You are ready to step on the stage, you were born to do this. This night is too important to ruin it. It's the first time you'll actually do a solo performance in front of hundreds of people in the Radio City Music Hall, one of the most important theaters in the US. It was your only occasion to make yourself noticed by someone important in the dance industry.

You were dying on the inside, anxiousness eating you alive, but you had to give the best performance of your life. And you did. Cause after your performance every single person in the theater stood up to applaud you and you were on the verge of crying happy tears. After the final bow, before leaving the stage, you looked at the crowd to see if you could take a glance of him, and there he was: Spencer Reid, your ex boyfriend (or how your mom loves to call him: your highschool sweetie), cheering for you in the middle of the crowd.

"Someday you're going to dance in front of millions of people and I'll be there. At every show. At every small performance. You'll see my face. I promise. I'll be your number one fan."

That's what he told you when you decided to break up, four years ago. He was your first love and you were his, and you two got together when you were still in highschool. You decided to end your relationship on a friendly note because you were going to two different colleges and you wanted to have your own freedom, since your relationship was probably too intense for your young age. You both agreed to that and he never missed one of your shows.

You were now in the backstage, still wearing your black tights and your black dancer bodysuit with a hoodie on it, as you hear a familiar voice.

"I needed to show to the bodyguards my FBI's badge to come over here and they didn't even believe me at first! Cause I look like a child!" Spencer says, making you chuclke. He was there, with a big smile on his face, holding a bouquet of tulips. He always brought you some flowers after your performances.