A/N- And here we have it, folks, my final project for Reverb 2015. This was a collaboration with Professor Maka that we wrote, inspired by the art of our partner Ang, who goes by absolutrash on Tumblr. She conceived a Black*Star "bad boy of ballet" AU, and this is the result. The cover art is, of course, her work, and I'll be posting a link to her art in my profile once she's got it posted.

One last thing before we get on to the story. I'm sure you're all sick of hearing this from me, but it's currently the sign up period for Resbang 2015. There's a link to some information about the event on my profile, so if you're at all interested in writing, making art, or getting to know a whole bunch of new people, consider checking it out, maybe? All ships, characters, and genres are welcome. Sign ups end at midnight (U.S. Eastern Time) on August 1st, so you've only got two more days as of this posting if you wanna participate.

There was a time when forgetting his birthday would have been impossible; when he was 14 and she was 15 and she feared the feelings she had for her coarse, brash, wild dance partner went beyond the bonds of camaraderie. Tsubaki missed those days, before he'd told her dance was for "fucking pansy asses" and left her in the lurch, her chance to audition for the performing arts high school lost. Before he'd taken up with the Star Clan and gotten his ass thrown in jail. Before he was "Black*Star" and had simply been Blake.

Now, as she faced him in the middle of the crowded street, she wondered when he'd gotten taller than her so that she had to look just slightly up to meet his gaze, when he'd gotten so hard with his gang tattoo on his bicep and his face rough with brown stubble, when the boy she had known had become the stranger before her now. He wasn't Blake Starkey, she reminded herself again, not anymore. He was Black*Star, and today was his eighteenth birthday.

Today was the day he'd been released from juvenile detention, his slate wiped clean.

Today he made his final choice.

Maybe be could walk a better path. Her heartbeat quickened in her chest as he grinned down at her, his smile as infectious as ever. Maybe he could still choose to do more with himself, could reject his legacy and hers, could be something else, something more than a common thug. Maybe she could help him to make a better choice.

She hoped she could.

Taking a steadying breath, she smiled back softly. "Happy Birthday, Blake. It's-been awhile."

"Well, they couldn't keep a god down forever!" His grin widened. "That place was small change, so they let me go."

She sighed, smile faltering. "Because you turned 18."

"Yeah, whatever, minor details are for weaklings." He waved a dismissive hand for emphasis. "Anyway, 'Baki, it's good to see you." He looked a bit less sure for a moment, a bit more hesitant, though it didn't last. Blake never had been one for hesitation. "Really good."

"Yeah, it's good to see you, too, Blake." Her smile was back, if a little forced. She, on the other hand, always had been the cautious one.

"Black*Star," he corrected.

She chose not to comment, instead nodding once in acknowledgment. Did this mean he'd already decided to return to the Clan? Or simply that he preferred the moniker? Taking in his appearance again-toned, tanned, hair dyed an eye searing electric blue, dressed in basketball shorts and a wife beater that said "Kiss Me, I'm Japanese," old ratty backpack slung casually over one shoulder, she just couldn't tell. Well, she needed to find out if she was going to have a chance to change his mind, and she wouldn't be able to do it standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

"So, um-Black*Star? I was just going to get some lunch. I'd-well, I'd love you to join me, buy you lunch for your birthday and catch up. I mean, if you've got something else to do, I'd understand, of course, but-"

"'Baki," he held up a hand, grin so wide it was blinding. "I just got outta lockup. I got nowhere else to be."

"So that's a-yes?"

"'Course it is-lunch with my all time favorite minion is always gonna be a fuck yeah!"

"Great!" she exclaimed, and her own enthusiasm was genuine, heart speeding again unbidden.

She really had missed him.

Twenty minutes later, they were settled into the little cafe next to the dance studio she taught at part time, a portion of her pay coming in the form of coaching from the owner. They used to dance there together, and Tsubaki didn't miss his leary glance at the other door before they'd entered the restaurant. She'd chosen this place because it was nostalgic, because they'd both loved it once upon a dream, and because it she had a class to teach in an hour. She was missing her practice time, but one day of lost practice was well worth it if she could regain a friend; she ignored the whisper in the back of her mind that it had been some time since she had only wanted to be friends.

He was no good for her and she knew it. He was walking the same path her brother had, and she hadn't been able to save him-why should this be different? Even a friendship had to be predicated on him having left the Clan behind, she decided.

Her heart didn't seem to agree as it sped imperceptibly when their fingers brushed in the bread basket and he grinned at her only a little sheepishly when she insisted he take the last piece.

It didn't take long to learn what she'd missed the last three years of his life over bread and salad. He wasn't exactly open, but he'd always liked talking about himself, and much of it she knew already from rumors and mutual friends anyway, so she was well able to fill in the blanks. He'd stopped dancing when he joined the Clan, and she'd stopped talking to him after practically begging him to reconsider, unable to watch another walk that path. From there petty crimes became bigger crimes, and when he got caught stealing a car at 16, he'd gone to juvie.

He'd gotten into fights in juvie. A lot of fights. He'd also cut ties with any remaining friends who weren't Clan.

"I was the biggest star there, 'course, but it was…" he trailed off, scratching the back of his head with one hand as he shoved down another breadstick with the other, filling the sudden silence with his loud chewing. He swallowed and shook his head. "Well, I guess after about a year and fighting my way to the top of the pile-I realized I sorta missed my loyal followers."

His loyal followers--their friends. She felt a lump in her throat. Every one of them had tried to keep ties with him after he'd been thrown in jail, and he'd chased them all off. Even Maka, who he'd known since they were in diapers and who he'd always called his oldest follower, who was so stubborn she'd kept trying to see him for months, precious wasted study time when he refused to attend visiting hours, before finally giving up when her grades threatened to start slipping.

She heard about him from all of them, even if she refused to see him herself. Maybe she should have. Maybe she should have remained his friend when he stopped dancing and joined the Clan. Maybe she could have-done something to change things.

Guilt clawed at her insides, threatening to rend her. She'd been here before, but this time it felt different-he was different. He wasn't her brother. Maybe she hadn't been able to help Masa, and maybe she had refused to help Blake back then, but she could make a difference now. She could.

"They'd like to see you, you know. Maybe-"

"So whatcha doin' anyway, Baki," he cut her off before she could complete the thought. "Looks like you're still dancing." She supposed the fact that she had a dance leotard on under her shorts and off shoulder tee must be a dead giveaway, as was the fact she was still carrying the same gym bag she had then.

"Mmm, yes. I was on my way to the studio when I ran into you, actually," she said as she forked her salad absently, not quite meeting his eyes. "I teach the beginners, ballet and modern. It's a good part time job while I take classes at DCCC, and Miss Azusa coaches me as part of my pay and lets me use the practice rooms as much as I want."

"DCCC?" he looked surprised. "Not DCC?"

She colored, stabbing her salad more violently as she mumbled. "There's nothing wrong with community college." Tsubaki had wanted to audition for the conservatory, she really had. Even if he had ruined her chances of getting into the two year performing arts high school that practically guaranteed admission if you graduated, she had still meant to audition for the conservatory when the time came. But Tsubaki had always been better with a partner, playing to the strengths of another so that both could shine, and once he'd abandoned dance and her, she had never been able to replace him, try as she might.

It didn't stop her from practicing. She was honing her solo skills while she attended classes at the community college, hoping they would be enough, but they weren't and she knew it. Even Azusa had confirmed it was unlikely she'd get in-she was simply built for partner work.

She'd never even bothered with an audition.

It was disheartening, but it wouldn't stop her from doing what she loved, even if all she could do was practice and teach beginners. She could transfer to DCU, get a degree in fine arts education. Maybe she couldn't perform, but she could still dance.

She suppressed the usual sinking of spirits at the thought. Maybe she couldn't live her dream, but she could live a shadow of it. It felt fitting, somehow, like she was living up to her name. Tsubaki, the scentless flower… Tsubaki, the eternal bridesmaid of classical dance...

"But-you wanted to be a dancer," he shook his head after a small pause.

Meeting his gaze at his tone, she saw the same confusion lacing his dark green eyes. "I'm still a dancer," she said, sitting a little straighter, a little prouder, unwilling to admit to him what his loss had done. "I'll always be a dancer."

The server saved her from further explanation by setting down two plates, a heaping plate of pasta for him and a portion of fish and rice for her. They ate in less than comfortable silence for a time, her eyes on her food. She'd planned on using this lunch help him, to make a start in steering him away from continuing down the same path he'd started on, but all she'd managed to do was to earn his pity, for surely that had been pity in his eyes.

Pathetic.

"So," he intruded on her thoughts after several minutes, his plate shockingly empty when she raised her eyes. "You got a new partner?"

Surprised by the abruptness of the question- though really, she shouldn't have been, shouldn't have forgotten how blunt he could be- she shook her head. "No," she said honestly. "I mean-I've had other partners, but they never last. None of them quite fit, you know?"

"Yeah, I get it," he nodded, voice uncharacteristically quiet, his eyes filled with something oddly like regret. Regret and Blake seemed so at odds that it jolted her, and she shook her head again.

"Um, anyway-I hate to do this, but I have to leave soon. I have a class to teach, then practice, and I know you must-"

"Mind if I come? For old times' sake?" The crooked grin he flashed her was so hopeful she nodded instantly.

"Of course not!" she said brightly, an inkling of an idea hitting her suddenly and forcefully. "Actually, we could maybe practice together after I teach beginning ballet if-" she scanned his face, saw the trepidation there "-I mean, if you have time, I don't mean to-"

His hand was fingering the back of his hair again before his put it back down on the table in front of him, his brief apprehension melting into something fond for the barest instant, before widening into the same brash grin she had always, always loved.

"Always got time for my favorite minion," he declared loudly, earning a few odd stares.

For her part, Tsubaki couldn't help but feel a warmth wash through her, hope and happiness mixt in equal measure as she worked on finishing her meal.

He had changed so much, yet he hadn't changed at all.

And now-now-once again, they would dance.