Hello my loyal minions!
I was very excited to get this chapter up! The plot bunnies would not go away!
As always, please enjoy.
=)
Chapter 2
She turned to face the man full on. He was not smiling. He was serious.
"You want me to be your partner? You mean for class right?" she was half-expecting a 'yes' from him. Not receiving the hopeful answer, she frowned.
"I don't compete," she insisted.
"You could. You know half the routine already," he pleaded. "It's not for another two weeks."
She coughed to cover her surprise, "Oh, is that all?" she said sarcastically.
Outside the Studio G doors, a crowd had formed. Students leaned over one another to catch a glimpse of the new teacher dancing with their handsome and attractively pierced instructor. In the midst of the gawping students was the front desk administrator, witnessing the transaction between the pair. While she loved a good bit to gossip about, their moment seemed to have ended and an argument was brewing. Quick to remedy the situation before it became explosive beyond repair, she entered the studio.
"Gajeel, there you are! Master would like a word with you," she interrupted. The man sputtered for a moment having been dragged off his train of thought to deal with the meddlesome desk clerk.
He grunted with disapproval and left the blunette behind. Students began pouring into the classroom, a noisy chatter filling the echoing space.
Gajeel walked past the white-haired woman and towards the front desk. Makarov's office was through the front lobby, on the opposite end of the studio where little the children's classes were held. The old man held a fondness for little kids that many considered paternal. Most of the dancers here started out in those classes, growing into adulthood and competing on behalf of the studio. But unlike most of the dancers here, he was not so lucky. He recalled most of his childhood and teenage years spent inside large, cold studios and glaring mirrors. The menacing tick of a metronome demonized the faces he saw in the reflective surfaces. A cold sweat broke over his skin when he remembered the welts and bruises he received when a performance was less than perfection. Many nights were spent in ice filled bathtubs.
He rubbed his eyes with his fingers, banishing his memories to the recesses of his mind. He had come too far to let his hard work go to waste.
He opened the plaqued door and stepped inside, not bothering to knock.
The grizzled man did not greet his student. He was examining a photo against the side wall, preparing his thoughts. An old cane rested against the corner of his desk, the handle permanently stained with oil from use. He heaved a tired sigh.
"Mira tells me Juvia won't partner with you anymore," he stated.
Gajeel remained silent, closing the door behind him.
"And that you've met our most recent acquisition?" he ended on a high note, now questioning him. Gajeel nodded in affirmation.
"I have a high respect for you and your talent," he moved around his desk and approached the studded giant, "so let me make this as clear as possible."
His presence in the room grew, and as suffocating and intense as the pressure was, Gajeel did not show signs of intimidation. The old man glared up at him with a heavy threat in his voice.
"If you trample or hurt any more of my children, I will personally deliver you back to Phantom Lord."
The depth of his seriousness was off-putting, but he took a relaxing inhale.
"You have so much talent," he shook his head in disappointment, "In regards to the competition, I've rescinded your paperwork and have granted you a two week sabbatical until you cool down. I think the stress is getting to you, boy."
"And if I already have a partner?" Gajeel challenged, raising one pierced brow.
Makarov took the news in stride, "Ms. McGarden?"
Gajeel nodded. The gray haired man snorted in response, "If you can get that girl to be your partner, then you deserve to be in the competition."
The little man chuckled to himself and sighed fondly.
"You have three days until the paperwork is finalized and you're removed. If she doesn't agree, you take a vacation. I suggest you make use of that charm your students keep gossiping about."
Gajeel smiled triumphantly, uttering a breathy 'yes'.
"Ya got it, Pops!"
He threw the door open and practically sprinted down the hall with a joyful expression scrawled across his face. When he passed the front desk, he even spared the white haired clerk a smug grin.
Makarov couldn't contain his mirth and bust into a fit of giggles. He would never sentence that poor boy back to the hell hole he found him in. But he enjoyed making him squirm. He felt confident their new ballet instructor would give him a fair run for his money if he was to ever straighten out.
"Good kid," he mumbled, taking the frame of the old photograph he had been fixing and placing it back in its faded square along the wall.
Though old, it was discernible. Many figures stood in the foreground, all miniature versions of his beloved family. In the background was the studio, old and run down. To think they had come so far since then.