Nakahara Hirokichi's Story

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I shouldn't be here...

Nakahara had walked into the studio about twenty minutes ago. The people whom were there didn't even get a glance from him as his brown hues as he started quite adamantly at the floor as he strode inside. Being a professional, punctuality was in his blood. He had kept his distance from the group that was gathered there, leaning his back into the far wall.

He had taken some days off of work for this get together, having a couple months off of his usual and mundane desk job. The work itself was easy, but the work place gave off a very lonely feeling. So far, this place didn't feel all that different. He had no one to blame but himself though, purposely keeping a bit of a distance from the others. It had been years since he saw them all after they had left, leaving him the only one to remain in the end. He wasn't hurt by that however, but felt that he was the one at fault. The past week wasn't much different. Sure some of them sort of got to know each other once more but Naka had locked himself in his room, not bothering to come out until he had to be at the studio. Even then he left at the crack of dawn so hardly no one even knew he was there.

He, like many others most likely, had received a sort of introductory letter that stated their classes and dancing groups. His dull eyes scanned over the page, though he didn't feel the need to complain about being around the most sexually charged people, at least as far as he could remember.

The Exotic Predator, Carmen Villegas Cordero. One of the few people who was older than Naka himself. His rather erotic and spontaneous behavior would normally be at odds with Naka's more calm and dead pan appearance.

The Prince Charming, Eli Blaine Brasher. The younger brother of Dimitri with what seems to be an obsession with his own chest flaunting. Despite being insincere, he was someone Naka could respect, if not be slightly uncomfortable around.

The Sin, Valentine Sinclair. She's not all that a person in the end, honestly. After all someone who's a die hard for Shakespeare can't be all that bad. Naka can't help but remember some cringe worthy incidents with this underclassmen back in the day.

Lastly was their dance leader, or choreographer of sorts, Mikhail Yves Roux. This is an envy inducing sight to behold for Naka, as he greatly revered both his skill and personality. Mikhail was everything Nakahara could never dream to be.

As his eyes scanned the paper, Naka could almost feel himself shrink smaller and smaller still. He was an introverted and picky child in the presence of the very visage of 'sex' or 'excellence'. He felt dwarfed in comparison, though he did not mind. This, in his mind, was at least a bit normal. He continued to read the page.

Duet dancing. It's not as bad as dancing on his own, however the idea of dancing with one these people under the specialty of a professionally trained ballet and jazz dancer was not something to be over the roof about. He preferred group dances that required little to no physical contact in the end. None of them were shy about getting all touchy feely, much to his distress.

"...?"

A look of surprise came across his face. He had noticed all his thoughts. He was getting nostalgic over the names. He was thinking of what his life would be like in dance once more. Thoughts of returning to his desk job didn't cross his mind for once. He felt... Almost happy.

Was this the best choice in the end, after all?

Of course not. It was only a matter of time until he stained the bonds with his cowardly ways.

He let out a long sigh, looking up from the paper and around the room.

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#815556 - DIALOGUE 　 #C7BC92 - THOUGHTS


Duet dancing... I don't even know how these kids dance in the first place The man stood alone in the dance studio, glancing at the bio sheets of his students. Hazel eyes would occasionally flicker to the windows outside, but he didn't really see the scenery offered. Instead, he saw tapes that'd he'd watched of the others, videos his colleagues had lent him so he'd have a better idea of what to expect. But he knew from experience that a recording could be extremely different from the real thing. He himself had been praised for having stage charisma, which was difficult to portray in a video.

It was difficult being the new guy in the group; he hadn't been expecting this kind of job when he signed up after all. But he'd take what he could get. These four were under his tutelage and therefore, his responsibility. Yves was a lot of things, but a man who ran away from his duties wasn't one of them. Forgot about them? Maybe. He couldn't exactly help the fact that his memory functions were completely occupied by dance choreography.

The sound of a door opening jolted him out of his reverie, and he turned his attention to the newcomer, an easy smile breaking out as he saw who it was. "Oh, hello Nakahara. You're early." Group dancing; a bit like those idol group dances from what he'd seen on the videos. Just generally a lot less cutesy he supposed. Definitely not his area of expertise. Nor was this class Nakahara's but he supposed it was to expand his horizons a bit. He gave the lad a cursory glance; it didn't look as if he did any sort of muscle training, which might prove cumbersome to him in the future. Yves might be proven wrong when he danced, but the style he used didn't seem to encourage toning his core really. He brought out a pen from the pocket of his pants, quickly scribbling a note on Nakahara's bio sheet.

When he was done, he placed the papers on the lone chair in the room, keeping it safe within a plastic envelope. The Cajun would write notes on the rest later, when they actually arrived. He'd need to personally see what changed for the individuals since the recorded performances he watched last night.

Stretching his arms above his head, he looked towards the other lone occupant of the room. "We can start basic stretching while we wait for everyone else." The black shirt he wore clung to him like a second skin, moving with him as he went through the motions. It was clear he was expecting Nakahara to follow him, already moving towards one of the mirrored walls he'd designated as the "front" of the class.

Neither of them spoke for five minutes as they performed the basic exercises. The silence wasn't necessarily uncomfortable, but Yves felt the need to fill it all the same. The man did need to speak up more after all. "Nakahara, have you ever done muscle training before?" Might as well make productive use of the noise.