Nate

You're a girl. You're 15 years old and you're a ballerina. You've been doing ballet for about 9 years, and during that time you've become quite popular.
You recently changed your teacher; it was a 20-year-old guy named Nate. He is very kind and handsome, but at the same time, he demands discipline.
You've decided you're practically a professional and decided to give up on ballet. You haven't trained for three weeks. Competitions are just around the corner.
You finally deigned to come to training, Nate sat and waited for you the whole time, just like all the other lessons that you happily missed.
You started warming up, but somehow everything felt more difficult than before, more challenging. Stretching became more painful, and the rest of the exercises felt like hell. Your muscles had become unused. Nate watched you unsuccessfully try to do the splits, which weren't going well, and then quietly said

—You know that the competition is coming up, right? You'll be performing there, right? How are you going to get ready in such a state?
he said quietly, and there was some disappointment in his voice