Dancing Fists

Chapter 1

Beth

The choreographer yelled and clapped harshly in the old building, criticizing her dance moves. She was trying desperately to master this performance, what with a show coming up, but she just kept making tiny mistakes that her teacher was not happy with. She could feel sweat beginning to form on her forehead and her hair was beginning to stick to the back of her neck. Her leotard was uncomfortably clinging to her form, and never before had she wished for windows so much in her life. Her sleek muscles trembled and fluttered on the edge of exhaustion. She knew she was pushing herself; giving this man much more satisfaction than he deserved, but she wanted to get this right for herself and for her future.

Eventually, the choreographer packed his things and left without a single drop of positive feedback for her. But Beth knew she had mastered it, she must have, because otherwise he wouldn't have left.

This is how we end up here. The pale, exhausted ballet dancer lying on the old dusty wooden floor of the dance studio, chest heaving, limbs trembling and lips chapped. She knew she was killing herself. But aside all of the exhaustion, she felt something else. She felt joy. And because of this, she knew she would be great in the show.

…...

The bus pulled into the station three minutes late, but Beth didn't mind. She was just relieved to be finally heading home after the day she had. Stepping onto the bus, she almost cried; she was unable to find an empty seat. Searching frantically with her eyes, desperate for some rest (her journey was an hour long), she finally saw one stray seat next to a man. His hair was draped over his face and he seemed to have a gym bag on his lap.

She shyly sat next to him and smiled, but he simply turned his face away to look out of the window. Beth rested her head against the headrest and sighed out loud. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to drift to sleep, knowing that this show was going to be the beginning of her life.

Waking up on her stop, Beth realised the man next to her had already left. He must've been real careful about it too, otherwise it would've woken her up. She stood up and climbed off the bus, heading towards her apartment block.

Stepping inside, she put her bag on the ground and grabbed an apple from her fruit bowl. She planned to get to bed as soon as she had finished, because she had another long day of practicing tomorrow.

She quickly called Maggie with the details of her show. Maggie was her older sister and wasn't long married to her husband Glenn. Their mother and father had died a few years back in a car accident involving a drunk driver. She and Maggie had been distraught, but after a year or so of mourning, Maggie and Glenn decided to live in the farmhouse and continue the veterinary business, and Beth took her own route and headed to New York to become a dancer.

She visited her sister as often as she could, but the past few months had been so busy for her that she hadn't had a chance. The show was going to be the next time she saw Maggie, and that was in just one week. She couldn't wait.

Daryl

As if his day of training wasn't tiresome enough, he now had to deal with some blonde chick sleeping and drooling all over his shoulder on the bus. Just a few more stops, he kept telling himself. If he was completely honest with himself, she was kinda cute, but he's never honest with himself and frankly he's pretty pissed off. Still, he doesn't wake her. When his stop comes, he gently lifts her head to rest it against her chair, grabs his bag and leaves, mumbling unheard curse words under his breath.

Just a few more weeks and it would be Daryl's boxing tournament. It wasn't a huge deal, not to him anyway, but it was a big fight. He was up against a guy called Abraham Ford, a fellow heavyweight boxer. They'd never met before, but he didn't care. All he had to do was get into the ring, beat the shit out of him and leave with his pay check.

Daryl trained daily at a boxing studio next to the dance academy. He knew he played his music loud but he couldn't give two shits, because it helped him concentrate. What's more, concentration is key for boxers – one wrong move and it could land you a punch in the face.

As far as tournaments went for Daryl, he was undefeated. He didn't expect this one to be any different. His brother, Merle was also a boxer, but they never fought each other. After Merle ran away from their abusive father, he also left Daryl to bare the weight of his father's fists on his own as a child. Learning to box was his way out of his abusive childhood, and Merle seemed to have taken the same path. However, Daryl has always felt hatred towards his older brother for leaving him. He hasn't seen him since that day.

Unlocking the door to his apartment, Daryl threw his keys on the kitchen counter and collapsed onto his sofa. He ran his hands over his face and thought about his brother, wondered where he was and what he was doing at this point. Then, his thoughts drifted to the blonde girl.

"Aw, shit," he groaned. Stupid girl, clogging up his head. He would just get a quick snack and head to bed. He had too much shit to do to be thinking about some snoring, dribbling sleeping girl.

…...

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this first chapter! It's really just an introduction to Beth and Daryl and what they're doing with their lives at the moment. I feel really kind of awful to be writing about Merle in such a bad way, because I really did like him, but this story will be portraying him as the "villain" as such. Sorry if you liked him too (you never know, he might change)!

Anyway, please let me know what you think, and the second chapter will hopefully be up in a few days. Thanks for reading!