"Show us what you got," Mr. Blonde Hair said, heading towards the radio next to them and hit the play button. "I will give you a signal to start. Prove to us that you are still capable of what you did. I am putting high expectations on it."

Harold nodded. He straightened his body, adjusting the collar of his shirt. Gently, he pushed his chair to the left side of the room, making sure he would have enough space to dance. He reached down, adjusting the shoelaces before standing up and studied the panels who were listening to the song attentively.

Its soft rustling tree sounds slowly faded, forming into upbeat music.

I'm ready! I can do this!

The minute the panel nodded, Harold took a slow two seconds to absorb himself into the music. The song kicked off with the sound of the violin. Gracefully, he lifted his left arms high in the air and pushed his left leg outwards as he lowered himself to the ground. His arms formed three circles before joining his right arms. Matching the sound of the slow violin, Harold made a mental note not to run from the pace. The pacing had always been the key to slow music. Do not be too fast or too slow.

Once the music picked up its pace, Harold twirled around, losing his muscles before hitting the first beat strongly. He executed his force and power that would look effortless to the audience. He knew this music. It had been his first music with his father.

Harold's grey eyes studied the orange walls around him as he leaped in the air, making a double backflip that earned the panel's surprise. Letting gravity to drag him down, Harold sunk to the ground and made a perfect split. Just as the music picked a higher pace again, he pushed himself up, aligning his movements with the chorus.

His dance radiated unique energy where the judges had not seen it anywhere else. His grey eyes sent piercing stares throughout his steps, sending fires to those who watched his performance. It wasn't just the strong execution of power that made him stood out, but the passion and desire that flickered between his empty eyes. They spoke of something no words could explain.

Every step he made was crafted perfectly as if it would be the last dance of his life.

The sound of his pounding heart stung across his ears as he felt his heart beating on his chest. Sweat trickled down his forehead, consuming his insanity. He felt sane as his lust to dance was slowly being fulfilled. His dark red shirt drenched with hard labor sweat.

Each time he leaped into the air, Harold portrayed a character that seemed to be grasping sound out of reach. From afar, he looked as if he wanted to fish for his life that had been swimming far away from his own bait. His shoes produced squeaking sounds as he shifted stances, making him look weightless. When the music stopped, Harold made a simple twirl before standing straight to face the panels.

"Thank you," said the panels together. "It was an amazing performance, Harold. We will let you know the results in two weeks. We are looking forward to working with you soon."

"That's it?" Tiberius questioned, sipping onto the whiskey he just poured out. "I am pretty sure you are going to get in. They are dying to recruit you. I am never wrong. You should listen to me, Harold. Get ready, you will be in one of the academies in no time."

Harold chuckled heartily at his friend's comment, gulping down the red wine from his glass. The alcoholic liquid swirled down his throat, filling his own breath with the scent of fermented grapes. He sighed, pushing his hair backward contentedly. His grey eyes gazed across the beautifully peach painted walls before meeting the clock that struck seven in the evening. Harold immediately got up on his feet, heading to wash the wine glass.

"Come on, get up," said Harold softly. "Your wife is coming back. Perhaps you should get something going for her. She's going to be tired. I have been taking up your time. Thanks for inviting me here to rest right after my audition."

"Ain't mention, buddy," muttered Tiberius calmly, wrapping his right arms around his friend's shoulder. "It's your big day. A day you finally got into dancing. Something you have been yearning for the rest of your life. Don't worry about Becky, I already made dinner for her. I gave her a heads up that you are going to be here anyway. And..."

Harold watched the boy walked away, heading towards the kitchen back door which he opened and the cold wind swirled in. He almost cursed at it but stopped when he saw Becky walking in with a cake. It took him a while to register that it was for him.

"You don't have to do this," Harold covered his mouth, suppressing his giggles as he hid behind the curtain near them. "Tiby, Becky, really. This, it's..."

"Something you deserve, Harold. It took you years to get out of the confinement. This is something we should celebrate off," said Becky happily as she settled the beautifully decorated fruit cake. "Make a wish. Come on."

The older chuckled at their hospitality. If there were anything he could wish for, it would be to have them for the rest of his lives. He never had many friends back in school. All his free time was spent with his father in the dance academy. He loved basketball, but he never bothered to attend it since it always crashed with the time his father would give him private lessons. He kept his circle small since then and it was mostly Tiby, till Becky came along.

Harold glanced at the married couple, grateful for their presence as he closed his eyes and made a wish for all of them.

If he had known, Harold would not return home on that day itself. Groaning at the sight of his wardrobe, he ruffled his hair messily before picking up his phone that was ringing. He immediately smiles upon seeing Tiby's name popping up on his screen.

"Hey," said Harold gently. "What's up?"

"Becky is out for a long night shift at the hospital. I was wondering if you want to come over, maybe get some drinks and play some games?" Tiberius questioned, the clicking sound on his keyboard was echoing through the phone. "Perhaps we can try out the new restaurant downtown. Becky says it's delicious."

Harold faked a cry as he rummaged through his wardrobe again, looking at those unsatisfying outfits.

"No," whined Harold. "My mom got an invitation from the twins for their birthday. As you know, I have to be there. I am really sorry buddy. I promise I will make it up another time."

"Hey, totally fine and cool with it. Have fun at the party. Try not to murder the twins."

Harold chuckled. Picking out the dark blue denim jacket and a pair of black jeans, he put it on before grabbing his purse and keys. Waiting for his mother at the porch, he turned up his favorite music from the 90s and hummed along with it. He stared into the dark skies where the full moon had been shining brightly with little stars twinkling next to it, forming different constellations. It reminded him that no matter how dark a tunnel can be, there will always be lights to guide your path once you are willing to accept it.

Once his mother was ready, Harold drove all the way to his cousin's house silently. There was no conversation. The only company there had been the music he chose. Taking a turn on the right, Harold spotted the brightly lit mansion his cousin owned. Internally, he felt disgusted at their actions. There are millions of children starving out there and here are his cousins, throwing unnecessary parties. He pulled over at the huge parking lot before getting out of his vehicle as his ears enveloped the sound of loud music. His mother immediately disappeared in between the crowd, searching for her sister.

Harold made his way to the open bar. He needed some drink to calm his nerves down. Though one of the selected music had been good, Harold resisted the temptation to dance. He stood rooted on his spot, watching as one of his cousins was flirting with the bartender. Rolling his eyes, he stared at the drink he had been holding. Silently, he wondered what did he did to deserve such ignorant and selfish cousins. The bankruptcy didn't sound like a good lesson to them at the moment.

"Ah, there you are," James screamed from the other corner. "Look, there is my cousin. I have been searching for you. Goodness me, look at you. Did you gain weight? I saw you only a month ago."

Shutting his eyes tight, Harold looked up to meet the bartender as he drowned himself with his drink and stopped the bartender from filling up his glass yet.

"I need something stronger than what I had earlier," he said, feeling James' arms wrapped around his waist uncomfortably and shifted a little.

"Harold, Harold, Harold," sand Jacques' who seemed to have magically appeared. "Are you drowning your sorrows with alcohol? Did you not make it in?"

"Make it in? I think he barely had a chance," chuckled James. "Do you think they would accept him? By the way, I need a favor from you, Harold."

Shaking his head at the words, Harold lifted his fingers facing James. He picked up the glass he ordered from the bartender, gulping down the whole glass of it. Shutting his eyes tight at the alcoholic taste in his throat, he nodded.

"Alright, now I can take your madness. What is it?"

Harold walked out of the bar, heading towards the gardens for some fresh air. He knew what they wanted. Judging from their words and actions, they needed something from him. Mostly money. That's certain.

"We need about one million," said James softly, lowering his voice as slow as possible and drowned them in the loud music. "Last round. I promise."

The older raised his eyebrows, stopping by the water fountain to study the desperate please of his cousins from their eyes.

"See," said Harold, crossing his arms in front of him. "I am amazed by how thick skin both of you have become. It's ridiculous to even look at you. You put way more importance on the first layer of your life rather than those lining up at the back of yours. I told you, I am not giving it to you. I rather pay for the kids who are starving. No means no."

He watched Jacques rolled his eyes dangerously, but Harold had grown accustomed to it. If he had been given a choice, he would rather accompany Tiby to the new restaurant, but to make sure they don't take advantage of his mother's kindness, he had to be here.

Why is life so unfair for certain people?

"Your mother gave us the money two weeks ago," said James proudly.

Am I even surprise? – Harold questioned himself. She never learns and she never will.

"That's my mother," said Harold, pointing towards James and stared into his eyes wickedly. "That's her. I am not her and most certainly I am not your personal bank account. She is your mother's sister. I am not your brother. I can't stop how my mother is going to respond to your please, but one thing I know personally is I will not pay for all your ridiculous nonsense. You can't even think straight with your brains."

"Rude," said Jacques. "I bet this is what got you rejected from the dance academies, didn't it? I wouldn't want someone so selfish and rude in..."

Just then, Harold heard the beeping sound from his phone. His internal urge to throw a punch on Jacques immediately disappeared as he took a few steps away, pulling his phone out from his pocket. He hated the twins since he was young. They have no right to talk about his life when they had always been the ones who ruined it. Biting onto his lips nervously, he opened the mail he had gotten and he gasped at the message.

Turning to face the twins, he grinned.

"I got in!"

"What?" James muttered, turning to look at his twin.

"I got in! In your face!" Harold giggled, clutching onto his phone tightly as he ignored the crowd that turned to stare at him. "I got it!"

He calmed himself down, slipping the phone in his pocket as he licked his dried lips and looked at the confused twins.

"It's not always about money. It's your dignity and your passion. You might have all the richness you wanted, but those are nothing I desire. I value my own self and unlike you, I understand that not everyone will share the same mindset with you. If you value your materials too much, you will lose yourself to those and when you find yourself drowning in it, don't search for me. You spend your life working like a slave, but I get to enjoy doing something I love. My dad might not be here with me, to dance with me, but at least, he taught me not to trouble others and respect them. It's something no money can buy."

Harold noticed the confusion in their eyes.

"I am not giving you anything. It's about time you should learn that not everything can be obtained easily."

Looking up into the skies, Harold smiled as he walked out of the crowd and headed towards his car in the parking lot. He climbed into the driver's seat, feeling satisfied with his new achievement. As he lowered the seat, Harold saw his father's favorite constellation shining brightly in the skies as if they were cheering for his achievement.

"Thanks, daddy, for everything you taught me in life." 

Word Count: 2387 words

Cumulative Word Count: 15,796 words