The Ballerina

Acelynn might as well save set a campfire in her lungs. They were burning, and so was every other part of her body. But her legs were moving on their own now; she couldn’t stop. Or wouldn’t, she supposed. Her will was too strong. She needed Luke. They already had spent too much time apart, and she was dying. Maybe not physically, but her mind was withering.

“Slow down, you maniac!” A kid, ten years or so, called at her as she stormed past him.

But she couldn’t. She was only a few more blocks away from the park. If she stopped now, she wouldn’t continue. When she was still miles away, she had given a lot of thought to Luke’s reaction. Would he run away again? Maybe he would yell at her for coming back to his park, and then he would run away.

Or maybe he had felt the same too.

Luke was her life raft. Even just the thought of him kept Acelynn alive. She missed his smell, his truck, just him in general. She missed the way he would constantly smoke. Somehow, she was thankful she hadn’t known him for longer. Or else this black hole in her heart may have been bigger.

What Acelynn didn’t expect when she got there, was the tears to fall down her face. She wasn’t sobbing, and she only felt the warm salt-water run across her cheeks. And she didn’t expect to feel such warmth to overcome her.

There Luke Spencer was, sitting in the same blue swing as he had been a month ago. He was staring at the ground smoking a cigarette. Luke didn’t seem to notice Acelynn. He was just staring, unmoving.

And all the pain, all the misery, even the physical pain from the run was gone. Acelynn could breathe again. “Luke.” She croaked.

Luke looked up, startled. He even dropped the cigarette. But he wasn’t as perfect as Acelynn had remembered; he had dark circles around his eyes, and he was paler. His dark hair didn’t seem as neat and shiny as it was before. Even though she was yards away, she could tell that the boy was shaking. But she wasn’t sure what for. “Acelynn.” He gasped weakly.

His blue eyes met her brown ones, and they stared at each other for a long time. And Acelynn could feel it; the minutes were finally passing. Time had grasped her again and she could live. The dense feeling, like rocks had been piling on her, was gone. Her mind didn’t feel like it was going to explode at any given second.

Soon, Acelynn’s silent tears turned to breathy sighs as she began to break down. “I’m dying inside.” Her voice cracked and she clutched her heart.

She fell to the ground, and the almost non-existent film of sweat on her legs began to collect sand. Her hands covered her face, and she continued to weep. God, how long had she been waiting to say that to another person?

It felt like a hundred pounds had been lifted off of Acelynn when Luke finally touched her again. It was simple; he wrapped his long arms around her tiny frame. One of his legs went behind her, and one on top of hers. He hugged her tight in his makeshift cocoon. Acelynn was safe. Luke should have made the tears go away, but instead more came. But they were not her former depression tears; they were tears of joy.

“You’ll be okay. I’m sorry. Everything will be okay. I’m here.” Luke continued to chant over and over again in her ear.

The words meant nothing to Acelynn. Just hearing his voice was enough. “I’m sorry!” She cried. “I didn’t know how awful you felt. I’m so, so sorry!”

Luke didn’t reply. He only hushed her and continued her rock her like a baby. Sobs came for awhile, and Acelynn hadn’t opened her eyes in so long. When she did, she noticed that the sky was a dusky pink color. Her father was probably frantic that she wasn’t at the dance studio, but somehow Acelynn couldn’t make herself care. She had gone so long without Luke, and now that she was with him, there was nothing that could make her leave.

When the tears stopped flowing, and the sniffles began to shallow, the ballerina became less tense against the boy, and her body relaxed. “You smell.” She croaked.

“Well you don’t smell too great yourself.” Luke gently shot back.

But Acelynn had an excuse; she had run miles to see him. Of course she was bound to smell a little. Luke had a truck and could drive around. Yet he smelled of his usual cigarettes, but also of something unpleasant and Acelynn couldn’t put her finger on what. It was like he hadn’t taken a shower in a few days.

Acelynn didn’t reply. She only basked in the twilight hour. She could see faint stars in the sky hidden behind the sheets of peach and purple. The cross roads between night and day. The ballerina supposed, in a way, that she was like twilight. She was in the cross roads between living and dying.

But she hoped she was a dawn instead. Because when it’s dawn, the sun comes up again.

Acelynn felt Luke gently wipe away the almost-dry tears on her cheeks. She didn’t usually like people fussing over her; it happened all too much when there was something ballet related. But she was too tired to move. To fight him off. To think.

“How’d you know I’d be here?” Luke asked, rubbing his hands on her arm.

“I have no idea. I guess I just did.” The girl replied, sounding extremely exhausted. And she was. Slowly, she was beginning to drift to sleep. “My parents are going to be so pissed… But you know what? I don’t even care anymore.” Acelynn whispered.

It wasn’t as if she actually cared before; it was just that now she wasn’t going to do anything for their benefit.

“Why are they going to be mad? Did you do something wrong?” Luke asked and sounded sincerely concerned.

“No. I just haven’t been doing anything at all. Oh wait, I was supposed to be at my ballet class. I think my dad is probably looking for me.” Acelynn laughed without humor.

“That doesn’t sound like you.” The boy chided, as if they were great friends.
But he didn’t know anything about her life. He just knew the interior – not the exterior. “Luke, I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

Luke said nothing. They continued to sit and watch the stars. Their bodies tangled in a sandy mess as it began to chill. The sun was slowly disappearing behind the mass of suburban housing, and the dark was now ruling the sky. Acelynn felt Luke detach an arm from her body, and heard a scratch next to her ear. Seconds later, she saw a cloud of smoke above her head. She smelled the cigarette next to her; the musky, odd scent of brown shavings and paper.

“Why do you smoke? And so God damned much?”

Acelynn felt Luke shrug against her. “I don’t know. I figure, hey, we’re all gonna die anyway. Might as well take a few years off me.”

“My dad used to smoke. But not as much as you. Don’t you ever get sick?” The conversation was half-hearted, as Acelynn was drifting away.

“Sometimes. But it makes me feel better.” Smoking was Luke’s version of ballet. It kept him sane. Though, Acelynn’s ‘drug’ was healthier than his.

“You have to do what you can, right?” Luke already felt the doom. He knew he was going to die. He had accepted it years ago. Acelynn had just joined the club.

The dark haired boy filled his lungs with smoke and slowly released it. He flicked the cigarette, and sent the ashes flying. A few hit the ballerina’s arm and stung the skin. But Acelynn didn’t care. In fact, the pain was beginning to feel good.

“Acelynn?” Luke whispered in her ear.

‘Yes?’ She replied. It took her a few moments to realize she didn’t answer out loud. But she couldn’t seem to make her mouth open, so she hummed a small note to notify Luke she heard him. No intelligible answer came; only soft murmurs that Acelynn couldn’t understand. It was becoming clear to her that she was falling fast asleep. She was comfortable in Luke’s arms. He would protect her. The only thing remotely unfavorable was the crisp night air. It nipped her cheeks and hands, and she was sure that they were probably rosy by that point. Then again, it didn’t matter. As long as Acelynn could hear Luke’s heartbeat next to her, and feel his steady breathing, she would be fine.

The boy was saying something. She couldn’t hear him – she only felt the vibrations in his chest. They were calming and lulled Acelynn to sleep even further. Luke was probably saying something important, or at least something decently interesting to her, but she was too far gone to be ripped from slumber.

And soon she was in a deep sleep. Such a deep sleep that nothing would wake her up for a long time.