Asya stood coupé derrière as Ivan kneeled in front of her and kissed all the way up her arm, laying his head in her palm affectionately once he reached her elbow. She giggled girlishly and beamed down at him, just as Zharnov picked her up by her hips and carried her away to steal her attention again. Ivan sprung to his feet to protest, and the two men began sizing each other up with some turns.
Her character watched animatedly as they eagerly tried to impress her with their respective skills, occasionally wincing when one of them tried to lunge at the other. While they finished up their combinations she began counting down in her head, knowing that she had mere seconds before they broke apart and she'd need to step into her chaînés, which culminated in the dreaded lift.
The anticipation of it made her stomach twist uncomfortably, but she held her pose and didn't let even a drop of anxiety show on her body, like she'd been taught. No matter how scared or intimidated she was, the show had to go on.
With both the men still going at it she stepped into her chaîné turns, her feet flying over one another in the diagonal as she built up speed. The rational part of her insisted that she would be running to Ivan, that he'd be throwing her into the air and bringing her back down, like they'd practised for the past four days.
She'd been raised to follow orders and play by ballet's inhumanly strict rules, never to refuse or question anything she was asked to do. Perhaps it was the rush of being on stage, the fear throbbing in her stomach, or a singular rebellious spark in her chest, that had her believing she was better off entrusting a dangerous lift on the star of the Russian ballet than her long-time partner.
It was the single biggest risk she'd ever taken in her life, but in a split second her body had decided for her. She pivoted on her feet and switched directions, straying off-course and heading downstage instead.
Afraid Ivan would try and lunge for her to bring her back she took her arms to an open fifth position while she turned, and kept spinning. She spotted to Zharnov, going from blurs of dark and light to his icy gaze and waiting for the beat of music that told her it was time to jump.
With one last stride she left the floor, and when she felt his hands catch her middle she could have cried for joy. His grip on her hips was firm as he raised her into the air steadily, and she arched her back into his touch to make herself easier to handle. He held her perfectly still as she extended her arms to third arabesque and looked upward. The easy part was over.
There were mere seconds between her and the drop and catch, and she unwittingly held her breath. He knows what he's doing, she chanted to herself over and over again as he released her. She fell back into his arms, letting him cradle her to his chest for a few fleeting heartbeats.
It was like nothing she'd ever done before, reckless and unplanned, totally out of character for her. She couldn't anticipate anything about the upcoming lift, she was completely at his mercy to make sure it went smoothly. Still, she couldn't deny that the results looked promising thus far, and that it made for one hell of an adrenaline rush. But even with suspense gushing through her, she wasn't afraid as she should have been the first time with a new partner, she was... Excited?
She smiled at him, and to her surprise he returned it, before he tossed her into the air. She inhaled sharply as the world around her slowed down and kept going slower and slower until she saw nothing but floodlights and the night sky beyond. The first stars were already out, calling her to the cosmos, tempting her to let go of gravity and keep flying.
For a fleeting moment in time her senses shut down completely, she felt nothing but hollowness in her bones and air rushing between her fingers. She wasn't exhausted or hungry, anxious or thinking, she didn't even really exist at all. The feeling stretched into eternity, slowed to perfection, power, freedom, like she'd been cut loose from chains she didn't know she was shackled into.
As she hit the crest of the lift she exhaled, feeling gravity threatening to bring her back to where she belonged. Her body rotated itself and she was falling, back to the ground, back to being herself.
Before she knew it she was back in his arms, one of hers wrapped around his neck and her hand laid flat against his chest. Unguarded and raw in the aftermath of the lift she found herself wanting to stay with him a while longer, tell him about how it had felt, say thank you, make him understand what he'd done, but there was... There was music playing, people watching, there was an audience, choreography-
He didn't stall any longer before he set her down on the floor and sent her into a dizzying set of pirouettes. He released her so she could build up speed, and she was by herself again. Her body lurched awake like she'd resurfaced from a dream, and she did a quick fouetté to change the pirouettes into attitude turns.
Raw adrenalin was coursing through her as she came back into her senses, and nothing but faint tingles in her fingertips where he'd last touched her was left to remind her what had just happened. She ended the turns with a playful flick of her leg and rotated her body to watch the two men.
She would've happily surrendered her entire inheritance to see Ivan's face when she made for Zharnov instead of him, but to her own satisfaction, she did catch some of that anger. Ivan charged at Zharnov, and the dangerous flicker in his eyes and murderous twist of his mouth telling her that most of it wasn't acting. Then again, the small snicker with which she watched them fight with one another wasn't all acting either.
Again, she would've given anything to keep watching them go at it, but she had a trio to finish. She marched up to the two men to try and reconcile the unfolding chaos, but both of them were too caught up in their brawl to even notice. Realising they had clean forgotten about her she jumped up and down to get their attention, but they seemed hellbent on finishing each other off rather than showing interest in her.
With her patience wearing thin she rolled her eyes at them and ducked past their arms, getting down onto her knees to crawl off stage. As she neared the edge, one of the orchestra members took notice of her escape plan and set down his instrument to offer her a hand as she got off stage.
He set her down on the grass and dusted off her clothes for her, making eye contact as he straightened the white bow in her hair.
It was love at first sight.
He swooned on his feet, practically drooling as she blushed shyly and hugged her hands into her chest. The audience burst out laughing at the plot twist in the charged love triangle, and applauded even louder as the two men on stage realised they'd lost their prize to one of the musicians. Before the two men could protest the new lovebirds disappeared into the orchestra.
・・・
Asya joined hands with Katherine and bowed a second time, smiling ecstatically into the bright lights and blurry figures beyond. Her heart thundered in her chest as the applause got louder and louder, bravos, whistles and cheers ringing out of the darkness. The sensation was absolutely intoxicating.
Galas were special, everyone had told her as much, but the past two hours had shown her a different side to her artform entirely. Most of the audience probably didn't know a plié from a penché but were so wonderfully engaged with the performance, had loved it for the sake of loving it. There were no critics comparing them with their peers, looking for mistakes or shaming their delivery, it was old-school, pure and raw entertainment.
It culminated in glory-stricken bliss as she bowed, barely keeping herself standing because she was so beyond exhausted, but feeling more alive than she had in ages.
Bastian emerged from the wings with two enormous white rose bouquets in each arm, which he presented to the two ballerinas on stage with a gallant bow. They curtsied and interlinked their arms with his, waiting for the photographer's signal before they both left a playful kiss on each of his cheeks.
Asya heard the camera shutters clicking and cheers getting louder, and waved one last time out to the audience.
That was her family.
・・・
'YOU PIECE OF SHIT!' Ivan exploded, slamming the lounge door behind himself.
Thinking he was talking to her, Asya winced and turned around to try and explain what had happened, only to find him charging at Zharnov. To his credit he'd held it together nicely during the curtain call, but clearly the minute they were alone he was letting him have it.
She stepped between them, grabbing Ivan's shoulders before they got their hands on one another.
'It wasn't-' she began, but Ivan whirled on her. She gulped and took a few steps backwards.
'You're going to stay out of this, soloist.' he snarled at her, his face contorted with uninhibited rage.
'You really thought I was going to let you drop her?' the Russian prodigy asked calmly, crossing his arms over his chest.
'I don't care who the hell you think you are, but you don't get to change choreography as you please in this company-'
'Really?' Zharnov snorted. 'You think this company would've been happy if you injured their precious soloist in her debut season?'
'It's none of your goddamn business, she's my partner-'
'Then fucking act like it.' Zharnov sassed over his shoulder, disappearing out the door.
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Hi guys! I hope you're all staying safe and healthy, and that you're still enjoying the story! I would appreciate it so much if you could vote and comment, but even just being here reading means so much to me. And... 👀... There is some tension, what do you you guys think? 😂 All my love, and thank you so much for being here 🖤