It was more about the weight over his ears than the music playing through the headphones that Lane left the dormitory without nothing other than his phone. He knew he was better off sleeping his anxiety away, yet the moment he had put down his head on his pillow, millions of voices had started talking to him. It was those moments when no one was looking at him that felt like everyone’s eyes were on him. His fingers continued fidgeting along the hem of his oversized hoodie, his gaze jumping from the concrete beneath his feet to the quickly brightening sky. His body carried him to the building he knew like the back of his hand. He greeted security guards with a slight tilt of his head, slipping past the entrance floor quickly to throw himself to the practice room.
His steps almost dragged on the steps climbing upstairs. He remembered the flinch on the dance teacher’s face, the disappointment in his own expression and another thirty minutes spent just to fix his part. He stopped short on one of the steps, feeling a headache creeping in. He had to remind himself that he wasn’t the same Lane that walked into that building years ago. That guy was unsure of his movements, foreign to the culture and language of the country and all in all, undeserving of the acceptance he got. Standing there on the stairs, he was no longer Lane, but F.ve instead; and that disappointed him even further. There was no place for failure in F.ve’s book. He was known to pick things up fast, practice like crazy and succeed. Succeed he did... He mumbled absentmindedly under his breath, climbing the stairs with even more vigor. He made his way to practice rooms slowly. His brain moving him forward but his feet just carrying him through the corridor instead of going inside, his figure floating around in the hallway.
