shook her head forcefully, chewing her bottom lip.
Her internal monologue went absolutely haywire as she lifted her fingers to knock softly on the door, intentionally making it almost inaudible in the hopes that no one would answer, and she'd be forced to turn around and forget this stupid idea.While she shifted her weight restlessly, wringing her hands together and contemplating making a run for it, her mind conjured some distressing scenarios to keep her thoughts occupied.What are the chances he's awake? It's the middle of the freaking night. Dammit, what if he has a girl-The door opened, revealing him, alone, in sweatpants and a sleep-ruffled shirt, rubbing his eyes. Asya gaped like a fish out of water, her mind reeling uncontrollably. She didn't know what to say, what could she bloody say, what had she come here to say?
Asya stepped slowly out of the shower into her steam-filled bathroom, wrapping herself in a towel. She wiped the mirror clear with her palm, and almost reeled when she saw her reflection.Her hair hung in damp tendrils around her sunken expression, her cheeks hollow and eyes spectrally glassy. Her skin was pallid and lifeless, her shoulders limp. She looked like a ghost. Her eyes travelled down the mirror, over the towel, to her legs, and finally her feet.
Asya got wrestled out of his grip eventually. He wanted to yell, scream, just tell them to be bloody careful with her, her body is her livelihood, but instead he just froze.She wasn't there- he couldn't hold her, he couldn't protect her.Julian bu