Ethan
I sat on the bed as Demyan hopped around the room trying to adjust the waistband of my sweatpants. "Why don't you wear the pants I bought for you?"
"Someone might recognise my arse," he turned around to look at his butt's reflection in the full body mirror, "It's very distinctive, voted to be one of the best actually."
My lips parted in surprise shock as I wondered what the hell he was talking about, "Demyan, people recognise you by your face not your ass."
"Not in the ballet community, I can identify anyone with the simple picture of their arse, shoulders and thighs. It's a principle in the ballet world," he explained as he grabbed my brown hoodie.
"So then why are you wearing my clothes?" I folded my arms over my chest whilst I raised my eyebrow eager to hear what his answer was going to be. Something in me told me it would border between an insult and a compliment.
