SHIP — DanielaxY/N

written by — Fufu830.

When Y/N and Daniela were kids, they were inseparable—at least, that's how it felt on the dance floor. Their feet moved in perfect harmony, a rhythm they had perfected over years of practice. From ballet to contemporary, they'd been partners for everything, their connection so strong that it seemed like they were reading each other's minds with every step. It was more than just dancing; it was a friendship, a bond that filled their days with laughter and excitement.

But life, as it often does, changed. After the big recital that marked the end of their dance partnership, Daniela's family moved across the country for her dad's job. They promised to stay in touch, to visit each other during the summer, but as the months went by, the calls became less frequent, the texts faded, and eventually, they lost contact altogether.

Years passed. Y/N continued to dance, though the partnership with Daniela was never quite replaced. There was always an empty space in their routines, a feeling of something unfinished, like a song that never reached its final note.

One Saturday afternoon, Y/N wandered into the local grocery store, distracted by the busy rhythm of life. They pushed their cart down the aisles, idly selecting items when a familiar laugh caught their attention. It was light, melodic—just like it used to be.

Y/N froze for a moment, heart racing. There, a few aisles over, stood a woman with dark, curly hair, pushing her own cart. She was laughing with a friend, her voice unmistakable.

"Daniela?" Y/N whispered under their breath, unsure if they were just imagining it.

Curiosity took over, and they approached cautiously. As Y/N rounded the corner of the cereal aisle, their eyes met Daniela's, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. Daniela blinked, then blinked again, clearly doing a double take.

"Y/N?" Daniela said, her voice full of disbelief. "Is that really you?"

Y/N felt their heart skip. "Yeah, I—wow. I didn't think I'd ever run into you again."

Daniela's face lit up with a bright, nostalgic smile, and before Y/N could say anything more, she was giving them a hug. It felt just like the old days—warm, comforting, like they'd never been apart.

"I can't believe it," Daniela said, pulling back slightly to look at Y/N, still holding onto their shoulders as if afraid they might vanish. "How long has it been? Ten years? More?"

"Ten years, at least," Y/N said, laughing softly. "I've thought about you so many times."

Daniela's eyes softened, and there was a slight sadness in her smile. "Same here. I always wondered what happened to you... after everything changed. It was like we just... drifted apart, you know?"

Y/N nodded, feeling the ache of old memories. "Yeah. Life just got in the way, I guess. I still think about our dances sometimes. You were the best partner I ever had."

Daniela's face flushed with that same modesty she'd had when they were younger. "You weren't so bad yourself," she teased, nudging Y/N playfully. "Though, I have to admit, I don't think I've danced much since... well, since we stopped."

"I get that," Y/N said, feeling a bit of the old longing resurface. "I haven't really danced with anyone else the same way."

There was a moment of silence, the kind that comes when both people realize they've missed something in each other's lives for far too long.

"So," Y/N said, suddenly feeling adventurous, "What do you say? Maybe we should grab a coffee sometime? Catch up properly?"

Daniela smiled warmly, her eyes twinkling. "I'd like that. I've missed you, Y/N."

They exchanged numbers, and as they chatted about everything and nothing, the world felt a little smaller, a little kinder. By the time they reached the checkout, they'd made plans to meet up the following week.

But as Y/N pushed their cart out into the parking lot, they couldn't help but feel like they were starting a new chapter with an old friend—one that was filled with the music of their youth, the laughter of their shared past, and the possibility of a future where they might just dance together again.