Just Call Havoc

In These Waters

Callum:

My blood is fucking boiling and I might just have to kill myself for this.
The worst part about human emotions is you cannot control the motherfucker. And the motherfucker currently wants me to grab the girl in front of me and kiss the shit out of her.

It's an annoyingly sudden development. Not that I didn't see it coming. The moment she set foot in our lives I was damn sure she would stir shit up. I saw the way Hael looked at her. He was captured the first fucking instance he laid eyes on the girl. He hates her for it. I want to hate her too. Devil knows I can't.

Not after the show she just put up in my studio. Dance is fucking air to me but I've never seen someone blending two styles that are worlds apart so seamlessly that it is both and neither. It is something completely other.

She is fire on that floor. I want to ask her to do it again but I know it won't do much good. She'll be too stif to let go like that if others are present. I taped her. That would have to do.

Now she's walking towards me, still intent on leaving. But I was never one to give in.

I step into the studio and shut the door behind me, locking it. I haven't taken my eyes off her. So, it's only too easy to read the dread, panic and absolutely terror that flashes across her pretty features the moment she hears the lock click.

It's gone within a second, replaced by her usual calm, cool and detached expression. I can still see it in her eyes, though.

One would think, given who I am, that fear would make me feel a pervert sort of pleasure. Heck, that is exactly what I was expecting as well. But that doesn't happen. I see the fear and it makes me sick to my stomach. I want to find the bastards who put that fear in her eyes and tear them to fucking shreds. I want to bathe her in their blood and gift her a bouquet of their chopped off dicks. I want to hold her close and shield her from the entire fucking world.

I breathe through my nose trying to control myself. I can tell she senses my struggle because she isn't walking towards me anymore. She is standing still a few feet away from me, stiff as a board, eyes trained on my every move, muscles coiled; ready to fight.

I take another deep breath, then move around her to the sound system. I start tinkering around, trying to find a suitable song. I want to know what she can do with a partner. Or maybe I just want an excuse to get my hands on her. Either ways, it gives me something to focus on and returns my control. I know it will be gone again the moment we start dancing. If she agrees to the dance, that is.

I smirk to myself. Better to not give her an opportunity to refuse then, isn't it?

So, I don't ask. I've found the song finally. It's complete opposite of what she just danced to. I smile. Let's see how the prodigy takes this one.

I press play and turn around making straight for her. She's still standing in the same spot. This time she doesn't tense when I draw closer. Finally catching up to what's about to happen, are we?

She has caught up. When the song starts and I pull her in, she goes with it. We dance. She's still stiff. Still defensive. I don't point it out or push. I have put the song on loop. She'll get there.

The first play ends. It starts up again. She looks a little startled when I don't stop and just keep guiding her through the dance. Halfway through the second run, she starts getting into the zone. I sense her fluidity returning, feel her body leaning into the movements without hesitation. I shift from simple steps and twirls to lifts. She doesn't flinch or startle. We're getting there.

The song starts a third time and now, we are improvising together; figuring out steps, testing each other's limits, trying to acquaint ourselves to the other's form and style.