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 a sister, that was his sister, she met his family, he trusted her to meet his family, let her into his life, his whole life, that part 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 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
Hi! Thank you so much for deciding to give Creature a read! Before we get into the story, I have a few disclaimers about the content of the story, and a ballet cheat sheet for you (just in case you're interested or don't know much about ballet already). . 。༶・° D I S C L A I M E R °・༶ 。.Creature is rated mature and the plot is not intended for a young audience. It contains mature themes, swearing, sexual content and drug abuse. Furthermore, I implore you, if you struggle with any body dysmorphic or eating disorder and feel literature could be triggering or damaging, please read with caution. Secondly, Creature is a work of fiction. Names, characters, place
There's a lot an audience doesn't see.Crooked toes. Protruding ribs. Bruised feet.If they did, they'd never watch another ballet again.But there's more they don't see. Things no one ever sees.Pain. Anger. Struggle. Discipline. Failures. Fear.But these are words that have been hammered into Asya's bones until she knew them like her own name, until they had sunk into every part of her being and she understood nothing but ambition, had a taste for nothing but perfection.One other word echoes through her, a distant, soft promise, usually indiscernible, but enticing enough that it lures her deeper into her art every time she hears it calling.Prima.Prima, Asya thinks as she pushes herself off the floor. She pulls her legs into a grand
Roman tossed his car keys to the valet, straightened his collar and headed up the limestone stairs that led to the Royal Opera House. The magnificent building loomed in front of him, lit up to illuminate it against the night sky.It was a megastructure of Victorian architecture and glass windows, home to one of the most elite ballet companies in the world. Legends had graced the stage with their art, icons like Nureyev and Fonteyn featuring in its illustrious three-hundred-year history.The dancer tucked his hands into his pockets as he moved through the crowd in the foyer, nodding politely as he caught the attention of a few patrons. Dressed in a simple white button-down shirt he looked fairly unassuming to most people.But to the critics and seasoned art patrons, he was a famil
The next morning Asya meandered into company class still sipping on her banana breakfast smoothie. She bid a sleepy good morning to her fellow dancers as she made her way to the opposite end of the studio and eased her tutu and ballet bag off her shoulders, setting them down against the wall.Some morning sunshine warmed her usual spot through the circular skylight in the studio's roof, and she blinked lazily into the light as she stripped off her street clothes, hoping it would help wake her up. Dressed only in a leotard and tights she began warming up her body for the day, starting with her neck and back and gradually moving to the rest of her muscles.With a lazy yawn she slid into a straddle split, pushing her hipbones into the floor and reaching her arms forward to intensify the stretch. The last three weeks had been a
Asya sucked in a steadying breath of air as she extended her leg past her shoulder, clenching the muscle in her hip flexor to hold her balance in the tricky extension. She raised her chin to soften her neckline, scanning the long mirrors on the wall in front of her for the Russian dancer she'd met a few minutes ago. She'd lost sight of him when they moved into the center, but had a strange feeling it wasn't the last she would be seeing of him.They finished the first section of center work, and the class split into two groups for jumps and turns to allow for more space on the floor. Still a little out of breath from the développé exercise, Asya retreated to the side of the room to get some water while the first group worked on their turns. She saw Julian approaching her out of the corner of her eye, and shot him a mocking glare as he neared her.
Over the course of the next week Asya had class with Roman on the daily, and the Russian prodigy never ceased to amaze. He turned like a drill bit, defied gravity when he jumped and had mastery over his technique that was nothing short of supernatural.The various resident teachers and instructors had noticed him too. He often stayed after class, and she'd seen him coming out of various studios after hours, although she hadn't noticed him on any castings. The company definitely had plans for him
Asya shut the door behind herself, exhaling heavily and rolling her eyes dramatically.God, he was a pain.After the little episode with Roman, Ivan had been nothing short of bloody childish. Normally she en
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