Funny. I always avoided songfics, and yet here I am writing one of my own. Song fic I wrote a while ago to Josh Groban's So She Dances, back during that phase when I kept listening to it over and over.

Again, it's meant to be Fakir and Ahiru (Gasp! Shock! ...not), but eh. I guess you can imagine it being someone else if you like, since I haven't used any names.

Inspired by a video of the same name (but a very different plotline), to the same song, by the1koolkitty on YouTube, which I'm sure you can find yourself if you want to see it, since I'm too lazy.

The song So She Dances belongs to Josh Groban, and Princess Tutu belongs to Itoh Ikuko. I am neither person. All I own is the story.

A waltz when she walks in the room
She pulls back the hair from her face
She turns to the window to sway in the moonlight
Even her shadow has grace

He was there again, hidden in the shadows, watching as she walked silently into the practise room, pulling back her hair. She glanced out at the pale moon as she began to dance in its soft light. She danced differently to how she danced during the day. Every movement she made was full of a soft grace that was so her and yet… so unlike her at the same time, and so indescribably beautiful, bathed in the silver moonlight, that it made his breath catch.

A waltz for the girl out of reach
She lifts her hands up to the sky
She moves with the music
The song is her lover

The melody's making her cry

She danced, so close, and yet out of his reach. He loved her, he knew, but why would she ever love someone like him? Besides, she deserved someone better than him. The thought made his chest ache, and he watched as she lifted her arms, reaching for someone that wasn't there. She spun, following a melody that only she could hear, and not for the first time he was struck by the idea that she was dancing a pas de deux with a partner that wasn't there. Her eyes shut and he saw the glimmering tears slide down her soft cheek. His heart clenched at the sight of them, wishing that he could hold her and take away the pain.

So she dances
In and out of the crowd like a glance
This romance is
From afar calling me silently

He had never told her that he knew that she came here every night to dance. He knew that this probably amounted to stalking her, but he couldn't bear to lose these silent moments. He'd seen her the first week they returned to school, as he sat in his window, unable to sleep. His gaze had been drawn to a dark shadow as it crossed the courtyard, and had recognised it immediately. With a gasp he had fled the room, the door banging shut behind him and waking his roommate. He had followed her to the practise room, seen through the crack in the door as she began to dance, and it had been almost ethereal, so wonderful that he wondered if it was all just a dream.

He never knew how it came to be that he started to sneak into the practise room every night before her just so that he could watch her dance.

A waltz for the chance I should take
But how will I know where to start?
She's spinning between constellations and dreams
Her rhythm is my beating heart

She turns, for a moment her eyes rest on him and he wonders if she has seen him, waits for the anger, but her eyes slide off of him and he is torn between relief and disappointment, wondering for the first time if he should tell her that he knows. He has no idea how to even begin, though, and he wistfully watches her pirouette, knowing that she is somehow living out her dreams through this secret dance and for a moment he whimsically thinks that she should be dancing amongst the stars, for she shines with a light that outdoes them all, and as he faintly sees a pair of luminescent white wings on her back his heart pounds so loudly that he is sure that she should be able to hear it, and he realises that her steps are perfectly in time with the beats, almost as if she could hear it, and she was dancing to its rhythm.

So she dances
In and down off the ground like a glance
This romance is
From afar calling me silently

She's still dancing, her steps soft, lowering herself to her knees, and finally to the ground, like the dying swan, then back up in a smooth movement, reaching out again for her invisible partner and something tugs at his heart, calling to him. He can see every opening in her dance where a partner should be standing beside her, instinctively sees the steps that would complete the Pas de Deux and he longs to take her hand and slide smoothly into her dance, as if he belongs there beside her. But she doesn't love him, and she deserves better than him.

I can't keep on watching forever
I'd give up this view just to tell her

Her dance for the night finishes, and as she turns and leaves he slides to the ground, his back against the wall, his forehead meeting his drawn-up knees. He can't keep watching her secretly like this. The longer he keeps it up, the worse it will be when she inevitably finds out – whether by seeing him, realizing on her own or being told by his roommate, who is already suspicious of why he goes out so late every night. He knows that she has noticed the dark shadows under his eyes from where he sleeps little, and he wonders how long he can keep pretending that he merely sleeps badly. Part of him wants to tell her that he knows of her dances, wishes to tell her that he loves her.

When I close my eyes I can see
The spotlights are bright on you and me
We've got the floor
And you're in my arms
How could I ask for more?

When he finally sleeps that night, he dreams. Spotlights shine brightly upon them as he takes her hand, their clothing and the stage familiar. He leads her through a dance that he remembers well, his gaze tender. It's the first Pas de Deux they danced together, but this time it is danced as it should have been danced – with love. He supports he gently, carefully this time. There are eyes on them, but they don't notice. She's light and warm in his arms, and just for a moment he entertains the thought of bending to kiss her.

He wakes, feeling more refreshed than he has in a long time, and smiles softly as he gets up, the gentle look startling his roommate.

So she dances
In and down off the ground like a glance
This romance is
From afar calling me silently

He's there again that night, watching her dance the steps that he now knows like he knows the pattern of old scars on his body, watching the steps that her nonexistent partner dances, steps that he knows like he knows the pattern of the freckles on her nose. As she lifts herself from the ground again, her hand seems to reach right for him, and as her eyes close he finds his own hand reaching for her outstretched fingers in response.

I can't keep on watching forever
And I'm giving up this view just to tell her…

His hand finds hers and her eyes open. She smiles softly at him as he slides into the dance beside her, as if he was meant to be there. They dance to a melody only they can hear, to the synchronised rhythm of their beating hearts. He's given up being able to watch her, but he doesn't mind because dancing with her is far better, and he knows now that the partner she danced with was always him, that the opening in her dance was always for him, and that he doesn't need to tell her anything, because she knows, and he knows, and maybe she deserves better, but she wants him, and that's all that matters.

And he still slips out of his dorm at night, but now he meets up with her and they dance together, lit by the silver moonlight and the twinkling stars, night and day dancing side-by-side as one, and they dance a dance that is uniquely him and uniquely her and uniquely them all at once – and though he never says anything, he can see white wings on her back in the moonlight as he dips her and they shed shining feathers into the air as he lifts her, and as he spins her he can faintly see a halo.

-stare-

Oh look. A pit trap.