Ah, the sweet sound of silence. I love it. Especially when I'm sleeping. It sounds the exact way I want. Which is the sound of nothing. Silence ...it hung in the air of my brightly colored room. Until my favorite song broke it from under my pillow. I groaned into consciousness and pulled my phone out to shut the alarm off. I rolled onto my back and stared at the comforting pastels I had painted on the ceiling. I wiped my eyes and looked at the ballet calendar pinned on the wall. Like adrenaline, excitement hastily filled my veins. I bolted over to the calendar to make sure I wasn't being delusional. I was about to stop when a sweatshirt slid on the polished wood floor of my room and made me tumble into my Pointe box. The calendar carelessly fell from its perch on the wall. I sighed and picked it up with a pinch. The anguish disappeared as soon as I confirmed the date.

"Today's the day!" A squeal escaped my lungs as I stood from the plethora of beaten down pointe shoes and extra accessories. The entire apartment complex probably heard me, but I couldn't have cared less. Even the thought of God, I really need to clean my room, flashed through my mind. Brushing off that thought is like dying my hair. Non-existent. It was probably the most exciting thing that's happened to me since I began ballet. My first day of college.

I dropped the calendar on my bed and rushed over to the closet. Sliding off my purple sweatshirt, I delicately picked up a T-shirt I bought from Florida. I didn't have much to say about this shirt. It was nice, and somehow always comfortably cold. Just a bit plain to me. Not really caring, I picked up black sweatpants from my friend Maya. She got them for me as a Christmas gift. They're really good for rehearsing in. The material is light but warm. It's also quite flexible. The finishing touch was a dark blue hoodie I'd never really figured out. It's about three sizes too big, and still has the soft scent of cologne I didn't recognize. I like big hoodies, but I had no memory of this one. I first noticed it about four years ago, after a certain incident. Thinking it belonged to one of Maya's foreign sweethearts, I asked her about it.

"You think It was mine?" She inquired, taking a sip of her Americano.

I wiped my hand on a napkin before responding, "Well, yeah. I wouldn't be asking if I didn't. Maybe it was from one of those Italian guys that stayed with you. You kept a whole lot of their stuff."

Maya let out a sigh. "Now those were some hombres guapos y guapos...if you know what I mean." Maya smiled and wiggled her dark eyebrows.

I launched a chip at her, chuckling. "You're so gross."

Grabbing my backpack and a book, I clipped my Scarlet red bangs out of my face;I quickly skipped out of the small one-room apartment. I was never really attached to the place. Technically, it wasn't even mine. Maya paid for it, due to my struggle with getting a job. The guilt stirred in my stomach any time she gave me rent money. And it's not like I didn't want to get a job. It's easier to spit this out. My name is Andren Thompson. I have to carry my birth certificate along with my I.D. to prove my age and sex(Nineteen and male). I also really love feminine things. Job offers seem to fade away as soon as they realize.

"Why don't you just go drag?" My friend Quinton asked one day.

"Because I'd have to give up my dance career. You know how much work I put into things. Drag would be full-time." I replied, sticking a needle through a new pointe shoe.

"If I went drag--"

"I don't need to hear about your grand adventurous fantasies, Quinton." I inhaled sharply as I felt the needle stick into my fingertip,"I do need a bandage though."

...

I walked through New York, eyeing the store windows. My phone notified me with a Ding! As I observed some fish meander in their tank. I glanced at the screen and noticed a text from Maya. Letting the phone slip back into my pocket, I walked to the crosswalk. I try to use my phone as little as possible when I'm out and about. It's not necessary, and the world is quite interesting from my view. New York is a beautiful city if you look at it.

The figure flashed into green and the small crowd of people crossed the road together.

I arrived at the downtown bus stop near noon. A man in his late forties was sitting there as well. He looked at me, let his face go stern, and stared at his phone again. I sighed and leaned on a pole. The wait wasn't very long, because soon the bus came trudging to a stop. I stepped up and flashed the driver my card before sitting in the front seat. The man didn't get on. He just watched as the doors shoved themselves shut. He grew smaller and smaller until there was nothing left of him. Just road.

The bus miserably rumbled across New York as I fell deeper and deeper into my own world. I wasn't really thinking about anything important. In fact, it was probably a waste of time to think about what I did. People have always said it's strange how I can block everything out and just focus. They call it a 'gift'. But they're wrong. People are just too interested in the outside world to focus on one thing completely. People are arrogant and selfish. They gossip, and lie, and cheat. But of course, stereotypical demons are worse. Much worse. Of course.

The bus slumped to a stop as I looked out the window to see my stop. I bolted up, thanked the driver and ran out. My shoes clicked on the newly paved sidewalk as the well-kept trees cleared out to reveal it. The school of my dreams. I stared in awe, as the sun reflected off the windows, making Juniper glimmer. It was perfect. The school was exactly the way I'd hoped. Luscious lawns, and beautiful flowers. Some students were tending to a Butterfly bush, gently caressing the branches and making sure everything was perfect. Everything looked so fragile, like a rose petal. As if Juniper had been painted by a sweet, romantic hand.

It seemed like fate was in my favor. I had admired Juniper for as long as I could remember. It was the number one school for the arts in America. Close to the greatest school in the world (Number three. First is Maria's University of Music and Art in France; Second is a school in Dublin.) Recently my dance studio, Madame Delphine's Academy of Precision, signed a partnership with Juniper. I couldn't believe it when I heard the news. It was perfect. This was my dream. It seemed as if opportunity was shoved in my face. And I took it. Why wouldn't I? A stunning, prestigious school, where nothing was stopping me from going there? Of course I would accept.

I began skipping up to the building, more excitement filling my veins with every step. I was about halfway to the door, when I tripped over a branch.

"Ouch..." I muttered, "I suppose it's instant karma for running."

I seem to talk to myself a lot.

I stood and calmly walked the rest of the way, paying attention to the small details of the doors. I pushed one open with a click, and walked in. It was dead silent in the lobby, but my god, it was beautiful. Murals from over the years covered the walls, along with glass and bead work. A warm fireplace surrounded by big, luscious red chairs sat next to a glass wall. In the center of the setup was a wooden circle table. It was stained to a dark, comforting brown. The floor was a flat marble tile near the entrance, but it transitioned to chestnut brown wood with a small stair. The desk was set to the left, and a woman with dark hair was perched behind it. She was writing on some sort of form, striking the pen passionately.

After admiring the scene, I walked over to the front desk, only to realize the desk was a bit taller. Just my luck. I grabbed the top of the desk and pulled myself up, letting out a small squeak. The woman dotted an 'i' before looking at me. She raised an eyebrow and slipped a piece of hair behind her ear.

"I assume you're Mr. Thompson." She breathed in an annoyed tone. I stared at her a little, trembling at the sight of her glare. I could see it clearly after she pushed her glasses onto her crooked nose.

I came back to my senses and responded quickly. "Yes, that would be me. Andr-"

"Andren Thompson. Demon Vampire mix, nineteen years old. I already know. I've memorised every student in this place," I looked down, a bit scared. "Anyway, I suppose you'll need your key." The woman pushed her chair back and plucked a key out of its box. I bit my lip out of excitement, knowing I'd squeal if I didn't. I reached out, gripped the key, and dropped onto the floor once again. The woman continued to stare at me as I turned and looked at the room number. #308.

"Okay." I mumbled, still examining the key. The ridge pattern was standard, yet there was a certain perfection to it. I quickly went into my ballet friends' group chat and texted the number. The next day Terri, Wyona, Val, and Mari would help me get my stuff out of the apartment.

I walked to the elevator and pressed the newly painted 3. It seemed as if everything was new and completely fresh. I smiled and continued fingering the key. Once the elevator stopped I briskly stepped out and began looking for my dorm. I stopped at a thick wood door with '308' marked in gold.

Sticking the key in the lock, I heard an array of clicks before the door popped ajar. I took a small breath. I prayed that nothing would affect my PTSD. I didn't want my roommate to deal with that. As soon as I thought of that, anxiety poured into me like a teapot and cup. What if my roommate hates me? What happens if I leave a bad impression? What if my scholarship didn't actually go through? What if this was the wrong dorm, and I was trespassing?

"Shut up Andren!" I ordered. Taking another breath, I began to open the door. But it wouldn't move. I pushed it with my entire body, and nothing. I stepped back, allowing curls of red fall into my face. My dark green backpack slumped to the ground helplessly as I set my things down.

Remember, I talk to myself.

"Alright door, it's just you and me. Pointe exercise seventeen, go!" I ran to the other side of the hallway, saut de basqued to the door into a turning open second leap. The door finally moved with my karate-like move and I rolled inside like a tumbleweed.

"Eek!" I said, holding my arms against my head protectively. My rolling came to a stop near the carpet. I layed on my back for a moment, dazed. As my breathing slowed to normal as I slowly sat up.

"That's the second time today..." I muttered.

I looked around the floor for the extra Bobby pins I'd put in my hair that morning. The fall knocked them out of their place. I crawled around helplessly, with no luck.

"Whoops, guess it's gone." I shrugged and stood up, examining the setting. Near the entrance was a closet for coats and shoes. A black peacoat and three different pairs of shoes had already found their resting place. It was clear my roommate was either a man or into masculine things. I slipped my sneakers off and set them in the corner. A modern kitchen sat to the closet's left. It looked as if my roommate had bought all of the utensils. All of the pots that hung from small hooks above the counters were shiny silver. Whoever my roommate was kept the place really nice. The kitchen was spotless, the marble countertops shining. The marble was a vanilla beige, not a color I care for. But something about that countertop made me love it. I smiled and looked over to the living room. There was a large T.V attached to the wall, and on the other side of the room, a light, fluffy couch pressed against the opposite wall. A dark stained coffee table sat between them. It was a lovely place to live in.

I stepped out and received my belongings before shoving the door shut. I checked my phone, seeing my unread message from Maya.

Maya: I've got some info on the students!!

I read the words a few more times before responding.

Andren: ...why.

Maya: Why?? So you have the latest gossip!

Andren: What is it?

Maya: I knew you'd come around. There's five people you don't talk to.

Rolleen Barch

Eric Morales

The Bailey Brothers

Amara Cisneros

Rin Azuma

Don't get in trouble bb!! ;)

I flushed an embarrassed pink.

"Agh...Maya..." I muttered, quickly typing a response.

Andren: You're disgusting! I'm here to learn!

Maya: kk Alfredo.

Andren: Bye Maya

Where did Alfredo come from? The first time I was taken in by Madame Delphine, she took one look at my body and had one thing to say.

"Limp Noodle."

I told Maya.

Don't tell Maya things. She's a wonderful friend (My best friend, actually), and is an expert in life, gossip and men. She keeps a secret like a bulletproof vest and on top of all that, she's drop-dead gorgeous. It's really not fair, honestly.

Anyway, Maya thought it was so funny she started calling me Alfredo.

I shook out my hair a little, thinking about different shades of white. Suddenly, I collided with a sturdy mass. It was like a pillar. I fell back, gently caressing my nose.

"...Are you alright?" A deep, gentle voice asked. I turned red at the very moment that voice teased my ears. It was the candle lit, rose covered voice that sings you into paradise with every word. It was practically dripping with romance. The sound of the voice was almost like a fantasy. This was a moment where I'm grateful to love men.

And, if you haven't caught on yet, I'm gay.