・chapter 23・

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Asya flung Ivan's shirt to where he was sitting on his dressing room couch and pulled up the straps of her leotard, shrugging on a hoodie to ward off the late-afternoon chill. After their little altercation outside the studio he'd made it clear how she could remedy the situation between them, namely follow him to his dressing room on their break. Judging by the satisfied grin on his features, it was probably worth it.

They had a stage rehearsal left before they finished for the night, and needless to say after the day she'd been having she was dying to go home and shut out the world for a few hours. She was going to take a hot shower, get in bed and try to sleep off the nightmarish week she'd endured. Hopefully it would cure her headache and everything else that was malfunctioning in her body.

She leaned forward onto his dressing table and touched up her lipstick, feeling him looking at her from the other side of the room. She met his gaze in the reflection of the mirror, dabbing more lipstick onto her bottom lip.

'What?' she asked bluntly.

'Nothing.' he replied, sitting up to pull up his pants. 'You're hot when you're angry.'

She sniggered and finished applying her lipstick. Quick and easy, the way it always was with him, not much thinking and even less talking. She honestly preferred it that way, although having to be that close to him when she was actually furious for what he'd said to her wasn't exactly easy. Still, she considered herself a seasoned expert when it came to tolerating whatever she needed to get the job done, even if it had only aggravated her headache and made her angrier than she already was.

She tucked her lipstick back into the side pocket of her bag, feeling the smoothness of the plastic pill bottle rubbing against her fingers. Almost impulsively she pulled it out and shook four more tablets out into her palm. It was probably too much, but she wasn't going to make it through another rehearsal unless she calmed down somehow. But more than that, she had no intention of repeating what happened that morning with Debbie. She'd never let a teacher down in her entire life and she couldn't afford to lose the faith of her coach, not when she was so close to landing a principal role. She swallowed the pills with a gulp of water before she could second-guess herself.

'Don't be long.' she called over her shoulder to her partner, slipping quietly out into the corridor.

She shut the door behind herself and turned around to make for the stage, not expecting to collide head-first with a hard chest. Looking up to apologize, she was met by a sequestered icy blue gaze.

Of-course, she was in the male principal block and it made sense that he'd be there, but still, did it have to be him of all bloody people? She'd been doing such a good job of staying out of his way.

He looked like he was about to say something, but she rolled her eyes and shoved past him challengingly. He could draw his own conclusions as to why she was coming out of Ivan's dressing room, she honestly didn't give a shit. She felt the painkillers swimming around her bloodstream, numbing away the anger and pain while she headed for the stage.

・・・

'-around mid-December, but the board has been asking for a re-run in January.' Bastian explained as they made their way up the stairs to the main stage. Roman nodded distractedly, only half paying attention to what his artistic director was saying.

He felt off that day. Not for any singular reason, but rather it seemed like the building discomfort that had been settling into him over the past two weeks was finally starting to drive him insane. His rehearsals that morning had been godawful, which Walsh had graciously pointed out every chance he got. He was out of sync, with his body, his thoughts, his surroundings. Half the time it felt dull and boring, and the other half chaotic and suffocating.

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