EACH DAY YOU WAKE UP WITH AN ACHING

Sy’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he fished it out with one hand as he pushed through the gym doors with the other. It was an alarm reminding him that he’d answered an ad to compose a contest routine for some fancy-shmancy coordinator. It was a nice little side gig he had when the Furretdales dancers were on standby, and though tickets were still selling out, their shows had been sliced to once a week following the burnout of the Valentines season.

So he cut down the street and walked the few blocks in his slides, tank top, and gym shorts, skin reddened and hair slightly damp from the shower. He was familiar with the place, having done a Valentines routine here not too long ago.

When he walked in, he saw a girl with pretty hair in funky clothes standing in the center of the room, talking to her Cleffa. “Hey!” he called, his voice booming around the empty room, startling a Starly in the rafters. “Sorry I’m late. Lost track of time. I’m Symon.” He dropped his gym bag and stretched his arms behind his head, grabbing one elbow and pulling across to get into his shoulders and upper back. He was still sore from his workout. “So, you’re a dancer?” It was an innocent question, meant to get a brief grasp on her backstory, and what experience she had. Bollywood, maybe.

MADE BY MIZO

EACH DAY YOU WAKE UP WITH AN ACHING

“Talia, Amaris,” Symon repeated, committing the names to memory. He watched her walk to him, dress robes billowing around her feet like some sort of air spirit. She was a very slight thing, but she had to be strong to get those massive layers of clothes to do anything besides slump.

He switched to stretching his other arm as he listened to Talia talk about her dance history, nodding along as she spoke. “Ecruteak, huh?” he said, wondering what kind of shows they did there; to be honest, she lost him at ‘traditional’ and he just sort of smiled politely at her.

“Oh, yeah, that’s perfectly fine,” Sy confirmed when Talia explained about her change in occupation. He slipped his hips side to side, stretching his lower abdominals and glutes. “Honestly, anyone with some experience would be good. Just having a fresh take on things is a bonus.”

Next were the leg stretches. “So what do you do for the League, Talia?” Sy asked, making casual conversation before getting into the nitty gritty of the thing.

MADE BY MIZO

EACH DAY YOU WAKE UP WITH AN ACHING

It was very cute and amusing to see the little Cleffa try to emulate Sy’s movements with her own, slightly rotund body. Once he realized he had a little mimic, he slowed down his motions to give her time to catch up. “Oh, the Rangers,” Sy said, a slight undercurrent of awe slipping into his tone, “yeah, their work never seems to be done, huh?” He’d tossed around the idea of becoming a Ranger, once. Even gone to a few Ranger skill camps. In the end, though, Sy valued the almighty dollar over civic duty-- and he’d found a way to accrue wealth doing something he enjoyed. Even if he no longer spoke to his parents or siblings.

Sometimes he barely missed them.

“I’d imagine, with all the weird timey-wimey holes in the world or whatever the hell is happening according to the news,” Sy said, finishing his stretching with a few hops in place. He nodded to Talia and watched as she began her routine… during which his face went through about seventeen different expressions.

It was beautiful, that was for sure. Poignant, thought-evoking, and heightened by the weird clothes she was wearing. Seeing them in motion, Sy finally understood what they were for.

But it was completely different than what he was expecting.

Still, he clapped for the performance, when she was done. He was impressed, genuinely, and Talia’s style of dance was something he could only ever dream of learning. Bending, he unzipped his gym bag and fished out two bottles of water, holding one out to her.

“You and I,” he said, his face turning the slightest bit red, “do very different styles of dance.”

Also from his gym bag he took out a mobile speaker, then thumbed on his phone till he found the right song. He pressed play, then took off his tank top, and launched into a mixture of his Furretdales dance routine and impromptu hip-hop composition, complete with lots of hip thrusts and gyrating. It wasn’t unskilled, by any means-- just a different type of skill.

After about a minute-long sampler, he paused the song and grinned at Talia, only slightly shining in a sheen of sweat.

MADE BY MIZO

EACH DAY YOU WAKE UP WITH AN ACHING

Sy swept his crimson bangs off his forehead, chest rising and falling with the swell of his breathing. “Thank you, thank you,” he said through laughter as he mock-bowed to Amaris, “always happy to meet a fan.” He was glad that Talia hadn’t immediately written him off, or, like, crossed herself and backed up out of the building like Mrs. Smitley had done at church that one time he tried to go back to visit. That had been a trip.

“I was a gymnast as a child,” Sy explained, uncapping his water bottle and taking a drink, “and all the way up through graduation; I hurt myself my senior year and missed out on a scholarship. I started modeling to put myself through school and it sort of… went from there. So probably about six or seven years.” He hadn’t spent all that time as a dancer, of course; there’d been modeling, and some other, more clandestine things he’d done to earn the almighty dollar. He’d long been excommunicated from his home, his family, and all he’d held dear by that point, though.

“Yeah, I think if we mesh our two styles, we could come up with something that tells a story, but is maybe a slightly quicker pace?” He suggested, threading his fingers together to illustrate the meshing of their approach.

MADE BY MIZO

EACH DAY YOU WAKE UP WITH AN ACHING

Sy’s face fell, just for a second, smile faltering as his eyes flashed downward. “Yeah, it was… quite possibly, the worst thing that ever happened to me.” There was a flatness to his tone that suggested he wasn’t being dramatic. Yet the emotion in Talia’s voice, the joy and hope and endearing positivity, brought the smile back to his face. “Yeah! Turns out dancing isn’t that different from rhythmic. And it’s a lot of fun.”

He watched Talia talk to her Cleffa and was reminded of his own Pokemon, Thistle, who loved to pretend to dance, as well. He tilted his head, listening in earnest when Talia proclaimed little Amaris had ideas; then watched Talia begin the process of taking off her outer dress robes. If it was a ceremony to don them, Sy could only imagine the routine of removing them was just as holy.

When she intended for him to change the music, he did so, eyes closing so as to get the feeling of the feat and the overall mood of the song. Foot tapping, he made small, stuttered movements along with Talia, watching as her face broke into a grin and she celebrated with Amaris.

“Yes, that looks awesome!” He cheered, filled with genuine joy and happiness that he realized he hadn’t felt for some time. He took a starting position on the floor, prepared to jump into the routine with her-- prepared to just let the motion flow.