Chapter Text
Iwaizumi saw nothing but blue and white, he had to be, the calming colours flooded his senses and made him feel safe. The colours began to create shapes, and forms. Elegant and graceful but strong and precise.
And this was how he danced, he cleared his mind and let the colours drain in, his body knew what to do, he’d drilled the movement into his muscles making his outline and letting his emotions and his intentions colour it. It had never failed him, his performances were gorgeous, elevated, and they had led him to the highest points of his ballet career.
So tonight would be no different. He was dressed and ready by side stage, practising his breathing. Upon hearing the orchestra sound it was almost time, the violins sang, the cellos wept, and Iwaizumi stepped on stage and danced.
The performance as always was met with raucous applause, Iwaizumi took his bow as was expected of him, and made his way to his dressing room, he changed out of the most constricting elements of his costume before slipping out the stage door with a pack of cigarettes, lighter and hood to cover his face.
The praise from others was nice, but that wasn’t what he wanted right now. He slipped past the theatre patrons with relative ease as they focused on the leading lady, though that didn’t stop a few eagle eye people from noticing him, he tried to be polite but he didn’t have the will to entertain people off stage. So he offered a small wave and scuttled away to an alley where he could find some peace.
It was winter, the cold seeped into his joints, the flame from his lighter gave him a small respite from the harsh wind cracking his lips. He lit his cigarette and inhaled, the smoke danced in the air with movement so graceful but weak being affected by the slighted breeze, there was a delicateness that Iwaizumi strived for.
He was once again at peace.
Though his peace never tended to last long, he heard footsteps from behind him, they moved closer with a steady rhythm that informed Iwaizumi that this person didn’t just stumble into this alley aimlessly. He braced himself for an encounter with a fan, turning towards them slightly. In his view the was was a young man probably the same age or younger than he. Brown hair slightly curled resting just above his shoulders behind spectacles, were eyes a similar brown he had the smile of someone who knew too much and the posture of an artist. Who was he? Another dancer maybe?
“Iwaizumi Hajime,” he spoke his voice was soft and placed. Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow but nodded. The other man spoke once more, “Congratulations on that performance, you truly outdid yourself”
Iwaizumi took a courteous stance bowing his head to fane humbleness, “thank-“
“That was your most bland ballet yet.”
The man’s words cut through the air sharp as a razor and sent a chill down Iwaizumi’s spine, the words rang through his mind.
Bland.
Who was he to call Iwaizumi bland?
He was a principal dancer in top companies in the world. Who is this?
He looked up at him, unsure if he had heard the man correctly. There was arrogance written across his entire demeanour, he’d heard him correctly.
“And who are you?” Iwaizumi’s tone remained level but the anger seething beneath the surface was coming to a boil, be began to see white, but unlike the one that appeared when he danced derived from the calm. No. This white came from extreme heat, metal burning, melting scorching through all it came in to contact with.
But the brown haired man was seemingly unaffected by the heat of his words, giving Iwaizumi a once over before turning, “Oikawa. You’ll hear of me soon.” He disappeared out of the alley leaving alone in the cold, his forgotten cigarette on the concrete to burn out.
——-
In the days that passed the rage Iwaizumi had felt had not diminished, if anything it had only grown. This Oikawa, who was probably just a bitter ex-dancer, he’d for a position in the company. Nonetheless, every move was executed with a new fire, a new rage, as if to prove something to this nobody.
In rehearsal, the ballet master would, on the change in movement, question the new flourish that he began to add. Iwaizumi was confused, he thought he moved the same as he always had, he thought. There was a comment on his technique. Which was rare. He prided his technique above all else. It had gotten him this far.
The members of the company have a difference in him as well.
When it came to performance he no longer radiated the calm and blues and white that he previously did, there was something buzzing, underlying each time he stepped on the stage. The cast began to call it unpredictable.
Unpredictable.
Why had this person affected him so greatly?
He wasn’t anything special; he had received bad reviews before, though never have they gone to the effort to speak to him directly; the reviews were often far more scathing. The vitriol is harsher, but for someone to follow him just to call him bland? There lies a juxtaposition. But he had said the most bland. He’d watched him dance before. Was he some kind of super fan?
He Shouldn’t let this affect him so greatly.
In a week or so he should be able to let this go and forget about the man’s existence.
About 2 weeks passed since the interaction, and Iwaizumi finally had the opportunity to rest and take a slower-paced morning, he slept until sunrise and didn't have to witness daybreak. He performs his morning stretches before indulging himself in the heart of breakfast of orange juice and oatmeal, for once he felt the calm that he'd missed throughout the previous fortnight.
Matsukawa his housemate, and concertmaster glided into his room with the grace that often made Iwaizumi envious, his eyes were heavy with lack of sleep he was dressed in last night's suit.
Not a word was exchanged between the two, but Iwaizumi knew he had so much he wanted to say, and he wasn't in the mood to get lost in subtext this morning.
"What is it?" His voice hoarse from lack of use.
"Have a look at this."
He handed over today's newspaper, not usual for him to have but there was normally not anything he felt to share with Iwaizumi.
He scanned on the cover and he was met with familiar brown eyes. Brown hair tied into a low ponytail and donning a suit and a surprisingly serious expression. The head line read;
OIKAWA TOORU TACKLE THE BALLET
20-year-old piano prodigy, announces he'll take on the mantle of composer for a ballet that will be housed in the Illustrious City Theatre. He has stated he started work while on his current world tour inspired by a dancer caught sight of and hopes to have them perform in his debut piece.
Iwaizumi reread the article a few times, he was that Oikawa Tooru. The Oikawa had taken the classical world by storm a few years prior. The one that challenged an old great and came out the victor. The one with three unfinished symphonies, two unfinished operas and now an unfinished ballet.
He looked back up at his housemate only to find him with a sly glint in his eyes.
"Are you gonna go for it?" He asked expectantly.
"Go for what exactly?"
Matsukawa sat beside him and tugged a little at the newspaper. "The ballet, Oikawa's ballet."
Releasing his grip on the paper, he lazily glanced out of his small window. "Why should I? Doesn't look like he has a habit of finishing things."
“Yeah, but being connected to him would probably help your career.”
Iwaizumi was by no means unknown in the world of ballet, it was a small world once inside you tend to hear whispers of others and he made small waves here and there, and had made a reputation of being reliable, but most wouldn’t go much further than that.
And that was fine.
“I don’t need help, Issei.”
“Okay but maybe the guy can help you out of the slump you've been in for a while.”
“What slump?” genuinely perplexed, the anger he was experiencing was a recent development, but before that he was fine. He was pleased with his development, what did he mean by slump?
Matsukawa looked at him blankly for a moment before standing to leave. “Don’t worry about it.” he made sure to leave the newspaper on the bed. “If you’ll excuse me I've got a date a vision in pink.”
“Tell Hanamaki I say hi.”
Finally, at peace Iwaizumi tried to continue his morning of leisure without thinking too deeply about Matsukawa’s words, he had to turn over the newspaper as the sight of the irritating musician started to get him worked up before the day's rehearsal.
—------
The rehearsal pianist was a lot more expressive with his playing, Iwaizumi noticed like there was a new life to the pieces he’d been playing so monotonously for the last few months. The cast found it a welcome change for it seemed like he wanted to be there for once.
There was a small break between exercises where Iwaizumi would massage his metatarsals.
“You’re looking good today, Haji.” Aran, his closest friend in the company spoke, he was rolling out his ankles, loosening them after the series of tendus they had just endured.
The compliment was earnest but Iwaizumi couldn’t help but think it was unwarranted after all had done nothing different, but it could probably be accounted for finally being able to let go of some of the spite towards Oikawa.
“Thanks, man, you too those grand battements were stunning.”
Aran was a humble guy, but never one to downplay his strengths. One the strongest dancers he’s ever met and Iwaizumi was certain that he would reach the highest of career heights sooner rather than later, he deserved and Aran knew this.
The rehearsal ran as usual, the notes always felt harsher than necessary but received nonetheless, they were preparing to leave for the evening before the company director stopped them.
“Before you leave, let us thank our guest rehearsal pianist who asked for the opportunity to play for us today.” That explained why the playing felt so alive today. the company applauded as the man behind the dinky piano rose to standing, Iwaizumi felt like he’d seen him before but the man was still facing down gathering his sheet music. “You may have heard word, of the young musician who is currently penning a ballet.”
The man's face became clear in the light, his features soft and his expression boyish. This was the man whose words had sent him spiralling.
“Oikawa Tooru, will be working in collaboration with our company to bring it to life.”
Iwaizumi found that Oikawa Tooru was looking directly at him something in those brown eyes shifted. It made him feel vulnerable.
But the flame was once again ignited, he could hear the taunt of ‘bland' swimming around his skull and he would be sure to change Oikawa’s mind about that.