Chapter 19

It was two days to the show, and Clara was feeling terrible. Tired, ill, stressed, everything attacking her at the wrong moment. She lay in bed with a headache, a cold and a fever and a worry in her chest that she'd let everyone down. And she couldn't do that, not when they were so very close. John hadn't been helping things either, even though he had been the one to suggest a day off, in a shocking turn of events. She was exhausted but knew she couldn't afford wasting time so close to the competition. The anxiety started to gnaw at her mind, making her curse her illness and her cold and the stress was wracking her body with nerves. Tomorrow would be their last day of practice and even if her condition got worse she swore to herself she would force herself out of bed. Nothing was going to stop her from doing those dances. Not even Missy. At the moment her brain was to swarmed to think about Missy and her self-confidence anyway. Everything seemed to be collapsing down around her and she felt immensely frustrated at herself and everyone for this injustice. All she wanted to do was dance with John and it pained her that she couldn't. It felt so bizarre to think it had only been four months ago she was complaining about his incredibly arduous dance schedule. She smiled slightly at the memory. Now, she would have been throwing herself into the studio had she the chance. Clara knew John was excessively stressed and at breaking point about it himself, yet he hid his distress for her sake. She knew deep down he would probably be cursing to himself and breaking things right now. At least he wasn't at the studio, where Missy was. He had took the day off claiming he wouldn't bother going in without Clara, and it was for the best. The ongoing battle between John and Missy was getting tenser by the day and it was a torment for either of them to go near each other.

At least he'd be here soon, it was getting increasingly depressing the more she thought and she desperately craved his comfort.

Soon enough the door opened and he walked into the stuffy bedroom, smiling sympathetically at her quivering state. She immediately embraced him tightly, unable to let go until she was sure she was hurting his back. He sat down in front of her, pecking her quickly and bringing a box of chocolates to her attention.

'You know me well.' She said, impressed.

Although he was pleased to see her, she could also sense the underlying pressure and instantly felt guilty.

'I wish I could just get out if this bloody bed and start dancing.'

'I know, but it can't be helped. You're sick and that's all that matters. Despite all my efforts to get these dances right I'd never put your health at risk for it. Okay? It's important you know that just in case you think I'm mad or stressed.'

At this he took her hands in his and she leaned toward him.

'You are, though. I can see it in your eyes. It's plaguing you horribly. I know it.'

'Yeah, well, you're more important.' He dismissed the topic, but she noticed red marks on his knuckles. Suddenly her anger acted against her sanity and she found herself bursting into a rant.

'I don't care, I just want to start fucking dancing so we can do the show and win, that's all I want to do and no one's letting me do it! I'm not stupid, I know how important it is to you and the rest of the group, and it's just as important to me too, so stop start acting like its nothing because it's everything at the moment! I've forgotten every single dance and I'm fucking scared as hell that when it comes to it on the night I'll be a mess. All these doubts swimming round my head, they're only getting worse because I'm not freaking practicing, John, and that's what's annoying me and, and-'

She couldn't say anything else as he pulled her into a breathtaking hug that allowed herself to calm down. He stroked her hair as she leant her head on his chest, trying to rid herself of eventuating tears. The fear of letting him down was taking over and he laid back down with her, trying to stop her shaking and console her with small kisses. She felt like a baby being comforted like that but it couldn't be helped. For a while she lay there peacefully in his arms, almost drifting off to sleep but her anguish resurfacing every time she tried.

'Clara, everything you said is true but believe me when I say I care about you more than the show, and definitely more than the childish competition between me and Missy.'

He shuffled away so he could see her face and Clara nodded slowly.

'We still have another day, and you shouldn't worry about the dances because you are absolutely perfect at every one of them, okay? You don't concern yourself with any of that, alright?'

'Fine.' She agreed, smiling weakly. His arms folded around her once more and she held onto him like he was keeping her from sliding off the edge of the world.

It took a lot of convincing even then from John but finally she came round to what he was saying. He kissed her in reassurance, cupping her cheek in both hands and letting everything slip away. He was the only solid thing, the only thing real and pure in the world to her, and as she kissed back just as ardently she realised that she was seriously falling for him, a love that might just be blossoming in her chest, powerful and driving her onward.

'Now, eat those up before I do.' He said, finally able to make her laugh. It cheered her up greatly after she'd had a few chocolates.

'I thought you might appreciate them. Nothing like chocolate to take away the pain.'

'Yep. Which one do you like?'

'The caramel one.'

She fed him the chocolate with a relieving laugh. After all the emotion she had been caught up in, it felt so relaxing to laugh again. John had made all her insecurities go away for the time being and after the outburst she'd had she felt she owed it to him to brighten her mood. Hopefully it would affect him as well as her. She hated nothing more than knowing he was in pain.

They were back to normal by the time the box was discarded and they were wrapped up together. Even her sickness was improving slightly and it proved that John was all she needed.

He kindly made her a cup of tea and when he returned he retrieved his guitar. He held her while strumming the chords, beginning to play 'Pretty Woman.' For a while she leaned her head on his shoulder and listened to the melody, watched his slender, artistic fingers manipulate the instrument so beautifully. Everything became calm, the ambiance and atmosphere of their silence something to indulge in while they could. Her eyes dazed, focusing on nothing in particular.

'We will win this.' She said absent-mindedly.

'I hope so. But at least if we don't I'll still have you.'

The comment made her ponder on her own feelings and his. Her heart was completely at peace, every time he was there. He started to play 'Can't Help Falling In Love', which she thought was sweet. She knew he was telling her everything without saying it. He started to sing it quietly, and his voice sent shivers down her spine as she admired it.

'One of the best songs.' She said, John nodding in agreement.

'Yeah. One of my favourites from Mr Presley.'

'If you weren't a dancer you could easily have been in a band.'

He snorted. 'Hardly.'

'No, you'd be good. I'd love to listen to you all day if I could.'

'Well, if you wanted your own concert, you only had to ask.'

She laughed, kissing him on the cheek.

'I will serenade you with whatever you want.' He announced, drumming his eager hands rhythmically against the guitars.

'Make something up.' She suggested. He thought a moment as she snuggled up to his side, his fingers finally sliding to a chord.

He began to play a beautiful symphony that was like heaven to her ears, a dramatic and gentle rise and fall of overwhelming chords all blended into music. She watched him, so concentrated with what he was doing.

'What's it called?' She asked.

'I think it's called...Clara.'

Upon saying her name he looked at her, staring straight through to her very soul. His eyes spoke tenderly all on their own and Clara could hardly breathe.

She leaned forward to kiss him, emotion affecting her every caress of his lips and his skin, and he kissed her softly this time, carefully. The guitar fell from his hands as they embedded into her hair and grazed her cheek gently. All she could do was thrive under his touch as he comforted every qualm she possessed and made her feel at ease for the first time that day. If she had a miracle, it would be John Disco.