Appreciate that wonderful video, okay? I think its some quality shit okay?
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Summer ended swiftly. The thunderstorms that echoed throughout the thick, Floridian nights,  once warranting John to curl up on his parent's bed and pull himself closer to his mom, we're fading away as September approached.

Though the state was still in its rainy season, the rain pour was dying down. A real citizen of the state knew it wasn't truly over until late October, and the weather was simply playing its bluffs, waiting for its chance to make a nice storm.

That September of 1953  was a simple September, until the twenty-first, on which it rained heavily.

It was a ballet day for John and Anne, and after going over some basics, the classes, split by gender, were finally moving together, in order to get prepared for their winter show.
The rain was coming down, as if God was sobbing at the fact that summer was coming to an end, and soon, school would be starting.

It seemed stupid that God would cry over that, but as John zoned out, looking outside the window, he wished that was why the rain was falling.

"The show we're doing will be Cinderella," Mr. Ulanova explained, once again flailing his hands around. "There are many, many important parts for you to play, so we'll be having auditions!"

John really wished he hadn't been sitting next to Anne at that moment, because she squealed loudly. He almost did the same, but he tended to keep his happiness stuck in his head.

"You could be Cinderella, ma belles, or perhaps, you could be a prince!" Ms. Semionova gestured over to the boys. The very small group of boys, to which there was a recent addition, a young boy named Christopher.

John, knew deep in his heart, he wanted the role of the prince. Not because he got to save the princess, but because he got to be on stage a lot. He liked attention, since it was non-existent at home. He didn't like girls, not that he realized that yet (or rather, he never paid attention to it).

"We'll be having auditions next week, which is why, today, we're going to run over what you'll be using to audition." Mr. Ulanova explained once more and gestured to Ms. Semionova.

She ordered the kids to stand up, before having them go over their barre stretches. Afterwards, she gestured to her male counterpart and he pressed the button on the stereo.

The dance was simple. Graceful lifts and elegant spins. A pirouette here, a plie there. It seemed so complicated, but it was oddly simple.

As soon as they went over it with the class, John was on task. There was something about dancing that just made him so happy. It was an escape, and he tried his best to copy what was being shown to him. He couldn't say it wasn't hard, all he knew was that he enjoyed the pain he endured.

"Your arms are too stiff," Ms. Semionova would chide as the class went over it. Then again, she said that to a lot of the students, but her eyes seemed to particularly follow him.

Beneath her breath, the young woman exchanged words with Mr. Ulanova, scratching at her chin as she did so. The room was full of potential professional dancers, but something about John ticked off her senses.

His eyes narrowed as he recalled the steps in his head, tilting his head up with a frown.

It started off with a plie, then he ran off in one direction, gaining enough momentum to leap into the air. His toes graced the floor in the way that a feather might grace the nose of an unsuspecting child. He spun like a top, before doing three lifts, back to back.

It wasn't an exaggeration to say that he felt alone, because perhaps, he was almost alone in this world of dance. Where there was only violas and pianos. Adults yelled at him so they could perfect his technique, and nobody dared to lay a hand on his perfect self.

His world was his own, and he'd make it perfect. He was so motivated to do that until he saw someone from the corner of his eyes that made him submissive in awe, the way he had made everyone else feel.

Of course, they were nothing but amateurs, but talented amateurs. A small, frail body copying the simple movements they had seen, just like he. Brown, tousled hair flew into the air and never settled down. That was fine though. Because the person that owned that hair-God he was beautiful.

So this was who the mysterious Christopher was.

Why did he have to be so good at it though? Couldn't he be cute and still be beneath him when it came to ballet?

John took a step back and observed, lost in his moves.

The two directors of the students were not too surprised, just rather proud. Two charming boys, two charming talented boys.

As class rounded up, the two got pulled aside by their teacher, Mr. Ulanova, who had a dangerously bright smile on his face.

"We think, you should both audition for the role of our prince, you have the character for it!" The man beamed.

Christopher smirked and nodded, then turned to John, a look in his eyes that simply said 'Come and try me, I know you'll fail'

He flinched at his look and tilted his head up. He'd show him. He knew he would. "Okay!" John nodded and then ran off to go meet up with Anne, simply fuming.

He was humiliated. That boy. The way he stole his moment, the way he looked at him with that cocky glare. It made him feel sick. So weak at the knees, he was sure he'd never dance again. But he'd show him. He'd make sure he completely succeeded at his audition.

So that was how Whizzer fell, in love, and out of place.

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Hey there, kiddos! If you celebrate, how was your Christmas? How about Hannukuh for my Jewish readers out there. I hope you(ve) enjoy(ed) whatever holiday you celebrate, and if you don't- Have a good time off, if you get any.

Like this story? Give it a vote, leave a review! I love constructive criticism.

-M