(no subject)
Author: Chhhachie
Title: Beautiful Torture
Rating: PG
Pairing: Mark/Sabrina
Summary: A very short look at the emotional experience of Sabrina's last dance on the tour.
Comments: I wrote this in 47 minutes. It's pretty short, but hopefully sweet. And hopefully I get across what I meant to get across : )
Disclaimer: Don't own anything but my own imagination.
It was horrible. It was cruel and unusual punishment. It was the worst torture possible. Her throat felt constricted, her eyes were moist, and her body was shaking. It was one of the worst nights of her life.
And it was one of the best.
As she gazed out into the ocean of people, all screaming at the top of their lungs, she felt a little piece of her heart expand. She was loved, and she was going to do everything she could to make sure they knew she loved them back. The music started, and she felt all of the other dancers brush past her at full speed.
A warm hand slipped into hers, and she was jolted out of her daydream. She looked up, startled. It was Mark. His pair of twinkling eyes connected with hers.
It was always Mark.
His gently tug on her hand was all she needed to take a deep breath and steel her nerves for her final performance on the tour. Just thinking of the words ‘final performance’ almost made the tears that had been threatening to pour out come full force, but she caught Derek’s eye as they took their places and his slight nod was all she needed. It was the nod that told her she didn’t have enough time right now.
She didn’t have enough time to think about how much each person on the tour meant to her. She didn’t have enough time to remember to thank Derek for taking Mark’s place. She didn’t have enough time to give Cheryl an enormous bear hug. And she definitely didn’t have enough time to ask Wayne Newton for his autograph, even though she secretly wanted one.
She only had time to dance. She only had time to perform one last time.
As she literally jumped into the routine, her world became a blaze of color, lights, and screams. She couldn’t make out a single face in the audience, but she could feel their excitement. Even though the audience was shielded from her vision, she could see Mark clearly.
After all the time they had spent dreading this night, she was surprised by how he was dancing. They had both agreed they might be emotional wrecks in the finale, yet Mark seemed unaffected. As she got a closer look at his face as she pushed him toward the middle of the stage, she realized he wasn’t quite as calm as he appeared. His eyes lacked that little sparkle he always held for her during their dances and his lips held a sad smile as she gazed at him. It was obvious he was feeling just as she did, only he was better at covering it up.
He was singing along to the song, in an attempt to shield them both from the pain and reality. And she would be forever grateful.
The number came to an end, as she threw her head back, not worrying about falling. Mark was there.
Mark was always there.
The music ended, and yet she stayed a few moments longer in her final pose. She quietly wondered if it was possible to cry while hanging upside down. She pushed the absurd thought from her mind as she felt Mark pull her up. If she couldn’t cry upside down, she was definitely going to make up for it by crying right side up.
As he looked around the stage, trying, yet horribly failing to avoid eye contact with her, she quickly lunged at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, and pressing her lips to the corner of his mouth. He turned quickly, capturing her mouth in a short, yet passionate kiss. As they separated, the moment was ruined by four or five dancers approaching them and creating a protective huddle around them.
And then she was being pulled out of the group, and then the torture started again. The encore and the bows.
Except this time, it didn’t seem like a punishment. Mark was gazing at her, with a look she could only describe as pride. She knew they had succeeded in doing what they had come to do. They had avenged their early exit from the show with the stellar dancing they had been producing on the tour.
She felt her old smile come back to her face, replacing the fake one she had plastered on moments before taking the stage. She could tell Mark’s was genuine as well. He was back to goofing off on stage, doing anything he could to lessen the tension. And she knew all the effort he was putting into it was not only for the audience, but for her as well.
But could anyone really expect any less? He was a first class performer, really.
Her first class performer.
Title: Beautiful Torture
Rating: PG
Pairing: Mark/Sabrina
Summary: A very short look at the emotional experience of Sabrina's last dance on the tour.
Comments: I wrote this in 47 minutes. It's pretty short, but hopefully sweet. And hopefully I get across what I meant to get across : )
Disclaimer: Don't own anything but my own imagination.
It was horrible. It was cruel and unusual punishment. It was the worst torture possible. Her throat felt constricted, her eyes were moist, and her body was shaking. It was one of the worst nights of her life.
And it was one of the best.
As she gazed out into the ocean of people, all screaming at the top of their lungs, she felt a little piece of her heart expand. She was loved, and she was going to do everything she could to make sure they knew she loved them back. The music started, and she felt all of the other dancers brush past her at full speed.
A warm hand slipped into hers, and she was jolted out of her daydream. She looked up, startled. It was Mark. His pair of twinkling eyes connected with hers.
It was always Mark.
His gently tug on her hand was all she needed to take a deep breath and steel her nerves for her final performance on the tour. Just thinking of the words ‘final performance’ almost made the tears that had been threatening to pour out come full force, but she caught Derek’s eye as they took their places and his slight nod was all she needed. It was the nod that told her she didn’t have enough time right now.
She didn’t have enough time to think about how much each person on the tour meant to her. She didn’t have enough time to remember to thank Derek for taking Mark’s place. She didn’t have enough time to give Cheryl an enormous bear hug. And she definitely didn’t have enough time to ask Wayne Newton for his autograph, even though she secretly wanted one.
She only had time to dance. She only had time to perform one last time.
As she literally jumped into the routine, her world became a blaze of color, lights, and screams. She couldn’t make out a single face in the audience, but she could feel their excitement. Even though the audience was shielded from her vision, she could see Mark clearly.
After all the time they had spent dreading this night, she was surprised by how he was dancing. They had both agreed they might be emotional wrecks in the finale, yet Mark seemed unaffected. As she got a closer look at his face as she pushed him toward the middle of the stage, she realized he wasn’t quite as calm as he appeared. His eyes lacked that little sparkle he always held for her during their dances and his lips held a sad smile as she gazed at him. It was obvious he was feeling just as she did, only he was better at covering it up.
He was singing along to the song, in an attempt to shield them both from the pain and reality. And she would be forever grateful.
The number came to an end, as she threw her head back, not worrying about falling. Mark was there.
Mark was always there.
The music ended, and yet she stayed a few moments longer in her final pose. She quietly wondered if it was possible to cry while hanging upside down. She pushed the absurd thought from her mind as she felt Mark pull her up. If she couldn’t cry upside down, she was definitely going to make up for it by crying right side up.
As he looked around the stage, trying, yet horribly failing to avoid eye contact with her, she quickly lunged at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, and pressing her lips to the corner of his mouth. He turned quickly, capturing her mouth in a short, yet passionate kiss. As they separated, the moment was ruined by four or five dancers approaching them and creating a protective huddle around them.
And then she was being pulled out of the group, and then the torture started again. The encore and the bows.
Except this time, it didn’t seem like a punishment. Mark was gazing at her, with a look she could only describe as pride. She knew they had succeeded in doing what they had come to do. They had avenged their early exit from the show with the stellar dancing they had been producing on the tour.
She felt her old smile come back to her face, replacing the fake one she had plastered on moments before taking the stage. She could tell Mark’s was genuine as well. He was back to goofing off on stage, doing anything he could to lessen the tension. And she knew all the effort he was putting into it was not only for the audience, but for her as well.
But could anyone really expect any less? He was a first class performer, really.
Her first class performer.