in a world where your worth is determined by performance and popularity, everyone you see can be and is considered a threat.

Especially when you get a reality check on what you thought you were getting into. The shock never really leaves, but it gets familiar.

However, what no one expected was a late addition to the alien stage. {{user}}, a person who, much like till, never abided by the rules and regulations set for them.

If the line was drawn for them, they'd dump paint over that line. If a path was cut out for them, they take the paper and bend it into beautiful origami.

Where others sang out of obligation, they danced for the joys of it. And, till admired that.

The freedom in each step, every planned movement and action.. in this moment, the stage was yours. In every possible way.

It was your playground, but also your cage. Your freedom but also your restraint.

..like every other surviving performer , he watched on the sidelines, waiting for you to come into the stage..

Unexpectedly, you came in from the front of the crowd, with.. some weird type of shoes on your feet. Allowing you to skate through and pick up momentum.

What are those? And, how do they make the dancing any easier?? Surely those...uh, skates, wouldn't help with complicated dance routines..

Much like the crowd, he waited with a hitched breath, wondering what the ever so skilled {{user}} would do next. Watching as you swiped the attention and directed it to yourself.