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artificialqueens · 5 years

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GRAVITY (Branjie) - Lyonne-dlm & Saiphl

Grav·i·ty /ˈɡravədē/ The force that attracts a body toward the center of the earth, or toward any other physical body having mass. syn.: attraction, attracting force, downward force, pull, weight, heaviness “GRAVITY ATTRACTS OBJECTS TOWARD EACH OTHER.”

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So we are back, back, back again.

Now jumping into the Branjie train with the beginning of a slow burn collection of how Brock and Vanessa started dancing together and never stopped doing it.

We hope you enjoy the first part of the ride.

We want to thank MistressAQ for the beautiful work she did by editing and suggesting for this project.

Also, we wanted to share the song that inspired the idea of this fic. We tried to describe a bit how this happens, but we’re adding the reference so you can picture the whole routine together.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=emTePWNepkk

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GRAVITY

Juilliard was a mean environment, if anyone wasn’t able to reach perfection, then that was not the place one should be. They both knew that was their last chance. Neither of them really eager to work together.

Vanessa knew she was good, at least good enough to keep her scholarship. Her notes were an impressive parade of congratulations and high distinctions. Except for the one she feared the most, the class that gave her a reputation among fellow students as “the girl who burns dance partners.” With each year her options dwindled and now, in what must be a cruel joke of destiny, she was trapped in an incredibly complex piece with the only dance partner that she could happily throw down the stairs. Both the proverbial and physical ones.

Brock knew the teacher made him dance with her because he was good enough to mitigate the “Vanjie Effect,” but also to break him out of the comfort zone he and his twin sister built around them. He heard for years now the teachers saying “your technique is impeccable Brock, but I feel nothing when I see you dance with Lynn, you seem to be disconnected.” He was screwed, it was too late in the year to find a partner with the technical quality to match his. The only possible partner available, was the one he feared the most. The girl who was literally unable to dance with a partner.

They’ve been working together for the last month and a half. First learning to understand each other, and then, to put up a complex choreography to get the final note for their Pas de Deux class. Truth to be told, they weren’t bad together. They were actually amazing, as if they were born to do that exactly: dance together. What was the real burden, was they had a hell of an attitude issue to each other. Vanessa really enjoyed teasing him, and Brock was more than pleased to piss her off.

They were running one last rehearsal before the actual performance. They’ve been locked in a studio for the last three hours. Vanessa was tired and in need of anything that could raise her blood sugar. Brock, as every other day, was being an ass.

“Seriously Vanessa, I’m not going to fail this course because you can’t jump,” he said, turning to take the remote and stop the music.

“You know I can jump, but I need to have something to eat, otherwise I’ll faint,” she clapped back. Maybe if she had something to eat, she could be less cringy.

“You’re weak.” He said, looking at her reflection on the mirror.

“And you’re an asshole.” She slid gracefully to his side just to put her hand on his shoulder, knowing he wouldn’t like it.

“Let’s do it again, from the top… and you have to make that jump work.” Brock took Vanessa’s hand as if it was infected and tossed it away in disgust.

The music started again. Brock took his position laying on the floor and took a deep breath, counting in compasses. His long body in full display, the defined lines of each muscle showing with the motion. Vanessa exhaled, she hadn’t noticed she has been holding her breath. Vanessa took two graceful steps, bending to blow lightly on his back. His arms, in one fluid motion, are thrown in the air to find her. Their fingers intertwined in one hand, the other Brock had working as support to make her fly above his head.

Vanessa landed on the tip of her toes while he fell to her feet, as practiced. There was something incredibly sensual about that movement, something that made her feel powerful, invincible. He turned up looking for her, a sense of loss on his face. That is, until her hand brushed his bicep while passing by. Brock shivers… and doesn’t understand why. That girl is frustrating, loud, and impossible, but each time they dance, it’s like the world stopped around them, just to see them gravitate to each other.

They’re almost two minutes into the six minute routine when he has to lift her up again. Except this time Vanessa’s ankle doesn’t support her enough to jump and they both fall.

“Fuck! I told you, YOU-HAVE-TO-JUMP-VANESSA!” Brock says, giving his back to her, assessing with practiced ease the motions of his left arm, which held most of the impact of his fall. He gets back on his feet, oblivious to the girl still struggling on the floor, assessing the state of her ankle.

Vanessa bit her lower lip while doing tentative circles with the sore ankle, relieved at being able to move it, otherwise she’ll fail the class by default. A slight taste of blood floods her mouth, she’s been so tense that her body was tired and wasn’t responding as she needed. One last turn to the ankle, a contorted face and a strangled moan, the one that makes him turn to her.

“Are you ok?” Brock asked dryly, finally looking at her and leaning to check if she needed some help.

Vanessa tossed loose hair out of her face. “I am… let’s do this, at least one single time has to be right.” She stands by herself, barely suppressing the sting of pain pulsing on her foot. “One more time Mr. Brightside, then I’ll go get something to eat.” She said, drawing a couple more circles with the tip of her hurting foot and supporting her weight, assessing her possibilities.

“Ok, just jump this time right? I’ll do the rest.” He walked towards her and she seemed to realize how close they were, so she lightly slapped him away. She started walking to her spot. Brock stared at her, unable to keep himself from holding the stubborn girl again while she stumbled back to her starting position. “Do not force yourself Vanessa, we have to do this in front of the jury in few hours, I don’t need you making me fail.”

Vanessa hissed, half from the pain, and half resisting temptation to slap his face. She was nervous too, her scholarship and permanence at Juilliard depended on this performance, and of course, Brock Hytes wouldn’t make it easy for her. “Shut up and play the music… I’m fucking starving.” Brock shrugged turning to the stereo, muttering unintelligible things. He went back to lay on the floor, this time with eyes wide open in case his dance partner fell.

The music filled the tense silence between them, both easily engaging on the fantasy of the choreography. Electricity running down their bodies while the light brushing of their limbs. The steady support of his arms, the natural playfulness of her body, all of it melting in a perfect symphony of fluidity and sensuality. On that soft moment, when they looked into each other’s eyes, there it was, the weird connection that made them fit together like the pieces of a puzzle. Vanessa shivered and Brock stumbled, cursing under his breath. Unavoidably and still dancing, she gravitated to him, taking his time to recover the rhythm.

Brock lifted her up; she felt light as a feather. She was light as a feather. He started spinning, holding her steady by the waist, hungry for the sensation of her hands on his cheek. Longing to get lost on every trace of her chocolate eyes. Detailing all the little things he could see inside, the light green freckles in the iris, and how the white light reflected their color in sparkles of golden. Landing her once more, he regretted letting her go, and she suddenly felt cold without the shield of his lean body.

They kept dancing until the last part of the song came. The little move at the end when they both held hands just to lay them on her cheek. The intensity of the moment was unbearable. He knew he had to step away, to come apart from her, but his feet seemed to be glued to the floor. Vanessa looked at him, confused, still unwilling to be the first to lose his baby blue eyes from sight. He took a deep breath and not even thinking, he leaned and kissed her. It was gentle, soft and unexpected. It was tender but still full of desire and lust.

Vanessa snapped from the moment, breaking all contact, and slapping his face as hard as she could. “What the fuck are you doing you moron?!” She hit his chest with a tightly closed fist. “Do you think this is a joke? my whole life depends on this number and you decide to play the fool?!”

Brock stared at her, wounded and confused. “Now it’s my fault?”

“Yes, it is… you kissed me idiot, YOU FUCKING KISSED ME! this can’t happen on the performance!” She yelled to mask the fact she was about to cry.

“Then fuck you Banjie girl, for once in all your life someone finds you slightly interesting and you react like if you were punched in the gut.” He said, regretting almost immediately the sarcastic tone of his words.

“Well, fuck you then, and you better control yourself on the final performance. I twisted my ankle because you didn’t lift me, and will have to work double if you plan to screw my work.” She went to the stereo to recover her CD. “You better be on time for the performance, or I swear I’ll skin you alive.”

“As if you were good enough to make it up without me.” The bile rising through his throat with those words, he knew he was being unfair. He couldn’t help it. His face felt hot, and not just where she’d hit him. “Better you get that fucking ankle good for the performance, I won’t cover your ass if you stumble.”

“FUCK YOU HYTES!” And with those last words, he heard the door of the studio slam shut. Brock screamed in frustration before he picked his things up and left the place.

The performance was going to be a fucking circus.

Vanessa ran to the nearest place where she could be by herself for a bit. She locked herself in a stall of the dance studio’s empty bathroom. Agitated and confused, she tried to regain composure. Inhale… exhale… inhale… exhale. As her heartbeat diminished, she recalled the scene. The music, the choreo, the moment they got lost on each other. The tension always dense between them getting thicker which each movement. The deepness of his eyes capturing her whole attention and then, the kiss. A kiss she didn’t know she craved, but didn’t know what to do with once she got it.

Her ankle shooting in pain for the speed of her run on the hallway. “Fuck you Brock… fuck you”, she muttered, not knowing at all if her anger came from of him kissing her, or the fact that she wanted more. She wanted much more. Reflexively she put her hurting limb over her other knee, massaging and moving the ankle with a hiss.

Brock was a distraction, a huge one, and if he insisted to do things like that , he would become even more of a problem. She didn’t understand at all how to feel about him, about her thinking of him or about what to do with that damned kiss. Frustrated, she just punched the door of the stall with a very tight fist. “Damn it!” she cursed when the pain reverberated through her whole arm, tears sliding down her cheek.

“Great… like, great now I’ll have to cope with this too…” she said, assessing now her hand and knuckles. Going to the mirrors and looking at her messed up self, she started the sink and cleaned her tear stained face “You need to get this together Vanessa.”

Brock was a whole other story, he couldn’t tell he was mad, he was just confused and kind of aroused. One thing he came to know, was that Vanessa made him nuts. Her loud unnerving self and the natural way she cursed, like it was a part of her; something that made him beyond curious. After the first week working with her, he realized that her biggest trouble was a clear inability to follow instructions. Brock grunted in frustration; he’d been paying more attention than intended in the last weeks, and finding himself aroused after her slapping him was truly fucked up.

He didn’t know what she was doing to him but damn that girl had an effect on him.

Before he could even notice, he had walked the distance between the school and Central Park. Obfuscated he adjusted his bag strap to his back and started jogging. Nothing cleared his mind better than doing some physical activity. “First of all… she’s obnoxious” he said to himself between rhythmic breathings. “Obnoxious, loud and vulgar”, he added with a huff. Knowing by the word what would his sister, Lynn say, he could clearly hear her voice in his head, reminding him: “and you like it, so stop being a prick.” He sped up, shaking his head both to clear his mind, and to answer to his thought. ”You like her loud mouth” a soft smile spreaded on his lips. “Ok… supposing I like her loud mouth, that doesn’t help she curses like a sailor,” he said under his breath, now trotting to the lake.

“You have to admit it’s charming when she does it,” Lynn’s voice said, he nodded in response. Reaching the shore of the lake, he sat by the water, finding a fallen branch to play with. “It’s charming, and she makes me feel like I can be me around her. I don’t have to worry about what I say or how to behave, she just let me be.”

That simple admission was comforting, he had never liked the way they have to be chivalrous around all the other girls. Vanessa was frantic and direct, and she never feared to speak her mind out loud. “Well dude, that’s a start, and you can’t deny she’s hot”, he laughed, truth to be told, Vanessa was good looking and the natural curves she had, accentuated by her years dancing made her such a sight for sore eyes. “Yeah, she is hot…” he said, inhaling deeply with images of her delicate frame dancing on his mind. “So… you wanted to kiss her.”

Brock lowered his face, which was turning beet red. “Yes… No… Fuck!” The voice in his head laughed again. ”You want her so bad It’s driving you crazy,” he grunted again, one thing was admitting to himself he liked the girl, and another totally different to say out loud he wanted her. His hands started buzzing with the memory of holding her tiny waist, “Guess I’m screwed” he sighed, clapping his hands together to mitigate the buzzing. “Why? she reciprocated the kiss”, Lynn’s voice nagged. “All you have to do is ask, if you dare to, of course.”

He rolled his eyes, the sensation of Vanessa’s slap on his cheek still fresh. “If you don’t remember, she slapped me. There’s your answer.” The bitterness in his voice crystal clear, he had never been rejected by anyone, and Vanessa just made very clear that she didn’t want him. Those last words, making his head shut up. The beeping of his watch snapping him back to reality made him jump. Brock quickly stood up, leaving the pointy branch he had been playing with forgotten on the grass. He ran back to the school.

Vanessa was sitting on the bench outside the studio, swollen hand holding the CD, makeup freshly done, and an ankle brace holding her ill foot. She was a nervous mess, and the fact that they were supposed to perform in five minutes and Brock was nowhere to be seen getting her snappy. Brock sprinted to her, his hair slightly damp from the shower. “I’m sorry I’m late, last minute complications.”

Vanessa looked at him, radiating anger. “Look who finally decided to show up… they’ve asked for you and I had to tell them you were on your way” she said dryly. “You better not fuck this up. If I get expelled because of you, I hope you had your last prayers.”

Brock huffed. “Listen Vanessa, could we please try to do this and leave whatever happened outside?” He pressed the bridge of his nose, trying his best to keep himself chill. She nodded in response, rising to her feet. “Just remember to jump and everything will be fine.”

Vanessa punched him in the shoulder, immediately hissing in pain. “Fuck you Brock… FUCK YOU!”

“Let’s just get this shit show going.” He bent to pick up the CD that fell from her hand. In that moment the door opened for someone to call the both of them inside. The teacher looked puzzled watching while they entered without even looking at each other.

Brock gave the music to the teacher and then joined Vanessa on the dance floor. He laid on the floor taking a deep breath, counting until the music started. In that moment, just like it had in rehearsal, everything faded around them, the music and the choreography flowing harmoniously between them, each motion precise and on point. The soft touches and the eye contact yelling all the apologies they couldn’t tell. When the moment came, Vanessa jumped effortlessly, trusting blindly on the firm grip of Brock in her hands.

He felt like he was high. High on adrenaline and the green apple scent radiating from Vanessa’s body. She felt like she could fly. For a moment, when he was holding her up above his body on the floor, she could picture memories of home, the place where she felt safe and sound. Gravity was non-existent for a second. One last jump, the one when he took her to spin around looking to each other’s eyes and he pictured himself looking at those eyes for the rest of his life. He put her back on the floor, intensely lost in her eyes, a sudden sadness taking over his when their intertwined hands laid them on her cheek. When he stepped away, an overwhelming longing spreaded through her, stretching her left arm to uselessly try to reach him and finally falling to the floor all curled over herself. She didn’t know why, but started crying. Then the music ended.

The teachers’ applause brought them back to the moment, when Brock approached to her stretching his hand to lift her up. He saw the tears in her eyes and made her turn to bring her close to him, giving some time to wipe the few tears that fell down her cheek. He pulled her close to his chest, making her melt on that single motion. Still embraced, they bowed, and then separated to listen to the notes of their teachers.

Most of the comments were praises and a couple of corrections on the execution. The Dean inviting them to keep dancing together, cause what they made on that piece was magic. Finally, they were dismissed and with no words, they went to their locker rooms.

Later, Vanessa was sitting in one of the hallways, waiting for Brock to appear. When he finally came, he was with a couple of friends, they were laughing. The moment he saw her sitting there, he dismissed his friends and bent down, “hey stranger.” His voice as soft as she had never heard him She mouthed a “Hi” that he responded with a smile and stretching his hand to lift her up.

Once on her feet, she smiled at him “Thanks for not messing it up.”

“Hey! anytime” he said, playful and returning the smile.

Vanessa bit her lower lip, doubting for a second on what to say next. “I… shit-”

He laughed. “I know, but if we’re going to keep doing this, please, avoid slapping me.”

“Who said I want to keep dancing with you?” she asked, curious.

Brock rolled his eyes, still smiling. “Because you’re here and I want to do it. I want to dance with you Banjee Girl.”

“Alright, I won’t slap you if you promise something…” she said, lowering her voice

“What?” he asked, raising a brow.

Out of nowhere, she tiptoed and kissed him, this time soft and tenderly. “Promise you’ll keep doing this.” She whispered to his lips. As an answer to her request, he kissed her once more.

#rpdr fanfiction #gravity #dance school au #branjie #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #lyonne dlm #saiphl #m/f au #ballet au #dance au

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