Benjamin Tsou (the_dancer) wrote in olympianthreads, @ 2014-11-21 10:54:00 |
|
|||
Two more days. A week was really not that long a time. Ben usually found lots of ways to amuse himself during the holidays, from spending time with his family to exploring the island to just mucking around with his friends. Of course this time most of his friends seemed to have taken the opportunity to go home, or travel. He didn't mind of course, but with his parents both busy in the aftermath of the dream prank - which in Ben's opinion deserved a prison sentence for manslaughter no matter what anyone said; he'd liked Mr Southerton - he found himself spending most of his time alone. Of course this gave him ample time to work on his dancing. He'd been focused on his school subjects in the week of and leading up to midterms, so that there'd hardly been any time to practice. He and Eva had pretty much nailed the Romeo and Juliet pax de deux, but he was now midly obsessed with the choreography and had been trying to teach himself some of the solos. He'd found an old recording of the show online performed by the Moscow Ballet Company, and was trying to memorise the choreography, but it was easier when he could actually step it out. On Thursday, he went to the yoga room where he often used the space to dance when it wasn't being used, and set up his iPad to play the recording while he stepped out the solo. Then he tried it again at speed. He struggled on the pirouette; Eva was doing her best to teach him the best form, but he nearly always slipped on the last rotation. As he danced, it was easy to forget the nightmare that had been Jun's dream. The grief over the headmaster's death. His second-guessing about how things were going with Jordan, and how he was, wherever he was, and what would happen when he came back. His constant worries about his Mom, the weight of the knowledge he now had about Jun's disappearance, a weight he would have to carry alone until Jun decided to share it. It was so easy to focus on the movements, to aim for perfection in every turn and jump and landing, to be constantly aware of the position of all his limbs, his elbow, his wrist, his fingers, the curve of his spine. With those thoughts in his head the others all slipped away, and he was free. Two hours later he had learned the solo, the pirouette had improved, he was sweating and his calves were starting to cramp. He stretched his shoulderblades and switched off the music. As he turned he realised with a jolt of surprise that the door was open and someone was standing in the entrance. "Sorry," he said quickly, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. "I'm on the way out." |