Ballet!stuck
Okay everyone it's that time again! I plan to do this as an entire fic hopefully, so lets keep our fingers crossed.
Summary: A story in which following your dreams requires hardships and friendships. Struggles and conflict. Where you can make enemies but your friends are always greater. John who wants to be a composer/conductor, Dave who writes sick beats and dances, Rose who also dances and plays violin. In which these three make friends of each other to pull through the toughest of times.
Pairing: Davejohn, minors: rosemary, dirkjake
Warnings: Eating disorders, potential injuries, and eventual smex, I'm sure of it, smoking.
Notes: I do not know how Julliard works entirely, I did look up classes, I did some research. But I will be shaping classes and things to how I think works best for this story. If you are from Julliard and have any input, 1, holy shit holy shit talk to me yes. And 2, I will be very open to anything of that sort. Also, if you are triggered by things like eating disorders then please do not read because one of the characters will have an eating disorder. Rose will be in her 3rd year, Dave will be in his second, and John is a freshman. uwu. All art is accepted and you can show me on my tumblr: .com and i would be super excited for it even if it's just stick figures seriously. bwb i also accept plot ideas or pairings you might want to see in here! :3 okay enjoy~Keeblo
"You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing which you think you cannot do."
~Eleanor Roosevelt
o-o-o-o-o
"Dad? Dad! Dad I got accepted! Julliard accepted me!"
John hums quietly, sounds from the bus passing through his earphones. It wasn't that long ago he had received the letter in the mail. He and his father had celebrated by going out to the small towns only pizza place: Sam's Pizzaria. It was wonderful, great, perfect. A couple of weeks later he was hugging his dad bye as he got on the plane heading to New York, things already having been sent there. And now he's here. On his way for the first time to his dream school.
He looks at the folded up paper again, reading the address to make sure he gets off at the right stop. His fingers play on an imaginary piano, rhythms, music running through his mind. It sings loudly in his ears drowning out the world. And then it's his stop and he gets up, smiling politely to the woman who had sat next to him as he walks out.
The early December air is crisp on his cheeks and in his nose. He grins widely and starts walking, bag thumping lightly against his back. Up ahead the recognizable building of Juilliard shines brightly. For a second he considers stopping to just stare, but the heavy traffic on the sidewalk pulls him towards the entrance. He takes out his earphones and shoves a hand into a pocket as he opens the door and climbs a flight of stairs.
At the top John does pause. The ceilings arch high above his head and there's chatter filling the halls. People dancing many different styles of dance against walls; in corners. Others conduct to an audience only they can see. His smile widens and he takes a deep breath and heads to what is supposed to be the room for music composition. As he walks he notices the many pictures of founders, teachers, students. He takes as much in as he can until he finds the correct room.
A couple of minutes later the room John finds isn't particularly large; more of a lecture hall type thing. There are seats to his left and a wide black board to his right. A few people sit in the seats while others laugh or tap pencils to scribble on paper afterwards. He takes a seat towards the middle and near the aisle. Realizing the fact that he's probably pretty early he takes out his own staff paper filled with dark notes and many eraser shavings.
John hums a tune, rise - louder - strong!, scribbles down a few notes, erases and puts a better note. He can taste the music on his tongue as he conducts with his right hand, left scribbling away.
"Okay class, find a seat. Connor please get off of that, no beat boxing surprises this year. Alright settle, class, settle." John startles and looks up at the teacher. The man looks like he's of possible middle eastern decent: deep brown eyes and dark olive skin. His hair is short but even from this distance John can tell it's curly.
He puts his things away - moving out of the way when a few kids pass him to get into seats.
"Okay demons, sit down and listen up. This is the music composition class if you did not know. If you are not supposed to be in this class please get out now." The teacher pauses for a moment and when nobody leaves continues. "First let's get a few things straight. One, I don't tolerate morons. Two, I don't tolerate morons. And three, I DO NOT TOLERATE MORONS. Does everyone understand." John nods his head, listening intently.
"Oboe." John turns to see a guy with a pair of aviators, light blonde hair, and tanned, caramel colored skin.
"What?" The guy doesn't look at John as he speaks.
"Let me guess, you play, oboe. No need to applaud, I am always just this good." John gives him a look and raised eyebrow, trying to hold back a loud snort. "You new here?" John nods.
"But, um...no. I play piano." The guy seems to give him another once over.
"Huh, you look more like an oboe type of guy." The guy outstretches a hand to him. "My name's Dave. What's yours oboe'ma?" John rolls his eyes and shakes the hand.
"John Egbert. Nice to meet you Dave." He takes his hand back and looks back to the teacher. "So have you had this teacher before?" Dave nods with a smirk.
"Oh yeah, Vantas. He might be loud but he's one of the best conductors around. He's generally pretty chill unless you act like an idiot." Dave leans back in his own seat.
"Composition. It's hard, and I'm sure you all know that. Whether it be classical, hip hop, R&B, pop. It's going to be hard. And styles change so often. This class is designed to help you find your area that works best for you and you're going to create a composition by the end of the semester." The teacher - Mr. Vantas - turns. "Those of you who have had me before know my expectations. New kids, you can work alone or with another person. But, if you work with another person I need to have a copy of what you both did. Generally partners is incorporating two different styles of music. But in the past I have had students work in the same area and come up with something together. Connor please pass out the rubric. For the rest of class I will allow you to find partners or ask me questions up here personally. Just don't act like morons." Mr. Vantas walks over to the desk and sits, waving his hand in the air to signal the okay.
John pulls out his music again and puts in one earphone, turning on some instrumental. The rest of that class he spends marveling at the other people and writing down music.
o-o-o-o-o
John's next class doesn't start until 1:15 so he decides to go back to his dorm and see if his roommate has come in yet. The walk to the dorm is pretty short. He sniffs and pulls out his key to unlock the door. Unsurprisingly the other half of the room now has boxes and personal items. He sets his things on his bed and looks at the other side of the room.
There's a picture on the nightstand. He picks it up to see a guy who looks strikingly similar to him with a nerdy looking girl in blue.
"So you must be my roommate." John jumps at the sound of the voice, spinning to see the same guy from the picture.
"Oh, sorry I was um just." He scratches the back of his head. "Sorry." And sets the picture back down.
"It's fine. My name's Jake English. What's yours friend?" John shakes Jake's hand and gives a smile.
"John Egbert. It's nice to meet you." Jake smiles back at him and pulls back.
"Very nice to meet you too. So what have you enrolled in as a major?" Jake takes off his green jacket and runs a hand through his hair.
"Music composition. You?"
"Acting, theatre, you know the like." John nods. "Well John. I was about to go get lunch before class. Would you care to join a bloke?" John smiles and nods. "Perfect."
John follows Jake to the schools cafeteria area and piles his tray with a sub, a bottle of water, a boiled egg, and two oranges. Jake leads them to some stairs and looks down to the area below and to the paper in his hand.
"Ah there's my mentor, she looks interesting. I'll see you later John!" John watches as his roommate scurries through people to the table where his mentor is. Suddenly he remembers he has a mentor to be looking for as well and pulls the paper out of his jeans as he heads down the stairs.
Finally he manages to get the paper out and opens it. Dave Strider. It has a picture of the guy next to the name. John's jaw drops some. His eyes come up and search the area for the blonde.
"Aha." John spots Dave sitting on a window ledge space drinking juice and writing something down. Carefully, John maneuvers through people with his tray and sits next to Dave. The blonde doesn't look up until John clears his throat loudly.
"Hm? Oh hey John." Dave takes the headphones off and puts them around his neck. "Fancy meeting you here." John rolls his eyes.
"Good to see you again too, Dave." John quickly notices Dave doesn't have any food and raises an eyebrow. "Aren't you going to eat?" Dave starts slightly and looks around him.
"Huh. I guess not. It's fine Eggface." John snorts loudly.
"Here have one of my oranges. You need to eat something." He offers the orange which Dave gladly takes. Holding it up he nods.
"Thanks John. So," the blonde turns towards him with a small upturn of his lips, "I hear you're my mentee." John nods to this. "Well as your mentor let's see what you've been doin. Can I see your music?" Dave holds out his hand. John sets his tray down beside him and pulls out his papers.
"Sure, they're not that great though." John takes his own orange and starts peeling it as Dave looks over his work.
"Wow Eggshell, this is really good. I think I might have some beats I could use this with." Dave hands back the papers. John licks his thumb clean of orange juice and puts them away.
"Really? Well if that's so, you wanna maybe do the composition thing together?" Dave keeps his eyes on the fruit in his hands seeming to think it over.
"Not a bad idea sir benedict. Sure why not. If you can keep making that I think I've got something that could blow the brown right out of Vantas's skin." John laughs loudly.
"Mm? Well I guess I'm glad I snatched you up before someone else." He's pretty sure Dave winks behind his shades.
"That's right John. Everyone's just dies to have me. But I guess the gods have shined down on you from the heavens to bless you with my glorious music." Dave raises his arms above his head and chuckles. "Well John, sorry to say but I've gotta run. I'll see you later, but for now try to avoid all flighty broads." Dave hops down from the ledge and slings his bag over his shoulder. "See ya."
"Bye Dave!" John leans against the wall and finishes his lunch. "God this is going to be wonderful." John grins widely.
o-o-o-o-o
The next class John finds himself in is for collaborative piano. There's a main teacher, a lady with bright green eyes and several others who help groups of kids with the same instrumentation. John stares in awe at the large room and beautiful, grand piano. When he goes to turn back around he bumps into a thin girl with blue eyes.
"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!" John bends down to pick up her notebook and hands it to her. She studies him for a moment before holding out a slender hand, smile on her painted lips.
"Hello there. My name is Rosaline but you may call me Rose. Are you quite alright?" John shakes Rose's hand with a grin.
"Yeah I'm fine. Sorry I ran into you. I'm John by the way." Rose eyes him for a moment longer and takes her hand back, lips still upturned.
"Nice to make your acquaintance John. I'm going to assume this is your minor considering the amount of pencil on your hand. Are you a pianist or an accompanist?" John looks at his left hand and notices the amount of grey on the outside.
"Wow, you're good. I'm a pianist. How about you?" Rose gives him a satisfactory nod and motions for him to follow her.
"I'm a violinist." John nods and follows her to the back wall. She goes to a case and takes out a violin. Calmly, she waxes her bow and stands. She gives him another smile before walking over to the center of the room next to the piano where one of the teachers sits. Rose looks to her, and she back, and then they begin to play.
John stays where his is while he watches, listens. Rose looks so at home as her fingers move over the strings. He's honestly impressed. When they finish playing - their sound still echoing in the air - he claps with everyone else. Rose saunters back over.
"Wow Rose, that was amazing!" Rose laughs softly and puts her instrument away.
"Now class. That, was a collaborative piano duet. This is what each and everyone of you is going to be doing this year. Although not all of you will have a violinist, and not everyone will be able to have Rose." The teacher smiles at Rose. "Some of you may have a woodwind, a brass, maybe a string. Who knows, it's up to you. But you will have to have a piece perfected for each performance." After that the teacher, Calliope, Rose tells him breaks off to speak with the pianist and he says bye to Rose.
Calliope introduces and explains how the class will work. How they will choose their pieces. How they will choose their partners. They each sight read a piece so they can get placed into groups on approximate skill level. John manages the top group and then class is over.
He notes, as he gathers his things and leaves, that it's just past three and his stomach growls for food. Having not explored yet he heads to his dorm to put his things away and heading out to look for a place to grab a bite to eat.
John ends up at a diner where he orders a salad, a burger, and a soda. He had taken his music with him to work on and ends up poking at his meal while writing more and more. Eventually though, he finishes his meal and heads back. Curiosity sated he doesn't bother with taking the long way.
As he passes through the halls of the school to get to the dorm area he hears music. It's a sort of piano but with electronic sounds with it. A clock on the wall shows it's nearly six so he follows the music quickly and is lead to an open door. Inside is a dance studio. He's tempted to go inside but when he sees someone's silhouette in the mirrors as they dance, blonde and lean, he decides maybe another time and hurries back towards his room.
John is plenty exhausted from the full day and changes into some more comfortable sleeping clothes before crawling into bed an passing out quickly. He'd have to call dad and tell him about his day later.
\/\/\/\/\/
Dave stands out on the floor, breathing a little heavy from his excursions, fingers tapping his thighs as he listens to his latest song. It turned out great. All he needed was to figure out if he could get this one danceable. He moves to start the song over when soft thuds on the floor alert him to another person and he looks up to see Rose. She's carrying a take out box, her violin case, and her shoes in one hand.
"Sup." He turns the music lower and sits against the wall.
"Hello David." Rose sets down her shoes and violin case, sitting next to him against the wall. She opens the box and hands him a fork. "I see you've come up with another song." Rose pushes her fork into the salad and takes a bite, turkey and cheese slipping from the plastic utensil.
"Yeah," he sniffs and takes a bite as well, "tryin' to figure out some moves for it. I think I'm doing pretty okay so far." Rose gives him a dainty smile and nods.
"So, did you meet your mentee today?" Dave nods and takes another small bite.
"Yeah, he's in my composition class too. S'name is John. Bit off a goofball but his music is flawless. I read a little of his sheet music and I really think I could put something together with it to make it sound great." Dave sets his fork down and rolls his shoulders.
"Oh? He sounds like quite a guy." Rose gives him a suspicious smile, continuing to eat.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Blue eyes meet shades. "Because knowing you and how all flighty broads work, you've obviously got something up those skin tight sleeves." Rose simply stands up, leaving the nearly empty box of salad on the studio floor.
"Care to show me what you've got so far?" Dave follows suit and pads out to the middle of the studio.
"You know Sarah's going to kill you for having food in here." He does a quick stretch and turns, taking his shades off and placing them gently on the cart holding his sound system.
"What she doesn't know won't kill her." A smirk plays at Rose's black painted lips. Dave snorts and restarts the song, getting into fourth position.
"I guess not huh sister?" He chuckles and starts dancing, muscles burning wonderfully at the work. Pirouette, leap, en pointe, his mind screams the commands to the sound of the music. His eyebrows crease as he gets to the point in his music where he has choreographed. He pants slightly when he stops, sweat streaking down the sides of his face.
Rose claps slowly. "Very nice Strider. I see you haven't yet lost your touch when it comes to choreography." Dave chuckles.
"I see you're still sarcastic as ever." Rose steps over to him.
"Tell me something, David." Dave 'mm's. "Have you talked to Sarah yet? She said she wanted to talk to you."
Dave pulls a pair of sweatpants on and pulls his sweaty tee shirt off to be replaced with a sweatshirt. "Yeah, actually." He grabs his bag and takes off his pointe shoes, then pulling on his sneakers. "She said I'm great, that she's excited to see what I can offer." He laughs bitterly.
"Isn't that what you wanted?" Rose steps over to him, placing a thin hand on his shoulder. He sighs.
"Yeah, it is. It's been my dream since I could crawl. But," he stands, shouldering his bag, and walks over to his sound system, "she said I've gotta lose weight. That she can't work with someone this big." Dave motions to himself as he unplugs cords. He sniffs and leans his weight against the cart.
"Dave, you can't lose anymore weight. You are too light right now, and most of your weight is muscle anyway." Rose grabs her own things and walks over to him. "I'll talk to her okay." She squeezes his shoulder and puts the take out box on the cart before leaving.
Dave sighs and rubs his arm. He leaves, making sure to turn out the lights and locking the studio door as he goes. Halfway back to his dorm he hears his stomach rumble. The take out box beckons him and he groans. It's not until he's back in the seclusion of his own room that he caves and opens the box, still generously full of the chef salad. In a matter of minutes he's forked every last piece of lettuce, shred of cheese, and drop of ranch into his mouth. When he finishes he leans against his bed defeated.
The blond doesn't bother changing and climbs into bed, stomach cramping. When he wakes up at a quarter til one, he has to dash to the bathroom to empty the left over contents in his stomach. As he leans against the toilet, the vomit flushing down, he allows a frustrated tear to slip down his cheek.