George POV

It's been a little over a week since I had gotten Dream's number. And since then it has been a constant exchange between us two. With flirty remarks and stupid memes in our message thread.

It was nice. It was refreshing. And finally, I was starting to let down the walls I had built between me and dancing. It was wonderful seeing Dream perform. For once I hadn't been anxious and angry while watching a performance. I was calm and enticed by his movements. His dancing had calmed me, it had finally brought me back to see the true art of dancing.

I had spent a long time comparing myself to the people on stage. Comparing their talent to my injury. I had always wanted to be back up there. After I got hurt, I couldn't help but think that I would never see the beauty of dancing again. Until I had seen Dream. And how he had taken me on a journey through his dance moves. How he had told a story with his body and choice of tempo.

I still couldn't help but never want to step foot on a stage again though.

Seeing the beauty in dancing again was one thing. I had finally gotten rid of the anger and grudge I had against it. But actually, considering dancing again was something entirely different.

It was a risk that I don't think I'll ever be willing to take again. If I were to get hurt again everything would be different. I couldn't risk it. My doctor even said that if I were to hurt my leg again there would be no coming back this time.

So I had to stay away from it.

But as I stepped into Dream's dance studio to pick him up for our first dinner there was something about the room that tugged on me. Maybe it was the way there were mirrors on all the walls, reflections of myself all staring back at me. Or it was the way the smooth floor shined. Maybe it was the rail on the wall that I had grown so familiar with when I was younger.

Or it was the way that my body had begged me to dance as I stepped into the room that caught me off guard. Because I hadn't felt that urge in a long time. It had been years since I had truly danced.

Yet I still tapped my foot in anticipation. Letting it join the rhythm of the soft classical music in the background.

"Uh, Dream?" I called out. I wanted to escape this feeling. I wanted to run from it and never look back. It scared me. It made me vulnerable. Because I wanted to dance so badly. I wanted it more than anything at this moment. Even though I hadn't felt that urge in years to put on a pair of ballet slippers.

It was terrifying to have this feeling back. I didn't know how to handle it.

I sighed in relief when I saw Dream exit from a back room. He had black jeans and a long green T-shirt. Along with a pair of green converse tied neatly with clean white strings. "Sorry, I was changing. You ready to head out?" He asked, not seeming to catch the way my body shifted uncomfortably at the presence of this room.

"Of course I am. I've been waiting for this all week," A grin broke out on his face.

"So have I. I'm really glad that I got to meet you." Dream repositioned the duffle bag that hung from his shoulder and smiled again. "Let's go." He motioned for me to follow with a nod of his head as he walked out of the studio.

I couldn't help but glance back at the room before we left.

I'd hoped Dream hadn't noticed.

"What were you thinking for dinner?" I asked. I pulled out my keys from my pocket and unlocked the car.

"Anything really. But I heard there's this really cool place about ten minutes from here that has sushi. I've never actually been there but my friend told me it was pretty good." He suggested.

"I'm down." I slid into the front seat and Dream not-so-gracefully clambered into the passenger. I looked over at him with a grin and furrowed brow. His duffle bag was on the ground and the door was still open. He was grasping onto the seat belt to keep himself from falling out the open door.

"You good?" Dream immediately wheezed. "You're literally a ballet dancer, how did your body even allow you to get into the front seat like that?" The light chuckle in my words only made Dream wheeze more. I couldn't bite back my smile. It was adorable how he laughed.

I reached over and grabbed his forearm. I pulled him back as he continued to laugh.

Our giggles didn't cease as we made our way to the restaurant.

"I've never had sushi before." Dream said as he stared at the menu. I awed at him in shock.

"Wait really?"

"Not like real sushi. It's like crappy store sushi that sits out." My face scrunched up sourly.

"Well," I sat up and leaned across our table. Then pointed out a type of popular sushi that I often got. My face only a foot away. "I recommend this one. It's the most common. Best bet." I looked up and met his eyes.

"Right." His eyes flickered from my eyes to my lips. Then he smiled.

There was no secret about it: This was obviously a date. We had been talking about it all week. The way he looked at me wasn't hidden at all. He wanted to kiss me and I wanted to kiss him. We both knew it. But we were both too chicken to follow through.

I sat back down.

"So, do I get a back story?" Dream asked, changing the subject.

"Elaborate," I said. I knew what he wanted though, I just needed a moment to prepare before I said it. I picked up my soda and took a sip as he spoke.

"Why don't you dance? My mom said you used to go to my studio when we were kids. We knew each other. She knew you, your mom. So why did you stop?" I chewed on my straw nervously. Then noticing I had done so, I put the drink back down.

"She was my instructor."

"So she's said."

"I used to 'hate' dancing." I made air quotes in the air. "My mother introduced it to me when I was young. I have been dancing since the age of five. I was good at it and I loved it. I never actually told her that, always said I hated it but she knew" I took a deep breath. "I'd never wanted to admit it to her then, but I grew to adore it. I began to love the art."

"How did that happen?" Dream asked, seeming genuinely intrigued.

"Only two people in the world were ever able to move me while dancing. My mother introduced me to dance when I was young. I would watch her practice in the living room and I knew that's what I wanted to do. I pretended to hate it. I refused to admit that she was right about me enjoying it." I chuckled.

"So I went to class. I went to the dance studio. I pretended that it was something that I didn't want to do. I pretended to hate it with my entire soul. I don't know why, maybe it was my pride getting in the way. I didn't want to admit that I enjoyed something that was decided for me. That I didn't get to choose. But when I saw that other person dance I wasn't able to hide it."

"That other person was a boy. I saw him dancing in my studio. And the amount of beauty that he carried was just mesmerizing. I wanted to be just like that. I was a good dancer, I knew that. But god that boy made me adore it even more." I smiled. Remembering the vague picture from when I was only eight. I had seen the boy practicing a set in the studio one afternoon after class.

My eyes met Dream's. "It was you." His eyes widened a little bit with surprise.

"I didn't pretend to hate it after that. Your mother had seen through me when she saw how I reacted to your dancing." I laughed. "Then when I turned ten I was finally old enough to join a competition." I grimaced, the thought coming back to me perfectly. "I fell. That fall I had taken had hurt. I had completely wiped out. A small foolish mistake, a mere inconsistency with the positioning of my foot was what ended my passion."

"My doctor said I couldn't dance complicated dances anymore after that. Once it happened, it was bound to happen again. Which would only make it worse. That meant no more competitions." I took a deep breath. "But it was a long time ago. It was just something that happens. Some things end."

"Yeah but this was your passion. It was something you enjoyed. It was a big deal for you."

"My mom tried to get me to keep going. I was still technically allowed to dance. But since I wasn't able to do anything more than simple beginner dancing it made me lose all motivation for it. So, I gave it up. I abandoned the art. I grew to despise it."

"But did you really? Or were you just angry with yourself? With the world?"

"Probably." I took a deep breath. "I still love it. I still ache to dance. For a long time, I pushed down the urge to dance. There was no point to it after that."

"But there is. You don't have to be complicated in your movements to touch people. You can still dance, George." I looked up at him and smiled.

"Thank you, but I think it's too late for it now. I don't think I'd remember how to dance at this point. I've probably lost my touch."

"You say it, but I don't believe it." Dream stood up. "Screw dinner. You're coming with me."

"Why are we here?" I looked at the building. I recognized it, how could I not? I had spent hours of my time here when I was young. Then I looked over at Dream, suddenly realizing what he had planned. "I'm not going to dance, Dream." He cocked a brow then grinned. He wasn't buying it.

"Fine then, you don't have to. Just watch me dance then. Can you at least do that?" I felt an ache in my ankle start.

"Yeah, I can do that." I unbuckled my seat and opened my door. "But why here? We could have gone to any other studio." I looked around. It had taken us nearly half an hour to get here. It was nearly dark now.

"This ones important. Besides, I can get in after-hours here. Mom still works here so it's easy. Sometimes I practice late at night here." I gulped, body wary.

But then I stepped forward. Again and again. My mind forcing my body to walk inside.

Dream swiped a key card and the door clicked, allowing them to both walk inside.

I still knew this place like the back of my hand. Dream didn't need to lead me as we made our way to the main studio.

Dream flicked on the lights and set down his bag. Then pulled out his ballet slippers. Then threw me an extra pair. Saying, "Just in case you change your mind."

I rolled my eyes and put them on. Then I watched as Dream began. Steps light, graceful, mesmerizing.

Just like ballet always was.

Dream caught my gaze. His eyes softened. He could see it, the ache I had. I wanted to join him.

A sting shot through my bad leg.

Dream met my eyes then held a hand out to me. Fingers outstretched, palm faced up. I stood up, my body betraying me. It was begging to dance again.

And I couldn't help it, my body was ready. Almost like it was choreographed. Spins and soft twirls. Dream guiding me the entire way. His hands on my hips, my arms, latches to my own fingers.

It was all so right. So perfect. It felt good.

It felt like it was supposed to.

I felt like I needed this.

Like I had needed it all along.

Dancing was my getaway. My escape. My safe space.

Dream was staring at me, eyes blown wide with awe. Admiration plastered on his face. "You're amazing at this."

"Heh, thank you." Dream pulled me in. His lips inches from mine.

"It's a part of you." I squeezed my eyes shut.

"I know. I shouldn't have ignored it. Thank you for bringing me back." He smiled warmly.

Then his lips met mine.

And other than dancing, that kiss was the only thing in my life that felt right.