Christmas Market
By the time Faye was twenty-one and Lena was nineteen, their connection on stage and in practice had evolved into something beyond skill, beyond practice.
They didn’t just dance together.
They breathed in unison.
A flick of Lena’s eyes could adjust the phrasing of an entire sequence. The slightest change in Faye’s breath signaled Lena’s next move. It was instinctive, seamless, a conversation spoken entirely through épaulement and weight shifts, in the invisible energy that passed between them in every pas de deux.
So when their teacher gathered them one afternoon, arms crossed, a thoughtful look in her eyes, Faye already had a feeling something was coming.
“I want you two to dance together for the gala.”
Lena straightened beside her. Faye felt the anticipation between them like an unspoken cue.
“Okay,” she said automatically.
Their teacher smiled, but her expression held something else—something knowing.
“But this won’t be just any duet,” she continued. “I want it to be… intimate.”
Faye’s stomach flipped.
Lena’s fingers twitched at her side, the same way they always did before a difficult variation.
“We’ll be reimagining Romeo and Juliet —but with a twist. Faye, you’ll be Romeo. Lena, you’ll be Juliet.”
Faye barely registered the breath she let out.
The Romeo and Juliet pas de deux was legendary. The choreography—MacMillan’s, Lavrovsky’s, Cranko’s—all demanded absolute vulnerability.
The Balcony Pas alone was a whirlwind of soaring grand jetés, breathless pirouettes, and sweeping lifts, capturing the feverish intoxication of first love.
The Bedroom Pas de Deux required a different kind of closeness—slow, controlled promenades, weightless arabesques, the kind of trust that allowed a dancer to melt into their partner’s hands.
And the Farewell Pas , where Juliet collapsed into Romeo’s arms in a final, heartbreaking renversé… it was the kind of ballet that left audiences breathless.
Faye swallowed hard.
Traditionally, Juliet was delicate, Romeo powerful—he was the one who lifted, who supported, who carried Juliet in grand, effortless arcs across the stage.
But now, their teacher was asking them to break that structure, to create something new.
Faye wasn’t just dancing Romeo. She was Romeo.
Madam Lumière’s voice then cut through Faye’s thoughts
“Rehearsals start tomorrow. Be ready.”
—
The first day they rehearsed the pas de deux was unlike any other. The air in the studio felt heavier, charged with a tension that neither Faye nor Lena could ignore.
Madam Lumière’s usual calm, measured tone was now sharp and commanding, her eyes tracking every movement, every slight hesitation between Faye and Lena. She watched them with a critical gaze, not just focusing on the technicality of the steps, but on how their bodies moved together, how they connected, how they breathed together.
"Again," Madam Lumière ordered, her voice slicing through the air as she stood with arms crossed, watching from the corner of the room.
"Faye, your épaulement was off. Lena, you need to extend through your back more. This is Juliet and Romeo , not just a technical piece. You’re telling a story, feel it."
Faye and Lena exchanged a quick glance before they nodded, stepping back into position.
They had done the moves a hundred times before—perfected the pliés, the lifts, the grand jetés and the pirouettes—but today, the stakes felt different.
The pas de deux wasn’t just about getting the technique right; it was about telling a story—one that required an intimacy neither of them had ever explored.
They went through the motions, but Madam Lumière wasn’t letting them off easy. When they missed a beat, she pointed it out immediately, her voice never gentle.
"Lena, you’re collapsing on that grand jeté," she snapped. "It’s not soft , it’s delicate . You’re Juliet. Juliet does not collapse ."
Lena, already breathless from the movement, adjusted immediately, lifting herself higher into the air as she extended her leg.
"Good," Madam Lumière acknowledged, but her eyes didn’t soften. "Now, Faye, on that lift—you're not supporting enough. Don’t just hold her. Lead her. You’re Romeo. You make her feel like she can fly, not fall."
Faye’s hands trembled slightly as she extended them to Lena, positioning herself for the lift.
She could feel the weight of Lena’s body in her arms, the slight tremor in her limbs as she lifted her.
But as soon as their palms connected, something changed. A small spark of electricity shot through her, and it took everything in her not to drop Lena, to remain steady.
Madam Lumière’s sharp eyes narrowed. "Faye, you hesitated there. Why?"
Faye bit her lip. She hadn’t meant to hesitate. It was just that when Lena’s fingers brushed against her collarbone during the lift, it felt too real. Too close. It was supposed to be a simple cue, but that one moment had left a mark on Faye—something unspoken, something undeniable.
"I—I was just adjusting," Faye lied, her voice tight.
Madam Lumière didn’t buy it. "Adjustment is fine, but commit to the movement. No more hesitation. This is a pas de deux, not just a series of steps. You have to trust each other. Trust the story."
Faye nodded, swallowing hard. She wasn’t sure if she was more afraid of making the technical mistakes or if she was scared of what this dance was making her feel.
Madam Lumière didn’t let up. "Faye, on the promenade, your core isn’t engaged enough. Tighten it. You’re Romeo—do not collapse on her. You are lifting her. You are leading her. Again."
Faye had no choice but to obey. She positioned herself again, this time with more intention. She guided Lena into the lift, her arms trembling slightly from the effort, but she forced herself to keep them steady.
They completed the sequence, each movement sharper than before. Still, there was a lingering unease. Each time their bodies connected, Faye felt the growing pull of something more than just the movement.
After a few more corrections, Madam Lumière stepped back, her gaze evaluating them both. "Better," she said curtly. "But this isn’t about just performing the steps. You need to live the dance. The technique should be second nature. Your emotions, your connection— that should be what the audience feels. Now, take a break. Think about the connection. We’ll work more tomorrow."
Faye stepped back to the barre, her fingers trembling as she gripped it tightly. She tried to center herself, but all she could think about was Lena—the way their hands had touched, the way her skin felt beneath Faye’s fingers, the way her breath had quickened as they moved together.
She glanced at Lena, who was wiping the sweat from her brow, but when their eyes met, there was something in Lena’s gaze that made Faye’s stomach tighten. A recognition. A shared feeling that neither of them knew how to navigate.
Madam Lumière’s eyes flicked between them, as if she had sensed the shift in the room, the change in the air. Faye quickly turned away, trying to refocus her thoughts.
Get it together, Faye.
—
The rehearsal had stretched on for hours, each correction from Madam Lumière cutting through the tension in the air. Faye could feel the weight of it, the endless need to refine every movement, every glance.
The pas de deux was supposed to be about connection, but lately, it felt like they were pulling away from each other in subtle ways.
And yet… there were moments. Fleeting, electric.
A brush of Lena’s arm against hers that lingered a second too long. The press of a palm guiding her into a turn, warmth seeping through thin fabric. The way Lena leaned into her when they paused between sets, her breath just barely ghosting against Faye’s shoulder.
Faye didn’t know when it started. When the space between them had become something charged, something that made her hyper-aware of every accidental touch, every shift in Lena’s gaze.
She told herself it was just muscle memory—the way their bodies naturally gravitated toward each other after years of dancing side by side. The way they had always been in sync, moving instinctively, without thought.
But then came the lift.
Faye’s hands settled at Lena’s waist, fingers pressing into the familiar curve. Lena exhaled sharply, her grip tightening ever so slightly on Faye’s forearm. For a second, their eyes met—something unspoken passing between them, something unsteady.
Then Madam Lumière clapped her hands.
"Again! And this time, show me the connection. Make me feel it."
As if that wasn’t already the problem.
—
Finally, Madam Lumière called for a break. Faye let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and wiped the sweat from her brow. She glanced at Lena, who was stretching near the barre, her brow furrowed in concentration. The usual ease between them felt strained, like there was a tension neither of them could quite shake off.
Faye needed to clear her head, needed a break from the dance and from all the thoughts swirling in her mind. She walked over to Lena, her footsteps slow.
“Hey,” she said, her voice a little softer than usual. “There’s a new Christmas market down the street. You wanna take a break? Get out of here for a bit?”
Lena looked up, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “A Christmas market? Sounds like a good idea.” Her eyes sparkled, the hint of mischief returning as she stood, brushing off her tights.
Faye felt a small knot in her chest loosen, relieved that Lena wasn’t pulling away. They had spent so many moments together like this, walking through markets, browsing through trinkets, sipping hot chocolate under the twinkling lights. It felt... easy, familiar. Maybe, just for a little while, they could forget about the complexities of their rehearsals.
“I’ll race you to the hot chocolate stand,” Faye grinned, already starting to head for the door.
“On,” Lena replied, her smile widening as she followed, her feet light with the promise of something simple and uncomplicated.
As they stepped out into the chilly evening air, the world outside the studio seemed to quiet, as if waiting for them to catch their breath. The market was busy, the scent of mulled wine and cinnamon wafting through the air, and the lights above twinkled like tiny stars.
It was a sharp contrast to the intensity of rehearsal, a reminder of how different life could feel outside the studio.
Faye turned to Lena as they walked through the market stalls.
“I’m glad we’re doing this. I needed a break from… all of that.”
She gestured vaguely back toward the dance studio, her voice light but carrying a deeper undertone.
Lena nodded, her breath fogging in the cold air as she pulled her jacket tighter around her.
“I get it. The pas de deux is a lot of pressure. But you know, you’re Romeo , Faye. You’re gonna do great.”
Faye gave a small, hesitant smile, her eyes meeting Lena’s. “Thanks. I just… I don’t know. It feels different now, doesn’t it?”
Lena’s gaze softened, and for a moment, it was as if the world around them fell away. “Yeah,” she said quietly, “it does.”
Faye felt the unspoken weight of her words hang between them. It wasn’t just the dance anymore, not just the roles they were stepping into. It was them, together, navigating something neither of them had quite figured out. But for now, at this moment, they were just two friends walking through a Christmas market, enjoying the warmth of the holiday lights. It was enough.
“Hot chocolate,” Lena said suddenly, breaking the silence, and Faye couldn’t help but laugh.
“Race you!” she called out again, feeling the joy of the familiar moment wash over her as they both ran toward the stand, the flickering lights casting playful shadows on their faces.
—
The market was alive with the sights and sounds of the season, every corner filled with warmth and wonder. Snowflakes fluttered gently from the sky, catching the golden glow of string lights that twisted around every stall and tree.
The air was crisp, biting just enough to make you appreciate the warmth of the cocoa that was waiting for them at the stand. The scents of cinnamon, roasted chestnuts, and freshly baked pastries mingled in the chilly air, filling Faye’s senses with nostalgia and comfort.
“I’ve never been to this market before,” Lena said, her breath puffing out in soft clouds as they walked through the maze of booths and twinkling lights. "It’s even better than I imagined."
Faye smiled, the familiar pull of joy sweeping through her as she looked around. “It’s one of the best things about Christmas in the city. It always makes everything feel a little… magical.” Her words lingered in the air, and for a moment, it felt as if the entire world had slowed down, leaving just the two of them in this perfect little bubble.
As they approached the hot chocolate stand, a vendor was just finishing a batch of strawberry chocolate—a swirl of rich, dark cocoa and sweet, velvety strawberry essence. The warm pink hue of the chocolate seemed almost out of place against the wintery backdrop, but it was undeniably beautiful.
Faye could already feel the warmth from the steaming cup between her hands, the promise of sweetness and comfort.
“Strawberry chocolate?” Lena’s voice was laced with surprise. "That’s... new."
“It’s delicious,” Faye said, already reaching for her wallet. “Trust me. It’s like a mix of the holiday comfort and a little burst of something unexpected.”
They both ordered a cup, the vendor smiling as he prepared the drinks with an artistry that matched the joy of the season. The strawberry chocolate was rich, smooth, and surprisingly refreshing—a perfect balance between tangy sweetness and the familiar warmth of cocoa. As Faye took a sip, the creamy liquid wrapped her in a sense of warmth, an immediate contrast to the crisp cold of the night. It was indulgent in the best way, and as she caught Lena’s eyes, she realized that this small moment felt like everything.
Lena let out a content sigh as she took her own first sip. “This is… incredible,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips.
They continued walking, strolling through the stalls where local artisans sold hand-crafted ornaments and delicately carved wooden toys.
The gentle sound of Christmas carols played in the background, filling the air with cheer, while the soft clink of coins and the murmur of conversation surrounded them.
—
The warmth of the hot chocolate between them seemed to spread into every corner of Faye's chest, but the undercurrent of tension still hummed just beneath the surface. The holiday lights, twinkling around them like a thousand tiny stars, couldn't quite shake the worries that Faye had been carrying with her for weeks now. She had been trying to push them down, focus on the simple joys of the moment, but it was getting harder with each passing day. The upcoming gala was looming large in her mind, and with it came the weight of expectation.
They’d always been good enough to impress their teachers, to push themselves to new heights every day in practice. But this was different. This was the chance to perform in front of the best of the best. The top critics, renowned dancers, and choreographers. The opportunity of a lifetime to prove they belonged in the highest circles of the dance world.
Faye found herself stealing glances at Lena as they walked, unsure how to bring up the topic that had been gnawing at her all week.
“I just... I don’t know, Lena,” she said after a long silence, her voice softer than usual as they passed under another archway of lights. “What if we’re not enough?” The words felt heavy, like they were tied to the deepest part of her, the part that was afraid of failure, of not being able to live up to the expectations placed on them.
Lena’s steps faltered just slightly, her expression shifting from the carefree joy of the market to something a little more introspective. She stopped walking for a moment, her breath visible in the cold air, and turned to face Faye. The smile on her lips had softened, her usual playful energy replaced with something more sincere, more understanding.
“I get it,” Lena said quietly, her voice tinged with vulnerability. “It feels like all this pressure is coming from every direction, huh?” Her eyes flickered down to her own hands as she tucked them deeper into her pockets, a small frown on her face. “I feel it too.”
Faye swallowed, the lump in her throat growing. She hadn’t realized just how much the pressure had been wearing on Lena too. It was almost comforting to know she wasn’t alone in her fears, but the thought of what was to come still made her stomach twist. “I just—I keep thinking about how many people are going to be watching us, judging every step, every leap. We’ve practiced so hard, but what if it's still not enough?”
Lena’s gaze met hers, steady and intense. She didn’t look away, didn’t try to offer a quick fix. Instead, she just stood there, letting the silence stretch between them. And in that silence, Faye felt her walls start to crack just a little.
“You know,” Lena began slowly, her words carefully chosen, “I think we’ve been so focused on the idea of ‘perfect’ that we forgot what makes us... us.” She paused, searching Faye’s face for any sign that she was being heard. “It’s not about being flawless. It’s about being real. Giving everything we have, even if it’s messy or imperfect.”
Faye felt a warmth spread through her at Lena’s words, but the fear still lingered, curling tightly in her chest. She wanted to believe Lena, wanted to trust that no matter what happened, they would be okay. But there were so many what-ifs, so many doubts.
Lena stepped a little closer, her eyes soft but unwavering. “We don’t have to be perfect, Faye. We just have to be there, together. Like we always have been.”
Faye took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but the tightness in her chest remained. “But what if that’s not enough? What if we fall short of what they expect?”
Lena reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against Faye’s arm. The contact was small, but it felt grounding. Like a promise. “Then we fall short, together. And we get back up. Because, Faye, I know one thing for sure: You’re not in this alone.”
The simple truth in Lena’s words wrapped around Faye like a warm embrace, and for a moment, the weight on her shoulders seemed a little less heavy. It was strange how something so small—a touch, a glance, a few quiet words—could make her feel so much lighter.
Faye finally let out the breath she had been holding, the tension starting to loosen, just a little. She looked at Lena, and for the first time in a while, the knot of fear inside her didn’t feel quite so tight.
“Yeah,” Faye said softly, the weight lifting from her chest. “Together.”
Lena smiled, the mischief creeping back into her eyes as she nudged Faye’s shoulder with her own.
“We’ll knock their socks off, you know. We’ve got this.”
—
As they wandered through the maze of stalls, something caught Faye's eye. It was a row of small, plush reindeer, each one lined up carefully on a wooden shelf, their button eyes wide and inviting. The sign above the booth read, "Knock 'em down for a prize!" with a picture of the adorable stuffed animals.
Faye felt a mischievous grin spread across her face, a familiar spark of playful energy rising in her chest. She glanced over at Lena, who was casually sipping her hot chocolate, seemingly lost in the magic of the market.
“Hey, Lena,” Faye said, her voice light with excitement. “Let’s play.”
She tugged at Lena’s sleeve, pulling her toward the booth.
“I’ll bet I can knock them all down in one try.”
Lena raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering across her features.
“Oh, you’re on.”
The vendor handed them each a beanbag, and Faye stepped up first, her movements confident as she aimed at the reindeer targets.
She tossed the beanbag with a steady hand, sending it hurtling toward the line of stuffed animals. It hit the first reindeer perfectly, knocking it off the shelf with a soft thud.
“Ha! Told you,” Faye said, looking over her shoulder with a smirk.
Lena was already lining up her shot, her focus intense.
She didn’t rush, taking her time.
The sound of the crowd faded around them, leaving only the moment—only Lena’s poised stance and the quiet breath she took as she threw the beanbag.
But this time, Faye was ready.
As Lena tossed the beanbag, Faye held her breath, watching as it sailed through the air, taking down only one reindeer.
“Not this time,” Faye teased, grinning as she stepped up for her second shot.
Lena rolled her eyes playfully. “Fine, fine. You can’t win everything.”
With a determined smile, Faye took aim once more.
She threw the beanbag with precision, and in one clean motion, it knocked down all three reindeer with a satisfying thud.
“Looks like I won this round.” Faye’s voice rang out, a victorious laugh escaping her lips as she watched Lena raise her hands in mock surrender.
Her heart was light, the playful tension of their friendly competition melting away.
Lena raised an eyebrow, her smile teasing but genuine. “Okay, okay. You got me.”
The vendor chuckled, handing over the prize—a soft, plush reindeer, the little creature’s velvet fur catching the glow of the string lights overhead. Faye took the toy, her fingers wrapping around its small, comforting form. It felt absurdly cute, like something a child might treasure.
But as she looked down at it, she saw more than just a silly prize.
She glanced at Lena, noticing the way her gaze lingered on the reindeer. Her eyes were wide, bright in the flickering lights, and there was something almost wistful in her expression, like a soft ache hidden beneath her usual composed demeanor.
Faye's heart twisted, and before she could even think, she held out the plush reindeer to Lena. The bustling market around them faded slightly, the soft hum of the crowd becoming a distant murmur as Faye’s voice broke through the moment, gentle and quiet.
“Reindeers are your favorite animals, aren’t they?”
Lena froze for a moment, her eyes wide with surprise, and the world seemed to hold its breath. The soft sounds of Christmas carols played in the background, and the sharp, cold air tingled around them, but all Faye could focus on was Lena’s expression. It was so tender, so vulnerable, and for a moment, everything else disappeared.
Lena’s lips curved into a small, soft smile, something that felt almost secret between them. “Are you sure?” she asked, her voice thick with something Faye couldn’t place—something sweet, like the warmth of the hot chocolate they’d just shared, but layered with more.
Faye nodded, her heart fluttering. “It’s yours the moment you laid eyes on it, Lena.”
The air around them seemed to grow warmer, more intimate, even as the market buzzed on around them. Lena reached out, her fingers brushing against Faye’s as she took the stuffed animal, the brief touch sending a shiver of electricity down Faye’s spine. The softness of Lena’s touch, the warmth of her hand—it felt like everything in that moment was just right.
Lena’s gaze lingered on Faye, her expression softening into something that took Faye’s breath away. The intensity in her eyes was quiet but overwhelming, like a hidden depth she wasn’t sure how to express.
“Thank you,” Lena said, her voice thick with sincerity, and Faye could hear the undercurrent of emotion that she hadn’t expected. The way Lena said it—so full of meaning—felt like it wasn’t just about the reindeer.
It was about something deeper, something unsaid between them, hanging in the cold winter air like the delicate snowflakes drifting down around them.
Faye’s heart skipped a beat. She didn’t know what it was, but in that moment, everything inside of her shifted. The way Lena looked at her, the quiet sincerity in her voice—it made Faye feel like she was seeing Lena for the first time in a long time, not as the girl who’d been caught up in her own world of dance and ambition, but as someone real, someone she could reach for.
“Anytime,” Faye whispered, her voice barely above the hum of the crowd.