CREATURE

・chapter 32・

They'd been two icons in their own right and many had said that they were drawn together by the sheer brilliance of their dancing. What followed was a blazing clash of queenly elegance and fierce bravado that left the world utterly speechless. Their partnership was simply bewitching, equal parts inspiring and challenging to one another, grounded by sincere, mutual respect. And of-course, it was their reverential on-stage chemistry that started the rumors that they were secret lovers.

The industry's most established choreographers and directors would go on to say that they had been made for each other, were born to dance together. Nureyev himself had famously stated that they had one body, one soul, and that he would follow her to the ends of the earth. They'd danced together for seventeen years and turned into the closest of friends, inseparable at the best of times.

The Nureyev-Fonteyn partnership had been so profoundly rare and consuming that even now, decades after both of them had passed away, people were still debating the incredibly deep and complex nature of their relationship. They'd been a wrinkle in the fabric of history, a partnership without comparison or equal.

Whether or not Roman was trying to pay his dues to Nureyev, he had a snowball's chance in hell of imitating the Nureyev-Fonteyn dynamic. That was an untouchable piece of history, although she supposed he did deserve credit for wanting to try, if that was indeed what was behind his London move.

'Fonteyn's old apartment is like two blocks from here.' she said. 'I'll show you if you want.'

'If you can stomach being seen in public with me,' he sassed, 'then sure.'

She narrowed her eyes at him. 'Keep it up and I'll make you wear a disguise, Zharnov.'

・・・

For the second day in a row, Asya woke up in the guest bedroom of apartment number 29. This time, she had a slightly better idea of how she'd ended up there, vaguely recalling being picked up from the couch, seeing the now empty dining table from a much higher than usual angle, and being carried down the passage.

Again, she had a distinct suspicion that she'd slept in far later than she should have. She hauled herself out of bed, wincing sharply at the pain that shot through her limbs. She might have pushed herself a little hard the night before with her full two-hour workout, affirmed by an angry pop in her spine as she swivelled her back a few times. Hobbling over to the windows, she opened the curtains and found London coated by a thick, ominous-looking grey sky, some fresh-looking raindrops dotting the glass terrace door.

Bleak weather befitting the bleak day ahead of her. Gift wrapping, maybe a walk if the rain permitted, a long stretching session, another workout. Then dinner with Julian, and if she knew herself at all, she'd be back at 29 come midnight. Because along with her traitorous hips and mental health, it seemed her self-control was on a rapid decline too.

Scowling at her own impertinence, she made the bed and intended to slip out unnoticed like she'd done the day before. Except, once she opened the door she realised the apartment wasn't as quiet as she was expecting. There was noise in the kitchen, water boiling and the soft sizzle of a pan.

As she tiptoed down the passage she realised it was in fact a kettle and the stove making the noise, and she wasn't alone in the apartment. It's owner was propped up on the counter by his elbows, rubbing his eyes with his palms like he was trying to wake himself up. His hair was still a little ruffled, but had been half-heartedly swept out of his eyes.

'Morning.' she peeped, making him look up.

'Sit.' he ordered with a lazy yawn. 'I'm making breakfast.'

His tone, despite its decidedly sleepy slant, again indicated that eating breakfast wasn't up for debate. Besides, the kettle sounded promising and something smelled heavenly, although she honestly couldn't remember the last time she'd had solid food for breakfast.

'Aren't you supposed to be in class?' she asked, sitting herself down opposite him.

'I'm on leave.'

He dished something onto a plate and slid it to her, moving on to the kettle. It was pancakes that he'd made, thick and fluffy-looking pancakes topped with raspberries and syrup. A calorie bomb. Although for someone that allegedly had a busy schedule, he sure did like to fuss.

'Turns out I also need a semi-valid excuse to miss the company Christmas party tomorrow, so I'm getting out of the city for the weekend.'

She picked up her fork and swallowed thickly. Christmas. Her shopping had been done with Julian the day before, for which she'd all but had to chain him to lamppost outside while she picked out his presents, but she still had some wrapping left. The company Christmas party, however, that had completely slipped her mind.

She wasn't even entirely sure she wanted to go, being injured and all. The last thing she felt like doing was muttering 'No really, I'm fine' for two hours while everyone else laughs and jokes about Nutcracker cast drama. Dread welled up in her throat.

It was definitely going to be her shittiest Christmas in a good while, holed up in her apartment while she waited for Julian to finish his double shows. And, now she wouldn't even have her questionable distraction on the sixth floor to amuse herself with. God knows she never thought she'd miss Roman's presence in her place of residence, but on that particular weekend it would have been nice to be with someone who wasn't dancing either.

She ground on her teeth and stroked her collarbone while she nibbled on a pancake. Holy shit, he actually made really good-

'You can come with me if you want.' he said.

Her second forkful halted sharply mid-air. 'With you?'

'I'll bring you back on Monday,' he explained. 'And I promise that I'll take very good care of you.'

'That's not your job.' she replied. It wasn't, because despite two platonic nights in his apartment and him being the lesser of the evils she was using to cope, running away with him for a whole three days was a level of stupid she didn't have the words to describe.

'Maybe not.' he shrugged. 'But a dearly beloved pastime.'

The forkful of pancake stayed suspended in the air. Either her conflicted expression or damning silence must have given her away, because he started grinning like a cat with a bowl of cream.

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Hi everyone! I hope you're ready for some Christmas escapades in the Creatureverse, because there is quite a bit of tea on the menu🎄. I also just wanted to mention here that there is SO MUCH I couldn't include about the legendary dancers I referenced in this chapter, so if the mood ever strikes you, I promise they're worth a read. And of-course, here are some pancakes for you too🥞