#my ballet company was always like a second family to me and i'm really glad that hasn't changed | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

har-rison-s · 6 years ago

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Tiny Dancer - Five

A/N: Hope whoever's reading this is enjoying it. Personally, 40s Bucky is so sdnfsjfh cute, I can't. I try to write him as good and accurate as possible. English isn't my first language, so squint your eyes for any grammar mistakes/misspelling. Happy reading!

This is getting a little hard to write now. I hadn't calculated what writing this all out means.

The funeral was arranged by... someone, I don't know, I took the first company that came my way, I didn't really want anything to do with it. My father's death. If only I had any other relatives, except for my dad's brother who I rarely met, who could settle this all instead of me.

My heritage had been confirmed. I had gained not only money from my father, but also his place in the family company. He produced musical instruments - guitars, violins, microphones, etc. And now I got his role - the owner - in it. I was somehow delighted for the first time since his death. I had the hands to do anything I wanted to.

I actually still own the company, and I’m trying to change my employeés every time I change a city to live in. They never want to leave, and I know why, I perfectly understand. The money's good, you get bonus gifts and even failed-to-finish musical instruments and parts of them, everyone's nice to each other and the boss (me) is the best boss you could wish for. But it's crucial every few years. I could never tell anyone my secret, God knows what would happen. No one, absolutely no one, can know about my true nature and... fate, I guess. Forbidden.

I'm not even the front-woman of my father's and my company. It's my secretary. A woman who was born in 1920 and has been my secretary since I was... back from HYDRA, totally back. It was around the fourties, I think? Anyway...

Our house was empty since my father died.

Silent. I hated it. I hated silence, always have. And it became my daily companion. Soon after I got so irritated and angry that I bought a radio, and I turned it on everytime I was home, or home alone, at that. I wasn’t exactly satisfied with what the programmes were giving me in terms of music, but as a silence-repellent, it worked very well.

Sixteen, owning a company, a house, attending school, dancing ballet in operas and living in a house alone. Mother died at giving birth, and father committed suicide, no other relatives known. Quite the package, wasn’t I? And to be alone in my pain and burdens was not easy to live with. Horrible to bear it.

I offered Steve to live in my house with me, so he nor I would live alone. I hated coming home to nobody, no one, nobody making any noise. When my father was around, he wasn’t making that much noise, but at least there was a sense of life in the house. And Steve was all alone too, no sisters or brothers and both his parents gone. Just like me. But Steve wouldn’t take up my offer. I asked him why.

“You’re living alone, too.” I say to him softly. We’re sitting on a park bench in the sunlight, still shining in September. We're glad it is, neither of us really miss the crispy winter air and coldness. Summer has been—in weather terms—very kind to us, blessed us with some days of joy at the seaside or Coney Island.

Currently James is off to get us all ice cream. It's not quite the temperature for ice cream now, but where we are sitting, it feels like you're on a frying pan. And we'll be sitting here for a long time, at least until the sun sets.

“Why wouldn’t you want to move in? It’s lonely.” I admit. “For the both of us.”

Steve sighs. “I’m certainly not the one you should be choosing to substitute your loneliness with.” He says and looks up at me with a faint smile. I give him one in return before looking down, realising what he means.

“Yeah, you’re right.” I admit. “But if I spend all my time with him, I will get tired of James, won’t I? And where would be the fun in that? I'd just get sick to my stomach if I have to see his face every morning that I wake up.”

We both chuckle. I'm joking, of course, and I think we're both laughing at the joke and the possibility of me getting sick of Bucky. That's where me and Steve meet. Humor. And, in later years, I found that motivational speaking was also a common thing for the both of us.

“I bet.” He replies. “But I can’t move into your house.” The skinny teen shakes his head, looking down. “I don’t have any money to pay my half of the rent with.”

I roll my eyes in no seriousness and push his shoulder gently. Only slightly, cause I'm afraid if I push too hard, the fellow will just fall off the bench. “You won’t have to, Steve.” I say, leaning closer to him and searching his deep eyes. “The house was bought long ago, we don’t pay rent. Never have.” I state. Steve lets out an inaudible sigh, he knows I'm right and he should agree. “What is it, really? What’s the reason you won’t take my offer?” I ask, leaning back onto the wooden bench. It's already heated up from the few seconds my back wasn't leaning against it. “It’s the least I can do to help you. What if the neighbours find out you’re not eighteen? They’ll call the police and take you to a children’s home, what will you do then?”

Steve hangs his head low. “Don’t do that, Scarlett.” He says. “That’s… That's emotional blackmail.” I can’t help but laugh at his use of words to describe my helpful offer.

“No, it’s not!” I defend myself. “I’m trying to help you. Please, take my offer. I will feel hopeless otherwise. And rejected.” I show him fake puppy eyes and Steve only pushes me away.

Steve shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Scarlett.” He says finally and looks up at me. “I won’t do it. You can’t make me.”

I huff and watch his eyes, crossing my arms over my chest. His eyes are sincere and true. Steve doesn’t lie. He’s always true to everyone, even if it hurts. This time ain’t no exception. He’s too good for his own good. And I understand why he won’t take my offer. It wouldn’t feel right.

”Now, now, Stevie,” we hear Bucky's voice coming from the direction he disappeared into. We turn our heads to see him now with three ice cream ones in his hands instead of empty ones, “don't you go flirting with my girl.”

I smile at him, taking the vanilla cone from his hand and trying not to be too obvious with the heat tainting my cheeks because of his nickname. My girl. Steve takes his ice cream from James, though the bigger boy challenges his friend a bit first. Steve gives him quite a sorry look and Bucky gives in, letting Steve take the cone.

”It's never too late to try.” Steve jokingly replies to his best friend and all of us laugh warm-heartedly. I try to think of something I could say while we admire and start to dig into our ice creams.

”Actually, you know what, James?” I start to say and he looks at me with raised eyebrows and a light brown brush on his nose. It made me giggle, but I didn't tell him until the very end of the evening that he had mushed his nose into his chocolate ice cream, “I'm gonna have to think our relationship over. Steve's quite the competition.” I say and raise my eyebrows, licking my ice cream.

The two boys glance between each other, trying to understand if I'm serious or not—since I said it so matter-of-factly that anyone could believe I truly meant those words. But when a snort comes out of my mouth, they know I can't hold back laughing and so we all do. We laugh for such a long time that our stomachs start to hurt and our ice cream has almost melted completely.

Steve was really a righteous person. Never bended to anyone’s will, suffered even if he has a chance not to. What a weirdo, I thought when I first realised it. I was about eleven that time. Why wouldn’t you run from trouble? He was too self-righteous, I guess, never gave up on anything he thought was the right thing to do. He took pride in what he did, never realised that getting beat up in almost every Brooklyn alley wasn't a success. But, I liked his bravery and always admired the not giving up and standing his ground. Always thought that I lacked of those.

Getting ready for my father’s funeral was no fun at all. I never liked wearing black clothes. They just felt heavy and I felt like they dragged me down. The colour is still dreadful to me. I like soft and light colours, flowery themes, all of that. I always dress that way, blouses, skirts and dresses. But black has never been my style.

I had one, the only one. A black dress with lace all over. It had sparkles, here and there because of the thirties fashion. It was uncomfortable. I mean, the fabric was alright and it wasn’t uncomfortably tighter anywhere. But it was just the porpose of the dress that made me uncomfortable.

My father’s funeral. And funerals in general. I promised myself then that this would be the only funeral I attend until my own. Who knows now if that will ever come around…

I hadn't decided what to do with my hair. Although there was this one hairstyle my classmate was wearing that I thought would be so beautiful with my own hair. She told me how to do it, and I wanted to make it someday for a special occasion. And I did. It was mine and James' first date. And then... when my father's funeral came around, I didn't know what to do with my hair.

I didn't want to leave it free-falling as I usually do, because, well, that's what I usually do. I didn't want to make a ponytail cause that wasn't the fashion then and it would be too casual. Braids... I thought about that. But eventually, at the last moment, I didn't have any other options except the hairstyle of the first date. I really didn't want to make it, because it used to remind me of such beautiful memories and moments and now it would only remind me of grief and death. So I changed it up a little.

Originally, you have to make at least two braids in your hair and then twirl them together and tie them down to the top of your head to make a nest? A bun? But I didn't put it on the top of my head. I put it very low, just where my hair ends. And to me, that made all the difference.

I'm looking at myself in the mirror too much. It's actually something that I never do, mirrors are just for quick check-ups or fashion shows with myself. I don't spend more than five minutes looking at myself in the mirror.

I’m tugging on the dress everywhere my fingers get to, and it’s unnessecary. The fabric will soon be unusable, stretched and pulled at places. I’m fidgeting. Nervous. Not what I am, not what I'm supposed to be. My shoulders are supposed to be higher, my back more straight than it usually is, chin up and a smile on face. God, I can't do that today, I can't smile. I just... have to survive this one day, I have to be strong.

The dress looks fine, honestly. If I'd look objectively at it, I'd notice that there's nothing wrong with it, no glitters have fallen off, not one spot looks stretched out. But the dress would look much better untouched, hanging in the closet.

I try to touch up my hair even though it doesn't need touching up. And suddenly the most important pin slips out of the hair bunch on my head and all the others follow suit. It was the last one I put in that held together each previous pin. And now everything's ruined, my hairstyle is falling out. I should have secured everything a bit more strongly. I shouldn't have touched my hair at all...

I’m gasping as I try to save it all, twisting and turning in a squatting position in front of my mirror. The pins are falling behind me and the twisting around is making em very uncomfortable. My hands are flying all around me to gather the pins but I can’t see them on the dark floor. I let out a loud whimper of despair as I fall down on my bum, and can't help but start to cry. Oh, I hate crying.

“Scarlett?” The door of my room opens and James slips through. His eyes search for me in the room, but he can’t spot me in the far end of my room, behind my bed, actually having a panic attack on the floor in front of my mirror. But once he hears my whimpers and sobs of sadness, he spots me and rushes over.

James is wearing a nice, dark suit. He looks lovely, the complete opposite of me. His hair is pushed back with the help of some gel, but as he bends down to my level, strands of it start to fall out. To me, it looks better and I even want to stop his hand that pushes the fallen strands back in place.

I think of how I look before him now. I have probably cried all my mascara off and it’s running down my cheeks, blended with tears, looking like black, horrid rivers. My hair is a mess, I’ve lost all my pins and I think the heels of my shoes are starting to break. My face is pulled into a scowl because of crying.

“Scarlett.” His soothing voice speaks. I cry harder and he sits down next to me, puts his arm around my shoulders and pulls me closer. “What's wrong, doll?” He asks in such a soothing voice, it almost makes me cry harder.

“I-I can’t do it. I can't go out there.” I say between cries. “Everything's ruined. My makeup is completely ruined.” I state. At that, James chuckles.

“That thing don’t matter.” He replies. “We can clean it off.”

“No, I have to have it on.” I protest. “I already put it on for this day and I can’t just leave my face like it is.” James huffs and stands back to his feet and helps me do the same. I lean up again on my wobbly knees and he immediately helps me find balance - one hand on my waist, the other holding my hand. Just like dancing.

“Darlin’, when I tell you that you don’t need that, you listen to me.” James says in a serious tone of voice. He's tipped his head down a bit, looking at me through his lashes. “It’s your father’s funeral day. Everybody already knows how much you're hurt inside, and covering that up with something fabricated is worse. Nobody will even care how you look today. It’s only normal if you look like you’ve cried for weeks.”

His words make sense to me. I don’t hear myself histerically crying anymore, and I'm not breathing rapidly, either. I don’t really know what to say to him, but then my voice speaks before I can come up with words.

“What about my hair?” I ask. “I’ve… I’ve lost all my hair pins on the floor, and I had such a beautiful hairstyle and now I don’t know how to do it again and—“ My breaths start to pick up their pace again.

“Scarlett, it's alright.” James stops me. “Your hair is beautiful, look,” he takes a strand that's fallen over my shoulder and raises it up so I can see it, “you have the most beautiful hair in New York, and in the world, I'm sure. Look at the waves, look at how it's curled from the braiding.” There's a hopeful smile on his features and it makes my lip quiver. How do I deserve this? “I can take out all the otha' pins and you'll go with your hair like it is.”

"But I had such a beautiful hairstyle, I have to make it again, it was—”

“Almost the one you had on our date, yes, I know.” James nods and I look at him. He really remembers? “It's alright, doll, you can make it tomorrow and the day after and for the rest of your life. But you can forget about it now, alright?” His eyes ask the question, as well. “And you are in no state to clean your own face. I’ll do it for you.”

So he sat me down on my bathroom counter and cleaned my ugly mascara off. I didn’t speak while he did, and I didn’t feel like I should have spoken. Who knows what I was supposed to do then.

James takes one of the small white towels I leave in my bathroom cabinet and wettens it with water. I watch his hands as they come up to my cheeks and then my eyes divert to his. He'd never helped me in such a feminine way before. And I was so glad that he was the one cleaning my face.

His eyes showed such determination. And his hands were soft, his movements were slow and gentle, his touch was caring. I wouldn't have touched my face like that. I would've rushed it all, practically beaten my cheeks and left them in a splotchy red color. But James was much more gentle and careful with my skin, since it wasn't his. I guess everyone's much more careful with what isn't theirs. Maybe most people.

He gives my cheeks and eyelids one last petting with the warm cloth and retracts from me, washing the towel. James leaves it on the surface so it can dry easier and turns back to me. “How are you feeling?” He whispers to me, stroking my cheek with his thumb. I lean into his touch willingly, my eyes closing. I can't really give him an answer. I don't know how I feel, to be honest. “Do you want some water? Water with sugar?” He suggests and I shake my head.

I reach out to his hand with mine and he lets me pull him closer to me. James looks in my eyes as if asking something, and I only nod. That something was to kiss me. And so he does. And it's slow and gentle and just... calming. Just what I needed. And I feel like doing it forever.

He lays kisses on both my reddened cheeks and then returns to my lips and then presses a kiss to the very tip of my nose. I giggle, I actually do, and he draws back from me quick enough to catch a glimpse of my smile.

“There's that smile I was looking for.” James tells me and laughs, his whole face lights up with love and warmth and achievement, as well. It's what he was going for - making me smile. I love that about him.

My arms wrap around his neck and his hold me close by my waist when I let my head fall against his chest. I could fall asleep in this position, and I want to badly. But I have to go out and honor my father in front of people I mostly don't know. His old friends and colleagues.

I hope to find people I know, or should know. Any relatives I haven't had the chance to meet, maybe? A long-lost sister or cousin? I have to do this, and I can. So I let Bucky help me get off the bathroom counter and put on more comfortable shoes and go out. He walks with me.

What an angel he was. Sometimes I couldn’t believe that he was there, with me, helping me and talking to me. No matter what had happened, James knew what to say. Was there, whatever the situation. Just like he was for Steve. Bucky was our angel. I didn’t think I deserved an angel. Not even now. Although I wish that I had one, either by my side or watching over me.

I don’t know, maybe it’s because he’s always had both parents and three siblings. Maybe that's the reason he was so good to us. He knew how to take care of people, he knew what to say at the right moments. And he hadn't even studied psychology at any point in his life. Now I really can't guess why he was such an emotionally intelligent person. But I guess the family life and experience from it gave him a lot.

I trusted him to be there for me always, maybe I trusted too much, was asking too much of him. But he never let me down. He always came when I called. And I also wondered how he always had time for everything, for everyone. His family, Steve, school, me, and occasional work. He was perfect in everything.

And what we had was perfect - the relationship, the remaining friendship between us both and Steve. My life was as perfect as our relationship, despite my father being gone, and I thought it would never end. And it didn't, until right after the funeral.

My speech was alright. Of course I teared up, and I hated it, I still hate it. I hate crying in front of other people, no matter who they are and if they understand or not. I don’t like being seen vulnerable in the eyes of many. But well, that day… was quite the exception. There were many excuses of why I was crying, and people I didn't even know comforted me (James, of course, outed them), but I still hated it.

I didn't even know half the people that showed up to my father’s funeral and voiced their greatest condolences to me. Not one friendly or familiar face that I had seen. Everyone spoke to me after the ceremony and before the ‘feast’. I think there were a hundred people, in total.

A while later I found out that the folks I didn’t know were my dad’s colleagues and associates from work, his friends. There were also some of my mom’s friends who I’d never met. They came to talk to me, propose some options about living spaces, offer anything they could. They'd also tell me about my mom, things about her I'd never heard from my dad. They made me even more sad.

“I’m s-sorry, it’s been a… quite a hard day.” I say between sobs. I’m cleaning off my tears with a handkerchief and I feel someone walk up to me from the left. From the grip of their hand on my shoulder I immediately know it’s James. Millie looks at him as I turn my body into his, and Bucky's arms come up around me. My tears wetten his blazer. Weak, I am weak.

“No, I have to apologise. I didn’t mean to sadden you, that was not my intention at all.” Millie says. She’s one of mom’s old friends or best friend, in her words. I have many questions yet to ask her. For example, why did she never visit me or my dad? Why did I never know her?

“What happened?” James asks softly, looking between me and Millie. I sigh.

“This is Millie, one of mother’s friends. Millie, this is James, my, uh, my boyfriend.” i introduce them to each other. “Millie just told me a few things about my mother.” I say and smile at her warmly. My tears are gone, but they’re not far from coming back, either.

“Oh, I see.” James says and smiles at Millie. “Nice to meet you, even under these drastic measures.” He says and Millie extends her arm towards him, wanting to shake his. But James turns it and places a kiss on her palm. Both me and Millie chuckle. “That’s the right look, princess.” James says to me, cradling the side of my face in his hand gently. I blush slightly and lean into his chest even further.

“Alright, I’ll leave you two.” Millie says. “Bye, love. Take care.” She says, wavering her fingers at us. I wave back and she smiles before walking away, her shoes clicking against the ground as she does.

I also met my father’s parents, which I had never before met in my life. I didn’t know I was missing them until I met them. They were sorry that they hadn't met me before, but explained it as 'difficult family matters' being the reason why.

Grandmother asked me about the house and I told her I lived alone. At first she was totally against me living completely alone and wanted me to come live with them, in Chicago. But I couldn't yet trust her so well. I couldn't abandon the life I have here, either. Then she sufficed with telling me that if I ever needed anything, anything at all, they’d be there to help and support me. I told her thank you.

I know you're probably asking why I never offered James to live with me. I should have, oh, I should have. But he had a family he had to take care of. He couldn't just leave them all alone. We joked about bringing them all to live in my house. Well, a joke it was from James, not from me. I gave the thought a lot of seriousness. Later on, years after, we, well, actually, it was only me who decided that Bucky and his family would live in the house. It's big, like a mansion, his little brother had said. “It's a princess palace!” Lizzie, his sister told me when they all arrived.

I guess the mundainity and obviousness of James having a busy family life was the reason why I never offered him to live with me. His family is very important to him, in his case, blood was thicker than water. He always told me stories about his siblings and parents and I could see how much he cared for them. Other families/people wouldn't go the length he did for their families and relatives.

He was quite the opposite of me, actually, just like Steve. We had both lost our parents now and never had a sibling. Completely alone, used to loneliness. But Bucky had it all - friends and family. Nor me nor Steve can say that we didn't have friends, because we did. He had me and Bucky, and I had him and Bucky. But there was always something missing from both our lives. And family gives you most in life, it shapes you as a person, teaches you a lot and gives you knowledge and experience that nothing else could.

I thought I saw my father’s younger brother sneaking around the funeral, too. Now, of course, I know it was him for sure. Then, I didn't remember precisely what he looked like.

I didn’t know him very well. I only knew his name - Robert. I had seen him with my father occasionally when I was younger. I didn’t know who he was, what he worked as or why he was detached from his own family. It was what my father had told me, he had also told me that he and Robert didn’t share the same mother, Robert had german blood in him. I'm not sure now, he looks similar to my grandmother. Or maybe I'm just rying to convince myself they're not step-brothers...

I was never curious to find out who he was and what he had as a job or… profession, if I could count it as a profession now. He didn't seem the family I wanted to have. I may seem arrogant to you by this statement, but he didn't seem the right guy. My grandparents - yes, maybe, but not Robert.

Many people had left me gifts which were a little hard to carry, so me and James called a taxi for each of us to get the gifts back to my house. They all barely fit inside the two cars which really surprised me. Why had people bought me so many gifts? I didn’t need that many things, I needed nothing at all except for my father, the leading figure in my life.

James stayed over that night. It was the first night ever that he stayed at my house. I had been to his house many times before then and stayed a couple. It was a lovely atmosphere there, in their household, with the three siblings still living there and his parents rushing around so everything would be nice and comfortable. Especially when I was around, but it seemed a bit excessive to me. I could tell they wanted to make a nice impression of themselves on me, but I never needed nor wanted one. I liked them already because they were good and caring people, very much like James himself. And they were the ones that gave James to this world.

We laid in my bed awake for many hours that night, could be until the clock hit two or three. I couldn’t sleep and, because James didn't want me to be alone, he didn't sleep, either. To keep me company. But I knew he secretly wanted to sleep because he was quite the heavy sleeper back then.

We talked a little here and there, but mostly there was silence between us. Only the gear wheels in my head turning slowly and heavily, with such resistance. I was thinking hard about everything, trying to decide something, at least. Something to say.

For once, I liked silence a little more than I usually do. I liked silence when I was with James. Neither of us speaking, only breathing and listening to each other's heartbeat. His arm around me, hand caressing my hair and his chest under my hand and beneath my ear so that I could hear his heartbeat. Well, maybe it wasn’t complete silence, after all. Hearing his heartbeat gave me comfort and inner peace. It was something I could listen to all my life, those steady beats of the heart I desire still against my ear drums.

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existentialstatesofmind · 8 years ago

Conversation

Weekend Fun

Clare: giggled. "Yeah well it's tiresome having people think of you as a saint." Of course Clare was a little scared she was going to get kicked out anyway because of her parents. Even though Christians were supposed to accept everyone, it didn't take much for some of them to turn their back on you. Back when the group called themselves Friendship Club, they had tried to take Darcy's purity ring away because people got the wrong idea when she'd been raped. Clare smiled and nodded. "Good to know. My family used to go church together at least two or three times a week but we've been missing services lately." Part of her wondered if God was mad at them. Her smile widened when Dakota told her a secret in return. She reached for his hand and gently squeezed it. "Ignore them." Clare murmured when his brothers seemed to find it hilarious that he was blushing without even knowing the reason. "You do know that's nothing to be ashamed of right? Please don't be one of those guys who wants to get a girlfriend just so he can have sex. I think you're better than that." She whispered. As Clare said it, she realized she really meant it. Dakota had girls throwing themselves at him all the time. If he was desperate to lose his virginity, he would've already hooked up with one of them. "I'm glad her mom was brave enough to help them get out of that situation. But even if they are safe now, what's going to happen when her dad comes back?" Clare asked soberly. No wonder Dakota's friend had been clingy, it didn't sound like she had anyone else to rely on or comfort her. Home was the one place were you were always supposed to feel loved and cared for. "You'll have to teach me if we have to clean. Even my mom doesn't do that thorough of a job. I just clean my room and help vacuum, mop, and dust. She does the rest." Clare turned red. "That isn't going to help me! Even they had different birthmarks, I wouldn't be pulling down their pants to check." She squeaked. Clare had already ruled out Dakota having more muscles as a telltale because she wasn't about to ask if she could feel his abs whenever she wanted to make sure he was the twin she was talking to. She laughed as Stacy explained about the video. "Oh wow, that is really cool! I haven't been swimming in awhile because it's still freezing outside." Clare pointed out. Her bikini tops didn't fit anymore either. She followed everyone into the kitchen once Dakota set the pizza on the table. Her stomach growled as the delicious smell wafted through the air. "Okay." Clare sat down and told Dakota which soda she wanted. She smiled at Dallas and Dakota. "Yeah, I think it's great." Clare bowed her head and put her hands together, saying the prayer along with everyone else. Once she had a couple of slices of the hot pizza on her plate, Clare immediately started eating it. "Mmm." She hummed appreciatively.

Kota: listened to Clare talk about home and church, he didn't say anything because they were in front of his family and he didn't know if Clare wanted them to know about her situation. He nodded when she told him to ignore them and listened to her whisper. "I know there's not. Ash and Dom are virgins too. Dallas isn't." he whispered honestly. "We just don't like everyone to know." he assured. Hearing Clare mention their dad coming back, he smiled at her. "He'll be gone for a year, when he does come back it'll be for the summer, she'll be here and sticking to me like glue because of the guys and her sister will be at her friend's for the summer." he explained. "After that he goes back and he already knows if he comes here I'll beat the crap out of him because I almost did. He tried to slap me and I caught his hand, then flipped him onto his back with my foot on his throat telling him not to mess with a black belt. he left after that." he explained. "I'll help you." he said honestly and laughed when she mentioned their birthmarks and pulling down their pants. "Sorry, it was a bit funny the way you said it." he apologized and listened as she mentioned not swimming in his while. "We went swimming on Christmas. Our pool and porch are both heated so we can go whenever we want. Emi, however is afraid of water so we're bringing her to the public pool in the summer." he explained. As they started to eat, he sat down and smiled as everyone conversed and looked over to Clare. "I'm glad you like it. This was supposed to be dinner." he admitted with a slight laugh. After they finished he watched Emi run and carry out his guitar. "May, May." she said handing it to him. "Stacy, join?" he asked taking it off her. He put the guitar strap around his neck and took a chair with him as Stacy did the same and everyone gathered on the couch and love seat. "Whole song?" Stacy asked. "No, not suited for Emi. It's too depressing." he said and started to strum a fast beat. "And s the sun went down we ended up on the ground. I heard the train shake the window you screamed over the sound, as we owned this night I put your body to the test with mine. This love was out of control 3, 2, 1.. where did it go." he sang and strummed slower. "And she said." he sang. "If you were me you'd do the same. I can't take it anymore, I'll draw the sades and close the door, everything's not alright and I would rather..." Stacy sang and Kota strummed for a few moments picking up the beat. "And as the sun went down we ended up on the ground. I heard the train shake the window, you screamed over the sound and as we owned this night I put your body to the test with mine. Our love was out of control, tell me where did you go." he sang as he strummed and soon stopped. "I was forced to take an elective in middle school and I was sick when we were picking them so the school automatically chose mine. Obviously I took guitar for the entire year. My mom walked in on me one night strumming on a guitar one night that I borrowed from school and heard me singing and immediately enrolled me in voice lessons saying there needed to be a singer in the family and since she wanted us to be talented in multiple things to make it easier to decide what we want to be when we grow up I didn't fight her. She's always telling us we can be whatever we want and no matter how many times we tell her we want to be something, enroll in a class and drop out because we don't like it, she smiles and tell us that it's ok. We don't need to have that profession. Our sister Kelly, she does ballet, tap, is a makeup artist, plays the violin, and figure skates." he said honestly. "As you already know Dallas and I can both do stunts, mixed martial arts, gymnastics, and karate. I skateboard which I taught myself it, play guitar, sing, and cook which my mom is teaching me." he said honestly. "Dom and I take art, there's a lot that can come out of it and we are quite sure if we're going to do anything with it, we both also take computers. I want to learn computer programming where as Dom right now wants to hack and do computer forensics which we both need to be better typists which we think everyone is a typist because in middle school our second elective was computers. The whole school had to learn how to type without looking at the keys everyone had it until they graduate. We want to continue it. We both also know hip hop dancing. I like playing sports though. Kota plays with me some times, but I like it more than he does, he just sees it as a work out." Ash shrugged. "I also like video games. Sometimes I'll play all night on the weekends to see how long it takes me to beat a game, then write the company about how they can make it better. I once got paid one summer to test out a video game. I beat it in a day." Dom shrugged. "I want to learn about medicine so I might take that in college." Dallas explained as all of them opened up to Clare.

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