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It doesn't take long for the taxi to pull up outside of Roman's apartment. I hand him some money from my purse and grab my bag, then hobble to the elevator. I lean against the railing, taking as much weight off my feet as I can.
I've been practicing religiously. I'm so dedicated to getting this scholarship, I'll do anything I can. If that means a bleeding and bruised body, well, I say it's worth it.
I pull the key out of my purse, unlocking the door and seeing the apartment empty. Roman is busy at work a lot. The population in New York makes for a lot of after-hours emergency phone calls. He doesn't really have a schedule either. If he gets a call, he has to go right away. Doesn't matter the day or the hour.
He seems tired a lot, the long, unstable schedule seeming to get the best of him. But there's also a confidence in him, like doing something that helps people brings him a satisfaction that playing music didn't.
Music will always be a part of him, I think. He still has his guitar, tucked away in his closet. I have yet to see him take it out, but I will get him to. Someday. I don't think he's ready yet, but it will happen. I’ll make sure of it.
I drop my bag just inside the door and walk straight to the bathroom, stripping my clothes off on the way. Bending down, I put the stopper in the drain and turn the knob all the way to hot. I grab the two bottles from the side of the top, pouring a generous amount of bubbles and lavender into the water.
I wait until it's filled to the brim, and push the clear knob in, turning the water off. Dipping my toes in first, I hiss through my teeth when the soap seeps beneath my cuts, causing an intense burn on my foot. I bite on my lip, pressing my hand against the cool tile on the wall as I step the rest of the way in, sinking into the hot water until my butt hits the ground.
Then I breathe.
The water hits the top of my chest, lapping at my neck in small waves. I close my eyes, leaning the back of my head against the back of the tub. My muscles loosen by the second, crying out in relief from rest.
I don't know how much time has passed. I think I've even fallen asleep, but the front door unlocking has my eyes cracking open. A sheen of sweat covers my skin. I wipe the top of my lip, the footsteps coming toward me warming my skin even more.
Roman.
He's so much more than I ever imagined him to be. My heart has always beat with his. We've always been in sync, from the moment we met it's never been a question. But over time, our love, our need for each other has only grown stronger. Being an adult now, it's unlike anything I could ever imagine. Our love didn't fade from our time apart. His love has ingrained itself deeper within me. He can read my every emotion just as I can read his.
What we have is so much more than love. It's so much deeper. It's almost painful, how much we love each other. There isn't anything like it. I don't think anyone in the history of the universe has experienced our type of love. We're one in a million, him and I.
"Luna?" His voice rasps, his footsteps growing closer.
I lift my head up, leaning to the side as I grab a bar of soap. "In here."
The door creaks open, and there he stands. He looks so sure, so certain. My neck tilts up to look at him. He's tall, well over six feet. His hair has alternated over the years from long to short. Now it sits mid-length. A little long, a little messy, so Roman.
Since he's become a firefighter, there's a build in him that he's never had before. A definition in his chest and arms that's grown over the months. He's always been strong, able to lift me like I weigh nothing, but it's so much more now. Everything about him is just… So. Much. More.
"How was practice?" he asks, walking into the bathroom. He lowers the toilet lid, taking a seat on top of it.
I left my leg, showing him my sudsy foot. It's covered in bubbles, but my toes poke through, bruised, faded with bloody wounds.
He frowns, kneeling down on the ground so he can take a better look. He grabs my foot, his fingers digging into my skin as he pulls it closer to him. "Luna," he winces, "This looks terrible."
"It doesn't feel much better," I mumble.
His finger presses on the cracked toenail, the blackish purple turning a sickly shade of white. "This can fall right off." He turns his head toward me, worry and sadness on his face.
I shake my head. "I'm just going to tape it."
He sighs, settling my foot back into the water. Grabbing the bar of soap, he lathers it in his hand and starts running it along my leg. "I don't like that you're getting injured like this. You're pushing yourself too hard."
I lean up, my wet fingers going to the back of his hair. "It's only temporary. I just need to get through the audition in a few months. Whether I get in or not, it won't be this bad afterward."
"You'll get in," he says with such certainty. Like there is nothing he’s more sure of in this world.
"I don't know." I frown. "Sometimes I wonder if it's too late. If I'm getting too old for this." I don't know why I'm telling him now, after I've been keeping it inside, but it's like the moment he's around, all my insecurities, all my worries, just bleed out of me.
He rubs the soap down my shins, along the soles of my aching feet. He spends extra time there, massaging the curve of my foot, the pads of his fingers pressing roughly. I let out a small moan.
"Anyone would be a fucking idiot to not give you a scholarship. Not only are you talented as hell, but your dedication to proving it to them says so damn much. I don't think I could ever try this hard or work as hard as you have just to prove them, and yourself, wrong."
I shrug, watching his hands as he moves to my other foot. "I don't know. I guess I just don't have as much hope as I used to. Dancing used to be so easy, no pain, nothing at all. It was effortless. Now I feel like there is a difficulty in my dancing. There's a pain." I shake my head. "Maybe I'm being stupid."
