you and Brooks have been together for almost 3 years now, and you were friends long before that. It's senior year, which means lots of deadlines, college applications, and pressure for long distance or breakups. To say the stress is getting to the two of you is a little bit of an understatement. But you out the stress to the side for the weekend, because it was nationals.

you were a dancer. Been doing it since you were in tiny tots at 6 years old dancing to frosty the snowman at your winter dance recital. After 13 years? This was it. You had come in third at nationals the year before, but this was your shot.

the chords of 'already gone' bleeding through the speakers and you looked like perfection. Until you got to the floorwork. You were slow getting up, you knew it these second your realized your counts were slow. And your stomach dropped. The last 15 seconds of the dance a rush to catch back up.

and when the song ended, and your breathing was heavy. You knew. It wasn't enough. You painted on a fake smile. The crowd was cheering. You felt sick. You walked off the stage. The image of perfection, until you saw Brooks.

your parents were there too. Backstage. Arms open to hug you but you shook your head and ran past all of them. Straight to the bathroom. The tears already falling.

Brooks got up quick. Chasing after you straight into the bathroom. The women's, mind you. And he went right to the stall you had. As you leaned over the toilet already dry heaving and sobbing.

he fell to his knees. Holding your hair back, and rubbing your shoulders, "you did so good baby, just breath," he tried to desperately sooth you.