Yes, yes, lemons on their way…but I like this plot, enough to want to develop it. So please bear with me :)
Dismiss the slight OOC-ness. Naruto's nervous, okay? He gets more dominating later…trust me
Still don't own anything except maybe the idea of Sasuke being the ballet version of Shakespeare's Mercutio.
"I still think his leotard needs to be a size smaller," Kakashi says, running his hands across my stomach and my back simultaneously. Someone needs to get this guy better porn, I swear.
"For the last time, Kakashi!" The costume artist, a slightly scary young guy called Kiba, sounds super-exasperated. "Just let me do my damn job! Sasuke looks fine; trust me. Mercutio is supposed to be frivolous, not a man slut. Any tighter and he might as well be naked on stage."
I try – very hard – not to hear the word exactly slip out of Kakashi's mouth as he and Kiba walk away. I shudder. Curtain call is in fifteen minutes; I don't have time to spare on thinking about our perverted teacher.
"You ready?" Neji comes up behind me, looking absolutely stunning (-ly gay, of course, but there's nothing wrong with that) in his deep blue Paris outfit. We really lucked out in this one, role-wise. Paris and Mercutio…not bad, if I do say so myself. Which I do. Because it's true.
Which, of course, makes it all the more terrifying that we have just about a little over 10 minutes before we have to go out there and dance. I've done this probably a hundred times, but I still get nervous. Besides, this is my biggest role yet.
"Not on your life," I grin, trying to keep the mood light. He laughs.
"Don't worry. I'm shaking like an idiot here," he says, holding out a hand. It is indeed trembling an inordinate amount. "Fuck," he swears quietly. "I wish he was here."
"At least you have someone, you insensitive douche!" but I don't mean the insult and he knows it. We're just stressed and lonely, so without another word we hold hands very tightly, just for a second. Then we hear it—
"Places, everyone!" comes the cry of some frantic stagehand. The band starts, playing the familiar overture we've grown so accustomed to over the past few months, and Neji has to fly to the other side of the stage before the curtain goes up so he can enter from the correct position. My heart pounds into my chest as I hear the overwhelming echoes of applause fill the auditorium.
The curtain goes up, the lights come on, and I'm momentarily blinded – then my sight adjusts and I wish it hadn't. Performing onstage is one thing that you can do a hundred times and still get terrified about. The swamps of people, invisible in the dark except for their glowing eyes, seem to take up all the space in the theater. I just stare out at them, feeling sweat trickle down my back, thinking of absolutely nothing besides what it would be like to fall in front of them, not watching the delicate steps of Romeo or Juliet.
Until I hear my cue. The stream of notes that signifies Mercutio's entrance makes my feet move through no conscious volition of my own. The next thing I know, I'm onstage, and I'm smiling, because this is what I love doing. This is who I am.
The eyes staring at me disappear, and all I see is the stage and the scenery and the characters – not my fellow dancers, but the characters, Romeo and Benvolio, and I am not on the hard stage any more, but in sunny Italy. I'm teasing Romeo, with a skip in my step: "Of course it's not love, my dear friend, you cannot have fallen in love with this Juliet yet! You barely know her!" say my feet as they lift off the floor.
I don't need to concentrate on the movement. My body already knows it. It twists and contorts and flows into the proper shapes in time with the music. So instead, I enjoy the movement. I love the gasps from the unseen crowd when my legs spin me for a long time in the air, and the rush of wind in my face at a particularly large leap. I love it so much.
Too soon, my part is over, and I feet myself walking offstage. The other acts pass in a blur until it's my turn again, and I flutter back into Italy. Intermission comes and goes, and I ignore compliments and offers of pizza (from people who don't know me very well. Neji knows what I'm like when I'm performing). I don't think about anything except how my body moves, how Romeo is taking life too seriously, how I must convince him to lighten up without opening my mouth.
The next thing I know, Romeo and Juliet have fallen, dead, over each other's bodies. I always felt a bit of a sting in my eyes at this point during rehearsals, though I never let any tears out, and nothing is different this time. It's not the death that seems tragic to me. People die all the time, including children like Romeo and Juliet. It's the lost love that never had a chance to grow. Honestly, they were just starting to fall for each other, and they cut themselves off before they could truly experience—
I'm not making a very good case for the "Sasuke isn't gay" thing, am I?
I swear I'm not though. I've only ever been with girls before, and that's all I –
Oops, curtain call.
The deafening applause of the audience comes as a shock to me, yanking me harshly out of my Shakespeare-induced reverie, and I feel myself start to smile as I go out for my solo bow – I love it when they applaud everyone in the cast, but I can't help but think the applause gets particularly thunderous when it's just for me. The dancers of Romeo and Juliet get tons of cheers too, of course, and so does Neji, but it's definitely loud for me. Definitely. And that makes me happy.
I go back to the dressing room, where Kakashi assaults us with a big smile and a big hug for all of the male dancers (I wonder if he ever does this to the girls?).
"You were fantastic! Amazing premiere, everyone, great job! See you tomorrow at 2 so we can do it all again!"
Which of course, was greeted by the customary groans. My tired voice was included in that, though I know all of us are one hundred percent willing to put up with the grueling rehearsals since we get rewarded with the exhilaration of performance. Otherwise, we wouldn't still be here.
"Great job, bastard." Neji claps me on the shoulder, sweaty but grinning. He had already pulled his sweats over his leotard and slung his bag over his shoulder; no one sticks around to shower after a show. We all like to just get home.
"You too," I pant. "Meet for lunch tomorrow before rehearsal? One o'clock?"
"Not pizza this time. Come over to my place at noon instead; I'll make something, okay?" Neji is a not-so-surprisingly good cook. He had to learn, since Gaara didn't like to leave the house much. Mostly because he finds putting on clothes irritating when he's covered in – you know what? I don't like to think about that.
"Okay. See you then." I tug on my own sweats, ready for a nice cool shower once I get home. I wave to Neji and walk out of the dressing room, acknowledging compliments and tossing them back to whoever I feel deserves it. I walk with a bounce in my step through the auditorium, smiling at elderly women who giggle at me and quickening my pace when I see younger woman giggle with entirely different meaning. I can breathe easier when I get outside, where there are people who didn't see my performance. I love the attention – from faceless masses. When it comes to individuals who want to see more than my ballet moves, I have no patience.
I must seem like such a hypocrite. I want to find love, yet I shy away from most girls. I just…don't like the way they look at me. And I feel like, if I'm meant to be with someone, I'll feel it, the way Neji feels about Gaara! And I don't feel anything with those girls except mild irritation.
"Uchiha Sasuke?"
I stop. I look around for the cause of the timid voice.
"Uchiha Sasuke?" I hear it again, louder now. I spin to find –
Well, not an angel, but you could have fooled me at first. The boy looks to be about my age, with unnaturally large oceans of blue eyes and oddly intriguing scars down his cheeks. He stands almost as tall as me, though he could be my height, it's hard to tell as he slouches with his hands stuffed in the pockets of an sweatshirt. The reason I thought he was an angel, though, was his hair. Light blond and a bit out of control (not like the gelled, pinned down messes that belong to my fellow dancers), it poufs around his head, a glowing halo standing out in the moonlight.
"Uchiha Sasuke?" The voice doesn't match the angelic look. It's nervous yet slightly rough, as if it's unused to being nervous.
Oh. Right. I probably should stop gaping and answer the poor guy.
"Yes?"
His face relaxes a little, and I notice he's actually fantastically attractive.
"I saw your name in the program. I'm sorry for taking you aside like this. I'm sure you're tired and everything." He kicked the ground slightly, a little embarrassed now. "It's just…I go to the School for the Arts. Downtown. And it's my term assignment to study a piece of contemporary dance. I couldn't think of anything – see, I'm an art major, so I don't know that much about dance so my teacher had to recommend something – so I came here."
"And you want to do your assignment on Romeo and Juliet?" I ask confusedly. There's no reason for him to tell me this.
"Yes – but there's another part to the assignment." I could be wrong, but I think he's…blushing. "I have to study a performer in the piece as well. I'm supposed to interview them and stuff. And, uh, well, I--"
I get what he's saying, but I don't get it.
"You're saying you want to do a project on me? What exactly does that entail?" I'm only nineteen! I'm still used to doing projects, not being the subject of them.
"Well," he says, sounding more nervous than ever, "it means I have to interview you. Just a little bit of information, nothing too personal, of course. And…um….I'd have to paint you."
"What?"
"L-Like I said…I'm an art major, and I'm working on my oil painting unit. My teacher wants me to learn to convey art forms with other art, you know?" He is so nervous that it would be adorable if I wasn't so shocked. And very, very tired of course. "So it's not like you'd have to sit and wait for me to paint you. It just means that I'd have to observe you dance a few more times, and then you in your – um – regular environment. My course gave each student some money to watch performances, so I'll just come to a bunch of your next shows. And then I go home and paint you and you never have to hear from me again."
Yeah. Definitely blushing now. I let out a little laugh, which makes him jump slightly.
"Don't worry about it, dude, it sounds like fun. Just…loosen up a little, okay? Especially if you pay full price each night – part of that goes right into my paycheck," I wink. "I'm only nineteen, I'm not going to bite you."
His face brightens.
"Hey, I'm nineteen too! Cool! Sorry if I seem a bit nervous, it's just…."
Is it weird that my heart is pounding while I wait for him to say exactly why he's nervous?
"You're really, really good," he finishes with a halfway grin.
I don't know why, but I feel kind of…cheated. I don't know what I thought he was going to say, but I don't think it was that.
"Thanks!" I manage to keep my voice natural.
"So – when can we – err – meet to do some interviewing?" The eagerness in his voice almost demands a right now is fine! response, but my muscles are screaming in protest.
"Well, I'm really busy, but tomorrow morning? Around 9? My place?" Hopefully nine isn't too early for the guy, since all I really have are mornings til Sunday.
"Your place? Oh! Sure!"
I scribble the address onto the piece of paper he seems to have ripped from the air.
"I can find this no problem; it's not too far from my school," he says cheerfully. I flash him a quick grin.
"See you tomorrow, then! And don't worry about it. You're gonna ace this project."
He blushes again and I blink hard. Something weird fluttered inside my stomach as the boy's lashes did. Which makes me think of something.
"Hey," I call to him before we go our separate ways. "What's your name?"
He turns and runs a hand through his hair, a bit embarrassed he hadn't thought of introducing himself, I guess.
"Naruto. Uzumaki Naruto."
Naruto.
Somehow I have a feeling I won't be forgetting that name.
I shake myself. What am I doing? This is just some guy doing a project. Gotta stop thinking like he's gonna change my life.
I tug my mouth into a smile again; it's not hard with him still grinning at me.
"Thank you so much, Uchi—"
"Call me Sasuke," I say, which widens his grin.
"Thanks, Sasuke."
"See you tomorrow, Naruto."
