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Damian had been living in the manor for a few months now. He had gotten used to the natural energy and flow of the house, even if he hadn’t yet gotten used to the actual inhabitants.
Sure, he got along just fine with Dick, but he was different. He had gotten under Damian’s skin in a way not even his own father seemed capable of replicating. The others were…fine. They existed off patrol, and in their better moments Damian was capable of spending a few quiet minutes in each other's company as long as they weren’t actually interacting. But a majority of the house was still giving him a wide berth, and he was giving them an even wider one. The house was strange.
Damian was no stranger to being around other people, but usually their was a different energy to it. Of course, he would interact with the assassins and servants within his grandfather’s household. But, there was a different expectation. Everything and everyone there had a purpose. No one came up to bother him without a good reason and vise versa. Everyone knew what they were doing at each point in time and nothing was wasted.
The Manor was like a wild jungle compared to the calm serenity of home. Someone was always coming or going, and they were never quiet about it. There were multiple times when everyone was expected to come together for “bonding,” even with no discernible forewarning beforehand. Just coming across someone in the hallway seemed to be an invitation for conversation. It was insane. The hallway was not for conversation. The hallway was for getting where you were going. And maybe hanging enjoyable art to pass by.
But Damian was trying. He was attempting to “go with the flow” as Grayson said. He just needed a break every now and then.
Now, his normal form of active relaxation had been severely frowned upon. Something about his actions coming off as threatening even if it was a dummy under his knife instead of the actual subject of his ire. So he was trying.
He was not yet at the same level of skill to be able to utilize Grayson’s gymnastic equipment without at least some supervision, and going out into the city for parkour defeated the purpose of creating a quiet environment.
He had tried yoga. It had been nice for meditation, but meditation was not what he was looking for at the moment. He needed something more active.
Baking had looked promising for a while, but apparently there was such a thing as over kneading dough, and there was too much waiting in between.
Dancing had been an unexpected compromise.
Of course, he had been familiar with the concept of dancing before. When done correctly it was quite a feat of athleticism and was a great way of training oneself to be intimately aware with where one’s body was at all times. It was never something given too much focus, but it had been utilized within his earlier training as a building block. Not to mention that foundational knowledge in the classic styles of dance had been deemed necessary for a person of his social background. Just as Damian could have intelligent conversations about the stock market and recent scientific discoveries, he too could lead discussions about the great painters, architects, composers, and dancers. It was all just foundational knowledge to fit in with the people he was expected to one day walk amongst. And if he had done some extra research into particularly interesting topics, well, he was studious.
Yet, it was not any of this prior knowledge of specific directors or performances that made him feel strangely comfortable with this form of exercise.
Over these last few weeks Damian had come to enjoy the artistry of it. The way the music tugged on feelings he had long since ignored and gently pulled them to the surface. There was a fierceness to the dance, but it also gave the space to allow him to be soft. All of his softness was usually reserved for his animals - they were safe to be soft with. But it was nice to be able to spare a bit of that for himself too. It felt like Grayson squeezing his shoulder when they came back from missions, like his words of praise and encouragement. It felt like his mothers gaze when she would tell quiet stories about his father. It felt like the quietly assured fierceness that he was wholly and truly himself - all of it with no exception.
It was something he only allowed himself in the solitary quiet of the gym when he could be alone with his body, his movements, and his thoughts.
It was this peace that Damian needed right now.
The feeling of calm suredness that had been slowly building as he changed and made his way down to the smaller gym he preferred deflated when the sound of quiet music slipped through the door as he began to push it open.
It was too quiet to hear with the door closed, but there was no denying that the room was already in use. The music was soft, but undeniable in its existence. Still, the movement had been started, and it was not within his instinct to back down.
Damian completed the motion of pushing open the door to finally reveal the sight of Cassandra Cain going through familiar motions. She was graceful. More relaxed in the movements that spoke of long built familiarity.
She looked up and met his gaze in the mirror.
Her gaze wasn’t challenging or defensive. Neither was it inviting. It just was. There was a question but no allegation.
He gave her a nod and moved to the side of the room to put down his water bottle. Quickly pulling out his headphones, he placed them in his ears with his back to the woman still dancing behind him. He didn’t actually need to play music with Cain’s already playing. It would just sound too jumbled. But the headphones were part of the procedure, and the small barrier between himself and the expectation of interaction was comforting.
He didn’t want to dance to Cain’s music exactly, but the actual tune mattered less than the process. So, he began the stretches - some practiced from when he was younger and some Grayson had walked him through months ago.
It was harder getting into the correct headspace with someone else in the room. But if it was going to be anyone, he was glad it was Cain. She was different
She was more like him than some of their other siblings. They were both content with quiet proximity. Kind of like cats. The rest of the family had their peaceful moments, but they were more rambunctious and easily excited. Always barking like dogs and wanting to get into everything.
Cain moved differently too. She had a grace similar to Grayson. But with more intention. Gazing at her in the mirror, he admired the way she moved. The way she was able to give the impression of being in her own world while still being aware of everything around her. Damian struggled more with this. He was always too aware of what was going on. Too aware of the eyes that may be on him. Too aware of exactly the amount of space between himself and the others around him. Too aware of what they might be thinking or planning. He knew that she was just as aware of these things as him, but she also looked peaceful. Like she didn’t mind sharing the space.
While Damian stretched, he found himself getting lost more than he expected in her movements. They were similar movements to what he practiced, but he could recognize the differences. She was more precise. More balanced. Moved through the different steps more fluidly. She knew all of those steps in between that he had been trying to figure out on his own.
Damian didn’t end up dancing that day. He just watched out of the corner of his eye, trying to figure out how to make his own body move like that.
A few days later Damian sat in class, scratching out another option in the list he had been working on for the past few days now.
Damian couldn’t get Cain’s dance out of his head. He wanted to be able to move like that, to have that same exemplary level of control over his body. He had been pressing to move like that, but his process had stalled recently. There was only so much he could learn from attempting to copy videos online. He could see that he was doing something wrong, but he didn’t know how to fix it. He crossed the videos option off the list.
The obvious choice would be to ask for her help. Grayson would encourage him to do so, remind him that he was part of a larger team both on and off the field.
He still wasn’t used to asking though.
It was awkward, and he still had that voice in the back of his head that whispered how the act was a show of weakness. That he would be announcing his defeat by asking for help. He crossed that one off the list with more pressure than intended. Then he re-wrote it again at the bottom. It wasn’t something he was particularly comfortable with, but it had to remain as a final option if he couldn’t figure out another way to learn on his own.
Cassandra’s dance style was obviously something she had spent a lot of time perfecting. And was still not finished, judging from the amount of time she spent practicing individual moves and sequences of whatever larger choreography she was working on.
In past observations with the family, she wasn’t one to shy away from helping others. She probably would do it if he just asked. But after all the work she had put in, it almost seemed like it would be an insult to not put in his own effort before doing so.
A small voice in the back of his head that almost sounded like Grayson whispered that this kind of thinking was probably just some leftover influence from his grandfather’s teachings. Still. How else would he be able to show that he was serious? That he was asking her because of how much he admired her? Obviously it wasn’t something he could just come right out and say to her face.
After another week of Damian sneaking around to covertly watch Cain’s practices and later attempting to recreate what he saw in his own bedroom, it was Cain herself who finally took action.
She found him a few hours before dinner and stood behind the couch he was reading on.
“Damian, are you ready for practice today?” she asked. Damian turned his head and gave her a questioning look. “Ballet practice.” She tilted her head towards the hallway and turned to head in that direction. “Come on.” After a few steps, Damian rushed to put down the book and follow her. He didn’t want to show his surprise, so he simply followed a few steps behind her until they reached the practice room she had been using. Damian stood in the doorway and watched as she began warming up like she usually did.
She met his eyes in the mirrored wall and gestured for him to join her on the floor. With slow, reluctant steps he did so, glad that he had already changed out of his school uniform and had chosen something looser than jeans for today.
“What is this about?” he asked while following her lead and reaching for his foot stretched to the right.
“It’s not a trap,” she stated, switching to reach for the other side. “You were interested, and I don’t mind the company.”
Damian paused. “Thank you,” he said. Cassandra nodded in return, and it was nice to have the comfort of knowing he didn’t have to worry about explaining himself for once.
They continued this routine for another two weeks. They would either meet in the practice room or one would come find the other. Cassandra introduced Damian to new music and showed him ways of expressing old, familiar music that he never would have tried on his own. It was an addicting push and pull of ideas and action and joy.
Still, every Tuesday and Thursday Cassandra would be unavailable at what he now knew was her own ballet class. She had told him about it before. Had said it was good to have a community and more experienced teachers. Even more than the class, she had talked quite a bit about the upcoming performance of The Nutcracker.
The choreography she had been practicing that first day had been for her audition. She had explained that it was one of a few options of standardized dance choreography given to everyone in order to accurately test the skills of everyone in the style of ballet preferred for this performance. Apparently there were also other styles taught at this school as well. Out of curiosity, they had watched a video of last year’s contemporary ballet performance. Damian agreed that he preferred the more traditional style they had been practicing.
One of the dances available to be used in the audition was a partner dance. Cassandra had revealed that she was interested in being cast in one of these roles but didn’t feel as confident in the choreography. She enjoyed being around people, but, at the end of the day, like Damian, she enjoyed practicing the most alone. It allowed for more freedom of exploration since she didn’t have to constantly process the stream of information she was trained to read from people. That level of awareness of others often lead to a level of anxiety, even in someone as experienced and talented as Cassandra.
It was this revelation that finally pushed Damian to ask. After all, if Cassandra had been brave enough to enter into the unknown then maybe he could draw some strength from her and follow in her footsteps. So, he asked if he could join her at ballet class.
And he was comforted in the fact that nothing could possibly be as stressful as leaving his mother and turning his entire life upside down.
He had been wrong.
At least when he had met his Father and made the decision to turn his back on everything he had ever known he still hadn’t gone in blind. Father had not been what he was expecting, but he had heard stories about him for years. He had had some idea of what he was getting himself into. Not to mention the initial meeting was organized by his Mother.
Unlike that situation, he could walk out anytime he wanted right now. Cassandra wouldn’t judge him harshly for it and no one else in the family knew what he was doing. He had known about this class for less than a month, and as much as he trusted Cassandra he hated going into a situation blind. He definitely should have done more recon before this.
Yet, here he stood.
The room was cool, air conditioning preemptively working overdrive to overcome multiple sweating bodies. A faint sharp scent was comforting to acknowledge. If the company cared enough to clean in between classes then hopefully the people also cared about being professional in their teaching. Of course, Damian trusted Cassandra enough to know she wouldn’t have brought him to a bad situation or to a studio that didn’t care about the discipline of the dance. Still, it was always better to confirm these things himself.
The floor length mirrors reflected the natural light from the high windows, making the room seem to glow with brightness not usual to Gotham places of business. A small part of him was glad to see them. Sure, they had the mirrors in the home studio, but some part of him had wondered if that was just part of the wealth and grandeur he was closely familiar with or if they had just been part of the fictional world that often surrounded the art form.
The pair were early, which was one more thing Damian was grateful for. He had learned to handle questioning stares and unspoken expectations of the public over the years, but it was nice to have a moment to get used to the new environment before having to deal with them. One less thing he had to focus on.
The receptionist at the desk had said they could just go in, that the instructor would join them shortly.
So, Damian followed Cassandra to the unmirrored wall with benches and a few hooks set into the plaster. They had not brought much with them, but he was glad that he wouldn’t have to trust his belongings somewhere he couldn’t see in an unfamiliar setting. One more thing to be grateful about. He almost needed something to go wrong so he would have an excuse to stop burying the itching nerves he felt like a live-wire. It would be much easier to be sharp and scathing than trying to hold himself back like this. It had been a long time since he had taken the explicitly easier route, but he was tempted at this moment.
Together, the pair sat down and switched out their street shoes for the soft canvas ones they had brought with them.
As more people arrived and started their own stretching routines, Damian already felt out of place. While he had no issue with exercise clothing, his form fitting outfit felt baggy compared to the amount of stretch material that surrounded him. Despite knowing the statistics, he had not expected to be the only boy in the class. It would be easy to try and compare himself to the other women in every small detail that was revealed, so he tried not to look. To only pay attention to the instructor and Cassandra.
He had never in his life doubted the grace he was trained in since birth, but here he felt almost gangly. Cassandra had somehow convinced the instructor to allow him to join mid session instead of waiting until enrollment opened again. Damian had entered the class with the knowledge of what that meant, but being singled out so often for corrections was grating. An elbow higher here. A foot turned out further out there. Shoulders held too far back for this position.
He was used to rigor and corrections, but it had been so long since he’d been new to something. He had worked hard to get as good as he was at everything, and he had experienced a lot of pain to get there. Of course this environment was competitive and strict but it was still far away from what he was used to growing up. With each correction he could feel more and more tension building up inside him, just waiting for the punishment he was still conditioned to expect.
The duality of this expectation not being met and his anxiety causing wavering attention, which just led to more mistakes, put him on edge. He needed to be a normal student here. Someone good enough to be worth the exception of acceptance. Not this boiling mess of mistakes and anxiety slowly simmering into anger.
During a water break, Cassandra put her hand on his shoulder and lead him further away from the group of other students.
“You know these moves,” she reminded him. “You can do this.”
Damian tried to match her breathing, forcing himself to follow the subtle movements of her hand. He closed his eyes for a few moments in effort to continue slowing his racing thoughts and worries.
“What did you think?” Cassandra asked on their walk home.
“It was…different dancing in front of other people,” Damian said with a slight frown.
“In what way?” she asked, looking at him now.
“It’s hard to verbalize.”
“No need to rush,” Cassandra assured.
“It’s just- When we practiced at home it felt like the music built from inside and that’s what was being expressed.” Damian kept his eyes on the ground. It was easier to say if he pretended he was only speaking to himself. “In the class it was harder to feel that energy. There were too many interruptions and too many distractions.” He frowned. “The other students shouldn’t talk so much.”
Cassandra let out a small laugh. “Yes, they do talk quite a lot.”
“There’s a clock in there for a reason.” Damian raised his head and gestured sharply in the direction the clock would be if they were still in the studio. “When you know it was only a five minute water break then you should not still be talking when it ends. It was time to start and none of them were ready.”
“It will be like going to school. Getting used to other people.”
“Yes, but dancers are different. They’re supposed to be more disciplined.”
“In shows, yes.” Cassandra nodded. “There is a lot of responsibility. So, they do what they can in the breaks. You would not like their parties. There is much talking.”
“How do you stand it? They all seem to like you.”
“There’s good information,” she explained. “Olivia likes instrumentals but Candace prefers to dance to modern music. Pen is allergic to peanuts and Jenifer makes her own hummus to eat in between classes.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“They like it when you remember things. It makes them feel that you care because you will pay attention. Then they’ll want to reciprocate.”
“I guess.”
Cassandra bumped her shoulder against the boy next to her. “It takes time, little brother. Just like getting your battement right.”
The time had finally come. Preparations for auditions have been ongoing for months now, but it was now close enough that auditions sign ups had been posted. It was a big production, and while anyone could audition they wouldn’t cast anyone. Still, this show was the highlight of the year for a lot of dancers.
Damian had selected his time slot based on past data he had been able to gather and had claimed the slot as soon as the studio had opened. Yes, he had arrived more than two hours early for class to do so, and, yes, he might have skipped school with a few well placed lies to be there that early. But it was worth it to know that he and Cassandra were both set to audition on the best day when they would be the most rested and the director hopefully wouldn’t be judging the harshest.
Satisfied with his success, Damian had spent the hours he had until class relaxing at a nearby coffee shop that offered a good selection of vegetarian sandwiches. All together, it had been a nice afternoon, and he was looking forward to class.
Which, of course, is why he was interrupted during the beginning of the warm up he usually completed in near silence with Cass.
“Oh, Damian! I didn’t know you were planning to audition for the show.” Jenifer Colt from class was waving from her stretched position to the side of the hall. He acknowledged her presence and she started pushing aside some of her belongings. An invitation.
Cassandra gave him a small smile, letting him take the lead in this interaction but also reassuring him that he would have backup.He nodded and led the way over to their classmate.
“Good morning,” he said, preparing to begin his own stretches.
“Hi Cass!,” she gave the girl a hug before turning back to Damian. “I didn’t know you were auditioning,” she repeated.
“Yes, you said.”
“I didn’t have the courage to audition for at least two years after I started.” Damian nodded in acknowledgment of her words. “But you’re so good already, I’m sure you’re going to get in. Gosh, I’m so jealous of your attitude.”
“Thank you, Colt” he replied. Cassandra bumped his shoulder and raised one eyebrow when he looked up at her. “Your turns has been getting better.”
“Really? I’ve been trying to get it right, but I still feel so shaky.”
“You don’t focus properly on your spot when-” he was subtly nudged by Cass. He cleared his throat. “When you spin. But your posture is very straight.”
Colt let out a chuckle, and Damian was glad that she hadn’t taken the commentary as an insult like people often did.
“You know,” said Bethany Johnson from where she was curled over her outstretched leg on Colt’s other side, “you’d make a great teacher someday.”
“That’s…kind of you to say, Johnson.”
She smiled at him while switching sides. “Just Beth is fine.”
“Right. Thank you, Bethany.”
When he switched his own side Cass was smiling brightly at him and gave him a nod of approval.
Class went on relatively normally but with the additions of Colt throwing a smile his way when she managed to keep her focus when they practiced the attitude turns again. Cassandra made a point to lead the others into including Damian in their conversation during water breaks. In return, Damian pointedly glanced at the clock and made a show of putting down his water bottle when the five minutes were almost up.
By the end of class, Damian had interacted more with his classmates than he had over the last few weeks combined.
“Damian,” called the teacher, “a word.”
Damian was torn between pleasure at the idea of receiving one on one attention from the instructor and dread at the potential of more criticism as he walked over. “Yes, mam?”
“Very good work today. Your form is getting better much faster than I would expect from a novice student.”
“Thank you, mam.”
“Cassandra has mentioned that you’re interested in auditioning for the winter show. Is that correct?”
“Yes. It is.”
“I normally would not recommend auditioning to anyone without at least a year’s experience of full fledged classes, however I do believe this year could be an exception.”
“Really?” he asked, trying not to sound too excited.
“Yes.” She gave him a small smile. “Of course, you’d still have to audition. No one is guaranteed a role.”
“Of course.” Damian acknowledged with a serious nod. “I will make sure I’m suitable prepared to exceed your expectations.”
“That’s what I like to hear. But remember, this show is not a series of solo performances. Everyone on stage must work together. You’ve got potential, but without cohesion on stage potential only goes so far.”
“Thank you for the advice,” he glanced towards the door where Cassandra was waiting for him. “I’ll make sure I work on it.”
“Good. Now, have a lovely weekend. We wouldn’t want to keep your sister waiting.”
“Yes, thank you, ma’am.”
“An Damian?” she called as he walked away.”
“Yes?”
“Respect is good, but I’ve heard that calling your classmates by their first names helps warm them up to you.”
Damian gripped the strap of his bag tighter, trying to keep the blush away from his face. “Of course. I’ll work on that.” He took a couple more steps towards Cassandra before turning around again. “Thank you, ma’am.”
When he turned back towards Cassandra, she was stifling a small smile behind her hand.
“You could try to be more subtle with your amusement,” Damian said.
“I don’t know,” she said, walking with him out of the room. “That was one of the funniest things I’ve seen all week.
Damian could feel the heat rising to his cheeks despite his best efforts to calm down. “It wasn’t that funny.”
“It kind of was.”
“This stays between us.” He gave up pretending to be unaffected. “I don't want Drake or Todd or Brown to hear about this.”
“Oh, but it would be ok if I told Dick?”
Damian paused. “Grayson is more reasonable than the other three.”
“You know they only tease you because they want you to feel welcome.”
“That seems counter intuitive.”
“Similar to calling people by their last names to show respect?”
Damian huffed. “That’s different.”
“Is it?”
“Yes! It’s a sign of basic respect, not belligering someone.”
“It also implies distance.”
Damian shrugged. “What’s wrong with a little distance?”
“Maybe,” Cassandra suggested, “they want you to know that you’re safe.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“You have to look beyond the words. Just like with dance. It’s not all about what’s on the surface.”
“That still doesn’t make sense.”
“In some ways, they’re trying to show that there is no danger in their actions towards you. Even if you upset them, nothing they do will actually do you harm. They are testing to make sure that goes both ways.”
There was a pause as Damian thought over her words. Finally, he said, “That seems too complicated a scheme. The correct answer is usually simpler.”
“Yes, it is,” Cassandra agreed. “They don't know why they do it, but this is why.”
Damian snorted. “That does actually track.”
Cassandra smiled, bumping this shoulder as they walked. “Like when you didn’t realize your stance was too wide.”
“It felt stable!”
“But it was not correct!”
“Well, maybe it should be,” Damian argued.
Cassandra laughed. “If anyone would create a new style of ballet to feel more comfortable it would be you.”
“I could do it.”
“Yes, I believe you could out-stubborn them all,” she said with the smile of someone who meant their words as a compliment.
The auditions themselves had been simple. The entire family was used to high stress situations, and putting on a show in front of someone else was not a new experience. Dancing being part of the show, now that was a new experience for Damian. The classes had helped desensitize him to that, and Cassandra had been very thorough when explaining what happened at an audition. Having their classmates there had surprisingly also helped lighten the mood. Many of them had wished Damian to “Break his leg” and he knew now that they did not mean this literally.
After the audition though? That was more stressful than he had anticipated. Damian was used to being confident in his abilities and he checked the website for the cast announcement more often than he expected.
Once again, Cassandra came to the rescue by convincing Dick to hold another one of his family days. It was annoying and fun and, most importantly, distracting. When the list was finally posted, Cass asked Alfred to make a celebratory dessert. After all, being cast in a show after his very first audition was a big deal. Alfred made sure to congratulate them both.
If class had been fast paced, it was nothing compared to the daily process of a full swing show. Every rehearsal left no time for chit chat or distraction. The choreography was quick and the schedule rigorous. Cassandra had been helping him in trying to make more “human connections” during classes, but Damian preferred this structure. There was no time for doubt or fear. If he was doing anything wrong or was not where he was supposed to be then it was assured that he would hear about it immediately. This was much preferred to the rumor mill that usually followed him at school.
It was a comfort that Cassandra was cast in the same role as him. It was always easier to practice with a partner and made the transition into dancing with a larger group easier. Trying to match the distance and speed with everyone else was frustrating, especially when Damian knew he was correct with the timing of the jumps compared to music. It was everyone else who was late. But, as he was reminded both in class and more kindly by Cassandra, a group in cohesion looks smoother than one person being correct but out of sync. It was incredibly frustrating.
Cassandra was also privileged enough to be cast as an understudy for a larger role as well. Damian would sit on the side during her understudy rehearsals and marvel at the partner dances while pretending to do homework he didn’t need much concentration to complete. Cassandra had always had an incredible second sense as to what was going on around her. Just as heightened as Damian’s but so much more in tune with the people and movements around her. She matched the pace and emotion of both her partner and music, acting to amplify them both. While he would of course prefer to have her by his side for the group number and has been reminded not to wish harm on others, he did half wish Olivia would fall - just a small injury, nothing large, maybe a twisted ankle - so Cassandra could show her true potential on stage. As much as she has preferred practicing solo in the past, her cohesion with a partner was remarkable.
“You were good today,” he told Cassandra after rehearsal had ended.
“Thank you,” she said with a smile.
The wind was cool today on their walk home. Alfred had offered to pick them up as the weather got colder, but it was good to cool down after the rigorous rehearsals. And Damian had been enjoying the time with his sister. Comfortable silences interspersed with occasional conversation.
“I still don’t understand how you do that.” Cassandra tilted her head in question, prompting him to continue. “You’re so… in tune with the other dancers. Even when you switch partners you’re able to click so quickly.”
“Ah,” she said. “That would be time and awareness, little brother. With partner dances you become a reflection. You must take what is being given, maybe distort it a bit through the music, and reflect it back so it amplifies.”
“Yes, but how do you do that?”
“It’s not really something you’re able to practice alone.”
Damian huffed. “I knew that.”
“It also requires a good partner. The moon cannot reflect light it’s not given. Two people out of sync will not look right.”
The costume fitting was…awkward. Not bad. Just strange. Even with the bespoke clothing the family occasionally ordered for galas, Damian was not used to strangers touching him.
Oh, they had been polite enough. The two volunteers organizing the costumes had introduced themselves and carefully explained what they were doing before they did it. But Damian was already keyed up and did not enjoy having other people in his space.
Ever since they made the appointment for the fitting, he had been worrying about his costume, though he would never tell anyone - not even Cass. While ballet as a whole was well known for its beautiful costumes, the overwhelming majority of the good ones were built for female dancers. Almost every clothing item commonly associated with the sport was seen as feminine - the tutus, the tights, the hair pulled into a tight bun, even the unisex shoes. And as confident as Damian was in his own skin, he was not exactly excited at the prospects of having to wear something as form fitting as many of the popular male costumes he had seen online.
The difference in options between the two costume options seemed grossly unbalanced in most examples he had seen. In one performance he had watched online the female dancers all had beautiful, flowing jumpsuits while the male and nonbinary dancers were dressed in a simple gray collared shirt. It was unfair. Sure, he didn’t want to put his body on display - but he still wanted a nice costume! At least he wasn’t the only boy in the song, so even if his costume was different he wouldn’t stand out too terribly.
Damian let out a breath of relief when the customers finally pulled out the pieces after they finished with his measurements. They sorted through the box until finding something his size.
The costumes for Mother Ginger’s children - the Polichinelles - were nice. Pants with dots down the sides, nice and loose, not skin tight as he had feared. The bodice was fitted but not tight. Both the top and the long sleeve flared to ruffles at the end. It was a recognizable silhouette that would compliment the dance.
Even though the costume was clearly made to relate to clowns, Damian also felt pride in the fact that it was nowhere near as silly as some of the vigilante costumes his brothers had worn over the years.
The lights were bright and the floor had a slight give under his feet. Blood pumped through his years, masking the heavy puffs of air every time he landed a jump. The idea of hundreds of eyes staring at him through the darkness was a dire thought. One that threatened to trigger his carefully repressed instincts. It was honestly the most stressful part of this whole adventure.
But the press of the costume around his ribs was comforting. His own armor against whatever the people out there thought of him. It was also a reminder of his place in the show. That he was part of a bigger story. Not the leader. Not the one making all of the decisions that would affect everything around them. A nice, scripted story where he knew what to do and where he fit.
Damian smiled at Cassandra from across the stage. She looked beautiful, even in the more understated ensemble costume. Like she belonged there and every step was as easy as breathing. But they both knew the power and the practice behind every movement.
He would forever be grateful to her for bringing him into this fold.
