The school was eerily quiet this late in the day. As far as she knew, everyone save for a few of the teachers and the custodial staff had gone home for the day. Which just left her and the empty dance studio, and the occasional echo of cleaning carts going up and down the hall. It was only a matter of time before someone came to kick her out, but the custodians were usually pretty understanding and wouldn’t kick people out until they had to.
So for the time being, she was essentially on her own.
Just her and the music.
And this stupid choreography.
Except, that wasn’t really fair… The choreography wasn’t stupid…
She huffed in frustration as she bailed out of the Italian fouetté. That was the third time she had messed it up today. She never had this much trouble with choreography. And it wasn’t even hip hop! There was no reason she should be having any trouble with this, let alone this much trouble.
Especially since she had done it, if not perfectly than at least almost perfectly, yesterday.
Sighing, she crossed the floor to where her phone was plugged into the speaker and restarted the music. She made her way back to centre, and let the familiar swell of the music wash over her. By this point, she probably didn’t even need the music; she had been at it so long she practically had it memorized.
She ignored the aches in her feet and the soreness creeping into her muscles as she went through the steps. Every move was perfect.
Except…
As the Italian fouetté section drew nearer, what felt like a million akumas began to swirl in her stomach. Every motion of the steps ricocheted off the inside of her head, swirling in a cloud of unwelcome and unwanted chaos as her feet slid into position to prepare for the fouettés.
The first fouetté was sloppy, but at least she had made it through it this time.
The second one was shaky.
The third one…
She tried to place her arms perfectly. Extend her leg perfectly. Keep a serene and effortless smile on her face. Just like Mme. Clément had instructed her to. Except all she could focus on was how nothing was right and none of it was good enough. So she had squeezed her eyes shut, despite knowing better.
Without her place on the wall to spot, she stumbled out of the turn. Angrily, she wiped tears of frustration from her eyes as the music continued on without her.
“Nadine?”
She screamed at the unexpected voice. She whirled to find Luka standing in the door the the dance studio, his guitar case slung across his back and his hair looking more dishevelled than usual.
“Luka? What are you doing here? I thought I was alone!”
He offered her an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I was…” the smile dropped from his face as he sighed and dragged a hand through his hair, messing it up even further. “The song I’m working on, well, I’m stuck right now. Been going in circles for a while now.”
“The song for Marinette?”
“You’ve been talking with Jules too much,” he said, rolling his eyes. And not answering her question. Which meant it was a yes. “What’re you doing here?”
“Can’t you tell?” she asked with a wry laugh, gesturing to her leotard and tights and the speakers, from which the music was still playing.
“You’ve been at it a while though, haven’t you? Your last class ends before mine.”
“Yeah, well,” she said, turning to face the mirror. “I keep messing it up.”
In the reflection of the mirror, she watched as Luka settled himself against the doorframe. “It looked good from where I was standing, until you got in your own head.”
“Good isn’t enough,” she mumbled as she tried to find her place in the song to get back into the steps.
“You can’t be perfect all the time,” he scoffed in that comforting way of his.
“I’m not perfect,” she mumbled, crossing her arms as she looked away from the reflection of his gaze, giving up on the choreo entirely.
“No one is. Now are you going to tell me what’s got you so stuck in your own head?”
“I didn’t get the commercial,” she admitted.
“But this isn’t the first time,” he said, prompting her to continue on.
He was right. That was just show business. She couldn’t expect to land every role. There were plenty of roles she hadn’t landed before, whether she hadn’t been the right look, or she had been too old or too young. But this time… “When they found out they could get Adrien Agreste, they decided I wasn’t good enough. They revamped the entire concept for the commercial so they could cast him.”
In the mirrors, she saw Lukas brows furrow. She knew about Luka’s complicated relationship with Adrien, not that he would ever call it that. He was too nice for that. She on the other hand…
“He can’t even act!” she blurted out, throwing her hands up in frustration. “And I… it just sucks, you know? Losing out to someone because of who they are or their connection. I know that makes me sound like a hypocrite but you know me.”
“I do,” he sad quietly. His voice was comforting, but his expression was dark.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. Of course he knew what that was like, what with the music video incident that had gone down with Kitty Section and XY, back when Kitty Section had still been together.
His expression lightened; it was still heavy, but the darkness had faded. “I think we’ve both spun ourselves in circles enough for tonight. And you and I both know the worst thing for us is to be alone at times like these. We’re doing take-out tonight, ma wouldn’t mind if you dropped by.”
A small smile crept across her face. “That would be nice. My parents are out tonight anyways, I’ll just text Isabelle that she shouldn’t expect me for dinner.”
Luka nodded. “You pack up, I’ll shut down the sound system.”
“Thanks,” she said gratefully, before hobbling on her aching feet to where she had dumped her backpack and rehearsal bag. “You know,” she said as she kicked off her character shoes and pulled her joggers on over her leotard, “maybe you wouldn’t be spinning yourself in circles if you just asked Marinette out already.”
Aimée - age 17
Nadine - Age 17
Luka - age 17
Darrel - Age 17
_________________________________________
“Aimée,” Nadine complained, her voice tight despite holding the serene but haughty expression she had asked her to, “hurry up. I’m freezing.”
She offered Nadine a sheepish grin. “Sorry, I just need to double-check the exposure and shutter speed and then we should be all ready. You doing ok, Luka?” she asked, glancing to the left, where Luka was standing just out of the shot, holding a thermos of hot water at the ready.
“I’m fine,” Luka continued nodding solemnly as he also shot Nadine an apologetic look. Unlike Nadine, he was bundled up in a winter coat, a hat, and gloves to protect him from the cold, as was she. Nadine on the other hand, was in in her white romantic tutu and the silver organza and tulle Snow Queen cape Nadine had sweet-talked M. Gauthier into letting them borrow.
“And I’m ready,” she chirped from where she had leaned back down over her tripod.
“Finally.”
“Ok, get into position… a touch to the left… ok there,” she said as Nadine shuffled into the first rays of the morning light. “And remember, haughty but serene. This is your kingdom. You’re the Queen. Now on the count of three, are you both ready?”
“I am.”
“Same.”
“Ok, one…” she squinted trough the viewfinder of her camera. “Two… three!”
Nadine rose up onto point and into an arabesque as Luka threw the water from the thermos. The hot water turned to a cloud of snow-like vapour as soon as it hit the cold air. The shutter of her camera clicked.
Standing up, she unhooked the camera from the tripod to take a look. “It’s perfect you guys!” she squealed as she looked at the shot. The sky behind Nadine was the soft pinks, blues, and golds of the winter sunrise, and the scene looked positively magical with the snow and cloud of vapour around Nadine catching hints of the golden light.
“Does that mean I can put my coat on now?”
“Of course. Until we get to the next place in the park I want to take some shots. Now come on! We won’t have this light for long!” she said as she released the lever on her tripod to collapse the legs and picked it up.
Their little troupe marched through the park, from the pond over to the bridge, where she got another incredible shot, this time of Nadine on the bridge, her cape flowing out behind her courtesy of Luka holding it up by the ends and then running out of shot at the last possible second. From there, they continued throughout the park, stopping at all of the locations she had picked out weeks ago. Plus a few extra she had decided were just perfect along the way because how could she turn down the perfect shot?
So far, her favourite was the one she had gotten of Nadine doing what was apparently called a tour jeté. Luka had been able to use the last thermos of boiling water to make another cloud behind Nadine in that picture, and it was just everything.
And now…
“This is the last one. I promise.”
“You said that back at that big oak tree…” Nadine grumbled as she shedded her coat and the boots she had worn over her point shoes as they trekked around the park.
‘That was before I saw this view,” she said, gesturing to the completely deserted, tree-lined pathway. “Sometimes we have to suffer for our art.”
“I don’t see you doing a whole lot of suffering for your art,” Nadine complained as she scurried across the snow to the point on the pathway she had directed her to.
“If she does turn to murder, how willing are you offer me sanctuary on the Liberty?” she asked as Luka stopped beside her and took her tripod bag from her.
“You think that’s going to stop her?” he asked with a chuckle.
“It won’t!” Nadine called from where she was waiting.
“I love you, you’re the best! And I owe you a hot chocolate!”
"Hot chocolates, plural," Nadine grumbled as she picked her way through the snow."
"Add them to my tab," she called back before looking down at her watch. “You heard from Darrel?” she asked as she began fiddling with her camera settings. “He said he would be here in time to drive us all back to Nadine’s place.”
“He texted me a couple of minutes ago, he was just parking-”
“Hey everyone,” she turned as she lowered her camera. Darrel was hurrying towards them, balancing a cardboard tray with four to go cups in his mittened hands. Patches was circled around his shoulders and neck, thoroughly tucked into his hood. And wearing one of the many coats Darrel had gotten for her because he was Darrel. “Sorry we’re late! But we brought hot chocolate- hey, aren’t you cold, Nadine?”
The wind practically shoved him through the door to the building. He had to shove the door extra hard against its force to make sure it shut, he didn’t want Mme. Trudel to complain about another puddle of melted snow in the lobby.
Stomping his boots against the already sodden door mat, he dislodged the sleet and snow that had stuck to them before he made his way to the staircase. By the time he had made it to the fourth floor, he had managed to shake off most of the chill. That was the one downside of delivery jobs: the winter weather. The ice, slush, and snow meant deliveries by board weren’t practical—though Nadine always told him they were never practical—and driving always took longer. Especially when the roads were slippery. Sure, the delivery truck was warmer, but it wasn’t nearly as fun.
The icy remains of the snow melting off his hair trickled down the back of his neck as he juggled the free pizza he had been sent home with and his keys. As soon as he opened the door, he was greeted by the dim light of the lamp his parents always left on for Patches when they went out and-
“Meow?” Patches stepped into the beam of light pouring in from the hallway.
“Hey girl, yeah,” he said as he nudged the the door shut behind him with his shoulder and kicked off his boots, “I’m home.” He shoved his keys into his pocket as she bounded over to him, and held out his free arm to catch her as she leap to greet him. “Yeah, yeah, I know. It was a long shift. But I have dinner and it’s a double feature kinda night, whaddya think?” Patches purred as she snuggled against him. “C’mon, I need to reheat these and get you your dinner.”
Patches climbed to perch on his shoulder, and once she was settled, he stood from his crouch slowly to give her time to adjust. Once he was in the kitchen, he tossed the pizza boxes in the oven and turned it on to reheat them. Then he set about preparing Patches’ dinner.
Patches purred and nuzzled against his shoulder as he rummaged in the cabinet he kept her food in. “What are you in the mood for tonight, mademoiselle? We have chicken feast, one of your favourites, and we have seafood bisque with shrimp, or are you in the mood for tuna and whitefish? Or…” he reached further into the pantry and pulled out a pouch he had been saving for a special occasion. “Since it’s our double feature night, how about tuna, salmon, and chicken ?”
Patches mewled and then head butted his cheeks.
“Well then, you have to have that,” he said, nuzzling his cheek against her fur.” Once her food was in her bowl, and her water was refreshed, he shrugged off his damp coat and checked his phone. Two texts from his mom reminding him that she and his dad were out and would be home late, and that there were leftovers in the fridge if he didn’t bring anything home from work. One from Nadine reminding him not to forget his script when he came over tomorrow, and one from Luka about the upcoming session for game night.
“Hey Patches,” he called as he typed out quick replies, “I’m just going to get changed real quick.” Once he was in his room he pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt to change into. One his way out of his room, he grabbed his oversized fleecy hoodie with the kangaroo pouch pocket Marinette had made for him for his birthday.
As Patches finished the last of her dinner, he pulled the pizza boxes out of the oven, and piled some slices onto a plate. With a bottle of lemonade in one hand, and some carrot sticks added haphazardly to his plate, he was ready. He made his way into the living room, Patches trotting at his heels having finished her dinner, and he plopped down onto the sofa. Patches was on his lap immediately, snuggling into the folds of the fleece of his house hoodie, purring away.
He flicked on the tv, and settled in for a night of kitty cuddles and movies.
