A/N: Quick note: (I think there's technically supposed to be one before JV, but I don't remember soooo, here ya go.)
Junior varsity team:
Lovino and Antonio
Matthew and Ivan
Feliks and Toris
Kaoru and Raivis
Tino and Berwald
Varsity team:
Mathias and Lukas
Feliciano and Ludwig
Christian and A'isha
Samir and Lias
Alfred and Gilbert
April 19, Friday
Demarco wakes to rain pounding on the window. Great. He and Wynn are supposed to go to the Bonnefoys this afternoon, and Wynn hates driving in the rain - as if he hasn't been living in this damnable state his whole life. Demarco will get the great pleasure of driving today, and listening to Wynn complain about his driving skills. He rolls onto his side, facing Wynn's back, and rests his hand between his shoulders. Admiring the pretty little silver band on his finger, Demarco thinks about what it means.
They had claimed that they weren't fully invested in the possibility of marriage, but, in reality, the idea seemed stressful when they were both still in school. Wynn still has a couple of years left and Demarco has one. After the initial proposal, they had talked a little more in depth about what that meant for them, and decided that they would just have a long engagement. The only thing that bothers him is Wynn's change of heart on the whole subject. They haven't really talked about it, and Demarco can't figure it out on his own.
"Ngh, rain's bad luck this close to a game," Wynn mutters tiredly and it takes Demarco a moment to interpret what he means.
"Alfred and Matthew's competition is still almost two weeks away, love," Demarco reminds him, grinning. Wynn has always been just a little more superstitious than himself.
"Still…" Wynn groans as he rolls onto his back.
"I don't think it'll matter as much to them as it did to you," Demarco says softly, wrapping his arm around his waist and resting his head on his chest. "Their competition is inside, after all."
Wynn hums, rubbing his back with such a light touch, it sends chills down his spine. "Maybe we can just not go to classes today. Spend the day in bed instead."
Demarco snorts. "Now that would be bad luck," he replies, forcing himself to sit up. "Come on, now. Let's get classes done so we can get to your parents'." Rolling his eyes and grumbling about the unfairness of it all, Wynn drags himself out of bed.
This is the man he's going to spend his life with. What a bizarrely wonderful thought.
The house is alive and bustling with people and a clash of music from both the basement and the main floor that is giving Arthur a headache. "Why did we agree to let them practice here? The fuck were we thinking?" Arthur snaps at Francis as he attempts to collect his things from the kitchen table. He had been trying to grade papers there while Francis cooks dinner, but it's no use with all the noise.
"Going upstairs?" Francis asks without looking up from whatever he has on the stove.
"Well, I can't bloody focus for anything down here," Arthur snaps impatiently. "I've got too many damn papers to grade and not enough time to do it. God, I hate the end of the year."
Francis smiles to himself. "Until you don't. Come the first week of May, you'll be chipper again."
All of his papers and books in his arms, Arthur pauses in attempting to also grab his pens. "Am I really like this every year?"
"Like clockwork, chérie," Francis says affectionately, glancing over his shoulder at him with a fond smile. The front door bursts open and Arthur can hear Wynn complaining about being soaked by the rain. "Were the roads bad?" he calls out to the living room, leaning into the doorway to peer at Wynn and Demarco. Matthew and Ivan are practicing their routine and don't stop at the appearance of their guests.
Arthur wanders out to greet them, dodging around the boys, and Demarco smiles up at him, though he doesn't look as chipper as usual. "I was the designated driver, since it was raining so bad. The roads weren't terrible, but Wynn's whining was."
"What could you possibly be whining about if you made Demarco drive? Was he going too slow?" Arthur chastises lightly.
"He's being superstitious," Demarco explains as Wynn watches Matthew and Ivan dance. "Remember how worked up he'd get if it rained near a game? He's worried for Alfred and Matthew."
God, it feels like yesterday, dealing with Wynn's moods around games. There had been many a time that he'd threaten to not let him play again if he didn't knock it off, but his passion for the game usually outweighed Arthur's irritation for it. "I remember. But the boys don't seem all that nervous."
Just about the time he finishes the sentence, they hear Alfred shout, "Fuck" over all the music and Arthur almost drops all his papers. Matthew and Ivan pause; he and Wynn dive for the basement door just as Alfred and Gilbert appear, looking mildly panicked. "They moved the date up!" Alfred shouts as Ivan turns the music off.
"What?" Matthew takes a step back, as if his words were physically about to harm him. "To when? How did you find out?"
"Mr Edelstein just texted us," Alfred wails, obviously upset. "It's next week."
Matthew and Ivan both pull their phones out to look as Wynn mutters, "I told you that rain is bad luck before a competition…"
Francis wanders out to ask about the fuss as Matthew sits down on the arm of the couch. "Ya know, I'm not even worried about the rest of the team… I just feel a little behind now."
Before anyone can say anything, there's a loud knock on the door and Arthur sighs heavily. Wynn, who is closest, opens the door to reveal Mathias, Lukas, Berwald, and Tino, all soaking wet from the rain. "We came to help!" Tino explains brightly.
"Berwald and I love nearby, and we were practicing when we got the text," Mathias elaborates, pulling his phone out to wave in front of them. "We thought you guys might be a little nervous about the change, so we've come to see of we can do anything."
Alfred and Gilbert glance at each other and Gilbert says, "Ja, can we have Berwald and Tino? It's probably closest to what we're doing."
"Happy to help!" Tino chirps and they hurry inside, everyone taking off their shoes.
"Anything we can do?" Wynn asks hopefully. He gets it, and Arthur knows it.
"Music duty," Ivan decides, relief evident in his expression.
Demarco grins, taking his shoes off and hopping to the stereo. "I will apologize in advance, but I will not turn the music down. I need a signal."
Arthur can't help but smile fondly as everyone breaks away into teams and start chatting at once. Suddenly, the headache doesn't seem so bad. His home is full; he has all his family here and their friends and they're all doing things that are important to them. It feels like an old dream, reimagined, playing out before him. Except it's real. For the first time, he really feels it. All those years he and Francis had had to attempt to put themselves together, carry forward with Wynn, try not to wonder… It doesn't feel like it was in vain anymore.
Arthur glances at Francis, nodding towards the stairs to show that he still intends to go up. Unfortunately, he still does have papers to grade. He weaves through the main floor group of kids and heads upstairs. And life can only go up from here.
April 27, Saturday
The backstage is almost eerily quiet, everyone who hasn't performed waiting anxiously. God, Alfred thinks he might actually lose the contents of his stomach. It's not going by school, but by dance. Alfred and Gilbert are going to be the third to perform in their category - which is better than Matthew and Ivan, who are supposed to go fifth in theirs. Antonio and Lovino are up next, and Alfred listens to Lovino tell off Antonio for something small and petty. He knows he's stressed, but damn - Antonio must love him to put up with him. The music onstage cuts and there's applause, and Lovino suddenly shuts up, looking sick.
"You're going to be great!" Mathias tries, his usually chipper voice a little heavier with nerves. Lukas gives him a slightly betrayed look, as if he had seriously been relying on Mathias to not be nervous. Lovino glares at him but Antonio shuffles him towards the stage so they can get ready for their entrance.
Alfred shuffles his feet, looking anywhere but the stage. He still feels so under-prepared. The week had flown by, mixed with trying to finish exams, getting ready for graduation, and fitting in as much dance practice as he possibly can. It's starting to hit him now - this is his last year in high school, his last year of dance. He's not sure that he's handling this well, if he's being honest. To think that he almost didn't have the opportunity to be here, one last time…
"What are you thinking about?" Gilbert asks, bumping his shoulder against his. "Are you scared?"
Alfred glances at him, shaking his head. "I mean, yeah, but probably not why you think." Gilbert makes a questioning sound and Alfred sighs, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets. "I'm just never going to be doing this again, ya know? This is the last time I'll be on stage like this, dancing…"
Gilbert frowns, looking at his feet. "Yeah… When I'm not stressed about school or having nightmares, this is getting to me."
"Nightmares?" Alfred asks skeptically, scuffing his shoes.
"All stress; they'll go away when the competition is done and I've walked for graduation," Gilbert assures with a wave of his hand. "You're not going to keep dancing after you graduate? Go to school for it or anything?"
Alfred sighs, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. "No, I… I think I'm okay. I don't think I'll need it anymore, ya know?" He pauses and turns to Gilbert with a smile. "I haven't told anyone yet, but I want to be a teacher, like my mom. I had that in mind when I started applying for schools."
Gilbert grins at him. "What subject?"
"I'm not sure yet," Alfred replies with a laugh that garners too much attention from the rest of the dancers.
Gilbert tugs on Alfred's sleeve, pulling him further aside. "Can I ask you something? It's been bugging me for a while." Alfred shrugs, looking at him in mild confusion. "When that one girl, your previous dance partner, showed up after the last competition… She made the whole thing seem like it was a big deal. Like she'd won something, gave away a big secret. Can I ask what that was about?"
Alfred wants to say no. Everything in him screams that it's a secret for a reason. He hadn't explicitly told Dezeray anything, but she wasn't dumb either. There had been one point when they were still "friends" that he'd had to trust her when he'd miscounted his days. It's not that she's held it over his head, but she'd definitely been saving that information for a rainy day. He doesn't just tell anyone, and he's reluctant to do so now. He glances over his shoulder, and then looks back at Gilbert. He wants to date him, though, doesn't he?
He shrugs, not meeting his eyes. "You have lousy timing…" he huffs quietly. "I'm, uh, I'm intersex and… It all still works… She thought she was exposing me as a freak."
Gilbert is quiet for a moment and Alfred chances a peek at him. "Like Arthur… That makes sense. I guess I'm a little slow."
"I'm glad that no one really got it - or if they did, that they didn't say anything," Alfred mutters with another shrug.
"Pretty shitty of her," Gilbert comments, and he's grateful that he's not pressing him on any details. "Sorry - you're right, my timing does suck. But, um, thanks for trusting me enough to tell me anyway."
Alfred smiles at him, kicking his shin lightly. Gilbert scowls, leaning down to dust off his trousers. Rightfully so - these suits are probably pretty expensive. "I have to trust my partner, right?" Gilbert looks up at him, a little startled, and they're quiet for a moment. Suddenly, they hear their names called and Alfred whips around. Had they really been talking for so long?
Gilbert grabs his arm and tugs him to his side of the stage. "Start trusting because we're about thirty seconds behind now!" he calls as he runs around back to the other side. It's not the way that he had wanted to start this competition, and his heart is hammering as the music starts. He walks onto the stage, having the placements memorized. Gilbert has donned his top hat and he tips it as he strides across the stage towards him.
One of the things that had startled Alfred when he had first gotten into dancing was how many theatrics went on. It's not just dancing; they're putting on a whole show - a whole story from start to finish. And this one is such a big one, he's doing his best to not overthink it. He nods at Gilbert and they almost pass when Gilbert grabs his arm. Alfred stops dramatically, swinging one leg up and turning around to face him. Gilbert tosses his top hat aside as they press their hands together to start the jive.
It's quick and fast paced and it takes a lot to not break into a grin. Since they hadn't had the time to perfect the jive, it's just a short little bit in which they both manage to get out of their jackets and toss them aside as well. And then they start the swing.
Oh, this is why he dances. His heart is racing, he's not even thinking about his footwork. Trying to pay attention to anything other than Gilbert is actually really difficult. He's having a blast, and he's glad that they had chosen a routine in which he doesn't have to conceal his expression. As the dance progresses, he's supposed to be grinning and he doesn't have to fake it.
Gilbert pulls him back at the end of the dance and Alfred loses himself for a second, grabbing Gilbert's face and kissing him. When he pulls away, Gilbert stares at him in surprise. Neither get much of a chance to dwell, as they part and run to opposite ends of the stage, disappearing behind the curtain.
"You're insane!" Matthew shouts at him as soon as he's offstage. "God, you're so dramatic!"
Alfred grins sheepishly. "I wasn't trying to be!" Gilbert comes around from the other side of the stage, his smile just as wide.
"Fucking took you long enough!" someone else shouts and he's pretty sure it's Mathias. But he doesn't care about the teasing. He's not even scared of what his parents will say when he sees them at the end of this. Gilbert hugs him tight and mutters something into his shoulder he can't understand. He's not convinced he'll even care if they win or not. This just feels good all by itself.
It is taking everything in him to not just start pacing around, Ivan's hand in his barely holding him in place. They're just waiting for the results now. This time around, it's by dance - first, second, and third place and there are five schools. Matthew is nervous as hell. Glancing around, he knows he's not the only one either.
He'd be happy if he placed, sure. But all he can think as he goes over the routine in his head is how badly he probably did. He can visualize every misstep and he knows that his expressions hadn't matched the dance at a few points. He'd hate to disappoint Ivan, though, so he's hoping they did well enough to at least get third place.
Suddenly, the speakers crackle and everyone looks up, waiting. The waltz is up first and everyone gives quiet encouragement to Ludwig and Feliciano as they go to the stage. The announcer goes through what the criteria was, explaining what the judges were looking for. Matthew holds his breath as he stands on his toes to look out at his friends. Third place is announced, and then Ludwig and Feliciano step up to take second place. Everyone cheers lightly. Not quite what anyone was hoping for, but second is amazing still.
Mathias and Lukas get first place in their category, and Matthew can't help but roll his eyes because of course they did. Feliks and Toris, and Christian and A'isha all get second place in their category. Kaoru and Raivis don't place, and Samir and Lias come in third - to which they get to hear from Samir why he thinks they were wrong. Tino and Berwald come in first in their category. Alfred and Gilbert go onstage for their category and Matthew crosses his fingers for them. He knows how hard they'd worked - probably hardest out of the entire team.
"They've got to at least place," Antonio mutters, almost to himself, and a few people agree.
They don't get third and they don't get second and Matthew feels his heartbeat pick up a notch, until their names are called for first. Alfred probably would have dropped right then and there if Gilbert didn't have an arm around his waist, keeping him up. Alfred practically knocks Matthew over as he comes backstage and hugs him. "There was no way! I didn't think there was any way!" he cries and Matthew laughs, his ears ringing.
Alfred shoves him towards the stage as his category is called and he stumbles forward with Ivan close behind. If anyone were to ask him later what it was like, he's not sure he could say because he doesn't remember it well. He remembers being extremely nervous, and clutching Ivan's hand tightly. He doesn't have to wait long; they get third place. But he's relieved nonetheless - it's more than he could have asked for.
The idea that almost everyone on their teams placed has everyone ready to celebrate, and they're jumping around when Matthew and Ivan come back. It's loud and chaotic - a lot of other teams are celebrating as well. Matthew thinks it's going to be a long night, all of them probably too wound up to be sleeping.
"I can graduate a happy man now!" Mathias yells and there are several cheers to support that statement.
A/N: I couldn't leave it like this, so I have one more bonus chapter to wrap this up. Thank you so much for your support! I think I'll probably miss this story more than I thought... I'd love your feedback, if you get the inkling to leave it!