Mike & Rachel (Micehel? Rike?) Thread #1
Mike was having a great year. A great year. He'd just gotten back from Hong Kong - he loved Hong Kong even more then he loved New York - and the tour had really been awesome. Awesome, truly. Like he had always imagined it being. They took dance more seriously out there, Mike thought, that was the only explanation for it. It wasn't exactly “thousands of screaming fans” rock'n'roll level, but in the U.S. - at least, everywhere in the U.S. but New York - you were either doing classical ballet in front of hundreds of bored society wives who saw it as a status symbol, or you were performing for an even smaller niche audience. In the U.S., you danced and people applauded. In Hong Kong, you danced and they CHEERED. It had been, without a doubt, one of the best experiences of his life, and he was itching to go back. Itching.
But now he was back in New York, and happy to be there no matter how much he missed Hong Kong. He had a lot of friends there. Not the friends from high school that had moved there the same time as him - Mike's decision to skip college for a brief professional training program had created a distance between him and them, and they'd largely lost touch - but plenty of friends, nonetheless.
He was at a Brooklyn bar, celebrating his return with some of those friends, when he saw a familiar curtain of chestnut hair. He was pretty certain he knew who she was, and he was grinning already as he walked towards her. He didn't want to grab her shoulder or anything - he could still be wrong that it was her he saw, and anyway even if it was her, who appreciated surprise touching in bars? - so he called out her name.
“Rachel?”
But now he was back in New York, and happy to be there no matter how much he missed Hong Kong. He had a lot of friends there. Not the friends from high school that had moved there the same time as him - Mike's decision to skip college for a brief professional training program had created a distance between him and them, and they'd largely lost touch - but plenty of friends, nonetheless.
He was at a Brooklyn bar, celebrating his return with some of those friends, when he saw a familiar curtain of chestnut hair. He was pretty certain he knew who she was, and he was grinning already as he walked towards her. He didn't want to grab her shoulder or anything - he could still be wrong that it was her he saw, and anyway even if it was her, who appreciated surprise touching in bars? - so he called out her name.
“Rachel?”