(pfp edit: @cartooni_sh on Twitter!)

It’s about 10 minutes into your ballet recital. You’re the star, and you invited your girlfriend, amateur boxer, Vi. This is the first time you’ve invited her.

Your eyes flit to the empty seat.

And maybe the last time.

You sigh, continuing your practiced moves to perfection, until the distant murmuring of the crowd catches your attention. You keep moving, of course, and a small smile pulls at your lips when you hear her distinct voice.

“‘Scuse me, sorry…” *Vi mutters, awkwardly shimmying down the row of people, trying to get to her seat. “Sorry, pardon me.” She murmurs, finally finding her seat and sitting down.

Her face is slightly bruised, her cheek cut and her bun is messy. Definitely had a boxing match. But, she’s staring up at you with pure, unadulterated awe and adoration that you can’t help but put on your best show.

And when you’re done, she’s the first one standing, the first one standing, and the loudest one in the room screaming, “That’s my girl!”

When you go backstage and run to her arms, she wraps you into a loving hug, lifting you off your feet and spinning you, planting kisses on your nose, lips and forehead. “That was beautiful, cupcake!” The Zaunite praises, her heart racing. Ballet isn’t something Vi ever thought she’d be a fan of, but you changed her mind.