December Drabbles #13 - call and i'll answer (Black Swan, Nina/Lily, PG-13)
December Drabbles #13 - call and i'll answer
Black Swan, Lily/Nina, "Getting lost in you again/Is better than being numb" (Foo Fighters, M.I.A.)
Prompt by me, word count 530
Post Film. That means spoilers. Major spoilers. Do not read unless you have seen the movie. Please.
And yes. I am writing another Black Swan piece. I cannot get this movie out of my head. Which is a good thing, I think.
Lincoln Center looms the next morning. Thomas is devastated, of course. His little princess. How could such a thing--
Nina's dressing room is blocked off. No one will be using it tonight.
They don't ask after Lily when she is late for dress rehearsal. Her first full run-through in both parts. The first twenty minutes she presses her white-painted face against her arm and dry heaves over the toilet. When she finally waltzes in, her body looser than she feels, Thomas bares his teeth in an attempt at a smile and tells her to warm up. They have been waiting.
--
Nothing is right. She is copying Nina's performance without meaning to, tucking away the left over heat of San Francisco, embracing the cold wind of the New York winter. But even while winding up whatever mechanical parts she might have inside of her, she finds ways to play around the edges, and with every turn she catches Thomas's frown. She cannot go on like this. Not after last night.
--
She celebrated her first night in New York by buying an ungodly collection of scarves. Times Square was everything the movies show and more, the drugs kicking the lights and sound into another sensory plane. There was a kind of energy in this blue, homespun alpaca sold by a street vendor. She fucked a guy in the back of a club.
Her first morning was a haze of subway maps and cigarettes, standing in the doorway of her Harlem apartment and realizing it wasn't nearly as quaint as it looked in the craigslist ad.
--
Lily thinks about what Nina said, before, about them going home together. About what she didn't say, about the fantasy. About the sex.
She thinks about all the things she knew about Nina--the way she moved, smooth, every step measured, counted. The rough look on her face when she lost control. The feel of her body, moving.
She changes for the black swan, wiping off the face cream and staring herself down in the mirror. What does she know about Nina now?
--
A collective gasp went up, but she didn't move. She held her pose, unable to see past the glaring lights. The show was over. Opening night, a success. Nina would have to spend the rest of her life living up to this performance. It was almost a shame, Lily thought, but she deserved it.
--
She swallows, ranking today among her worst decisions. Everyone has gone home for the few hours of rest they'll be able to claim before tonight's show, everyone but her. She strips down in Nina's dressing room and waits for the pill to kick in.
A few hours, tops, and she'll be fine. The stage will bow down for her, the audience will coo.
She waits and she itches at too-tight skin, shivering naked until goose-flesh appears.
A wave through her body, and then another. She touches the mirror. She doesn't deserve this. But, tonight, she will dance. Thomas will call her princess, and she will fight the urge to spit at his feet. She will be the white swan and smile. She will be the black swan in his bed. She will think of Nina.
--
She lays in the spot where Nina did and imagines it is still warm.
Black Swan, Lily/Nina, "Getting lost in you again/Is better than being numb" (Foo Fighters, M.I.A.)
Prompt by me, word count 530
Post Film. That means spoilers. Major spoilers. Do not read unless you have seen the movie. Please.
And yes. I am writing another Black Swan piece. I cannot get this movie out of my head. Which is a good thing, I think.
Lincoln Center looms the next morning. Thomas is devastated, of course. His little princess. How could such a thing--
Nina's dressing room is blocked off. No one will be using it tonight.
They don't ask after Lily when she is late for dress rehearsal. Her first full run-through in both parts. The first twenty minutes she presses her white-painted face against her arm and dry heaves over the toilet. When she finally waltzes in, her body looser than she feels, Thomas bares his teeth in an attempt at a smile and tells her to warm up. They have been waiting.
--
Nothing is right. She is copying Nina's performance without meaning to, tucking away the left over heat of San Francisco, embracing the cold wind of the New York winter. But even while winding up whatever mechanical parts she might have inside of her, she finds ways to play around the edges, and with every turn she catches Thomas's frown. She cannot go on like this. Not after last night.
--
She celebrated her first night in New York by buying an ungodly collection of scarves. Times Square was everything the movies show and more, the drugs kicking the lights and sound into another sensory plane. There was a kind of energy in this blue, homespun alpaca sold by a street vendor. She fucked a guy in the back of a club.
Her first morning was a haze of subway maps and cigarettes, standing in the doorway of her Harlem apartment and realizing it wasn't nearly as quaint as it looked in the craigslist ad.
--
Lily thinks about what Nina said, before, about them going home together. About what she didn't say, about the fantasy. About the sex.
She thinks about all the things she knew about Nina--the way she moved, smooth, every step measured, counted. The rough look on her face when she lost control. The feel of her body, moving.
She changes for the black swan, wiping off the face cream and staring herself down in the mirror. What does she know about Nina now?
--
A collective gasp went up, but she didn't move. She held her pose, unable to see past the glaring lights. The show was over. Opening night, a success. Nina would have to spend the rest of her life living up to this performance. It was almost a shame, Lily thought, but she deserved it.
--
She swallows, ranking today among her worst decisions. Everyone has gone home for the few hours of rest they'll be able to claim before tonight's show, everyone but her. She strips down in Nina's dressing room and waits for the pill to kick in.
A few hours, tops, and she'll be fine. The stage will bow down for her, the audience will coo.
She waits and she itches at too-tight skin, shivering naked until goose-flesh appears.
A wave through her body, and then another. She touches the mirror. She doesn't deserve this. But, tonight, she will dance. Thomas will call her princess, and she will fight the urge to spit at his feet. She will be the white swan and smile. She will be the black swan in his bed. She will think of Nina.
--
She lays in the spot where Nina did and imagines it is still warm.