The Black Swan | Reposted

Epilogue

I was weeping as it continued.

He was always so technically gifted, always so fluid, and bursting with pure raw talent and uncharted edge. He had only gotten better as he aged.

That hair was finally a decent length, but at twenty nine he still didn't want to let it go. His body was strong, and showed his dedication. His eyes were fierce, passionate, and beautiful as always.

I always got overwhelmed when I saw him, and I wasn't sure why that was. I think it was a stunning thing that we got to do, that we got to really live our dream. We got to stand in these beautiful theater halls, and we got to invite people into our world.

They were seeing a story, seeing pages to a book that they never once would understand the true depth of.

No one in this whole theater would ever know, apart from me, how hard it was for him to write his story.

We were the only eyes that got to see how hard it was to write our pages.

"Mommy, don't cry," she whispered at the very end of the ballet. I leaned down and I kissed her temple. "Daddy is very good."

"Oh honey you don't even know." I smiled and pulled her onto my lap. I rose to my feet as soon as he came out for his bow, along with the entire theater. His smile was large, and his eyes were right on mine, giving me the kindest grin.

I headed backstage, having to stop and chat with people with the company.

"Mommy," she whined. "I want to see daddy, come on," she pulled on my hand, thankfully giving me an excuse to escape.

"Let's go see!" I cheered and we ran through the theater, going backstage.

"Knock-knock," I called, tapping on the door.

"Get in here," he shouted. I threw the door open and he lit up. "My girls," he shouted and dropped down, still wearing his tights but his shirt was gone. I admired him, holy hell he was so hot to me. Would that ever fade? I truly didn't think so, I think it'd go deeper.

He had her name and her little feet prints tattooed onto his chest, with her birthdate beneath. His body was so lean and strong, so structured and carved. His chest was broad and beautiful, he was as a whole.

"Daddy, you were amazing! So was Mom," she threw her body into his arms and he buried his face into her hair, dropping back on his behind. He laid back and he threw her up. My heart leaped into my throat as he caught her. She broke out laughing and he put her little hips onto his feet, holding her hands tightly as she gasped for breath, laughing so hard.

"Careful, careful, please," I held my face, pacing a bit.

"Mom, don't be such a bore." He teased and winked at me.

"Dad where is Emma?"

"Hmm," he caught hold of her and he got up, walking her to the costume room to play with the designers little girl I'm sure. He came back without her and he shut the door, leaning against it with that fucking smirk. His dimples were out, he had this evil little grin and arrogance.

I loved it.

"What's that face Mr. Styles?" I titled my head.

"Well Graff...." He paused, then walked slowly toward me. I giggled. "What?"

"The tights are fucking hot."

He huffed and shook out of them. I laughed and he tossed on a pair of jeans, the band of his boxers out just like the muscles on his torso.

"How was your show?" he asked seriously, rolling up his socks.

"Wonderful, I can't believe they scheduled ours at the same time." I sighed. "I'm sorry we didn't get here as early as we wanted."