For someone well-known for being a heavy sleeper, it was unusual for the flashing phone screen to be the first thing to wake him up. Atlas slapped blindly at his bedside table, hoping that he would be lucky enough to knock the device to the floor. He closed his eyes again after finally grabbing hold of the phone and dropping it elsewhere. It wasn't important for him to know who had texted him at such an early hour. He couldn't care less about replying to someone who had interrupted his mid-morning sleep anyway.

The phone screen lit up again, this time illuminating the entire roof of the room. He groaned, realising he didn't drop it face-down as he’d actually intended. His first guess was that it was a text from his mother. His second guess was the more likely option, that being a text and a few missed calls coming from Harper. Both of those choices were equally annoying to deal with. His third guess was that his alarm for 1 P.M had finally gone off, which was a much nicer thought to him. Whatever it was, he chose to ignore it as he held the cold side of the pillow against his face. With the phone being swiftly ignored, tranquillity was regained once again, albeit very briefly.

A sudden icy chill of dread ran up his spine, causing his eyes to shoot open again. He wasn't sure how or why it happened, but it shocked him. Quickly removing the pillow from his face and throwing it across the room, he stared down at the phone on the ground. He then stared up at the window, a bright sunlight shone through the gap in the curtains. He noticed the shadows of jacaranda trees outside, a common sight for most Australian households. He had a strange urge to get up and check his phone, but he had to be sure of the time first. Was it Mid-morning? The sun seemed far too high in the window for it to be later in the day.

He couldn't remember if he was required to be somewhere that morning. He was still in his casual clothes from the day before, consisting of a red and white striped jumper with a black long-sleeved skivvy underneath and a pair of casual jeans and high-top boots, so perhaps he had the day off. He normally wouldn't have worn day-old clothes to bed, let alone his shoes as well. He sighed at his own laziness and rubbed his tired eyes.

But what day was yesterday, he questioned internally. And what day was today? What time was it? Was he late for something and that's why he had a text waiting for him? Or was it still the holidays? He quickly slipped down the side of the bed and scrambled to grab his phone from the floor, feeling the intense need to check it before he got in trouble for something so trivial.

9:20 A.M, Monday, 14th of November.

He lowered his face to the carpet, letting his messy white and blue hair fall over his eyes. A drawn-out sigh of relief followed. It was the first day of the study holidays and he had nothing to worry about. That was if he didn't account for the message glaring at him on the screen, waiting for a reply. Rubbing his eyes again from sleep, he tried his best to decipher what was written. The early morning fog in his eyes had him smiling at how bizarre the message read. It was a surprise to receive such a cryptic statement from his dance partner.

"Left too soon? What is she on about now?"

He mumbled to himself, his voice void of expression or interest. It was probably best to reply while he had the energy to. No doubt, he would be passed out on the floor within five minutes, so he quickly got to typing a message.

"What...on...earth…"

He muttered to himself as he formatted his words. He hoped that the autocorrect on his phone would help him avoid mistakes, being too tired to check for himself. The reply he received was almost instant as if Harper had been waiting by the phone for acknowledgement.

"Stupid, you moved with your parents! Yesterday! Gone! No more dance comp! I'm all alone now ‘cause of you! Plus! That speech you had to do? Now I have to do it!"

It was a sharp moment of realisation for Atlas as he read the message and slapped himself in the forehead. Of course, how brainless was he to forget that? The main reason why he had been so comfortable with sleeping in was that all his plans had been cancelled. Moving to a different city was messing with his already disorderly mind, and he hadn't even survived a day yet.

He went to put down his phone but an itch at the back of his mind stopped him at the last second. There wasn't any harm in replying now, right? He stared at the reply once again, thinking it over, but his mind drifted elsewhere in lieu of more important circumstances. In all honesty within himself, he couldn't recall when or why his parents decided to move towns. He still felt like he was at home, in his old room with all his trophies and belongings, the four walls of the room still adorned the same way as they were the day before.

Reaching up to the bedside table next to him he grabbed a familiar tube of eucalyptus gel and unscrewed the lid. Applying a generous amount to his palm, he rubbed it in and threw the tube back up onto the tabletop. He often used it to cure his dry hands; he hated the feeling of dusty skin, it was a pet peeve of his. He had to do this before he returned to his room exploration and the situation at hand.

Layered with years’ worth of dust and treated like paperweights, the trophies on his cupboard caught his attention again. To him, the physical trophy meant nothing because he knew that the real treasure was his talent. Talent that his parents had poured thousands of dollars into, and practically bound him to for his whole life. Atlas had always been a natural winner when it came to singing, being the owner of a pitch-perfect intonation and vibrant voice. Despite his usual expressionless and dull personality, his true nature shone brightly on the stage. Paired with his love for dancing and musical theatre, he was the perfect candidate for a quintessential theatre and arts all-rounder.

However, being paired with Harper at SilkenArts Academy was a block in his path he knew he hadn’t been able to push past. Never in his life had he been partnered with another person; he was a solo performer primarily. Their duet performance was supposed to be temporary too, but unfortunately, the instructors at the academy saw them fit for each other. Ultimately, it had soiled his solo career, which he would never forgive Harper for even if it wasn't entirely her fault. After all, the girl had some amount of talent that he found hard to dismiss.

He thought back to the first time they’d been paired, and how simple and quiet she had been during the first dance classes. Every so often he would glance at her, observing her small movements, her timidness in performance. In almost every way, she was a changed person today. No more was she the quiet one in the group, and Atlas reminisced on the times where he never had to worry about finding peace and quiet. It was always practise, practise, practise with the new Harper. He couldn't get a break being around her. Even when they were apart, all he heard was the remnants of that demanding voice in his brain.

He didn't particularly like her anyway, so it meant nothing to him if she was ever upset at his lack of interest. Sure, she was a kind person most of the time, but she was very pushy about practise sessions and constant revisions of scripts and lyrics. Atlas was already managing the workload on his own, and he was always the first to perfect his part, yet Harper still begged for more practise sessions. In his mind, he had settled with the fact that maybe it was for her benefit rather than his. She wasn't a naturally fast learner like he was.

Being a quiet-spoken adolescent, Atlas wasn't big on talking when it came to Harper and her constant conversation, and he found that she was annoyed with him because of that. She often asked him why such a quiet personality could express their talent so wildly, when she was standing there as a perfect candidate for the next performance star; her loud personality was an included bonus. He usually gave her a lazy shrug in response, which he knew only made her angrier. He knew all she wanted was to be recognized as the better talent, and he was the main annoyance in her way.

"Don't raise your eyebrows at me, you know I'm telling the truth! The teachers won't admit I'm a better dancer than you, even if I'm a bit tone-deaf. Sure, you're a package of talent but I don't see why you were picked for 'class's most successful'. Shrink that stupid ego of yours and come practise after school for once."

The words echoed at the back of Atlas's mind as a clear reminder of how Harper treated him. He found it funny that their conversations were so often one-sided and that he knew that Harper only wanted to practise for her benefit. Besides, Atlas couldn't help being so dry towards her. He preferred to converse with actions rather than words. The rise of an eyebrow, a shoulder movement, even holding up his digits for number answers were his preferred tactics in conversation. Although, he never held back when he conjured up a smart quip that would work well in response, often annoying those around him.

He soon broke his attention away from the dusty trophies on the shelf and the thoughts of his time at the academy and stared back down at his phone screen. He had to press the send button on his reply before it accidentally deleted itself by some terrible miracle. He could only dread the response he was going to receive afterward from the always vibrant and endlessly complaining Harper.

"Yeah, I remember now, sorry my head is a mess. I'm kinda busy at the moment."

He read his message out loud to himself just to check it was legible and sent it, shortly after receiving a response from Harper.

"Okay, I know what you're like, you're so easy to read. I know you're not busy, it's a Monday. Even if you did just move and you're PROBABLY BUSY UNPACKING, there's no reason to push me away further like this."

He smirked at the very on-point and aggressive response, a trademark of hers. She was trying so hard to draw blood from this stone that was Atlas and his stubbornness. Even through all this, it was a wonder that he still managed to call her a 'friend'. He had very low standards for relationships anyway.

"Okay. I'm sorry, maybe we can waltz when I get back, okay? Will that make you happier? Little practise freak?"

He spoke out loud to himself in a very sarcastic manner, wishing he could have sent that in response. Instead, he sent a simple reply that probably wouldn't have offended her.

“We'll practise that waltz when I get back, okay? Promise.”

It only took a dozen or so seconds before the reply once again shot through at record speed.

“Waltz? Get lost Atlas, you know we'll never dance again. How about you think about your mistakes, reflect on what you've done, and THEN we can think about your favourite little waltz dance, k?”

Atlas smiled again seeing that Harper had essentially given in to his offer without even realising it.

He lazily slipped the rest of his tired body out of the bedsheets and onto the floor so that he was laying on his back. He didn't have the drive yet to get up and have breakfast, so he figured he would entertain Harper for a while longer with another text.

“Okay, I've had a bit of a think. And I think it wasn't really my fault if I couldn't help but leave with my parents.”

He smiled to himself, thinking he was triumphant in the argument, but the next reply had his smile fade instantly.

“You're practically an adult, there's no reason why you couldn't have just stayed here with us. With me. Your parents can't keep controlling you forever! And my goodness, I still can't believe you live with them at 22!!!! They need to stop helicoptering you!!!”

That was Harper's favourite term to use around Atlas, ’helicoptering’, and she knew it upset him greatly. He replied with a heavy sigh.

“They're not helicopter parents. You're just being rude.”

He hesitated to even send the message, but he did anyway. There was no reason not to, especially if she wasn't living right around the corner from him anymore.

He loved his parents; they were the reason why he was able to expand on his passion and use his talents for something he truly loved. Because of them, he had gotten to travel from state to state for performances: Queensland, New South Wales, Northern Territory, the list went on. No matter how true Harper described the case, he wasn't going to hold a grudge against his parents just for being a little overprotective and commanding. That was what parents were there for. Right?

Another reply was flicked back from Harper, and Atlas rolled his eyes at the thought of having to read yet another insult about his parents.

“Well, I don't even care that much anymore. Just promise me you'll come back eventually. And we're not doing the waltz again! So bland! We're doing the tango, okay?? That's my only condition. Tango is the best :)”

It wasn't exactly a reply he expected from Harper, considering the tango had nothing to do with their current performance goals, but he took it with a grain of salt.

Perhaps she was in a good mood after all.

But even so, he did miss the waltz, his favourite classical ballroom dance, and his forte when it came to perfecting the steps. Practise sessions and classes consisted of every dance but the waltz, and he was growing tired of all the same things over and over.

"Jive, swing, contemporary...eugh, Ballet, cha-cha, rumba, samba, quickstep, tap. Goodness, it's been everything but that, huh?"

He counted the difference dances they'd studied during the year on his spare hand, having to fold his fingers down for the extras past the fifth count. He hadn't realized it then, but they hadn't even touched the waltz that year, and that was greatly upsetting to him. Perhaps he would write a passionate letter to the academy on behalf of the waltz-loving community. He liked the idea of that.

"Dear SilkenArts. Your program for the Masters in Dance and Performance lacks the unit for the classic ‘waltz’ style dance. I'm here to provide fifty reasons as to why every dancer should learn the waltz and its variations. I hope this improves the success rate of the academy."

After scripting the letter to himself, he grabbed the edge of the bed mattress and pulled himself back up into bed, leaving his phone on the floor in doing so. If only he was just as passionate at getting out of bed as he was about dancing, but the call of the warmth was too strong for him to resist, even as he heard the morning call of the noisy miner birds outside his window.

He would have gotten so much more done if it weren't for that.