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That morning found Pierrot’s performance tent dim and hushed. The only light filtering through a narrow gap in the canvas ceiling casting long, golden beams that spilled onto the practice floor. You sat quietly on top of a wooden crate at the darkened edge of the stage, knees drawn up to your chest, chin resting on your arms as you watched Pierrot move.
He was breathtaking.
Even with his towering height and powerful frame, Pierrot danced across the floor like moonlight on water. The only noise in the quiet morning was the soft rustling of his clothes and hair as he moved to a symphony that only he could hear. Every extension of his long limbs was fluid and precise, the movements so light they belied the raw power you knew they held. His shadow had clung with him this time, exaggerating his movements as if it were a living extension of his own body.
You watched as he spun, arched, and leaped with an almost inhuman grace – the kind that made it seem as though he had commanded gravity itself to suspend him above the ground for just a moment longer. The golden light coming from the top of the tent seemed to act like a spotlight, making his pale hair and golden eyes gleam. The beauty of it turned the simple morning rehearsal into something sacred. Something that you weren’t worthy of seeing.
Your heart seemed to beat in time with his movements as he began to spin faster and faster.
God, he’s beautiful.
You had always thought so, of course. Even from that first moment you had met him in the street, seeing him tower above you. The cold winter sun had haloed him from behind, and for a fleeting second, a little part of you wondered if it had been you who had possible gotten pushed to the ground and hurt your head instead. There was something in your chest that day that had twisted with a quiet wonder and awe. But now, watching him rehearse was something else entirely. There was no uniform, no music, no audience – yet he still moved as though he was in an entirely different world, as if this was his sole purpose for being. Something deeper stirred within you.
There was a part of you – something small, fragile, like a dying ember – that wished to share this with him. It wouldn’t have to be long. Just a few seconds. To step into that gracefulness, even for a moment, and move alongside the man that had enraptured your heart and held it oh so carefully. What would it be like to shine so brilliantly?
But like a dying ember, the thought flickered out just as quickly as it had been formed.
You hugged your knees a bit tighter, eyes shut as you took a slow breath. You were nothing like him. There was no grace, no coordination, and certainly none of the natural elegance that seemed to come so naturally to him. Not to mention your complete utter lack of skill and clumsy feet. It was almost laughable really. At best, you’d be an embarrassment – something to laugh at after you inevitably make a fool of yourself. At worst, you’d be an anchor. An anchor that would do nothing but drag him away and into the depths. Pulling him further and further from the light where he was supposed to be. You would ruin the beauty of it. Of him.
You always managed to, didn’t you? Whether in small ways or catastrophic ones. If anything, that was the one thing you were confident about. Your vision became unfocused as you were brought back to past memories. Past relationships. Your fault. It’s always been your fault.
No. It was better for you to stay where you were, perched on the sidelines. Here you could play the role of a supportive partner: quiet, unobtrusive. Not suffocating. Not a burden. And of course, never taking away from his light. Anything that would let you keep him for as long as he allowed someone like you to stay in his orbit.
Another wistful sigh escaped you as he finished his routine with a final leap. The loose strands of his hair flared behind him as he landed soundlessly in a perfect stance. For a moment it was as if he was frozen. The only movement being the rise and fall of his chest, the light from above catching on a bead of sweat that travelled down his throat and beneath his collarbones.
You stiffened, hastily averting your gaze.
There was movement again as he bent over into a slow bow to his audience of one. As he rose his golden irises locked onto you from your seat in the shadows. The intensity made your breath catch once more. You didn’t know if you could look away even if you wanted to.
He crossed the distance in a few long strides, your eyes helplessly following the movement. He dropped gracefully to one knee in front of you. Even crouched, the added height from your wooden crate did little to diminish his towering presence. It was as if the only thing you could see in the world was him.
One large hand reached out, slow and deliberate, as if giving you time to back away before gently cupping your cheek. The smooth leather of his gloved thumb rubbed tenderly underneath your eye as though catching an invisible tear you hadn’t realized was there.
“My love,” he murmured, his voice low and rough with emotion. “Why do you look at me in that way?”
You swallowed, doing what you hoped was a convincing smile. “You’re just... really beautiful when you dance. I could watch you forever.” It was the truth. He was always beautiful, especially when he danced. When he did anything really.
His expression softened slighty, but something deeper flickered behind the gold of his eyes – the sharp, sensitive awareness that had always seemed to be able to look straight through you and into your soul. “You were not simply watching,” he hummed quietly. “There was something else in your eyes. Tell me the truth, my dove. What were you thinking?”
Whether it was his intensive stare, the sincerity of his voice, the overwhelming feelings of your shame and insecurity, or some combination of the three, the words started to tumble out before you could catch them. “I…I just… I wanted to know what it was like to dance with you.” Your voice sounded like it was being spoken from far away in your ears. Small. Ashamed. “Not even for very long! A few seconds would be enough!” Your words came out in a rush now, as if the dam holding them back was broken beyond repair.
“But I know I’d probably hold you back, ruin it maybe. We’d end up spending more time making sure I’m not stepping on your feet or falling over.” You tried to point your head down so you wouldn’t have to see his face, but Pierrot’s hand on your cheek remained steadfast. His other hand found where your fingers had knit themselves together nervously. The slow stroking of his thumb on the back of your hand encouraged you to continue. “It’s better if I sit here and watch. At least this way I can keep admiring you without… without being a burden.”
The silence stretched endlessly between you.
Pierrot’s golden eyes filled with pain before morphing into something fierce and resolved. He rose to his full height without another word. You did nothing but follow with your eyes, only making a small gasp when he bent forward to effortlessly scoop you into his arms. He cradled you against his chest as though you weighed nothing at all. He still remained silent as he walked towards the center of the tent where he had been practicing before setting you down gently on your feet.
“You have never and could never be a burden,” he whispered, voice cracking. “Not to me. Never to me.”
He took both of your hands in his, guiding them to rest on him as high as you could reach. You could feel your ears burn as they settled lightly against his chest right underneath his collarbones. Your fingers gripped his shirt and you could feel the slight movement from him as he breathed and placed his own hands against your waist. The warmth seeped through his gloves and your clothes making the heat on your ears feel even brighter. Then with a slight inhale he began to move. Slow, simple steps, nothing that was like the complex routine you had been watching for the past half hour. Just simple swaying. His hands moved from your waist to your hands as he turned you carefully under his arm, dipping you with such tender care and control it was almost as if you were floating slightly above the ground.
“With dance,” he murmured, “you feel the rhythm here.” One large hand pressed gently over your rapidly beating heart, the other resting carefully against the lower curve of your spine. “Not in perfect steps. Not with grace. Just here. With me.”
Tears began to blur your vision as he continued dancing with you – careful, intimate, and achingly loving in a way that made something in your ribs twist. He led you across the floor, lifting you effortlessly during spins, supporting your weight completely so you felt weightless rather than clumsy. Any time you stumbled, he was there, adjusting and pulling you closer to him until your bodies moved as one entity.
It could have been seconds, minutes, even hours before the dance finally slowed. You both stood silently pressed against one another, feeling the rhythm of the other’s heart and breath. It was nearly impossible to tell them apart. Pierrot suddenly dropped to both knees in front of you. His arms were wrapped tightly around your waist as his face pressed against your stomach.
“I have performed for thousands,” his voice was thick with emotion, so quiet you probably wouldn’t have heard if you were not as close as you were. “But dancing with you… even like this… is the most beautiful thing I have ever done. Please never hide your wishes from me, my love. Never think you are less. You are the sole reason I dance at all.”
He looked up at you then, tears shining at the edges of his golden eyes, mirroring your own. There was no doubt that there was anything but boundless, unbridled love in his gaze.
“If you ever decide to join me on the stage, I would be honored. Or stay here in the shadows if it’s where you’re most comfortable. Or we could just keep our dances for us alone. Wherever you are, I will always find you. I will always look for where you are and follow. You are not an anchor. You are my light.”
He rose before kissing you deeply. His arms wrapped around you as you clutched tightly to the fabric of his shirt. You wanted to draw him in closer and closer still, till there was nothing you could feel but him.
And for the first time in what seemed like a while, the ache in your heart and mind felt just a bit lighter.