FranceXReader: Grace and Poise

Scattered and rolling everywhere—that's how your pens sounded like when your case fell on the floor.

"Sorry, ma'am," you shyly whispered, beginning to turn red after your silence-breaking I-bumped-my-pencil-case-again moment.

Your teacher, being the calm and kind woman that she was, just sighed and smiled at you, "__________, be careful. This is the fourth time you disturbed the whole class."

You nodded, unable to think of anything more to say. You moved out of your chair and started picking up your scattered things, feeling so embarrassed and totally stupid. Your classmates were watching you, giggling and whispering at your back.

You can laugh all you want, you grudgingly thought. I know that I'm clumsy and a jerk. You don't have to point it out over and over again.

Your teacher hushed the whole class and continued her lecture, "As I was saying, for our activity next meeting, you must find your own partner and practice any social dance that you want, as long as I will be able to see the characteristics and elements that we have discussed for today. Each pair will present in front of the whole class, so make sure that your presentation will be worth the watch."

With this finally said, you were all dismissed. Everyone was so excited with the thought of it—well, everyone was...except for you.

You wanted to learn, no question to that. Dance, the highest form of communication through body language—it sent shivers down to your spine. It seemed so fascinating to see how two people dance in the rhythm of the pulsating music, hand in hand; communicating with only the look in their eyes; and suddenly moving as one. Sometimes you wonder how they actually do that, being able to sense the movement of the other and suddenly knowing what should be done next.

An honest confession: you would sometimes imagine yourself in that very situation, although you are not sure as to whom your partner will be. You would think of a romantic music, and imagine how the steps would go. Your dress would be in the shade of your favorite color and it would suite you perfectly. Everyone will notice you, for you would be different from what they have known all along. You would be as graceful as the best dancer in town, and you would prove them all wrong.

You smiled at the thought of it and your heart started beating louder. It was a nice little daydream, all vivid in your memory...when boisterous laughter ruined all of it.

"Hey guys, look at __________. She looks so stupid over there," one of the boys pointed at you while you sat quietly in your seat, "I wouldn't take her for the dance, even if she would be the last girl left. She'll just step on my foot most of the time, I'm sure of that."

All of his friends started laughing with him, when one of them made another rude comment, "Just look at her! I mean, who would even want to dance with that! There was not even a day that she didn't bump into her things or to somebody."

This is the main reason, obviously, why you hated the thought of having a dance as an activity. No matter how cool you imagined it to be, you would still end up destroying all of it. You’re a clumsy girl, everyone knows that.

Offended, you said nothing, took your bag, and just left the room…when you suddenly tripped in front of the door.

"I told you so," one of them remarked. They started laughing a little louder, and this time, the whole class joined in.

"__________, are you okay? Want me to help you?" One of the girls sarcastically said in between her fits of laughter.

You cursed inside your brain, why can't I do something right?! Dammit! You hurriedly went down and tried to pick up your things (which came out of your bag when you fell), when a pair of hands helped you and gave them to you, "I think you need some help, my dear."

When you looked up, you saw a pair of bright blue eyes staring back at you. It was Francis, the most loved student in your class.

"You know what," he remarked to the other boys, standing up to your defense, "it’s a good thing you've decided not to ask her for the dance, because she’s too precious to have a rotten asshole like you as a partner."

Your jaws dropped when he said that. Everyone became silent, wearing that 'Are you serious?' kind of face. Apparently, all their jaws dropped as well.

"You got to be kidding, Francis. Don’t tell me you’re siding that girl—"

"May I remind you, you’re not just talking about any ordinary girl. This girl is…" he paused for a moment and took a glimpse of you, "my partner for the dance."

"What?!" you shouted. All of the other girls made the same violent reaction.

"Francis, we never talked about anything like this!" you protested, still not believing what you just heard. He took you by the hand and, without saying anything, dragged you away from the room and into the garden.

You were surprised by his sudden decision. Come to think of it, you never were really close and had barely talked since the beginning of the school year. He was an adored and well-praised man, contrary to what you are. All of the other girls were head over heels for him, and have been probably wishing that he would ask them for the dance. All of the other boys also looked up to him, for he was as friendly as anyone could be. For him to stoop so low as to saving you from his acquaintances…this was really a shock on your part.

You pulled your hand from his grip when you reached the garden. "This is outrageous! What.are.you.THINKING?!" you shouted.

"I was saving you, of course! Isn't it obvious?" he innocently blurted.

"Just leave me be! I’m used to this kind of life! What would the other girls think of me now? I would only end up being bullied all the same, or even worse than how it was before. How about you, then? What would they think of you?" you sat on the green rolling grass, defeated. You covered your face with your hands and thought of the whole situation over.

"Hey, don’t be sad, ma chère. Like I said, I’m here to help you," he cheerily said, unknowingly sitting beside you.

"How would you do that?"

"The dance, __________! I will teach you the art of the dance…" he exclaimed, matching it with exaggerated hand movements, "I’m thinking of doing a dance freestyle, what do you think?"

You looked at him awkwardly. It all seemed to be happening too fast that you were not sure if you were still alive. Probably you lost consciousness when you fell on the floor—yeah, that must be it. You must have hit your head really hard that you started imagining stupid things. This is all just a silly made-up dream...

"__________! Focus!"

. . . . .

"H-Huh…? I’m sorry—what were you saying?"

"I said, we start practicing by tomorrow. We shall meet after classes right on this very spot. We've got a lot of steps to work on. And the other..."

"Uh, Francis?"

"...but that would not be problem because I will bring the..."

"Hey, Francis."

"...ah, yes. I should not forget the most important part—the clothes! Everything must be fashionable! It would be very boring without the colors, but I also thought of..."

"Francis!"

He turned towards you and looked at you wide-eyed, as if he was greatly offended when you cut his sentence.

"Uhm, I-I didn't mean to cut what you were saying. I just wanted to say..."

"Is there anything wrong with bright blue? You don't like it? I could change it if you want, what color do you want—"

"N-No, that’s not it! I mean, why are you helping me? Why are you doing this? We’re not even friends..." you trailed off.

He smiled at you warmly, "It’s because every lady is special. They deserve nothing but the best. No one is better than the other, and each one deserves some respect."

He stood up and offered his hand to you, which you gladly accepted. You rose from your seat, trying to think of something to say to him, but he already had spoken first.

"I guess I’ll see you tomorrow."

"Y-Yeah…thanks."

The following day went on like any of your normal school days. It’s just that, you seemed to get more attention from everyone than usual. Malicious eyes followed wherever you went. Some of them would gossip right after you pass by them. During your class hours, while you were busy taking down notes, crumpled pieces of paper were thrown to your direction, some of which hit you straight to your face. You wanted to take your revenge, but you just bit your lip and accepted everything. Francis never saw any of this, your classmates made sure of it.

"I can’t take this any longer," you complained to him after classes, "they’re crossing too many lines already. Let’s just cut it out."

"But we haven’t started a thing!" he whined, "Don’t give up that easily, __________. How will you prove yourself to them if you won’t take the first step? Besides, we've started it, might as well finish it to the end."

You sighed. Well, it is true that the both of you started—"hey, wait a minute! Only you started it, not we!"

He chuckled, "you look funny."

"What?"

"I-I mean, let’s start!"

The first thing you did was to watch some videos from Francis’ laptop. It was like what he said to you yesterday—you’re going to do some freestyle dance. You will combine different dances into one, making it a wild and frenzy combination of dances. You started to feel excited about it. You tried out some of the steps, but your ultimate problem became obvious—you lacked grace and poise. It was a disaster, to put it simply.

You stepped on Francis’ foot so many times that you lost count of it. When you tried to do the spin, you seemed to have overdone it because it made you so dizzy that you fell on the grass. You even stayed there for about a minute to regain your composure. In addition to this, when you tried to dance the waltz, you always went to a different direction that your partner have to pull you in his.

You examined the movement of his feet, trying as hard as you could to follow them. However, every time you tried to bow your head down, he would always squeeze your hand and say, "focus in my eyes."

The next one was the Leprechaun dance. This time, you were lost with the footwork. You found it difficult to follow, even if Francis was teaching it to you really slowly.

"This is more difficult than I thought," he finally said when you took a little break.

"I’m sorry," you said to him, feeling totally embarrassed of yourself, "It’s entirely my fault. Maybe you should have just picked a better partner than me."

"No no no no, It’s not like that. What I meant is, the steps were difficult to learn. Come to think of it, I’m actually enjoying your company!" he assured you.

You sat beside your bag and drank some water. You felt so depressed with how your practice turned out. Your daydreams, your little imaginations, all that you have ever thought of—maybe they’ll just be stuck in your mind forever.

"Don’t feel sad, __________," Francis said, "no one perfects it on the first day of practice. Even the best of dancers sprain their ankles on the first day. It is normal to have mistakes at first."

You smiled at his words, "Thanks, I think I feel much better."

When you continued your dance, it was still crappy like the one you had earlier, but you were gaining confidence little by little. You still trembled when he touches your hand, yes, but you were able to control it now somehow.

"Relax, don’t be so stiff like a pole—hey, are you still breathing?"

"You’re exaggerating things!"

He laughed at you, "I’m just kidding! Don’t be shy. Just place your hands on my shoulder."

Why did he became my partner in the first place? You repeatedly asked yourself, feeling your face growing warm. He was so intimidating whenever he looked straight to your eyes that you can’t even last a minute looking at him, but you tried to fight it.

"Focus in my eyes. Just feel the rhythm of the music...don’t think that you’ll step on my foot or else it’s really going to happen. Relax your body..."

"I’m trying!"

"Then try loosening your grip on my hand."

"S-Sorry…"

After some time, both of you called it a day and went home. You never felt excited like this before in your whole life. Everything was going smoothly—well, except for some steps, but you have this strange feeling that you’ll be able to work them out perfectly.

The same thing happened everyday. You would meet in the garden, practice the steps, take a little break, and then continue. Sometimes, you would have some random exercise to improve your focus, posture, and movement. No one has ever been this patient with you before, not until Francis came and asked—uh, said that he will be your partner for the said activity. There were times that you swore that your practices were like the ones you watched from those kung-fu movies, but Francis would just laugh at you.

Your exercises did not just help you with your dances. Amazingly, you can now survive a day without bumping into some random stranger or make your things fall on the floor. It was a great help for you indeed, because people have one less reason to mess with you now.

Finally, the most awaited day came. Your heartbeat was going crazy, and you could feel butterflies fluttering around your stomach. You changed into your red dress (which was the one Francis suggested you to buy) and shoes and proceeded to the school ballroom. Everyone was already present, and those same rude eyes looked at you with much hatred and—well, in the case of the ladies—jealousy. You saw where your partner was, and the seat he reserved for you.

"You look wonderful in that dress. I was not mistaken," he whispered in your ear.

"Thanks. You also look good in your clothes," you complimented, which was rather true. He wore a dark blue polo (which he undid halfway to reveal his chest) and black pants. He tied his blond, wavy hair to the back and used some gel to make it stay in place.

And so, with the introduction of your teacher, the activity began. Each pair had their chance to dance in the middle of the room, with their preferred music echoing throughout the whole place. Unfortunately, you were the last to perform because Francis picked the last the number yesterday when you held the draw lots. You started to feel insecure with every performance, your heat beating faster and louder.

"Francis, look. I’m feeling nervous, their dance was quite good."

"Yes, but not as awesome as ours. Just relax on your seat and watch how pathetic they look like."

This made you laugh a little, but you were still scared. You watched as every dancer satisfyingly took his or her seat after the dance. Not long after, you heard your names being called by your teacher.

"And for our last performance, let’s give a round of applause to Francis Bonnefoy and __________ __________!"

You felt paralyzed in your seat. I’m not gonna do this. Shit, I am doing this! For my final prayers before I die, first of all, I would like to wish my dog a good health and a long life. Secondly, I hope someone will pay my rent for this month. Thirdly—

"__________, I guess our time has come," Francis said.

Fuck! As if I don’t know! Say your final prayers with me!

He stood from his seat, smiled at you, and offered his hand, "__________, May I have this dance?"

You blushed uncontrollably at his words and took his warm hand.

"Y-Yes."

He helped you from your sit, and whispered in your ear once more, "Remember, with grace and poise."

He led the way to the middle, and the both of you were ready to start. He placed his hand on your waist, and yours on his shoulders. He nodded to the man assigned to play the music, and the next thing you knew, both of you were dancing gracefully—eye to eye, heartbeat to heartbeat.

You can’t help but to smile, and so does he. It felt as if the real world crumbled in the background, and you were dancing in a fairy tale dream. It was magic, and tiny sparks started to fly all around you. He was a prince, and you were his princess. Every step and every spin made you fall for him even more. And, all of a sudden, your smiles grew at your excitement. Both of you parted and broke from each other’s hold, making the already-awestruck audience stand and raise a brow.

"What the hell’s happening?" they asked.

The lights went low. You and Francis stood away from each other with your heads bowed down. Suddenly, the speakers started banging the ears of everyone when it played a hip hop song. Lights of different colors danced crazily with it. Both of you started dancing hip hop with the beat, and Francis even made a head spin. You did some tricks yourself, confusing the audience with your clever hand tricks.

The lights were out again, and you prepared for your next surprise. When the light turned on, so did the music, you raised your head and you started dancing the Leprechaun dance. Francis followed. Now the audiences were out of their wits to explain what was happening. On the other hand, however, your teacher was actually enjoying it!

You were running out of breath from all the jumping and the dancing. Sweat was trickling down the side of your face. When you looked over at Francis, he was also catching for his breath and was starting to sweat just like you.

For your finale, you were back in each other’s embrace. Panting, you brought your foreheads together and held each other’s hand. You were now closer than before, to the point of hearing each one’s heartbeat. The music went slower this time, and the song being played was known to everyone in the room.     

So, baby, now, take me into your loving arms. Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars. Oh, darling, place your head on my beating heart. I’m thinking out loud that maybe we found love right where we are. Oh, baby, we found love right where we are…and we found love right where we are.

You sang with the song in your head. You never felt this odd feeling before, but it felt nice and warm inside. Maybe, for once in your life, you felt what others would say, "Falling for the first time."

"This is the best dance I ever had," Francis whispered in between breaths.

"Me too," you smiled.

When the music finally faded, you faced the audience and bowed happily. To your surprise, everyone stood and gave a loud applause. When you returned to your seats, the crowd couldn't stop clapping their hands.

"I fell in love with the best dancer I have ever danced with," Francis finally whispered.

"I fell in love with the man who changed my life," you whispered back.