Chapter Text
Chapter One
Unknown’s playlist – unknown song
Flora’s legs shivered by the end of practice. These last minutes always demanded the most concentration as she held her arabesque as high and beautiful as she could manage. So, it was absolutely understandable that the horrible pop music coming from an adjacent room bothered her immensely. It was loud enough to tune out the piano music her teacher played. Who would be this inconsiderate? It irritated her to no end.
“Come on girls, just a few more moments!” her teacher urged. Flora gritted her teeth while trying not to look tired. A ballerina could never look tired, not even at the end of her performance. Yet a look into the mirror showed slightly red cheeks and a slight layer of sweat on her forehead. She did not wipe it off as to not give away her exhaustion.
“And release! Return to first position, breathe and don’t forget to stretch out your muscles before you leave!”
Flora let out a tiny huff so no one would hear as she put her foot back to the ground, the muscles in her back and upper thigh aching. She’d done this for years and still, her body ached at the end of every day. She bent down to stretch. Her teacher had turned off the music so Flora could hear the tune from the other room a lot clearer now. It must be some pop song, judging by the beat.
She tried not to listen while she stretched out. Yet she could not help but perk up her ears; it was entertaining; annoying but also interesting, especially considering it was a ballet academy she trained at. She barely heard something different than classical music which usually consisted of an opera playing, mainly pianos and violins. No teacher ever played pop music, not even during her other dance classes. It was usually something classical and almost always something without lyrics.
As the other girls left the room, happy to have finished another day, Flora stayed back to stretch out some more. Big black eyes that made her look younger than she was stared back at her in the huge mirror that covered the entire wall and showed every mistake from every angle as she reached forward to touch her toes. She would have to wait here for her adoptive father to pick her up to go home. Luckily, this never took too long.
Professor Hershel Layton was a renowned former dancer and well-respected teacher and choreographer at the academy. Besides ballet classes, his main focus was the history of dance and especially ballet, but also other types of dances or really any historic event. Their home was littered with articles, books and finds he had brought from expeditions for which he sometimes missed weeks of training at the academy. One would wonder why he had not yet gotten fired over it, but Flora knew – he was simply irreplaceable due to his intensive knowledge and skill. He had written the most beautiful pieces that caught everyone’s attention – some people even went as far as to say that his compositions rivalled those of Petipa.
Flora sat down to untie her pointe shoes as she heard quick feet on parquet out in the hall – Luke.
A little boy in a blue sweater and with tousled brown hair rushed into the room, a bag over his shoulder and a grin from ear to ear on his face. “Flora! You won’t believe it! I finally hit the combination today!” he cheered.
Flora smiled proudly. Luke was the Professor’s protégé. He was the son of a very good friend of the Professor who had fallen in love with ballet at a very young age. To give him the best possibilities in life, his parents had sent him to live with the Professor who treated him like his own. Almost like Flora.
Well, almost being the crucial term here.
“That’s awesome, Luke!” she praised, stretching out her feet. She could practically see how he grew an inch at her compliment. Luke dropped to the ground, following suit even though he must have already stretched out after his class had ended around thirty minutes ago. His classes usually finished a bit earlier than hers, except for Thursdays. He always came to her classroom where both of them stretched, talked about their days, maybe looked after some blisters or sore muscles and waited for the Professor to take them home. Luke had become the little brother Flora had never had over the past years.
“What’s that music? Is that yours?” he suddenly asked.
She had forgotten about the annoying music from the other room. But now that he had mentioned it, she could not unhear it. She rolled her eyes. “No, it’s from another room around here. It’s been the same song for almost an hour now. I think they train some kind of routine.” She put on her favourite orange jacket with the soft white lining that always made her muscles ache a bit less. She pulled the zipper as high as she could as she got cold after practice had ended rather quickly.
He listened intently for a moment, scrunching up his nose. “That’s odd. That’s nothing the teachers ever play here or teach a dance to,” he voiced exactly the thoughts Flora had had earlier.
“It’s been rather annoying. I could hear it over our music,” Flora admitted quietly, shaking out her hands and stretching her fingers as she moved into a middle split.
Luke jumped to a stand. “Then we should tell them! That’s so mean! They cannot do that!”
“Luke, no!” Flora retorted, less timid now. He was her brother, she could argue with him. With other people, well… “They have to train. I’m sure they didn’t mean to. I’ll talk to my teacher next time it happens.”
He still didn’t seem entirely convinced.
“Besides, we have to wait for the Professor here.”
That did convince him. The Professor held a special place in his heart, and it was adorable to watch them interact, Luke soaking up every single word like a sponge and following him like a puppy. The Professor, in return, always looked out for him, used spare moments to teach him new things and steps or correct his form so no mistakes could manifest themselves and become hard to get rid of.
They stretched a bit more and Flora used the time to ask Luke how his day had gone. She did look out for him just as well. He even got to show her the combination he had finally nailed today, with some difficulties though. He had already cooled down after all, but Flora could still see the basics that made the combination, and that his movements had gotten a lot more secure. Luke knew that the Professor was currently working on a new choreography, an entire show even, so he worked extra hard because he desperately wanted a part in it, a big part.
By the time, the Professor picked the up to go home, a pleasant smile on his face as always, the music from the other room had stopped. It was still lit as they passed it, and Flora could catch a glimpse of a girl and a boy talking in the mirrors that lined the walls. She found herself wanting to stop, to pry into the room, to see what they had been training. But instead, she trailed behind Luke and the Professor, listening to Luke’s day and excitement once more as she stayed silent. The Professor would ask her soon enough about her own day.
Soon enough.
***
On Thursdays, Flora found herself in the same classroom, but without any annoying music this time which could impact her concentration. Which was good as she had a private lesson this time. The Professor insisted that she and Luke both had at least two private lessons each week to further improve and, more importantly, work on their weaknesses. For Luke, that meant to become more emotional during dancing so he could convey it properly to the audience. For Flora, it mainly meant to become better at everything.
Her muscles were too weak.
Her feet not pointed enough.
Her steps too big.
Her jumps too small.
Her presence not memorable enough.
She loved ballet with all her heart, but it was hard feeling like everything she did was somehow wrong and never enough.
But she kept going.
“Well done, Flora,” her teacher said finally, smiling slightly, after an hour full of corrections.
Flora returned the smile and curtsied as a thank you. As much as the corrections stung, she knew she had to keep going. She could not bend under the pressure, much less break. Her mother had put her into ballet when she had been a young child, years before she had died. Years after, Flora still danced, even though she had thought about quitting during that time – but it was all she had left of her mother.
“Stretch well, little bird, I do not want to see you injured next week. Auditions are coming up and I’m sure you want to take part. Have you already decided which roles you want to apply to?”
Flora nodded. “Yes, Mrs. Tatiana. I would like to get the role as she Sugar Plum Fairy again. And I would love a part in Professor Layton’s new piece.”
“Tz tz,” Mrs. Tatiana shook her head. “Don’t rely on parts you’ve had before or parts which do not exist yet. Who knows when the Professor will finish it? Let one of his archaeology trips get in the way and he’ll be gone for weeks, leaving his writings to collect dust!”
Flora smiled awkwardly. She never knew what to answer during these occasions, not want wanting to hurt anyone’s feelings or get in trouble. “Yes, Mrs. Tatiana. I will remember to look at other roles,” she answered instead, not deferring to anything besides that point.
“He’s so reckless sometimes! God forbid he ever gets injured. He’s atrocious when it comes to time management, but he makes an immaculate teacher. We would miss him dearly.”
Flora never really knew if her teacher liked or hated the Professor. “I would miss him terribly as well,” she admitted though, her smile turning into a gentle one.
Mrs. Tatiana smiled gently. “Of course, you would, little bird.”
Until Flora had made it into the academy and gotten her first part, they had kept her and the Professor’s relationship a secret so no one could say she had only gotten her place in the school due to it. But ever since then, it was common knowledge that the Professor had taken her under his wing as well. Which did not mean that she would not have to fight for parts, quite the contrary. She had to work twice as hard as everyone else.
“Mrs. Tatiana?”
“Yes, little bird?”
“When we had the choreography class last week, do you remember the music we could hear from the other room? Do you know who trains there?” They had been in the same room earlier in the week and the music, the same song had played, over and over.
Her teacher spun around, her brows furrowed. “If I remember? Oh, that boy who trains there, just atrocious! He thinks the entire academy belongs to him, playing his music like that, with no regard for others. He should be very glad I do not know him personally or I would make him run drills until he couldn’t dance anymore!”
She had already asked the Professor earlier in the week as she had been listening to that music for almost three weeks now. It was never during the same class or in the same room, but she seemed to constantly catch the tune somewhere. As she had not been able to name the music or pinpoint the room, the Professor had been of no help as well. He had voiced his concerns about the music’s player for others just like Mrs. Tatiana, though had done so in a much gentler and much more diplomatic way.
She wanted to find it annoying, entirely annoying and nothing else, but she kept finding herself lightly bobbing her head to the tune after class. It might be alright after class, but during, it was entirely annoying, loathsome even.
Still, she could not shake off her curiosity.