An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
The rest of the first week passed and Billy had never been this sore in his life.
After classes every day he took his aching body to the shops and restaurants near him, applying to job after job.
His muscles constantly ached and he hasn’t done anything but ballet since he got here. Even the partnering class was ballet lifts, turns, and poses commonly found in any pas de deux (Billy was also beginning to learn terms). He was wound tight and wanted to get into a studio for some him time.
He booked out the smaller studio for Friday night, a late slot, but the online form had most times full. He was complaining to Max on the phone when he arrived, not bothering to check and see that he was ten minutes too early, nor looking to see if the studio was in use.
He slammed the door open and came face to face with Prissy Steve, moving through the space.
Billy gaped. Steve was a beautiful dancer. Billy may be an asshole, but he wasn’t blind. The guy was strong and lean and could use his long body to form elegant lines. Julie always called his dancing clean.
But here he was, playing some indie song Billy didn’t know and working through the center of the room. Billy stared. He was wearing blocky pointe shoes that looked dirty and worn out, the bottom soft and malleable as he fitzed about. He caught Billy out of the corner of his eye on a triple pirouette, ending it beautifully before huffing and clomping to his stuff on the floor in front of the speaker. He paused his music, checking his phone.
“I still have time. Get out.” He was a brat.
“I didn’t know guys did pointe.”
“Why do you do it then?” Steve looked down, pressing one foot up onto the box of the shoe.
“I just like it.” He murmured to the shoe. If Billy didn’t know any better he thought the guy was, blushing?
“You’re good at it.” He looked back up to Billy, eyebrow raised.
“Yeah, I know.” Billy laughed at him. “Can you leave already? I still have time in here and you’re wasting it telling me obvious shit I already know.” Billy raised his hand in surrender.
“Jesus, man. Don’t get your fucking panties in a twist.” Steve just glared darkly at him.
“Out.” He backed out the room, smirking at Steve, Max shrieking is that the guy? in his earbuds.