part two.
Hope had been forgetting his scarf more and more often. Every time he came by to pick it up from the studio, he would catch Claire practicing to different pieces from Swan Lake with intense focus and easy grace, admiring as she danced her way through the entire song.
That is, until one day the music suddenly shut off and the door nearly hit him square on the nose. Pale green eyes met icy blue as he was suddenly face to face with Claire herself.
"Why were you watching me?" her eyes were narrowed.
"I-I wasn't… I didn't mean to, I left my scarf in the studio and came back for it. I didn't know you were practicing." Hope was sure she could punch his lights out if he said the wrong thing, so he took a step back from the rosette. At least he could run if she attacked him for saying, "You're one of the best dancers I've seen."
Her expression softened, but no smile came to her face. "You're in the orchestra, aren't you?"
"Yes," Hope replied, surprised she would even know that. "Violin, first chair. I've been here for a few years."
She nodded, disappearing into the room for a moment before coming back out with his pale blue in hand, shutting the light to the studio off. "You left this, right? I saw you talking to Vanille earlier with it on."
He thanked her, wrapping the scarf around his neck once. Figuring this was a good a time as any, the silver-haired man extended his hand out to her, "Hope Estheim."
After a brief moment of hesitation, she shook it. "Claire Farron."
"That piece you were practicing to— it was from Swan Lake, wasn't it?"
"Yes. The black swan has always been one of my favorite characters in ballet." She didn't know quite why she was telling him this, but it felt easy to talk to him. They began to walk down the hallway together, keeping the same pace. "I know it isn't what we're working on now, but it's my go-to practice piece."
Hope found himself agreeing. "We've done it once in the past, if I remember correctly," Before he could even register the words leaving his mouth, he had added, "Maybe I can play a piece for you next time you practice."
Claire gave an amused look, and Hope realized that they had reached the front door of the theatre. He could make a quick escape and avoid dying of embarrassment—
"I'd like that."
A small smile had found its way onto her face, and Hope could practically feel his face heating up. He managed to stammer out, "Great! Great, that-that's great. Yeah, that'd be…"
"Great," she finished, wanting to laugh. The rosette started to turn towards the door, "I'll see you tomorrow, Hope."
That night, he practiced until two in the morning perfecting nearly every piece to Swan Lake.