You'll always remember the first time you were on stage. You started a little late, apparently, but that didn't matter one bit to you. You practiced every day and you tried your hardest at every practice. It all paid off in that moment, when you had your solo. It didn't matter that everyone else got one too. You didn't care about that. All that mattered was the obnoxious wolf whistle that came as you made your way back in line. You knew it was your brother and you love him all the more for it.
Nearly seven years later, and you still remember that. You're sitting on the floor of a hotel room in front of an open suitcase and your ballet shoes, well worn and loved, are in your hands. You gave up your career at the ballet to come here. To find him. You know you'll never tell him even though it's the one thing you miss the most because you used that to fill the hole he'd left. Ballet is as important to you as he is, and you just traded one for the other. You love him, you really do, and you're so glad that he's back, but you miss ballet.