[Paris] When you and I were forever wild ~ [Zara]

“You know, this would be perfect if I were gay,” Prosper called out to his friend down several flights of stairs. He didn’t know how exactly they’d managed it, but he and Zara were alone in Paris. He’d been working with his mum for the past few weeks, and he’d had to promise himself away for the entire summer holidays, but she’d payed him in advance and let him go. It was awesome. The sixteen year old was excited. Prosper dumped his canvas backpack down beside their room door and skipped down the stairs to where Zara was. “Or if we were lovers,” he added with a grin, taking her bags out of her hands and almost tripping over himself running up the stairs.

The friends were staying on the top floor, which meant that they were seven tightly wound flights of stairs up. When he was at the top again, the boy fumbled with the key he had in his pocket and unlocked the door. His life had suddenly become a thousand times less dramatic when he’d come home. He blamed it affectionately on the girls. There didn’t seem to be any girls in his town, and no girls equated to no drama. The only person from school he’d seen was Zara. “Double bed,” he called out gruffly to the blonde, as he unlocked the door. “There’s a couch though. I don’t mind taking it.” Prosper scanned the room quickly. Neither of them had too much money, so it wasn’t posh at all. It was, however, quite airy and full of natural light. There was a big double bed in the middle of the room, a wooden dresser and what he’d describe as a kitchenette to the side. It was clean, and nice enough.

When the school year had finished, he’d been a little apprehensive about going home. The fact that he suddenly couldn’t see Zoé every day was the first change that he really noticed. He missed her, but spilling his guts out in a letter just didn’t seem to be the right way to go about telling her. He’d written several letters, but they’d all sounded too cheery in a detached kind of way or too full of emotion that he knew she didn’t want to read. It burned. His first week home had been spent quite moodily until his mother had forced him into getting busy. As much as the stuff with Maria was kind of confusing and… well… wrong in a lot of ways, he missed messing around with her. The amount of time he spent thinking about sex was irritating, but he supposed that he couldn’t help being hormonal. It was normal for sixteen-year-old boys to be obsessed with girls, he reasoned. He found himself wondering about how often girls thought about that whole thing.

All in all, it was okay. His first week home had been depressing and moody and mopey, but now he felt like his head was a lot clearer. The idea of escaping to Paris for a little while seemed like an incredible idea. He had a sneaking suspicion that Zara was going to try to wingman for him with some of the ballet girls that they knew in the city, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that yet… but at least the idea didn’t make him feel moody and angry. He was still obsessed with Zoé, and he knew it wasn’t healthy, but the past few weeks had been working wonders. The fact that he knew she was coming to his birthday party next month made his heart soar with joy, and that fact upset him a little… but he was making progress.

“Not too shabby,” he commented, dumping their bags on the double bed and opening the stiff wooden doors to the balcony. It was small and the view wasn’t amazing by any means, but a busy street was a thousand times more exciting in Paris.

Paris!

And she was stoked. It wasn't too far away from her home but it felt like a different world already and she'd only just got here. It was loud, it was busy but it was absolutely perfect. "Don't let your dad hear you say that," she joked, calling after Prosper as she waited at the foot of the stairs, adjusting her battered old backpack. The place was nice. So far at least. Everything was so expensive in the capital and Zara has expensive tastes. So did most of the girls in Paris, she reckoned. She'd seen them teetering along the broken pavements in too high heels, wearing sunglasses and smoking. Urgh. She was so jealous.

Lovers? The blonde cracked a grin, gratefully handing over her bags to him. She'd never been able to pack lightly but she'd made a conscious effort this time. Her stuff consisted mainly of tee shirts and shorts, one skirt, three pairs of shoes (she didn't know who she might meet) and one pretty dress, just in case they decided to go out for the evening. Then there was her make up and toiletries, hair brushes and her sun block. She burnt so badly.

"You're breaking my heart and we only just arrived," she cooed before her full lips pouted playfully. "Wait!" She called, springing into action as she ran after Prosper, her hands gripping the banisters as she hauled herself up. Zara was fit but she was a different kind of fit. A cardio work out was foreign to her but she didn't stop as her cute lace up boots echoed around the quiet stairwell. Pulling up to a door, she panted, her cheeks pink but her eyes bright.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'monnnnn," the ballerina urged him, bouncing on the spot as she repeatedly poked the centre of his spine in an effort to get him to hurry up. Once inside, she was surprised at the amount of light. She sniffed the air. It didn't smell musty. Good. While Prosper had been working for his mum, Zara had been working for her dad. It was fashion season now that it was summer and her dad was swamped with offers from various wizarding magazines. Originally, she thought she'd be drinking champagne with models but what she'd actually been doing was carting around cases and lighting, getting lunches for her dad and his team whilst scowling but hey, it had paid off. Quite literally.

"Oh," came the soft reply as she frowned, eyeing the bed and then the sofa. "Oh don't be daft," she chided gently as she stepped in. "That old thing is rickety as all Hell. Come on, we can share. I don't snore," she said with a roll of her eyes. "And it's not like we're going to spoon. You'll pull your back out on that thing. Look, it's big enough for more like three people," Zara was quick to say. "But thank you for protecting my modesty," she said with a grin. She took a step back and promptly ran forwards, launching herself at the bed before landing, face down, on the mattress.

"Sheets are clean," came the muffled response as she turned over, blowing at a stray lock of long blonde hair before she sat up and hurried to scramble off the bed. Zara wanted to sight see and by "sight see", she meant everything. The Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, Sacre Coeur, the Luxembourg Gardens, the lot. She was wondering how much her friend would kick and scream if she suggested an art gallery. Mmm. They hadn't made up a schedule. Who needed a schedule anyway? That was no fun. This was Prosper's weekend. She'd do whatever he wanted to do. They could both use a few days away from home and she couldn't think of anything better than spending them in a bright and vibrant city.

She got to her feet and hurried over, grinning broadly as she inhaled deeply. She couldn't see any landmarks but it wasn't a big deal. "It's perfect," she gushed, offering Prosper a dazzling smile before she opened her map. Zara was all for spontaneity. But measured spontaneity. The weather was glorious. It was hot with a light breeze, a cloudless cobalt blue stretched for eternity overhead. She just felt alive and she was eager to get going.

She unfurled her map, their hotel was marked with a big red "x" and clearly indicated. Zara had already familiarised herself with the layout of the city and it was alright, a damn sight easier to negotiate than Rome where the streets on the maps didn't actually exist in real life. "What do you wanna do first?" She asked, tracing her index finger along a road in the map, heading east. "The Louvre? Musée d'Orsay? Tuileries Gardens?" She offered hopefully before pausing. "Or do you just wanna get a drink?"

“Oh, he’d still love me,” Prosper commented dismissively. He loved and respected his father immensely, the sixteen year old just didn’t have anything in common with the older man. Prosper didn’t understand him, and he didn’t think his father really understood him either. Oh well. It wasn’t a big deal to the boy. His family home was pretty balanced and healthy, as far as households went. If he were honest, Prosper knew that the biggest ‘issue’ that their family had was him. Prosper was horribly dramatic and restless. It could be frustrating for the rest of them, he supposed. Too bad he couldn’t get perfect grades and have his whole life planned out like Adrien…

The Papillonlisse boy glanced wistfully at the bed for a moment, knowing full well that his wand was tucked away in his bag there. Only a few more weeks to go until the twenty-third of July! Then he’d be apparating everywhere, and he’d never leave the couch to fetch a bag of chips. Thanks, accio, Prosper thought, the corners of his mouth curved slightly at the thought. Oh yes. He fully intended on using magic at every possible opportunity for the last week of the summer holidays. Her words snapped him back to the present and out of his little daydream. “I wasn’t going to sleep on the couch,” he replied with a sly grin, “I was just being polite, you know. Besides. Spooning is nice.” Prosper winked at his friend and then grinned to show that he was kidding. Mostly.

He laughed as she propelled herself onto the bed. Zara was as flip-floppity as he was when it came to moods. They could never just feel average, he thought. It was all ups or all downs.  “Everything seems pretty clean,” he agreed, running a finger along the edge of the wooden dresser. No dust. The boy caught his reflection in the long mirror attached to the opposite wall and paused, giving himself a quick once-over. His hair was getting kind of long, he noted. The boy ran his fingers through his curls absentmindedly and shot himself a quick grin. His grey eyes were sparkling. He looked great. Paris air must have been good for him, he reasoned. “I’ve grown an inch over the past few months,” he commented vaguely, “Did you notice?”

Zara drew his attention again and he went back inside slowly. The boy watched her pull out the map before jumping into the bed himself to give it a go. Not super comfortable, but not uncomfortable either. Honestly, Prosper would not have minded sleeping on the floor. They were in Paris! He was sure the two of them were on some kind of bizarre Paris high. He wondered briefly whether anything could spoil their moods right now. The whole playing-adults thing seemed to be working for them. “Well what time’s your appointment thing today? That’s today, right?” he glanced over at his friend seriously. After a moment, his serious look turned into a grin. "I'll do anything you like... And what do you want to do tonight? I saw a flyer down in the lobby for a swing band that plays in a bar in the city… I’ve never been in a bar before…” He trailed off with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

Zara smiled gently and nodded. She knew Prosper's dad loved him but she had the sneaking suspicion he accidentally compared him to Adrien. She liked Adrien. He was tall and handsome and charming but he wasn't…fun. It seemed an odd thing to bring up but honestly, she wouldn't change him for the world. In a way, she sort of knew her own mother was faintly disappointed that Aimee didn't take up ballet and that was why it was thrust upon herself.

With a laugh, Zara rolled her big expressive blue eyes. "Of course you weren't," she tutted, placing her hands on her hips as she tilted her head. They'd shared beds before as kids, usually topping and tailing but that was about it. With a snort and a shake of her head, she easily dismissed his comment. "I dunno about spooning," she said with a gently frown. "I've been told I have a bony bum," she remarked, her hands going to it. Her mother had said that to her once. Maybe she was just generally unsnuggable. Anyway! Who cared? It was Paris! She'd sleep in the bath if need be.

She let out a soft sigh of relief as Prosper said everything was clean. She wasn't really a cleanie-bug but if she saw dirt, she'd be unable to sleep. Zara stretched out on the bed, wiggling down into the mattress, rolling back and forth and trying to decide which side of the mattress would be the most comfortable so she could claim it. The bed itself was fairy sturdy. The mattress wasn't as thick and plush as she would have liked or what she was used to but it was okay. To make sure it could properly hold her weight, she bounced a little on it. After a bit more wiggling, she decided she'd take the left side of the bed, the one closest to the large windows.

Staying silent, she arched her slim eyebrows. Was he checking himself out? Zara folded her plump lips together into a thin line as she tried to stem the flow of giggles. It was getting too much and she had to look away quickly but her head snapped back to him quickly. "Oh hey!" She called with a wide grin that made her eyes sparkle, clambering off the bed to quickly stand next to him. Usually, there was about half a foot of height difference between them and she looked up at him curiously before she laughed. "Good job, buddy," she stated in her best American accent, playfully punching his arm softly. Zara was a titch, she'd not grown since she was ten years old.

"Of course I noticed," she said breezily, her lie thinly veiled. The truth was that if they'd been dancing together, she would have but since Prosper dropped the bomb that he was giving up dancing competitively, she'd not really been anywhere near his body. She knew every curve and plane of his body, she relied on him not to drop hers.

Hearing the creak of the mattress, she looked up from her map. "Pretty good, right?" She chirped before surveying her map again. The hotel was marked in red, the ballet school marked in green and any other potential ideas were marked in black. Zara so desperately wanted to be free and careless but the ballerina in her refused to let go of control completely. Zara was like a boy scout; she was prepared for everything. She had a map, Muggle money and loose change for the metro (which she hoped they'd be able to use because it looked like mental fun) sun block, tourist brochures, a list of the opening and closing times of major attractions, she was sorted.

Appointment? In her joy of freedom, she'd almost forgotten she was here for business. Technically. Ha, not really. Urgh. She glanced down at her watch. "One o'clock," she replied, meaning they didn't have a whole lot of time to be swanning off. She was told to bring a portfolio with her which contained photos of her dancing and written evaluations of her performances and character. Then she'd have to complete a three minute routine which she'd choreographed herself and that was followed by a question and answer session. If she messed up, she was seriously considering breaking the rules and confunding the admission staff. She was confident she was going to ace it and it wouldn't take long.

Anything she liked? Well then. Zara was feeling oddly giddy and flirty and her smile began to spread before her mind shot it down. Swing band? "Heck yes!" Zara gushed, forgetting her map momentarily so she could applaud swiftly. "That'll be so much fun," she exclaimed, bouncing on the spot like an excited puppy. Everything was hitting her at once like a wave. No parents, no rules, no restrictions. If they wanted to go to a bar and dance, no one could actually say no. It was so…exhilarating. And awesome. And fun. And she wanted to do everything right here, right now before her brain exploded.

A city bar? That was a thousand times more intriguing. "Me either," she said with a frown. "But that's whyyyyy," she drawled, holding an index finger up to indicate she wouldn't be long before she wandered back to the bed. Once there, she rummaged through her bag to extract her purse. Striding back over to Prosper, she opened it and extracted two plastic cards. Fake IDs. She knew a person had to be sixteen to buy wine in France but she had no idea how old they had to be to get into bars and so, this was why the card said they were eighteen years old. Muggles were such funny little things!

"My cousin Pierre," she went on to explain. "You've met him. Tall, skinny, glasses, really bad acne?" Zara asked before flipping her hands through the air nonchalantly. "Well he thinks rules are for losers, so he makes these. His acne cleared up, by the way. He's got a girlfriend now," with a smile, she held the cards out to him. Basic information was printed along with pictures of the two. Arching a slim eyebrow, she wiggled them temptingly in front of Prosper with a slow smile, eyes sparkling. "Oh yes."

Zara’s excitement was infectious, though the boy wondered if they weren’t just feeding off of each other and getting progressively more excited as they went. “You’ll be amazing,” he said with a crooked smile. Prosper wondered how long she’d be, and whether or not he could sit outside and flirt with other ballet girls while he waited. The idea gave him mixed feelings, but he knew that he shouldn’t feel guilty about it. He and Zoé weren’t together, so he should feel fine flirting with other girls. And the stuff with Maria… wasn’t serious. So he didn’t owe anyone anything. Flirting was fun, and they were in Paris. Prosper was a total sucker for the romantic idea of it all. That was why they were here, right? For a bit of fun and clarity and distraction. He was getting his head back into the right place. Vaguely, the question of whether or not everything would go back to being a mess when he went back to reality and saw Zoé again crossed his mind, but he tried not to dwell on it. It was easy to get distracted here.

“Bony bum?” he repeated, resisting the urge to glance down. He placed his hands on his hips and raised his eyebrows, mocking her expression gently. Prosper continued in a serious voice. “I suppose I’ll have to find out.” He nodded, keeping up the solemn act for another couple of moments before his face split into a beaming grin. What was happening? The Paris air didn’t just make him better looking, it was making them silly. The boy let his arms drop to either side of him on the bed, running his hands over the sheets slowly. He found a little bar of soap wrapped in plastic and raised it to his nose to take a quick sniff. Something flowery that smelled nice, but made his nose kind of itchy. He wondered vaguely if Zara had brought any moisturiser.

The boy smiled pleasantly again as she spoke. “I was just thinking about when we did swing a couple of years back with my mum. The routine was impossible, but the dance was fun?” Prosper’s eyes were all sparkly and enthusiastic and his actions were obviously more animated than usual. The sixteen year old couldn’t sit still at the best of times, and right now he was bouncing on the bed without even noticing what he was doing. “Swing is the perfect mix of class and fun,” he added with a cheeky grin. His eyebrows were raised again as the girl waved something in front of his face. He nodded at the mention of her cousin.

Prosper plucked the thin card out of Zara’s hand and squinted at it. “When did you get that picture?” he asked vaguely, “And… why isn’t it moving?” He raised an eyebrow at his blonde friend quizzically. The sixteen year old really had no idea about bars. He’d been into pubs with his family and inns and places like that, but he’d never been to a real bar pretending to be an adult. At first, Prosper had assumed they’d be sticking to the wizarding areas of Paris. His parents had cautioned him about venturing around too far, and they’d made him swear that he wouldn’t do any magic while out of their watchful gaze. It was an obvious sign of the fact that he was growing up – his parents would never have allowed something like this before now. The idea of venturing into muggle Paris was a little daunting, but that just made it all the more thrilling! A slow grin spread across his lips.

There was a kind of buzz in the room right now that Prosper couldn’t deny. He couldn’t fight it at all. He didn’t really want to. Prosper thrived on drama, and finishing school for the year had been like going from a high danger zone into a home for the elderly. His house was boring and it made him feel restless as hell, but this? No. This was totally different. He and Zara were on an adventure. “No way,” he commented, his grin fading into a smirk, “Good for Pierre.” The boy shook his head, remembering stories about that particular cousin. Prosper crawled on his knees to the other side of the bed, where his bag was. He rifled through it silently for a moment before pulling out an old, plain pocket watch. The boy wasn’t very good at keeping track of the time, and didn’t wear a watch very often. “We should get going,” he told his friend with a nod, “We can get an ice-cream or something on the way.”

She really should not have mentioned her derrière.

Zara was a self conscious girl. Painfully so. Always had been. Aimee was the confident one but she was absolutely gorgeous. Zara's face was full of unusual features; her eyes were too big, her lips were different thicknesses, she had freckles and her nose was squished. It was why she couldn't be a model. That and the fact that she was a bona fide midget might come into play. "Oh ha ha," she drawled with a roll of her eyes. "You can see if it's true when I come to your party. I got my outfit sorted out," she explained.

It was a bit…short but nothing overly outrageous. If it was, her father would have grounded her already. "Speaking of which," the blonde said diplomatically, swiftly moving the topic of her bottom away. "You might get some inspiration here," she said breezily with a smile. "Everything so elegant and refined. There's a shop that sells handmade soaps here, too," she said cheerily. Prosper knew about her love of everything organic. She had the address written down on a slip of parchment in her bottomless bag somewhere.

She grinned, nodding along swiftly. "I couldn't do it," she admitted with a faint flush of her cheeks, her hands clasped in front of her slender body as she shifted awkwardly on the spot. She didn't like losing and anything less than perfection, to Zara, was losing. "But I had a really good time," she said fondly, recalling the music and the laughter and being flung around the dance floor in a hilarious yet reckless manner. She paused. Did she have anything appropriate? She had a pair of well worn in ballerina flats but she was planning on wearing them around so they could walk along the famous streets but from personal experience, the floors tended to be hella slippy under foot.

"I'm excited," she remarked with a lopsided grin. Zara wanted to do everything. Totally. She wanted as much crammed into their three days as possible. This might be the only fun thing she could do before they went back to school and she was forced to sit down and make "informed choices about her future". Future. Pfft. She wanted to be stupid and reckless, she wanted to immerse herself fully in a different culture and way of life. There was a struggle brewing inside of her. Her head told her not to make mistakes, to be perfect but her heart? Well, her heart wanted to drink a bottle of fancy wine, run around the city and jump head first into the River Seine.

She grinned. "From last summer," she said, flapping a hand through the air dismissively. "I think you look great," Zara chided, trying not to giggle. Wasn't everyone supposed to look a bit strange on photograph identification? When asked why it wasn't moving, she blinked. "I dunno," she admitted with a thoughtful frown, squinting at her own card before holding it to the light and wiggling it, trying to get her own photograph to do something. "Muggles are strange little things," she mumbled. There seemed to be a lot of rules she'd noticed. And they were so busy. "Anyway," she went on. "This, my darling, is our ticket to a weekend of no rules, no boundaries and absolutely no direction."

"I know, right?" She grinned. Pierre had always been so resourceful. As soon as she saw Prosper look at his pocket watch, she panicked. "Oh crap." With that, she whizzed around the room like a tiny blonde hurricane. In her bag, she quickly threw her portfolio, her ballet shoes, leotard and tutu, hastily folding and stuffing everything down. She was starting to get nervous. Time was ticking too fast and it was scaring her. She'd almost forgotten that she was here for a reason, not just to be having fun with her best friend.

Standing still, Zara hastily brushed her hair, expertly twirling her honey coloured locks around her slim fingers to form a bun and sliding in hair grips to secure it, dashing to the bathroom and smoothing down any stray hairs. Her make up looked pretty good, she wasn't wearing a lot but every girl needed a little bit of help. "You honestly don't mind me dragging you here, do you?" She called out from the bathroom nervously as she carefully dabbed a deep pink lip balm across her mouth and leaning into the mirror to survey her reflection. He'd seemed keen but she didn't want to just leave him sitting by himself.

"I'm sure you can come and watch," she offered helpfully. It wouldn't put her off but the amount of other girls probably would. It was a routine for her now. She'd auditioned for various roles before. She'd be stuck in a dull waiting room with a load of bitchy teenage girls, all taller and leaner than her, offering fake smiles. Stop the voice at the back of her head told her. She could do this. It was a breeze. If only her heart would slow down and not give up.

Striding back out into the bedroom, she doubled checked she had everything. Costume? Check. Purse? Check. Map? Check. Room key? Prosper had that. The school wasn't terribly far from here which was a good thing, she didn't want time to think. "Ice cream sounds good," she said with a smile as she slung her bag over her shoulder. "Got everything?" She asked before opening the sticky door and hastily jogging down the numerous flights of stairs.

Zara wanted to get in, get it done, get out. Paris was calling! She didn't want the pressure of the audition looming over her for the entire weekend. She didn't know if she'd be told right away if she'd gotten in, if she'd be called back, if she'd get a letter. Urgh. She was so ill-informed. Once the door was open, the sticky heavy muggy city air hit her, knocking her off balance for a second. This was a far cry from the breezy costal town she was used for. "Er, left," she finally settled on, pointing and striding off down the busy tree lined street, faltering a little on the uneven and broken cobbles.

"Prosper, I'm freaking," she finally admitted, swallowing hard. She ran through her routine in her head, step by step. It was flawless and she knew it, she'd been assured but honestly, was three minutes enough to showcase her talent? Zara was better than that, she didn't like to be squeezed down so harshly. This was effectively a leap of faith. She was out on her own. Her parents supported her fully but they weren't here with her and the thought both empowered and terrified her.  She wasn't sure if she should eat ice cream, she might throw it up. As they walked, she walked with purpose, head down and focused as they drew ever nearer to a sweet little shop along the main road.

She was torn between three flavours; banana, cappuccino and strawberry. Maybe she'd get all three.

Prosper rubbed his hands together in anticipation, but it was admittedly more about his excitement for his birthday party than Zara’s bony bum. “What’re you wearing?” he asked eagerly, giving the girl an expectant look. They’d already discussed the fact that she needed to put a lot of effort into her costume. “I’m still on the fence about the whole glitter make up stuff… I mean… I know we’ve worn more for performances, sure, sure… but it’s still maybe a bit… flamboyant?” He shrugged, showing his hands palm-up and tilting his head to the side. Outfit ideas changed almost daily for the boy. Making up his mind on something so important was going to be tricky for sure. He didn’t think he’d voice these particular concerns in front of anyone else (especially not Diederik or one of the boys), but Zara had seen him in a sparkly leotard. Prosper was totally confident with his body and appearance. He knew he was a handsome young man. But he thought about these kinds of things a bit more than he thought he should.

“No one could do it,” he answered with a grin, “It was impossible. But fun, right? I’m excited too.” Like Zara, Prosper was keen to get going and experience the city. Three days wasn’t very long at all, and for the amount of work he thought they’d put in to save for this, it had better be good! He was sure it would be. He nodded when she said that muggles were kind of weird. He wasn’t against muggles or muggleborns in any way, but he’d be lying if he said that he understood them. Most of his close friends were either pureblooded or, like him, came from a family that had been half-bloods for a long time. There was a muggle somewhere in his ancestry, but he’d have to check his family tree to name them.

Prosper watched her fuss about her hair and make-up for a moment. He wanted to tell her that she looked fine, but he wasn’t sure how made up she had to be for this. It was different for boys. Obviously looks were important – ballet was all about perfection, or at least the illusion of perfection, but when makeup and hair weren’t a big deal, all he had to focus on were his leaps and moves. “Of course I don’t mind,” he called in answer. The boy rolled his eyes. Zara was so self-conscious. Prosper knew that one of his biggest strengths was that he was so confident and full of self-esteem. Of course, this particular character strength could occasionally come out as arrogance or over-confidence, but he still thought that it was better than having no faith in oneself. The boy glanced at himself again in the mirror before hopping up and skipping over to the door. Zara buzzed around the room like a bee, and Prosper ruffled up his curls a little, watching her with mild interest. Zara was an interesting one. Quite an intense girl, and a lot like him in some ways yet his exact opposite in others. 

The teenager swung his arms back and forth as he waited for her, an amused smile on his face. There was a little bit of something else there too though… maybe a bit of sentimentality. It was so weird to be here, playing as adults. When he’d first told his mum about this idea, he’d made it very clear that he and Zara were just friends. There had been a little knowing gleam in her eyes though, that suggested that she didn’t completely believe him. He didn’t really care, but it was a little strange. He’d known Zara forever, and now she was going to auditions for guaranteed entry to a school that she wouldn’t be going to for over a year. He ran his hands through his hair, wishing that he had a similar kind of drive and direction. He felt great right now, but in the last few weeks of school, Prosper had definitely wanted out of there.

The boy followed his friend obediently out of the door, patting his pocket to make sure that he had their room key. “You’re fine,” he told her reassuringly, sensing her anxiety before she voiced her doubts. “You’re amazing! You’ll blow them out of the water.” They made it out to the little street outside of the place they were staying, and Prosper sighed slowly, taking in the beautiful sunlight and really appreciating the way it felt on his skin. He felt a little like she was marching them off to war, but he understood how she felt and he couldn’t blame her one bit. “How do you think you did in your OWLs?” he asked casually, “I’m pretty sure I’ve failed a few of them… I dunno. I didn’t do too well in Med, and I don’t think Professor Zezza cared for me too much after that whole Fabien thing, and all those detentions…” The sixteen year old continued talking for a little while, happy just to chat about normal things.

When the two of them finally came to the store, Prosper paused to view the selection of ice-creams on offer. He eventually decided on chocolate. “And I’ll cover whatever she’s having,” he added, dropping a few coins into the hand of the pretty redhead behind the counter. He shot a grin at his blonde friend. She should know by now that Prosper liked playing the gentleman. “Should we walk as we eat? I’m not sure we have time to sit down.” After a moment, the boy added, “Actually, are you sure you don’t just want a water or something?” a slight frown appeared on his handsome face, “you look like you might throw up. Zara?”

"I'm not sure yet," Zara said as she nervously chewed on her lower lip. "I have a few options? I had a ringleader outfit plan," she explained before she sighed. "But I figured there would be a few there. People have no imagination," the short blonde lamented with a roll of her big blue eyes. "But I'm thinking gold," she blurted out, coming alive as her eyes began to shine as she bounced excitedly. "I have a corset. Edged with white lace and bows, not too much cleavage and like a feather bustle?" She asked as to make sure Prosper was following her. "And white lace bloomers and a top hat," she grinned. "I dunno. Still a work in progress at the minute."

"Hm," she said, looking thoughtful as she tilted her head to the left a little. "Maybe just a little bit of eyeliner?" Zara offered helpfully. "I don't think eyeliner is too flamboyant. It'll bring out your lovely eyes. Besides, a little bit of jazz never really hurt anyone. You could always dot a little at the corners of your eyes? I'm thinking full glitter eyeshadow for me," but then she paused. "But it might make me look like I work in a brothel," she frowned, her face darkening.

Oh good, he didn't mind waiting.

The entire premise of this trip was her make or break audition but in the back of her mind, this was really more of Prosper's weekend. They needed a break from school, from people they knew and they needed to throw themselves head first into a pile of strangers. If swing dancing in a Parisian bar was what he wanted, then heck yes. "Okay," she said as she finally came to a stop. She had everything. Her papers, her ballet costume, her ballet shoes, the sheet music she'd picked out for the pianist. All she was lacking was good luck.

As Prosper told her she'd be fine, she offered him a tight little smile. She was psyching herself out. She knew she was good. She was always good, better than good. As her small feet pounded the broken cobblestones, she took a sick sort of pleasure in knowing that Camille Dupont wasn't dancing her heart out in Paris. She may have taken her spot at the dance studio but the studio was so small and insignificant now. Unable to help herself, she suddenly laughed out loud. No one crossed Zara Rousseau. She got her fire from her mother.

OWLs? "Above average?" She offered, hedging her bets. "I mean, I worked hard, did my best, handed in all my homework." She frowned at his next words. "I'm sure you did fine," she said cheerfully, bumping him with her hip gently. She hated the fact he wasn't applying himself but she wouldn't say anything. Prosper wasn't academically minded, he was so vivacious and creative but even he knew his dancing career couldn't last forever.

"He won't mark you down because of that," she assured her taller friend. "And if he did, he's not a very good teacher and you should report him," she said with a nod of her head swiftly. "He should remain impartial, regardless of your odd penchant for getting into fistfights."

She was used to him wanting to pay for everything but her cheeks still flushed pink softly. Her order just ended up being a scoop of banana ice cream, fearful that any more flavours might turn her stomach. Once she was handed her large cone, she suddenly didn't feel hungry at all. A cat-like tongue darted out to lick the pale frozen treat, more because it was bought for her rather than she was enjoying it.

"Sure," she said swiftly, her voice sounding high and strained to her ears. Walking was a good idea, sitting would make her nervous. "I can't have any water," Zara went on to say as she began to walk down the street again. "I'm already nervous, I won't be able to stop peeing." Her mouth was dry and it felt like her tongue had swelled, blocking her airway. She licked her ice cream again, eyes wide and she, for once, looked genuinely terrified. "I think I might actually throw up," she whispered.

Her free hand reached out and she slid it into his much larger one, intertwining their fingers gently. "Prosper, I'm scared," she admitted as she looked over at him, her plump pink lips parted in distress. Prosper was always her protector. He was her confidant, teddy bear and security blanket. He calmed and comforted her whenever she needed him and she really needed him right now. She swallowed, trying not to bring up the expensive ice cream as she stopped to cross the road, dodging neatly between cars and pulling her friend with her.

The audition was in the opera house. It was beautiful. Grand and imposing and as she pulled up in front of the steps, she simply gawped. "This is actually happening to me, right?" Zara whispered, wondering if she should pinch herself. She was starting to panic, she could feel her chest tightening. She had to move. Fast.

She slowly made her way up the steps and ducked inside to reveal a long and ornate corridor. "Fuck," Zara swore accidentally, the curse word travelling down and a man turned to look at her sharply. She gasped softly, careful to walk very slowly down it, amazed, trying to drink in every single detail of the ancient building. It smelt faintly musty, like a library mixed with wood polish. There was a faint whiff of resin. She must be close. She walked a bit quicker to the end of the corridor and stopped in front of a small stand which held a large sign written in black cursive handwriting which said Ballet Auditions, 1PM, grand ballroom. She squeezed his hand tightly. "I'm auditioning on stage," she whispered. "I'm gonna die."

The sign was placed in front of a set of large, dark wood doors that lead into the opera space. This was like Narnia. Letting his hand go, she steeled herself and pushed the door open and her heart exploded in her chest. There were only a few people there, they must be other girls wanting to get a scholarship. She swallowed, her eyes pulled in every direction from the deep red drapes to the chairs to the balconies ahead. There was so much gold! "Are you going to be okay here for a sec while I run off and get changed?"

“Me too. Gold. White. Red. Those traditional kind of circus colours,” Prosper nodded, “I dunno about the eyeliner though. I’ll have to try it out and see what it looks like…. I’m sure you won’t look like a stripper…” The sixteen year old rolled his eyes, dismissing her worries with a simple gesture. Zara worried too much, and Prosper had no qualms in telling her so. Although… perhaps now wasn’t the apt time to do so. He gave her a quick once-over as they walked. She looked all right, but he didn’t want to set her off. “That’s awesome,” he told her, when she started talking about her OWLs. He wished he could sound so confident about getting good results… The sixteen year old really had no idea where his head had been for the past few months. Coursework had been far, far away from his thoughts. “It wasn’t a fistfight,” he added quietly, an amused smile playing across his lips cheekily.

“You’re fine,” he told her again reassuringly, squeezing her fingers in his tightly enough to get her attention. “I promise.” The boy followed her up the heavy stairs without letting go of her hand. Really, he was observing the building they were entering with apprehension. It was intimidating for sure. “On stage?” he asked vaguely, glancing up at the decorated roof. He felt a soft thrill. Maybe he should have dedicated his life to this. Zara’s nerves only made the whole thing more exciting. “On stage. Right.” Prosper tried to bring his attention back to the present. There was a reason that the two of them were here, after all. It would be horribly insensitive of him to forget it. Back to the excitement of it all.

He poked his head in above hers as she looked through the door. The boy felt like a child, glimpsing into a room that he wasn’t supposed to. Her nerves were rubbing off on him and he felt nervous for her. “Wow, Zar,” he whispered. His eyes were drawn to the other girls, but he realised immediately that there was something quite different about them. Something that Zara was missing. If they were performing on a stage, under stage lighting… “You need more make-up,” he whispered urgently, “look at those lights.” Prosper didn’t want his blonde friend thinking that he didn’t think she was pretty enough or something like that, but he seriously didn’t think that she would. He gave her a meaningful glance that he hoped explained what he was saying more concisely than words did. “Come on.”

The sixteen year old grabbed his housemate’s hand and dragged her away from the door and down the hall to the ladies’ bathrooms. He pushed the door open with a large hand and pulled her inside, waving the protests of a couple of annoyed looking young women away as they exited the rooms. “Yeah, yeah,” he told them dismissively, winking at the prettier of the two. She looked particularly offended. The boy took Zara to the large mirror and pushed her bag into her hands. “More eyeliner,” he told her. Zara knew what to do, but he figured that he’d be a little dazed in a similar situation, and a little clear direction might be exactly what she needed right now. “Look at yourself,” he said gently, standing beside her. “You’re perfect. You’re beautiful. You’re an amazing dancer – and none of those girls are going to know what hit them. You know your routine inside out and you know that it’s amazing.” He stared at her rather intensely in the mirror the two of them faced. He gave her a determined nod.

After she was done, Prosper followed her back out into the hall and took her to the door again. He put his hands on her shoulders as if he were her coach or something. The boy figured his friend needed the encouragement and support, and he was all she had right now. “You look amazing,” he told her seriously. After a moment’s hesitation, he gave her a big grin and then a quick, tight hug. “Smash it,” he whispered, opening the door and letting her slip through. The boy felt his heart rate speed up as the door shut behind her. He wanted to say a million more things – to make sure she stretched properly, to make sure she really threw herself into the first half, because her second half was brilliant… But instead he stepped back and took a seat on one of the wooden benches in the hall.

"A little eyeliner won't do you any harm," Zara insisted. Personally? She didn't think there was anything wrong with men wearing make up but that may be because she'd grown up in a world where it was odd if men weren't wearing make up. Hm. She'd readily admit that she had a bit of a thing for those Muggle rock stars she'd seen. The ones with gelled hair and eye liner and tattoos and all the leather and -- she eyed Prosper curiously. The thought of him wearing leather was downright laughable.

He tried to act cool but really, he was just simply too nice for the bad boy image. She hoped it was just a phase. "I couldn't be sure," she said before she pursed her lips disapprovingly. "You seem to be baying for blood lately."

The squeeze on her hand immediately brought her attention back to her friend. She gulped and nodded quickly, so unsure but Prosper knew what he was talking about, right? She looked like a deer in headlights. Even walking down the Parisian street, all of the girls were flawless. Tall and slim, shiny hair, fashionable clothes. Zara felt like she was wearing a potato sack. Her heart was hammering in her chest and her stomach flipped over, a swarm of butterflies twisting and turning around her insides. The stage. The most important part. If she messed up, she was screwed. On stage, there was no escape.

Panicked, she looked over at the taller boy, not appreciating how he seemed to swept away with everything. No. Nope. That wasn't cool. She needed him focused, grounded. She'd appreciate him more if he was sour-faced and passive.

"I do?" Zara whispered, panicking, her pale hands flying to her face and her bright blue eyes the size of dinner plates. When she was told to look at the lights, she did and her stomach sank like a lead weight. He was right, though. The lights were blinding and they'd wash her out. She was pale as it was but without a little added glitz, she'd fade into the background. She nodded dumbly as she skidded after Prosper down the grand hallway, the soles of her feet squeaking rudely as she slipped before breaking into a run.

The ladies' bathroom? She resisted. He couldn't go in there. Oh wait, hang on, yes he could. "I'm so sorry," The short blonde gushed, eyes wide as she frowned apologetically at the two women. She parted her lips to apologise again but they'd already stormed out. "Do you want to get us arrested?" Zara hissed angrily, her nerves jangling, taking the bag and clumsily thumbing through it. Eyeliner? With shaking hands, she pulled out a pen and hastily applied a smooth line of kohl along her eyelids, quickly applying mascara and hesitating as she held a tube of lipstick.

"I only have red," she sighed. Red was a bit much for ballet. It was all soft pinks and sugary pastels in this profession. Her fingers gripped the edge of the sink so hard that the knuckles turned white. She looked at the mirror and barely recognised the girl staring back at her. She looked pale and scared. As Prosper spoke, she only picked up on a few words. Despite herself, she smiled softly, managing a coy blush as she shook her head. "You know," she began, feeling calmer. Her mother had always taught her to channel her nerves. To use them. Use them to make her performance explosive. "I'm going to end up falling in love with you one of these days if you keep that up."

After sprinting down the corridor again, she was faced with the door and she forced herself to swallow. It'd be fine. It was one dance. Just one. It had the power to make or break her but it was just ballet. She inhaled and exhaled, bouncing on the spot and shaking her limbs much like an athlete would before a big race. Focus. She knew this, she had this. It was easy. She just had to out dance a hundred other girls. Ha! Piece of cake. She nodded, her adrenaline was pumping. She could feel it coarse through her veins, her breathing was coming out in a short little puffs. She was pumped.

Turning into Prosper's chest, her slim arms wrapped around his waist as she squeezed his torso back forcefully. He didn't know it but he was her rock and she needed him oh so badly. She took a quick breath and flashed him a matching grin, squeezing his hands and slipping through the door. Holy shit. The sheer gravity of the situation suddenly hit her and it hit her hard. Other girls were there, chatting, applying make up and Zara stood by the doors. Underneath her dress was her standard pale pink leotard and white tights, her shoes were in her bag and she sat on the floor and began to lace the satin ribbon securely around her ankles and lower leg.

Her name was called from the stage and her head jerked up sharply. Her small hands went to her hair, neatly and expertly twisting it around and securing it in place with a handful of hair grips. Getting to her feet, she paused. There was a tall girl she vaguely recognised from previous competitions when she was younger. Clarisse, Charlotte, Charlie -- "Clemence!" Zara called with a grin, standing on her tip toes and waving excitedly.

Clemence came bounding over, all smiles as the girls hugged. Clemence wished her luck and Zara returned it before a sudden thought struck her; Prosper. "Hey Clem," she began, subtly backing towards the door. "Could you just check something for me?" Zara opened the door and before the brunette had time to react, she placed her hands in the small of her back and have her a shove, sending the leotard-clad brunette tumbling into Prosper's lap. From the doorway, Zara grinned broadly, flashing Prosper two thumbs up before winking, turning on her heel and running back inside and onto the stage to begin her routine.


[woo! Okay so I can NPC Clemence for a bit while Zara's doing her audition <333]

Baying for blood. Hmm. Prosper wasn’t sure what he thought about that, so he kept silent. This afternoon was supposed to be about Zara, after all. The thought was out of his head in moments. Soon he was dragging her into the bathroom and all of his attention was back on his friend. He ignored the apology she was stuttering out to the other girls and waved away her next comment too. “Only I’ll get arrested,” he corrected flippantly. Nothing could deter the boy when he was in a mood like this.  “Red’s perfect. You’ll stand out,” he told her with a nod. After a moment, his nod turned into a shake. “And no. You wont.” Prosper smiled at her in the mirror cheekily. Briefly, he entertained the idea. Their mothers wouldn’t be too unhappy about it? But to him, Zara just wasn’t a romantic option. He supposed that she could be, if things were different… but they worked together so much better platonically, he was sure of it.

Soon enough, he was pushing her through the door and sitting himself down on one of the fancy benches. She was good enough to get in, and he really did hope that she didn’t stuff it up. Zara was professional, and as experienced as any of the other girls, and he knew that she was good enough to get in. A part of him hoped all of the other girls fell on their pretty little ballet faces.

Time moved by slowly, and Prosper found very quickly that Zara’s disappearance resulted in massive amounts of boredom. Now that his heart wasn’t all full of pride and determination and nervousness for his best friend, all he was left with was nothing to do. Prosper fiddled lazily with a bronze coin and shifted his weight for a bit. Soon he’d be pacing. The curly haired boy’s head snapped up as the door opened unexpectedly. Who…? Prosper’s thought process was interrupted as a girl fell on top of him. He briefly caught Zara’s grin and thumbs up before she disappeared again and registered immediately what was going on. He stood up quickly, steadying the girl as he did so. “I’m so sorry,” he told her gently, a polite smile appearing on his face. He could see what Zara was doing here, and while he appreciated the idea… he really didn’t know if this was what he wanted. Especially right now. What if this random dancer girl didn’t even want to talk to him? He didn’t feel as comfortable and sparky as he usually did. His hands dropped from her arms and fell to his sides.

“Zara’s crazy,” he told the girl apologetically, shaking his head at his friend’s actions. “I am really sorry about her.” He laughed lightly and held out a hand for her to shake. “I’m Prosper,” he informed her with what he hoped was a rather charming smile. “Are you auditioning today? Have you already auditioned?” Prosper didn’t want to ask her to sit with him in case she had to go back inside quickly. His grey eyes roamed her pretty face curiously. Zara did know him well, he reflected, a little surprised. Clemence was a very pretty girl, and exactly the kind of girl that Prosper might chase if they’d met in difference circumstances. He shook his head again, surprised at his friend’s deviousness.

Clemence was happy to be done. The stress had gotten to her so much that she'd actually stopped by the ladies' bathroom and thrown up her lunch. It was the wait that killed her. Watching girl after perfect girl twirl and land without making a sound, light as a feather. The nerves set in. She'd gotten there early and as soon as she sat down in one of the plush red velvet chairs, she instantly regretted it.

The stage was larger than she'd imagined. It smelt like must and resin, the smell was something she looked forward to. It made her heart beat faster, it inspired her, much the same as an artist would be when they smelt turpentine. It was an hour before her turn to shine came along. Her mother dropped her off and said she was going shopping, leaving her alone. This was the bad side to ballet; the girls weren't very nice.

It was actually a rather dark sport. The rivalry between the girls often reached fever pitch and she knew there were some under hand tactics doing on. Pushy, overbearing mothers. Girls working too hard they hurt themselves. Left by herself, Clemence chewed on her sensibly short finger nails. Passing girls shot her looks, whispering and giggling with their ballet friends. They were trying to pscyhe her out and they were winning.


Maybe she just wasn't cut out for it. Regardless, she did her routine flawlessly, never once looking at the admission staff as she completed her graceful spins, remembering first position and always keeping her feet turned out when they weren't on the floor. The thing she'd realised was how impassive the staff were. The music stopped and so did Clemence, looking up just to see them scribbling furiously. They dismissed her with a curt goodbye and a smile that she thought didn't quite meet their eyes. Blushing, she scampered down the steps and was busy packing up her bag when Zara burst through the doors.

The bubbly blonde was a lot more outgoing than she was but they became fast and firm friends. The hug was appreciated. It helped settle her nerves a little bit. Clemence knew she'd be fine. She was always fine. Could she check something for her? The brunette blinked. "Sure?" She said with a frown as the doors were opened and before she knew it, she was face first in someone's lap.

Like a giggling imp, Zara had shut the heavy wooden doors behind her. She tumbled, throwing her hands out in front of her as they collided with something soft but firm. "Ow," Clemence grunted, wincing at the impact before she realised there were a pair of hands on her and her pale cheeks flushed pink almost instantly. Clemence's perfectly constructed ballerina bun had started to unravel. A glossy lock of near black hair cascaded over her shoulder, the contrast shocking against her milky white skin.

"Zara!" Clemence yelled at her friend, her ire flaring as she narrowed her eyes on muffled laughter. "Oh gosh, I am so sorry," she babbled at the same time the boy apologised and she felt her blush intensifying. As the boy stood, she took a half step back, dropping the hands she had on his chest to her sides as though he'd just caught on fire. "I'm going to kill her," Clemence grunted as she shot daggers at the closed doors. Just what was she playing at? Zara knew that her boyfriend had broken up with her a few weeks ago, too.

His comment made her snap back into reality. "Yes," she stated shortly. "I just finished actually," she said as she looked down at her pale leotard and her pointe shoes. "Are you?" She asked casually. He was tall and slim. There was no real reason for him to be there if he wasn't auditioning. Unless he was watching all the girls parade around in tight gym wear. She panicked. Had Zara thrown her to a sexual predator? Oh that girl! Urgh.

As a large hand loomed into her vision, she cautiously slipped her much smaller one into his and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Clemence," she replied with a shy smile, her stomach flipping as she noticed him looking her over. "Can I sit?" She asked, pointing to the empty bench as she wanted to take off her shoes as they were starting to hurt her. "I think Zara wanted us to meet," she said as she rolled her eyes and pursed her lips. "Subtle as a sledge hammer."

“Am I what, auditioning?” Prosper smiled despite his uncertainty. Zara would love that, wouldn’t she? The blonde had made sure he didn’t forget about the fact that he’d totally abandoned her in ballet, though by now it was (thankfully!) all in jest. He’d all but ruined their childhood  plans of moving to Paris to become ballet stars together. Prosper could see why Clemence might think that he was here for an audition – he’d been dancing competitively since he was a child. He had a dancer’s body, and she could tell. “No, I’m just here with Zara,” Prosper said with a slight shrug, running a lazy hand through his curls as he spoke. “As friends,” he clarified after a moment’s thought. “I’ve been her ballet partner for ten years-“ A little exaggeration, but whatever “-though I decided to stop dancing competitively early this year. I’m her support team.”

He smiled as they shook hands, though internally he was still kind of unsure about this. What was Zara doing? Prosper was mostly talk. He didn’t really want to meet girls here. “Of course,” he said, when she suggested they sit. Prosper slid onto the bench, leaving her plenty of space. Subtle as a sledge hammer? The sixteen year old chuckled at this. She was completely right, of course. Prosper found it entirely endearing, but he was sure that there would be others who would not. “Zara’s crazy,” he repeated mock-seriously, catching her eye and raising his eyebrows a little. “Lovely, of course, but completely bonkers.” Prosper shrugged, raising his hands a little in a what-can-you-do kind of gesture. Zara was his crazy best friend.

“So…” the boy tapped his fingers on the wooden bench in front of him uncertainly. If they had to be out here waiting for his friend to come back, then they might as well chat. A little harmless chatting would be okay, and Zara would be done in no time… and then they could get on with their afternoon. Clemence was pretty and seemed nice enough. Maybe under different circumstances… The grey-eyed boy wanted to ask how long it would be until Zara was out, but he didn’t. “How was your audition?” he asked instead, making the easy assumption that Clemence would be more than happy to chat about that for a while. “How did you think you went?” He gave her a pleasant smile, resisting the urge to glance at the door. He was nervous for his friend.

Staying silent, Clemence nodded. If he wasn't auditioning, was he here to perv on teenage girls in lycra? Nah. Surely not. That aside, she eyed him curiously. Ballet was a great way to pick up girls. "Oh," she stated softly before frowning a little, the corners of her plump pink lips down turning in a frown before smiling hastily. "That's nice," she said. Zara was a lucky girl. Clemence was here alone. Her mother had dropped her off and went shopping so she was stuck here by herself until she returned.

It wasn't a fun place to be alone. The girls seemed nice but they were all two-faced. It was a dog eat dog world. Ballet seemed all elegant and lovely but it was hard and it was lonely. Clemence blinked her big dark eyes quickly, clearly shocked. "I wasn't insinuating anything," she said swiftly, holding both of her pale hands palm outwards towards Prosper in the classic sign of surrender.

"Oh wow," the tall brunette commented, her large eyes wide and shock apparent on her pretty face. "I see. That makes sense," Clemence replied, pretty much just thinking aloud. "The last time I saw Zara, she was in floods of tears," she began, folding her lithe arms across her chest and just below her bust. "She didn't really make a lot of sense but then again, when does she?" She said with a smile. "She was babbling on about her partner leaving her and her having to find a new one and that she'd have to start from square one. She was convinced she wasn't strong enough to do this on her own," Clemence mused, looking at the door again. "So you were the cause of all her problems." Her tone was light, she wasn't accusing him of anything but it did make things a little clearer now.

Clemence offered him a quick smile as she perched herself on the edge of the bench. She wasn't stupid. She knew when someone wasn't interested. The brunette busied herself with untying her ballet shoes, deftly unravelling the pink ribbon from around her ankles and wincing as she slipped off her pointe shoes. And then the pain hit her like an avalanche. Biting her lower lip, she wasn't surprised to see a little bit of blood on her toes and she let out a soft sigh, both of relief and satisfaction. She'd pushed herself and that was all she'd wanted.

"Sweet though," Clemence was quick to add with a smile, her attention caught by a few girls coming out from the large wooden door, chatting and carrying their kit bags. "Oh I don't know," she said breezily. "Well, I think, but it's impossible to tell. They were writing for most of it," she concluded, shaking her head as a shiny lock of chestnut hair fell from her bun and curled gently against her collar bone. "But here's hoping," she said cheerfully. She was so bad at small talk and the awkwardness was making her cringe internally.

Clemence looked down at her knees. "Are you in Paris for long?" She asked, still not making eye contact. "Just because I was going to ask Zara out for a drink later on if --" you'd like to come. "If you can spare her for a little bit." Clemence was no fool. She was sure this boy was nice but he wasn't giving her a lot and so, she got to her feet swiftly, wobbling a little bit as her left ankle jolted. "Ow," she hissed, placing one hand on the wall. "It was lovely meeting you but I think I'll just, um, wait a little over there. I'll probably see you around," she said with a soft smile. The ballet community was surprisingly tight knit.

As Clemence gathered her things and began to wander off, the large oak door slammed open and Zara came barrelling out, her bright blue eyes wide and sparkling with excitement. "Prosper!" She exclaimed, flinging her arms out dramatically. "It was so good!" she gasped, arms flailing excitedly, her breath coming out in short little ragged gasps before she stopped suddenly. "Where's Clemence?" she asked, looking around hastily before focusing directly on him. "What did you do?"

Prosper smiled, amused, when Clemence made sure he understood that she wasn’t alluding to Prosper and Zara being more than friends. He wouldn’t have really blamed her if she had been, though. They spent lots of time together, and he definitely loved the girl, if in a very platonic way. Zara was pretty enough and had nice legs. She wasn’t really his type (too blonde and dance-toned – he liked curvier girls), but she was attractive and they were friends. Still, while he had certainly thought about it… and he teased her from time to time… he could never really see it happening. The sixteen year old could imagine sipping some fancy cocktail with Zara when they were both forty. Still close, still bickering. For some reason, in his vision, they were surrounded by cats…

“Oh.” Prosper frowned a little when Clemence started talking about seeing Zara in tears. In retrospect, he had kind of dropped the news like a bomb. At the time it hadn’t seemed like such a big deal. He wasn’t nearly as refined a dancer as Zara was and he lacked the finesse required for competitive ballet. He didn’t want to be a ballet star or anything like that… so he wanted to drop out. Besides, he had other things to think about. He was still willing to dance ballroom and jazz and other styles, because they played to his strengths. Latin dances were his favourite partner dances. Ballet, not so much. Musical theatre was really where the fun was at though…

“But you know she’s amazing,” he told the girl seriously. The teenager wasn’t sure whether he was defending himself or defending Zara here, but he definitely felt like he was defending someone. Clarence was beautiful, but he’d been right to rely on his instincts initially. Prosper wasn’t interested. Flirting was innocent and harmless, but he just couldn’t look at her like she was someone he wanted. He didn’t know if his lack of interest was making things awkward for her, but the girl’s body language was making things awkward for them both. Couldn’t they just have a polite chat about nothing in particular? He supposed that Zara’s ‘innocent’ little instigation of this interaction was what made things weird.

Prosper frowned as she looked down at her knees. Huh. “We’re here for a few days,” he answered lightly, a little conscious about what words he was choosing to say. It seemed like everything he said was making things more and more weird. The teenager glanced at the door again. How long would he be waiting here for Zara? He looked at the girl beside him as she seemed like she was about to ask him to go out with the two girls. But… she didn’t. He didn’t really understand why. It was just a drink. Just a chat. “Yeah, sure,” he answered politely, a strangely reserved tone evident in his voice. He watched her silently as she stood, moving forward instinctively as she seemed a little unsteady, but sinking back into his seat at her words. He felt strangely detached. He was sure she was lovely too, but she wasn’t…. Zoé. She wasn’t Zoé. He shook his head a little, surprised at himself. He was in Paris. Zoé was his friend. “See you around,” he said with a small wave and a polite smile. Huh.

Prosper didn’t have much time to think, however, as Zara came tumbling out of the double doors, a crazy, bright expression plastered all over her face. His expression lit up and he bounced to his feet, all thoughts of Zoé and Clemence momentarily dismissed. Her presence lit up the hallway like nothing else and he stepped forward to wrap his arms around her waist, picking her up with practised ease and spinning her around a couple of times before plopping her back on the ground lightly. Her excitement was infectious and Prosper bounced happily as he held her shoulders at arm’s length from him. “I knew you’d be incredible,” he declared, his voice full of confidence. His eyes were sparkling with excitement and a lopsided grin had taken hold of his mouth. “You’re incredible!” Prosper laughed and pulled her in for another quick hug before releasing her. A part of him was jealous… he loved auditioning for things, and the rush that came after a good audition.

Zara stopped suddenly. “Oh,” Prosper said, glancing over his shoulder in the direction that the girl had wandered off in. He waved a hand dismissively. “She wandered off somewhere.” Prosper shrugged, the crooked grin still firmly on his face. “What now? I feel like we should go somewhere and celebrate your amazingness. Milady…” Prosper bowed low, gesturing dramatically towards the exit.