**I was 12 years old when I quit the sport which, for 7 years before, had been my passion, my lifeline, my everything. That was 4 years ago now, and not a day has passed where I have not felt overwhelming regret. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have let them win? Over time the regret turned into anger, and anger is what consumed me. Now, however, I was determined. Determined to train hard alongside college and ballet classes. Determined to be accepted into The Royal Ballet School. Determined to make my childhood dream come true and prove everybody wrong. Show those who laughed at me that I am more than what they think I am. That I am, indeed, capable of great things and that I will achieve success.**

My baby brothers’ screaming snapped me out of my dream like trance, and brought me back to the real world. A world where, although I had these regrets, I had no time nor space to train. No space to practice turns and leaps. No money to buy ballet shoes or to afford classes, and certainly not to pay tuition and boarding fees at The Royal Ballet School.

**They’d all laugh at you anyway. Look at yourself. A gay, transgender male. You’d be the biggest joke they’d ever seen.**

Slipping back into my thoughts, I felt an incredible pressure placed upon my shoulders. It’s true. Why would o think I could be a dancer? And a professional one? Truly and utterly ridiculous.

(Time skip: 3 hours later.)

With my chores finally done, I grabbed my bag, opened the front door, locked it behind me and ran. I’d done this countless times so I already knew exactly where to go without even having to think about it. After 15 minutes of running I’d arrived at my safe haven, the only place I could dance without being judged or found, the forest. Feeling warmed up after my run, I did some simple stretches and turned on my music. ‘Let It Burn’ by Citizen Soldier began to play and instantly my body began to move, the choreography engrained into my brain.

(Time skip: 30 minutes.)

Finishing my 7th routine I paused. *Snap* A twig snapped behind me and I spun around to see a boy, a couple years older than me, looking at me. He looked like a deer in headlights, his cheeks flushed with obvious embarrassment of being caught watching me. Nervously, I spoke. “Who are you?” I asked him, unsure if I’d get a response. To m surprise, I did. “I-I um I’m Bear. I’m s-so sorry for uh disturbing you.” He stuttered, shifting his gaze to the broken twig in front him. “Noah.” I said simply. “Hmm?” “My n-name. I’m Noah.” Now I was the one stuttering. I took a moment to take a look at the man who stood before me. He had to be at least 6 foot 4, muscular but not extremely, ruffled caramel brown hair and stunning green eyes. I stood before him, 5 foot 7, hair dyed baby blue with dull grey eyes. He looked up at me, although he was having to look down to be looking at my face and not the trees behind me. “Care to dance?” He asked, a smirked placed upon his gorgeous face. “S-sure.” I stammered, nervously excited.

(Time skip: 2 years later.)

Since that day in the forest, Bear and I have been inseparable. He turned out to be an amazing dancer and we now dance professionally and as partners. We were both accepted into The Royal Ballet School and are two of the most well known dancers in the UK, and the most well known ballet couple consisting of two guys internationally. I’ve never been happier and now, I believe in fairytales and happily ever afters, as cringe-y as that is.