Chapter Text
Sapnap was tired, like really tired. He loved his job, but he hated the hours. Especially during nationals season. He stood leaning against a black painted brick wall as the last of the competitors trickled offstage from the previous awards, scanning his clipboard for the upcoming dances. Sapnap’s family had brought him into the ‘dance world’ as they call it (just basically means every dancer knows every dancer), so it was no surprise that his first job out of highschool was to join a dance competition itself. He woke up excited for work everytime, the trips and locations and people, but it was the last session of the first day of the week and he was ready for the sweet release of sleep.
Normally competitions are just a weekend, but this is the last one of the season. Needless to say, Sapnap wants a drink. He was caught deep in his thoughts until a firm voice comes through his headset, Dream. Dream was one of his best friends, and also the announcer for their comp. “Hey, pretty boy, we’re starting in 5.” “Copy.” Sapnap looked up out of his clipboard list to greet whatever nervous dancer was waiting to check in. This late at night it was bound to be senior solos, and his list confirmed that. Plenty of teenage girls, a few guys. Quite a few people from his life assumed he got hit on backstage a lot, but the dancers don’t have the time or energy to flirt with him, they spend every second they can preparing for the stage.
“Excuse me? I’m number 243, Lightning. Senior Contemporary 17-19.” Without even looking up, Sapnap checked off the box. “Well, you’ve got 2 numbers, so you’re free to stand in the back half of the wings for one and then set up. Any props?” That was when he looked up.
And oh my god.
Number 243 was the prettiest guy he had ever seen.
He had brown, shaggy hair that just barely reached the tip of his eyebrows, slightly smudged eyeliner (as most dancers have), white shorts, white dance socks (newly allowed into the competition, slowly growing more popular) and a white tee with blue lightning bolts on it that clung to his shoulders.
“No, just me!” The dancer giggled before looking out onto the stage, but not for much. They were just mopping the floor for the little plastic bags that adjudication pins came in.
“Okay then, you’re free to get ready and do what you need to do!”
“Thanks!” 243 skipped off to a group of girls in green and white jackets, presumably their team colors.
Sapnap let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding.
He couldn’t stall on the pretty boy for long, as much as he wished to. 241, 242, and a few others were waiting to be checked in, and he was the only authority figure in sight. He ran from side to side until he had the first ten dances checked off, and nobody was missing. Just as he took his place leaning on the same brick wall (stage left first wing was his personal preference, best view of the dances), Dream’s voice could be heard booming through the theatre’s sound system.
“Welcome back to the Dream Team Competition, as always we’d like to remind you that there is no recording, no flash photography, and please refrain from leaving the auditorium until the stage is clear of dancers.”
Oh yeah, Dream was a partial owner of the comp. There’s that too, and that was Sapnap’s easy in to this job.
“Now, Judges, starting off our Senior 17-19 advanced level is Elise Whitley with Skin!” After the clapping faded, the solo started and Sapnap zoned out. He’d heard this song a thousand times and he refused to focus on another dance using it tonight. The next time he came to reality was a set of claps and yells, presumably from her studio and team.
Dancers have a habit of yelling in support for each other, which is very sweet but very bad for your ears.
The next dance passed quickly, checking in a few more competitors in the duration. She was very talented, but he can’t always watch. He looked down at his clipboard.
243. Pretty boy.
Without fail, Dream’s charismatic voice came through once again. How he hadn’t lost it, Sapnap didn’t know. He did most of the awards shows as well.
“Next up, please welcome to the stage number 243, Karl Jacobs, with Lightning.”
His head snapped up from where he had been looking mindlessly to the stage, where the boy, apparently his name was Karl, had positioned himself to start.
The song started with 4 pulses, and Karl rocked with each one. As the dance continued, Sapnap watched in awe. Not only was he pretty, he could dance *incredibly* well. His eyes never came off the stage as he watched the dancer extend, flip, turn, and press with incredible motion. It was so well rehearsed that it looked effortless, heads and hand positions perfect.
Sapnap was amazed.
He was so amazed, in fact, that he didn’t notice the dance was over until the claps came, and Karl was walking offstage.
He hunched over, obviously in an attempt to breathe, and was quickly met by the girls in their team jackets bringing praise. As they should, he did incredible.
Sapnap adjusted his position awkwardly as he watched Karl and his teammates walk out, keeping his eyes fixed on pretty boy.
Then, said pretty boy looked back at him.
Then, said pretty boy giggled.
It was over for Sapnap right then and there.