Hang It Up | ONC 2023

3. A Clear Morning

Three days pass between agreeing to move in together and riding the metro to our first day of work. We've talked about nothing.

Actually, we've talked about almost everything. There was a very lively debate about the best type of croissant and whether the baguette should really be considered the epitome of French bread products, but there wasn't much by way of our supposed wedding.

I had foolishly assumed that when we left the apartment and made our way back to the hotel, he would say something about my complete slip of sanity. But he talked to me like nothing was going on. Like we were just roommates like we always have been.

So I've taken my cues from him, and I'm currently still pretending nothing's happening as we make our way back into the studio for the first time since neither one of us passed auditions to move from the school to the company all those years ago.

It's like being back home, in a way. Walking through the doors the school shares with the company, but it's weird turning left instead of right.

"Can you believe it's our first day?" Rafael nudges me with his shoulder and pushes a door open, allowing me to go through first. "I never in a million years would have imagined being back here after we so narrowly missed the cut all those years ago."

"I never imagined leaving the company back home, but... it's Paris!" I answer. The walls are covered in a matte wallpaper with shiny golden accents and red curtains adorn the pillars where the guests would mingle if this were an event and not a day at the office.

Rafael grabs my hand and pulls it into his side. "You don't have to be nervous. They hired you for a reason."

"I know. But it was risky. I know it was. They were going to promote me at home and here I'm back at the same position."

"You're about to be a soloist at the best ballet company in the world. And you deserve every second of it."

"I guess." I have to admit he has a point. It's not really a step back. Like going from the last grade in primary school to the first grade of high school, it isn't really going backwards, but it can feel like it.

Rafael fishes around in his bag while we make our way to the dressing rooms. "I got you these," he says, holding out the most beautiful red pair of leg warmers I've ever seen in my life. They look warm and... "They have compression," we both say at the same time.

And I don't know what possesses me in this moment. I should give him a hug or say a simple thank you or make a joke and send him off to his dressing room. But instead, I say, "this is even better than a ring."

And just like that, it's awkward again.

I don't wait for him to say anything, ducking into the women's dressing rooms and scanning the shelves for my name. It's way at the back of the room on the end, giving me a lot of room to spread out my stuff in the corner if I want to. But not today. At least for a little while, I need these girls to think of me as a clean and friendly human being.

Or at least, less of a mess than I actually am.

For example, I definitely don't need them to know I'm fake engaged to my best friend and currently playing my awkward request for a ring in my head on repeat. If I never have to talk about that again it will be too soon.

So I keep my head down. Nothing but pleasant hellos and discussions with people I've never met, including the girl sitting beside me, a new apprentice from the ballet school. She's probably amazing. They always are.

Even the presence of a few familiar faces doesn't calm the fluttering in my stomach from the fact that I haven't addressed anything with Rafael, I haven't danced here in almost a decade, and I have to move into a new house somehow. Tonight.