This was something that popped into my head when I was surfing through headcanons people had. I like it. Forgive me if the dance terms are off, I don't do ballet.

Disclaimer: I doubt it.

Arms in. Graceful 'X' forming over the chest.

Stop spotting. Closed eyes. Head leaning back.

Bring leg into passe. Bring it down to coupe.

Step out of the pirouette. Port de bras with a releve.

Plie then fondu. Raise a leg into an extension. Demi-plie into de cote.

Memories flashed before his eyes. Death, destruction, cold. No. he pushed the memories away with a flying leap.

The memories don't leave.

No, the will. He pools energy into his arms and legs, furiously going through every jump he can think of. Every spin and every trick he can do. Rapid procession from one move to the next, never stopping and never thinking what he will do next.

The dance is not choreographed. He makes it up on the go, expressing the pain of his memories through the bends and lines of his body.

With one final grand battement, he throws himself into a rugged cambre and holds it for ten seconds before he allows himself come out of the trance. His memories have been pushed away - for now.

He looks at himself in the mirror as he wipes sweat off his face. He looks human. He looks normal, like a ballet student who needed to get away from life for a few minutes. He smiles at his reflection.

He exits the dance studio with delicate and light steps that contradict his large size. He just misses the group of students discussing his dance.

"Did you seehim?" "It was like watching a god." "Definitely inhuman. How can a man move like that?" "Anyone know who he was?" "He was cute." "I think his name is Ivan, I heard one of the teachers talking to him once." "What were they talking about?" "Is he a teacher? A professional?" "No, I don't think so." "He should be." "I want him to teach us sometime; imagine! If we could move like hedoes!"