The classroom was an absolute flurry this morning. Ever since Fakir began teaching morning ballet, Lilie has been absolutely dumbfounded and swooning over him. It is not much of a surprise, though. Half the girls in the class have been falling to their knees just to get that boy to notice them. I heave as my bones and muscles start to ache, calling over Pike to my side. Her dark hair gleams a purple hue in the light let in through the windows of the studio. She gallops over, her pink unitard holding her body tightly, allowing every part of her to be seen rather well. Both Pike and Lilie had grown into gorgeous 16 year olds, while I seemingly stagnated at 12. With Pike, Lilie follows behind, though her eyes don't seem to leave Fakir. How innocent, I think to myself, that someone as hopelessly romantic can fall for a guy like him.
I wipe my brow, catching a quick glance at Fakir. He has aged gracefully; narrow green eyes like an untouched forest, a tall frame held nimble by slim and muscular legs, brown hair that pulled back nicely into a long ponytail. We catch eyes, though it is very brief before I look back at my assembly of friends. His stare still lingers uncomfortably behind me, though.
"Geez, Fakir is a tough guy to please, isn't he?" Pike finally speaks up between us all, despite me being the one who initially brought us together.
"I think I could be able to satisfy him. Besides, have you seen the way he dances? So full of angst..." Lilie seems to dwell her eyes on him as he leaves the class, his usual groupies flicking around him.
"He's just so uptight. Maybe he should learn that not everyone can perform such complex moves yet. I mean, we're third years, we've barely finished learning grande jeté." Pike adds, moving toward the doors into the hall.
"Yeah, but I think his heart is in the right place. He just wants us to do our best." I finally chime in. I remember how grouchy he was when we were first years, and how much distaste he had for anyone aside from himself and Mytho. We continue to chatter until we make it to our own respective rooms.
I pull down my blinds and flick on my light, switching out of my unitard and into my bath robe, though I immediately second guess my decision. The shower room will be swarming with girls after practice, and I'm not particularly comfortable being surrounded by other nude girls who are vastly more developed than me, seeing as I still look like a nymphette rather than a maturing girl. I hover in front of my door, considering my options.
The bathhouse! Of course, how could I forget? The bathhouse was rather new, and no one really used it because it's a more japanese commodity, and not used by many of the other students, making it perfect for my socially anxious conscience. I pull open my door with my hand gently bracing my towel to my chest.
Making my way only halfway down the hallway, I stop and stare at the bathhouse door, making sure no one is going in. After a couple minutes of no one going in or out, I proceed and enter into the dressing room. The warm wave of air hits me so softly, lingering over my entire body as I close the door behind me. I make sure to have the door close as softly as possible, while walking to one of the many lockers, discarding of my slippers and robe, only my towel clutching tightly to my breast.
I make my way over to the actual door holding in the bathhouse, and open the room to myself, steam seeping out around me. I step in, and observe for a long moment. The bath is large, enough to fit at least 20 people, and it seems to be completely void of anyone else. I let it a sigh of relief, and pull my hair out of its bun, instead wrapping it up into the towel so it won't get wet in the bath. Slipping down into the warm water I feel welcome in its grasps on my skin. It seems almost like a luxury item in our dorm hall.
I briskly reach for the soap I brought, along with the other toiletries, pulling them close to the edge of the bath for easy access. Undoing my towel from my head, I watch as my long hair starts to soak in the water, becoming heavier on my head. Sinking low enough to reach my nose, my hair continues to become wet. I lean back my head hoping for a successful attempt to get the top of my head and my roots soaked as well. Pulling my head and chest above the water once more, I begin to lather my body with the smooth bar of soap, washing over my arms, torso, legs, and everything else. I thoroughly rub myself until suds covered most of my body. Plunging myself back into the water, I giggle as I watch the bubbles slowly dissipate around me.
I hear the familiar snap of the changing room door. Oh god, I think to myself, in a slight panic. Someone else is here, I'm totally dead, I sink to where my nose is barely peeking out, hoping to be unseen, though I'm sitting front and center at the bath. There is no way the person won't see me. I hope desperately it's a girl, chanting in my head vehemently for it to be a girl. A locker closes from the other side of the door and footsteps approach the bath.
My face burns red and I quickly turn around, realizing I don't want to be seen by whoever was coming into the room. I act like nothing is wrong and begin shampooing my hair, my nervous fingers trembling as they pull through my tangled red hair.
Faster, faster! My brain begins shouting at me. The door swings, and the footsteps stop. Their eyes peer down at me, I feel them on my back. They pierce my back, filling my stomach with relative horror as I scrub my hair even faster and with more vigor.
Please, please, please just go in the bath!
"Ahiru?" The voice calls out to me. Oh god, it's a boy. I quickly pull myself underwater, rinsing out all the suds in my hair, hoping to just live under the sea of warmth. After a few seconds, I feel the large hand pull my shoulder up. I take a quick gulp of the air, still refusing to look at the familiar voice, my face the same color as the weaning sunrise.
"Ahiru, what are you doing in here?" The voice is gruff and raspy, and the hands are soft, but with calloced fingers. I know exactly who it is at this point, though I wish I didn't. Turning myself around, I make eye contact with Fakir, who is squatting down to look at me, a towel vaguely held around his hips. I take a large gulp, words stuck in the back of my throat. His narrow eyes don't seem to soften around me, even if I am in the worst situation possible.
"I-I, uhm... w-well, F-Fakir I-" my stuttering begins to flare up. My teacher and previous school mate, almost entirely nude in front of me. His eyes soften, though it's obvious he's still uncomfortable.
"Just finish up quick. I'll get in once you leave," he stands up straight, walking into the changing room. I stare at him as he walks. I never really noticed how muscular he was, though I should have expected it. He is a ballet teacher, he has to be strong enough to do a lot if difficult moves. I could tell his face was flushing a shade of rose as he left. Once I am absolutely sure he can't see me, I abruptly leave the bath and dry my body as quickly as humanly possible. Pulling into the changing room, I notice him leaning against the lockers, arms crossed and head down, seemingly ashamed to be seen in the same room as me. As soon as I enter though, he storms into the bathhouse.
I discard my towel in an empty hamper by the edge of the door and throw my robe around me, stray water droplets still dribbling down my legs and arms, staining the floor. I quickly push my feet into the shower shoes and wrap my robe around my body, quickly tying it shut. I rush to my room, the comparatively cold air nipping my exposed skin. Reaching the door, I fling it open and insert myself as quickly as possible.
Letting myself in and locking my door behind me, I feel the panic settle in my throat. My rose colored cheeks now simmer down to a soft pink. I throw off my robe and stand naked against my door, blinds still drawn so no one can see my lolita frame. Settling down even further I take a heaving sigh, and decide to throw on a sundress, perfect for moving easily and looking nice, despite being extremely lazy. I re-open my blinds and fling open the window, allowing pleasant sunshine inside. I listen for the soft chatter of birds, laying out the seed on my windowsill; the birds had been fed this morning, and lunch was looming ever so closely, so I think it best to lay out more food. As soon as the seeds hit the plaster, I watch as a number of the colorful avians flutter to me. I grin, continuing to lay out more seed for them. A small yellow bird places herself into my actual room, staring politely up at me.
"Miss Canary!" I gleefully exclaim to her, holding out my finger for her to perch. "How are you? Are the hatchlings doing well?" The bird happily chirps, her talons gently clutching my one finger.
I continue my conversation with Miss Canary, happily knowing I'm making up what she's saying so that I can love her even more. I feel her talons gently lift off, and her wings spanning bigger. I help push her out the window, watching as her wings cut the air, only barely taking a break to push herself up again. The birds are well fed now, and my job is seemingly over with until dinner rolls around. I'm honestly surprised none of the birds I care for are overweight and lethargic. Maybe it's the constant exercise of breezing through the air, or maybe it's just because they don't expect the food. Whatever the reason, it's still baffling.
A loud and unexpected knock at my door causes me to jump, almost out my window, though I manage to catch myself. It's probably Pike and Lilie, I think to myself. It is almost lunch hour and we do all like going out for lunch together, so the thought isn't entirely void of reason. I brisk up to my door, whipping it open and I realize I had the wrong idea. Fakir stands over me, his demeanor a bit rustled and his body facing away from me.
"Oh, Fakir. What are you-" I begin, though Fakir is quick to cut my words.
"You're failing your morning lessons. I would like to help you get back on track. Meet me in the ballet hall in 5 minutes." He growls, not even looking at me and in a moments notice, without a response, left for the ballet hall. A bit shaken by the experience, I look down the hallway to make sure what happened wasn't just some odd hallucination. Sure enough, his backside was turned towards me as he saunters down the hallway, ever so cocky in his stride.
I step back inside my room, and realize he's not joking. I then put on my unitard, my hair in a bun, my feet in my ballet slippers, and begin following after him.