Pas de Deux
The way she turned on the tips of her toes without faltering, he couldn't help but watch her. It had always been that way.
Kid, or Master Death as most of the students called him, had been running his own studio for the past five years, but he'd still never met a dancer quite like her. She was talented beyond measure, but emotionless and effortless in her movements. At the end of each lesson, she'd walk up to him, bow her head, and whisper "thank you for the lesson" before walking off to go home.
Crona Gorgon was a beautiful dancer. Her gaunt, pale limbs and demon-possessed-like flexibility allowed her to move in a way that most people couldn't. She always started in third position, her heels aligning with her arches with her arms out like swan wings, and finished in seventh, on her toes with her arms held above her head in a delicate, near 'O' shape.
She was his oldest student—almost nineteen—and she was incredibly shy. Because of this, most of her lessons were private. They would be the only two in the studio during the day when the other students were still at school.
"I want you to hold that positon." Kid stepped around her in a circle as she closed her eyes—freezing like a statue and as thin as a stalk of wheat. He, as usual, was trying to find some sort of flaw in her footing or muscular stance. But she was perfect.
"Now get your leg up." She did as she was told. "And up, higher, higher, higher."
He watched each muscle as she moved, arms forward as if she were reaching for something.
"Very good." He folded his arms, watching her. "Why don't we take a break?"
She lowered herself back to stand normally before bowing her head. "Thank you, Master Death."
He sat, folding his legs beneath him. "How many times do I have to ask you to just call me Kid? I'm only six years your senior."
"I'm sorry." She sat with him, head still bowed, hands flat on the floor.
"Do you think you may want to try for recital this time?" He raised a brow. "You've gotten quite good in the past year. I'm sure we could find something—"
"Mother wouldn't want me to." She cut him off. "She just lets me come to classes because she thinks it helps my muscles."
"Crona, you're so talented."
She closed her eyes. "You bought a new shirt."
He raised his brows. "What?"
"That shirt is new." She rocked forward on her knees and moved closer. "The one you used to wear had holes…" Her fingers are hovering over the fabric of his fitted t-shirt now. "Here." She poked at the edge of his shoulder. "Here." Again along his side. "And here." Once more at the hem.
"That's probably why I bought a new shirt."
"That's too bad. I liked the one with the holes." She pulled away and stood. "Thank you for the lesson, Master Death."
He swallowed and sat on the floor for a long time after her departure.
They didn't have any other conversations outside of instructions for the next several weeks. She simply came to class and obeyed every request, pirouettes and all.
One sweltering afternoon, with the studio doors propped open so that the air might circulate, she asked: "If I were to dance in a recital, would I be able to do a pas de deux?"
He blinked. "You want to dance in the recital?"
She looked at him. "The question was theoretical."
"We've only had a few of the younger students perform a very basic pas de deux—try that last turn again, see if you can get higher on that jump" She as she was told "—but even if you were to want to perform one in the recital, we don't have any danseurs of your class to do one with you."
She landed gracefully, turning to look at him. "I want to learn the choreography for one."
"Crona, I can't teach you half of a dance without a partner—there are lifts and bigger turns. You can't learn a pas de deux single-handedly."
"Why can't you act as my partner to teach it to me?"
He hadn't considered that.
"Let me see if I can find something suited to your talents, and we can start on it next class."
A ghost of a smile crossed her mouth. "Thank you."
She was lighter than he'd expected her to be.
He'd known how quick of a learner she was since he'd started teaching her lessons, but she was learning even faster than he'd expected. The lifts went smoothly, and her longer pirouettes could have been done atop a dime with his hands holding her waist steady.
"You're doing very well, Crona." He smiled, guiding her into the next step, one hand against her waist and the other brushing her wrist.
"Thank you, Ma-"
"Kid." He corrected.
She blushed. "Thank you, Kid."
She spun again, his hand resting against the small of her back as she fell into the finishing pose of the dance. He could feel her spine coiling and uncoiling as she let out steady breaths. He pulled her back up so she stood in front of him.
"I cannot believe how fast you've picked up the choreography for the piece."
"It's nothing, really." She was still standing a bit to close. "I like it; it's a beautiful dance."
He smiled and she stepped back.
"You can be dismissed early for the day, if you like. We've gotten a lot of work done."
"Can we please run through it one more time?" She asked, bowing her head.
He held out his hand. "If you want."
They moved through the parts of the dance he'd mapped out for her that day easily. It would have taken any other student weeks to do a run through this smoothly.
She fell against his grip at the right times and spun on her toes perfectly. When they ended the dance, his hand against the small of her back again, she looked up at him—powder blue staring into sharp gold.
"That was beautiful, Crona."
She didn't move, but nodded her head. "You're very good at this."
He felt her fingers brush the back of his hand. "That's why I became an instructor."
She held his hand against the small of her back, pulling herself to stand upright before she forced it to slide down so it brushed the lowest edge of her leotard. He subconsciously ran his forefinger along where the fabric outlined the top of her thigh before pulling away.
"You're dismissed for the day."
She looked up at him through choppy pink bangs, that same smile ghosting her face. "Thank you for the lesson, Kid."
His hands skimmed her waist as she pirouetted in front of him. Her turns were decreasing in speed, and eventually she stopped altogether, facing him. She looked at him, face a little paler than normal, before she caught herself by taking hold of his chest.
"Is everything alright?"
"I'm just a little dizzy." She looked up at him. "Can we take a break?"
"Of course." He sat his hand on her back and led her to sit on a bench in the corner of the room.
"I'm sorry." She bowed her head. "I don't usually get dizzy like that."
"It's alright." He slid his hand away. "Do you need some water or—"
She caught his wrist before he could walk away. "Please don't leave me."
He looked at her for a moment before sitting back down. "Alright."
She bowed her head, cheeks pinker than usual.
He brought his hand to her forehead. "Crona, you have a fever."
"It's okay, I just got dizzy." She shifted like she wanted to stand."
"No, you're really warm. If we keep practicing, you might get worse."
She folded her arms over her chest. "I'm okay."
"Let's just take it easy for the day." He smiled. "Maybe do some stretches."
She puffed her cheeks like she wanted to protest, but reluctantly agreed. After her dizziness subsided, they moved to sit across from each other on the floor to do some stretching together.
He color didn't change much, and she didn't try to converse—as usual.
"I think I'm feeling some tension in a weird spot." She pulled up from a stretch.
"Like where?"
"Here." Her finger started in her calves than began trailing higher and higher until it stopped at her inner thigh. "And then more in here." Her fingers then grazed over her hips.
He chuckled. "You're a dancer. That's perfectly normal."
"Do you ever get knots there?"
"Sometimes." He smiled. "Do you think you'll be alright to go home on your own? I can call your mother if—"
"No!" She squeaked.
He blinked and she shook her head, regathering herself. "Really, I'm fine." She stood. "I'll see you tomorrow."
He chuckled again as he watched her go. "No 'thank you for the lesson' today, huh?"
Crona had mastered the entire dance a few weeks before the recital.
"I don't want to perform it." She stated one day, after they finished her lesson.
"Why is that?"
She shook her head. "I told you before; mother wouldn't approve. But I love that you've taught it to me. You should teach me more dances like this."
"We'd have to find you a proper partner."
Her cheeks flushed. "Never mind. I don't want any more."
"Hm?"
"I don't want to learn any more pas de deux. They're a waste of time anyways."
"What's with the sudden attitude change?"
"It's nothing." She bowed her head. "Thank you for the lesson today. I have to go."
He'd never seen her run out of the studio like that.
Crona missed the next four of her lessons. Kid was actually surprised when she was waiting for him outside the studio on Saturday morning.
"Good morning, Master Death."
He looked at her over his shoulder as he unlocked the door. "What's with that? I thought you were calling me 'Kid' now."
She followed him inside, tugging her sweater around her. "I'm sorry I missed the past few lessons. Mother wanted me to stay home for a while."
"It's fine." He smiled at her, setting his bag down. "Perhaps a phone call next time. I was starting to worry."
She unbuttoned her sweater. "I'm sorry about that, Master, really."
He turned to look at her. "You don't have to be so serious, Crona. It's okay."
She set down her bag and slid her sweater off.
Her uniform wasn't that much different than normal, but something looked more exciting than usual. The black leotard still hugged every inch of her skeletal frame, but this one had a sheer black skirt to drape down to the tops of her thighs. This looked more like something a younger student would wear. But it looked perfect on Crona, to accompany her black ballet slippers.
"I like the new uniform."
She smiled. "The old one had holes."
"Good work today." She smiled as she bowed her head at him.
"Thank you, Sir."
"'Sir'? What's with that?" He smiled. "It's Kid, remember?"
"Right, sorry." She shifted from foot to foot. "Um, Kid?"
"What is it?"
"Do you have any other lessons to teach today?"
He looked at the whiteboard. "I don't."
"Oh, good." She actually smiled this time.
"Why? What—"
She stood on her tip toes, ghosting her mouth against his. He sat his hands against her shoulders gingerly.
"Crona, I don't—"
"I don't want to do a pas de deux with anyone other than you." She looked down. "Do you understand?"
He paused. "That's alright."
She looked back up at him. "So will you teach me another?"
He smiled. "If that's what you want, sure."
"Thank you for the lesson, Kid." She giggled, waving at him over her shoulder.
He waved back as he watched her go. "You're welcome, Crona."