Chapter 30

"What's up, D?" I can see something is seriously wrong from the look on Darcy's face.

Claire hadn't been very forthcoming when she appeared at our seats a couple of minutes ago and said Darcy needed me. She looked grave, and I asked her if Darcy was ill or there had been an accident, but she wouldn't tell me anything, which did nothing to quell the disquiet that roiled in my stomach. She managed to get me backstage and pointed to where I'd find him, saying she had work to do before leaving me to make my own way.

"There's no time to explain now, but do you still want to dance?" he asks quickly.

Of all the things I was expecting, it definitely wasn't that, and it knocks me sideways.

"What? Why?" I scramble to work out what's going on.

"No time. Yes or no?" Darcy says again.

"I—" Was he really asking me this? I've given up on that dream and I struggle now to get my head round the shape of it remanifesting. At my stumbling, his already serious face starts settling into a hurt frown. Did he think I would refuse? It's more the impossibility of the question that has me tongue-tied. But if I believe the question, then there's only one answer. "Of course I do."

He gives me a dazzling smile before his mask is back on and he grabs my arm to pull me along to the dressing rooms.

"But I can't wear jeans," I protest, suddenly aware that this is real, and I don't have the right clothes.

We enter the dressing room, and he leads me over to his stuff.

"Well, I might have been distracted after the regionals." He doesn't need to remind me of that day. "And forgot to take your suit out of the garment bag."

I look at the suit bag hanging up and smile. Never has his untidiness been so welcome, but I had a thought. "My Latin stuff?"

"Also there." He looks a tiny bit sheepish, and it's the first crack I can see in his armour, but it fades again. I start changing into the formal suit first as the traditional dances are danced before the Latin American ones.

Darcy sinks onto the dressing room bench as I strip off my jeans and pull on the loose black trousers. He's worrying the side of his nail with his teeth and doesn't say anything as I pull my T-shirt and hoodie off in one, pulling on my shirt and jacket.

"Can you tell me what's going on?" I ask. When he looks up at me, his usually bright green eyes are dull and bleak. It breaks my heart to see him, on what should be an exciting day—one he's been training for, for most of his life—looking like he's barely holding it together. I'm finally ready and he stands.

"I can't. If I do, I'll break."

Well, shit.

I have no idea what could be so bad, for him to be like this. Maybe dancing isn't such a good idea, but I know pushing him to talk isn't either.

"Okay, but if you'd rather not dance?—"

"No." His voice is vehement, and I pull back slightly. He notices and lets out a sigh. "Please, I have to do this. I need to do this."

"Alright." I draw him into a hug because I need to connect with him, to hold him. He relaxes slightly and hugs me back. "Promise me you'll tell me all afterwards?" I say into his hair, and feel him nod in response.

Competitions always start with the waltz, which I'm grateful for today. The close hold and the beautiful sweeping movements are a good way for Darcy to relax and, I hope, enjoy himself, despite whatever's happened. I haven't had the time to get excited or nervous in the short time since Darcy asked me to dance, but the enormity of it sinks in when we both step onto the dance floor, hand in hand. The first same-sex couple at this level of competition.

We both hear a collective noise from the crowd, half gasp, half surprise. We walk to our starting positions, followed by a whoop, which I'm more than sure came from the direction of where my family and their friends are sitting. Barry is no doubt the caller. I can't quite believe I'm here. That we're here—together. And there is nowhere I'd rather be. I squeeze Darcy's hand and he squeezes back. In the brief second we have while waiting for the music to start, I whisper, "I love you."

It doesn't start perfectly, as we haven't practised these dances together for a few weeks, but soon we slip into the familiarity of it and Darcy loses some of the tension he's holding. Even though he's leading, I do my best to support him as we glide round the dance floor, elegantly avoiding the other dancers. As the music ends, we part the hold and take collective bows to the audience, receiving a huge cheer. I guess we've attracted some attention. Darcy's smile is dazzling, and whilst it soon fades and the burden of what he's carrying slips over his face again, his eyes don't look quite as dull as they did previously.

We have a few minutes to catch our breath, while the juniors are on the floor for their first dance. Then we're back out on the floor for the tango. It's one of my favourites, and I know Darcy feels the same, confessing to me that one day he'd like to go to Buenos Aires to dance the Argentine tango in the clubs there. The ballroom version isn't quite so risqué, but it's still sensuous and I put everything I have into it, thrilled that Darcy responds. For a few seconds, I almost forget that we're in the middle of a major competition, and feel like we're back in the studio; it's just us. Again, we're greeted with cheers and whoops as we finish, and this time, Darcy's smile stays longer and doesn't fade as much.

We dance our way through the quiet beauty of the foxtrot, the whirling excitement of the Viennese waltz, and the intricate steps, flicks, and hops of the quickstep. At the end of each one, I feel the excitement of what we're doing building, and even Darcy is looking relaxed and happier. There is an interval where we have time to rest and change into our clothes for the Latin American dances.

When we're back in the dressing room, I keep the conversation light, not wanting Darcy to sink back into his head again. Claire finds us there.

"You guys certainly have the popular vote," she says as she breezes into the room, not caring if anyone was half-dressed or not. "I've been monitoring social media and you're trending."

"As a novelty, no doubt," Darcy huffs from his seat on the bench.

"Don't put yourself down bro," she says. "I think there's a huge number of people who've been waiting for something like this to happen in this sport."

Then she drops her next bit of news. "They've just announced the results from the first half. You're lying third right now." Darcy looks as surprised as I am. I hadn't expected anything close to being placed.

"I guess we can't disappoint them, then." Darcy stands with a bit more of the spirit and professionalism that have been his trademarks for getting to the top levels of competition.

Claire hugs him, and I hear her say, "So proud of you for going out there. Have you told Nick yet?"

I can see his frown form as he replies with, "Not yet."

She releases him and gives me a small, sad smile. I'm burning with curiosity to know what's happened, but I know now is not the time. I push down the worry I feel and concentrate on what we need to do next. It doesn't occur to me until we're walking back to the main hall for the second half that I haven't seen Darcy's parents at all.

The starting dance, the cha-cha-cha, is perfect for us to loosen up and get back into the right mindset for the competition. The following hour passes in a whirlwind. We dance our way through the energetic samba. The rumba is not called the dance of love for nothing, and I add in all the sensual hip sways I can to show it. As we near the end, I see the question in Darcy's eyes and nod my response. The rumba drop is dramatic, and while we've practised it, we haven't included it in our routine as it can go badly wrong. Darcy would be completely holding me with one arm—and I'm not light—while I'm draped backwards over it with one leg in the air and my fingertips grazing the floor. He changes the planned moves slightly to set it up and we go for it.

It's exhilarating, and I catch an upside down glimpse of the audience as they go wild. Darcy doesn't let me fall and, at that moment, doing the thing I love the most, with Darcy, I feel so full of love that I know we can conquer anything together. He pulls me out of it and the elation on his face mirrors mine.

The penultimate dance is the paso doble, a dramatic dance which requires a perfect strong posture from Darcy and flexibility from me. Whilst I love it, it's always the one I worry about the most, dancing as an all guy couple, as the sweeping dress of the ladies is a good visual aspect for the dance. I do everything I can to show fluidity even when on the floor as part of one of the most expressive moves.

There's a slightly longer break before the final dance and we grab a drink of water. It's the last dance of the senior age group competition. Darcy leans forward, resting his arms on the barriers circling the dance floor. I place my hand on his lower back and give it a slight rub as I lean forward and whisper, "That'll be us at that age."

He grins back at me and my heart catches at how he seems so much more cheerful than he did earlier. "What, creaking around the dance floor?" He straightens and turns to face me, the mirth dancing in his eyes. "I'll probably have two new hips by then."

"True, and I'll be needing new knees." I snort slightly and he smiles.

"Thank you," he says. Two simple words, but his eyes are loaded with the weight of what he's carrying right now. He looks so vulnerable, and there's nothing I'd like more than to press a soft kiss to his lips and whisper against his mouth that I'm always here for him. But this is a very public place, so instead, I interlace our fingers and lift our hands to kiss his knuckles.

My hand is still threaded with his when we walk onto the dance floor for the last time. We take our places for the jive, and Darcy looks around the grand hall as if he's only just realised all the people are out there. He finally looks as if he's enjoying the experience.

"Let's do this," he says as the music starts up. The jive is a lively and exuberant dance, and I'm glad they leave it until the end as we chassé and spin our way through it. As the last notes of the music die away, we're both left breathless. We both take a bow and are greeted with a crescendo of cheers and whistles. I look over to where my parents and their friends are seated and see them on their feet along with half the audience. I wonder if we've done enough.

We sit and wait, close to the dance floor, as the judges tally up the final results. Darcy is leaning with his elbows on his knees, worrying his thumb again. I lay my arm across his back and idly caress his hip. He leans into my touch as if he takes comfort from it, and I continue it for the long moments until we're finally called up onto the stage with the rest of the dancers.

We're called in second, to a huge cheer, and I almost feel sorry for the couple who did win it. They danced brilliantly, and it was well deserved. That we had been placed so highly is pretty amazing, and I can barely contain my happiness. I look over at Darcy with a stab of concern as I know how much winning meant to him, but joy is written all over his face.