nazuna "(ง •̀_•́)ง" nito (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pronounces) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
potosi2017-10-09 06:31 pm
pronounces) wrote in potosi2017-10-09 06:31 pm
Entry tags:
i've got no strings. | recolle sample
[ nazuna's nightmare's aren't all that abnormal, at least for him. he frequently has sketchy dreams about various, terrifying images, but this is the first time that his dream has been so clear.
nazuna's in front of a stage. the audience is full, glimmering with red and gold light sticks, and the crowd seems to be hanging on the very edge of their seats for what is going to be a spectacular performance of some kind. they're cheering and shouting for someone, and when the curtain comes up, there's nazuna.
his hair is a little longer, the blonde locks reaching his shoulders and delicately curled; there's a black headband pressed lovingly into his hair. the entire outfit nazuna has on does, really, suit him--it's delicate and lacy, and whatever stage makeup he has on his face gives him the appearance of a perfectly angelic doll.
there's something strange about it, though. at his wrist, his elbows, his shoulders, his head, his ankles and knees--there are strings, softly glimmering gold in the light of the stage. they lead up to the catwalk above the stage, where a mysterious, shadowy hand snaps its fingers, and beautiful orchestra music begins to play.
in his nightmare, nazuna's not quite himself. his facial expression doesn't really change, mouth closed, eyes blank. he's a perfect, total doll, and the strings begin to twitch, making him dance along to the tune. the crowd goes wild for him, light sticks glowing and waving along with the tunes, as two other (unknown) voices sing from across the stage. here, nazuna is the star, and when the curtain finally closes to thunderous applause, the strings drop, and he's left there, just dangling. just another doll to be used when the second song starts.
...unless someone was willing to cut him free. ]
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there is no aftermath of his accident, no phantom pains that plague him every other step. he is inhuman, untouchable, above the vulgar masses that lie before him, the sharpness of his gaze and the fluidity of his movements unnatural and burning, fire and passion painted in red and gold and black designed to kill those unworthy to lay their eyes upon him.
he is sovereign, possessor of absolute control.
when the applause fades and the curtain falls, shu enters the stage. it's dark, the lights have all been turned off behind the curtain, and the only source of light, strangely, is in the centre of the stage. the heels of his boots click loudly over the wooden floor as he crosses over to the prone form of his perfect, beautiful muse, angelic and delicate and--
shu kneels, for a moment, grimacing, but there's nothing he won't do for his beloved muse, not when leaving such a beautiful, perfect doll on the ground is liable to leave it damaged. he scoops up his dangled form, cards his fingers through the soft, silken strands of blonde hair. ]
You did well. [ it's soft, affectionate, proud. the blonde hair obscures the doll's face, but it still lies listless, unmoving save for the occasional jerk when shu tugs lightly on the strings. ] You move so beautifully, so obediently, according to my every command--
[ and he sweeps the hair out of the doll's face, and shu freezes.
no.
because the doll is wearing nazuna's face, eyes blank and mouth closed and nothing like the nazuna that he knows, and it takes all of shu's willpower not to drop him. ]
Nito? Nito?! [ he's hoping that it will pull some kind of reaction from that blank, blank expression, but no. ] Nazuna, can you hear me?
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shu.
when he pulls the strings, nazuna's heart drops, rapidly, listening to him sound proud, delighted, and for a moment, he's arguably never been so terrified, like a rabbit caught in the jaws of a lion. he can't move, he can't breathe, can't do anything but let shu touch him and soak him with those words, kind and seeking obedience and--
(there's a part of him that accepts it, that enjoys it. this is how it should be.)
--when he snaps out of it, he could cry. nazuna tries to open his mouth to say something, do something, but nothing comes out. his mouth won't move, like it's been stitched shut, no matter how much he tries to scream or shout, to even just say shu's name.
the panic is starting to rise in his throat as shu looks at him, and if he's looking closely enough, he can see it reflected in his eyes, a bright, albino-rabbit-pink instead of brown. it's the only emotion on an utterly blank canvas, and though he can't open his mouth, he makes a sound, a distressed, higher pitched hum. help me, please. ]
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he hears the sounds of distress even though on closer look nazuna's lips are stitched shut, transparent strings hidden under a layer of stage makeup, sees the terror reflected in his eyes.
except that this is also a nightmare, and shu realises with slightly dawning horror that he's trapped in the nightmare as much as nazuna is. all shu can do is watch from behind the eyes of his double as he seems to ignore nazuna's distress - completely disregards how nazuna's skin feels warm even through velvet gloves, grazing his gloved fingers along the line of nazuna's sharp jawline, skin soft and unmarred, porcelain perfect. ]
Look at me. [ and shu hears his own voice speak - it's commanding, powerful, ringing out on the empty stage even though there's no audience, it's just the two of them, watches as his own fingers move of their own accord, an experienced flick of his hand causing nazuna's head to snap back taut, almost painfully if it weren't so carefully controlled (so carefully because nazuna can't be broken, is too precious to be broken). ]
Beautiful. [ his own voice sounds too pleased, a soft murmur as he watches himself manipulate the strings attached to nazuna's limbs, positions his limp form into something vaguely resembling a lover's embrace, unnatural angles and sharp, unrelenting lines. ] That pleases me.
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for the first brief moment, he thought shu might be there to help. even in his dreams, he felt immediately relieved, but becomes obvious right away that this puppet master is no less cruel than the one he usually sees. this is worse.
the texture of his gloves on his face is unfamiliar, the soft crush of the fabric an unusual sensation that feels heightened at his lack of his voice, his senses. nothing hurts--it's rather the opposite, a full body numbness that feels like it's taken over for him. he's not just dressed as a doll, he's becoming one, a plaything for shu to do whatever he pleases with.
he doesn't flinch when his head snaps back--it doesn't hurt, at least not physically--and his hair bounces back when he moves, a golden halo around his face as he comes up to look at shu. his eyes are still scared, the brightest thing about him, perhaps the only sign of his personality still present. inside, he's practically banging around in his consciousness, screaming, shu, please, stop, shu, shu, but he doesn't get much of a choice.
look how happy he looks.
beautiful. he says. that pleases me. shu's happy.
even if nazuna had a choice, he'd be letting shu move his arms. hands out in front of him just a little, a space that shu could step into if he wanted to, he's formed into a mannequin's hold, and there's not another distressed noise, because whatever he wants to say won't move past his sewn shut mouth, the pale pink paint on his lips covering neat, perfect little holes, as if that was where the thread belonged all along.
finally, he hums again, just a little noise. less distressed. he's trying to say something, but what choice does he have? what would he even tell shu, who is looking at him as if he's made of gold?
please don't hurt me. (maybe in a dream, he would.) ]
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shu is many things - eccentric, difficult to get along with, arrogant, but one thing that he's absolutely certain of is that he would never hurt any of his prized possessions. nightmare or not, nazuna is worth more to him than gold, perfectly tuned and lovely, a diamond in the rough and so much more, if he were allowed to wax poetic.
if he could, nazuna would be for his eyes only, and his touch is still gentle but firm - brushing the golden halo of hair off his shoulders, velvet fingertips tracing the line of his shoulders under the layers of lace and velvet, sliding down the bumps of nazuna's spine to settle on his waist. his other hand slips into nazuna's and lifts it so that they're in an imitation of some kind of waltz, and the way shu threads his fingers carefully through nazuna's, even as his wrist hangs slack - there's a touch of reverence, possessiveness in the way his fingers move.
and shu shushes him when he hears the remnants of the noises that spill from nazuna's sealed lips, his tone cold and icy in contrast to the warm, tender touches he's been lavishing on nazuna. ]
Don't speak. Don’t fight me. Dolls are to move how their puppetmaster commands, correct?
[ and with that, with their close proximity, the golden threads are tangled, but when shu moves, so does nazuna.
another flick of his hand, and the music plays - a soft, haunting tune. ]
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nazuna's arm feels heavy when shu lifts it, as if he's been overtaken by some kind of porcelain, fitting the look of a perfect doll as told. there's a chill that goes down his spine as his hand moves down, a contrast to his own warm skin, and his eyes flick away from shu's for just a moment to watch him take his hand, the tender way that he slides their fingers together--
he's been in love with shu for almost as long as he can remember, how great this could be, but it's wrong, wrong
--and the shush that makes the last bit of noise die out. there's nothing, not the rustle of velvet under his fingers or the noises coming out of nazuna's mouth. even if he wanted to, he couldn't.
he finally makes a noise again, but it's just a soft affirmative, a yes. the sound tears itself out of his throat without permission, because maybe--maybe it'd be easier to give in than it would be to fight it. that he wants that warm touch to come back, wants the ice to seep out of shu's voice. he wants the itsuki he knows back, not--not this, where everything feels wrong.
if he had the choice, he'd squeeze shu's hand to try and get his attention, but he doesn't. his fingers stay gently in shu's, not holding, just resting there. all of his movements are commanded by shu's body, and nazuna can't even close his eyes and look away.
it's just sad, now, reflected in those big, pink eyes. hurt, sadness. fear, as he finally stops trying to fight back. let's dance. shu wants him to be a doll, and--maybe that's what he has to be.
shouldn't he just give in? ]
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everything is perfect, everything is exquisite, a higher form of art that's incomprehensible to those unable to appreciate it.
except that nazuna's big, pink eyes are looking up at him, not with the adoration he expects, but hurt, sadness, fear, and-- ]
Ah, Nito-- [ his own voice sounds foreign in his ears, like it's dark, twisted, fond. ] --My perfect creation, my best masterpiece; [ nazuna's skin feels cold under his touch even as he cradles nazuna's head, like porcelain, something is wrongwrongwrong ] won't you return to me? You were mine first, after all.
[ a soft sigh, humourless and with an undercurrent of rage - why? - and he withdraws, lets nazuna's head drop, and nazuna falls to his knees like his strings have suddenly been cut.
broken, but beautiful.
if he had the choice, he would stop this. because everything feels wrong now, a grotesque imitation of the things he sees in his own memories, and never, he would never, why isn't he stopping-- even as he watches nazuna crash to the ground with an almost dispassionate look. even as his very instinct is to reach out and catch nazuna before he falls, before he breaks.
because shu is as trapped as nazuna is, at least until the dream-- no, this nightmare runs its course. ]
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itsuki--no, shu, this isn't itsuki--says his name--nito, not nazuna, that he's known since they were preteens--and it takes his attention back away from the music. shu's in front of him and talking, holding him as if he was something precious and pure. it's twisted with something angry, something horrifying and so unlike his mentor, the teacher who has been with him since he was still learning how to plie, that it turns his veins to ice.
it's not just that, either, as shu starts to let go, nazuna panics, his eyes widening even further--his eyes drop away and look at his hands, they're made of porcelain, and he's falling, falling-- ]
--! [ and then, right before he's going to hit the ground, nazuna practically leaps to a sitting position in bed, no words coming out of his mouth as he throws the blankets off of him. he looks left, right, and then down at his fingers, which are trembling, but human, soft pale pink skin and normal.
nazuna takes in a deep, shaky breath. his heart is still pounding against his chest at approximately a million miles an hour, and slowly, he comes to his senses. his face is wet, and he reaches up to touch his lips, just to check. he can still hear shu's voice--my perfect creation, my best masterpiece--but....
nothing.
it was just a dream. ]
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his fingertips still feel like ice.
there’s a dryness in his mouth, the way his breathing is audible.
it was just a dream. albeit one that feels entirely way too realistic, because when shu closes his eyes, tries to calm himself down,he can still hear his own voice, can still see nazuna’s sad, fearful eyes fixed on him, haunting him and—
he picks up his phone, ignoring the time displayed on the lock screen, and dials a familiar number. then shu puts it on speaker because he’s not expecting to be able to use his phone properly, not in the aftermath of the entirely too-vivid dream.
the call connects, and—
i’m sorry, are you alright is what he wants to say, but: ]
... Nazuna... you’re still awake. Did I disturb you?
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it's shu. there's a horrified swoop from his heart that nazuna almost immediately scolds himself for, but he can't help it. what kind of strange timing is this?
it ends up making him laugh, just a little, a disbelieving noise as he lets the cutesy song ring for just a moment longer than he might usually before he clicks on the "answer call" button. unlike shu, he holds the phone to his ear, even though his hands are shaking so hard it feels like he might drop it any second, but being able to cling onto the body of the phone gives him something to ground himself to.
shu's voice in his ear either helps or hurts--he hasn't really figured out which, when he speaks. but there's concern in his voice, and--he calls him nazuna. it was just a dream. it was just a dream.
he exhales. it's shaky. ] No. [ is what he manages, and though he's trying to hold it together, it's clear in his voice that something's wrong. that maybe he's been crying, that his voice is a little smaller than normal. ] Y'thcared me. 'th late...
[ unsurprisingly, after all of that, he's not exactly intelligible, either. ]
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if anything, he's probably more relieved than ever that he actually picks up the phone. given that shu strongly suspects that they both shared a dream, he can't even begin to imagine how nazuna must feel, if even he himself is a little bit (okay not a little bit) horrified at what he's capable of doing.
when nazuna speaks, his voice is shaky, loud enough on speakerphone that shu kind of. instantly recoils slightly.
the nightmare doesn't sit well with him, either. ]
... I know. [ a pause. ] I thought you wouldn't pick up.
[ it stops there, because he doesn't-- he's not sure if he wants to bring up the nightmare if nazuna doesn't bring it up first. ]
... Are you alright? [ you should go back to sleep, he wants to say, but he stops himself because the last thing he wants is for nazuna to plunge into another nightmare. ]
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the other latches onto the little note of concern in shu's voice. it's such a stark difference from the shu that's slowly starting to fade from his nightmares, the one who was treating him as a little plaything, as a doll that it catches his attention.
nazuna takes another slow breath in. the only sound he can really hear now is his own heartbeat in his ears and shu's deep voice in his ears, the soft rustles of the night around him. it's grounding, somehow, and nazuna brings his other hand up to hold onto the phone with both hands, curling his knees up into his chest and curling up into a ball.
he can repeat it over in his head--it wasn't real, it wasn't real--but nothing is helping more than this. for as strange as it was to see his number on his phone screen, nazuna's feeling just a little more grounded with every second that they're on the phone. ]
...Bad dream. [ he manages without much stutter, even. nazuna bites his lip to stop the sting of tears rushing to his eyes, but he ends up sniffling anyway, a longer noise, as he tilts his head up to the ceiling of his bedroom and keeps his eyes squeezed shut. ] C'you...shtay on the phone?
[ a pause. he feels silly, so he starts to ramble. ] We d'n hafta talk 'bout anyshing shpecial, I justht-- [ need you, need to know you're real. ]
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god, what has he done? ]
You're stuttering. [ it's a gentle reminder, or rather, it's meant to be one. it's also a distraction. ] Breathe. It's okay.
[ it's the same kind of encouragement that he gives his younger dancers when they're dealing with stage fright - it's easy enough to reuse it here.
nazuna sniffles, and he has to resist the urge to hang up, pretend that this conversation never happened lest the worst comes to pass and it's the same dream that they both shared, and against his better judgment, even though there are probably a million other things that they could talk about, nazuna said so himself, but: ]
Do you want to talk about it?
[ the dream. it's an opening, left for nazuna to take, if he wants to, and there's a part of him that hopes that it's a different dream that nazuna is referring to, desperately wanting for nazuna to prove him wrong. ]
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it was a dream. it was just a dream. he just has to keep telling himself, keep listening to this voice on the end of the line to anchor himself back down into reality. this is the real shu--the one who called him in the middle of the night, like he knew. his heart squeezes, tight, and he shuts his eyes tightly as he tries to decide what he wants to say ]
...thanks. [ is where he starts. ] I'm okay.
[ he sniffles again, a deeper breath in as he rubs at his face, slowly starting to uncurl a little bit, starting to lay backwards on his bed again--if he touches the sheets, they're a little wet from what has to be sweat. ] I...
I had a dream I was a doll. [ i was a doll, and you were there. nazuna laughs, just a little, rubbing at his face. ] Isn't that strange? There was this stage, and I was... someone's marionette.
[ your marionette. ] I'm--I'm glad you called, Itsuki. [ but unfortunately for him, nazuna won't be proving him wrong today. ] It felt really real.
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it would probably be something different altogether if it was in person, although nazuna doesn't need to know that.
and this... this is what he was afraid of. shu lets out the breath he's been unconsciously holding in, even as nazuna's every word, every single description of the dream, is just.
it had felt real, too real, in fact, enough to make him feel just the slightest bit ill, knowing that there are parts of the story that nazuna isn't telling him, because he knows the full story, knows what nazuna is leaving out, what he isn't saying.
that shu is the puppetmaster behind this nightmare, and--
there's a long pause at the other end of the line, it's probably long enough for nazuna to probably wonder if he's hung up, cut the call, but no. he's still on the line, although he has. there are words that he wants to say, sentiments that he wants to convey, and-- ]
... I had to make sure that you were safe.
[ ... that's about as good as any, if he doesn't want to inadvertently divulge that he knows.
at least, he hopes so. ]
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it's that, and what he says that catch his attention. nazuna feels a twist of anxiety in his stomach as he speaks, as if its reacting to the still present dream version of shu he'd seen; subconsciously, he reaches up to touch his lips, letting go of the phone. ]
Of course I'm safe. [ i was just in bed, he starts, but he pauses. how would he...?
retrospec does strange things to people. he's heard rumors about the things that have happened all month, and nazuna exhales, a shaky little noise. ] ...why wouldn't I be?
[ it's not a direct accusation of "how would you know", but he can feel that anxiety squeeze around his stomach again--and not for himself. it's for shu, instead. did he remember that dream, too? was he there?
why didn't he do anything?, a part of him wonders, but he has to shake it away. no. shu would have--it must have been the dream. instead of just letting it hang there, though, he adds again, his tone soft, sounding as if he'd pulled the phone just a little closer to his face. ] Are you safe?
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[ needed to make sure I didn't hurt you - is what he doesn't say. if it sounds just a little bit more curt than usual, it's because that's. all there is to it, actually. because when all that's said and done, what doesn't change is the fact that nazuna was the marionette, his mouth stitched shut, his gaze dull and lifeless and ever so obedient and--
I'm fine, he wants to say. no. he's not fine.
he feels a little bit sick, actually, because like it or not, there was also a part of him that had thought that nazuna, in that form, was
beautiful
precious
that wasn't his dream incarnation. that had been him, and. he wants to blame it on retrospec, because nazuna's not the only one who's heard rumours, especially since some of his own students are on the app, too, but--
that seems awfully way too convenient, doesn't it?
so shu doesn't say anything about it. but even with what he's said (and hasn't said, more importantly, just the deliberate way that nazuna is responding is enough to give shu just that inkling that perhaps he knows. knows that he was there, knows how he let nazuna break--
for a moment, he considers cutting the call. blaming it on a bad connection.
he doesn't. but it's quiet, another long pause, making the conversation sound a little bit one-sided, all things considered. when he finally speaks-- ]
Don't concern yourself about me.
[ nazuna's the one with the nightmare. not him. ]
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shu would never hurt him. he'd never say or do something that cruel. nazuna's known him--he knows he's strict, as a teacher, but he also knows him as a human, as a friend. that was just some awful dream.
so, when shu says don't concern yourself in that just slightly clipped way, nazuna scoffs, just a little noise. ] Itsuki, I'm always concerned about you.
[ there's no cutesy nickname added onto his name, just the sincerity that's come from being partners, and his own need to take care of other people. it's the god-given truth, too, because nazuna has had shu on his mind every day that he's known him, even when he disappeared for three years. he doesn't want him to even think for a second that nazuna doesn't care.
still, with that very serious statement stressed, nazuna finally loosens his hand away from his phone and runs it through his still sweat soaked bangs. he does in fact know shu, and he knows he probably won't want to talk about this. the fact that he even has him on the phone is a small miracle.
he can think of one thing that might make them both feel better, though. he stays quiet on his end to let the gravity of that statement stay, for a little longer, then adds, quietly: ] I don't think I'm going to be able to sleep anytime soon. Itsuchin-- are you...
[ he rubs at his forehead a little. ] ...it's not far from your apartment to here, right?
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he knows. he knows without a reasonable doubt by now that he and nazuna shared the same dream, and while it seems vaguely like something straight out of a sci-fi movie, there's also that nagging feeling that everything feels so familiar, an odd sense of deja vu that comes with-- memories?
he's not even sure that he wants to know, or to find out the root of the feeling or how he seems comfortable, even, with that capacity of cruelty. in his own odd, scattered dreams, nazuna has never featured this prominently, just a blank, faceless doll--
was he like this, back then?
has he actually done something like that?
and more importantly - did nazuna know?
his thoughts are interrupted mostly because nazuna's voice cuts through his own musings like a knife, and shu closes his eyes, lets his body relax from how it unconsciously tensed up, and resists the slight urge to laugh. it's easy to forget, especially since shu hasn't seen nazuna in three years, to forget that he's
changed
and sometimes it threw shu off guard, how fierce nazuna could sound, how differenthe was from his high school days, and for a moment, shu is
relieved?
this nazuna would never let anyone turn him into a doll, even if it was shu at the end of the puppeteer's strings. he was too fiercely independent for that.
so he does finally laugh, a small, relieved sound before what nazuna says actually processes, letting the nickname slide. ]
No, it's not. [ he'd specifically moved closer to the university district for a reason, with most of his classes there, so while he doesn't stay on campus, it's close enough. ] ... Do you remember how to get here?
[ it's about as good as an invitation as any, since he's also fairly certain that like nazuna, he's not going to be able to sleep anytime soon, either. ]
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even just hearing shu's voice on the phone is helping. it makes it harder and harder to believe that the shu of his dreams--cold, obsessive, sovereign--is anywhere close to real.
he's relieved, too. nazuna zips his hoodie up and slips outside, stepping out into the brisk autumn air. the fog that has invaded the city is normal, and it makes the stillness of the early morning even eerier than usual. it's not a far walk to shu's--five minutes, not that he's ever counted--but he jams his unoccupied hand into his pocket and starts to walk, briskly.
he's stayed on this phone the whole time, though, and he pauses as he gets walking. ] ...I won't make you stay on the phone. [ because he knows shu, knows that he hates phones (and when his students forget to point their toes, and overly cutesy pop music, and closed in, crowded places) but he can't push away the brief overhang in his statement, a but i'd like it if you did he doesn't really want to say.
he huffs, smiles a little to himself. ] But, it's really creepy outside. It reminds me of that Halloween choreography I had to learn for a movie. It was really cheesy, because you didn't write it. Do you remember that?
[ maybe just the five minutes. maybe he's not ready to be alone yet. (if shu hangs up, nazuna wouldn't blame him--he's being selfish, but shu's voice was a comfort he missed for all the years shu was gone.) ]
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... Stay safe.
[ he doesn't think to hang up.
what he's thinking more of is the mysterious fog that has invaded the city, and even though he himself hasn't experienced anything truly terrifying yet, he's heard some rumours, especially concerning the things that happen after dark. and well, better to be safe than sorry, right?
or maybe he just forgets that you're supposed to hang up after a phone conversation. he's the kind that does something like that (he's only really used a smartphone out of sheer necessity) so when nazuna's voice sounds from the speakers of his phone, even when he's making tea, he startles for a moment, glancing over to where it's still on the countertop, still on speaker, and he sighs. it's a soft sound that has the barest edges of relief in his tone, because from the ambient background noise, shu can guess that nazuna is currently walking over to his place. ]
It's fine, I won't die just because I'm still on the phone. [ dry humour? pretty much. he has way too many minutes that he doesn't know what to do with on his phone plan anyway.
it's followed by a soft snort. truthfully?
shu doesn't remember the specific instance that nazuna is takling about, actually.
he has some kind of vague idea, but since it wasn't his own choreography, and he's created a lot of pieces since first knowing nazuna, it's understandable that something would probably have slipped through the cracks. ]
Somewhat. [ technically true. ] Was it the one with a vague Michael Jackson-esque zombie rip-off? I probably could have done a better job.
[ so much disdain. his salt for subpar choreography is eternal, and that's also technically true. ]
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a masterpiece.
(there's the echo of the dream again. you were my greatest masterpiece. maybe it was just a twisted version of reality, somehow--not that nazuna wants to think about it.) ]
That's the one. [ he sounds so, so fond, even over the phone. even if shu was being silent, it's comforting--that's the reason that he's stayed on the phone this long, anyway.
shu's drive isn't far away, now, and he makes his way to the apartment building, staying on the phone and talking softly as he does. ] It was fun, in its own way, but it definitely wasn't the same.
[ is he talking about work, or is he talking about shu in general? life without him around wasn't the same. shifting the phone to his shoulder, nazuna knocks on the door, keeping it cradled there.
three years of silence, and the feeling of anticipation of waiting for shu to answer the door, the squeeze around his heart and the smile starting to push onto his face--not a thing has changed. ]
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laughter over the phone isn't quite completely contagious, but it's been a while since he's heard that particular inflection of a laugh, and he knows how exactly this will go. nazuna will laugh, his laughter bright even through the phone's speakers, giggling until he snorts and--
he would be lying, if he said that he'd forgotten what it sounded like, but the sound of nazuna's laughter causes his lips to twitch upwards into a smile. it's small, but it's there. ]
Mm. [ there's a pause, there, almost as if he's contemplating something to say in return
but he's interrupted but nazuna's knock on his door
(he's fairly certain that nazuna can hear it too, picked up by his phone's speakers)
and that's when he finally cuts the call
because why speak over the phone when they're finally here, face to face? he leaves his phone on the table when he answers the door, finally, and for the first time in a while, shu looks at nazuna.
(it's been three years, but nazuna's smile still takes his breath away)
he knows that he's a little thinner now, his eyes are a little more sunken and he's subconsciously leaning his weight a little more on his right instead of standing up completely straight, but nazuna looks happy, as bright as the sun even in the dark of night and still as good as the day shu last saw him--
i missed you, he doesn't say. what he says instead: ] Are you alright?
[ a pause, and shu gestures for nazuna to enter, steps aside to let him in before closing the door behind him. it's not much (but really, that's the lie, it's actually a decent apartment for someone who's living alone). ] You can go sit down, if you like.
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he's spent the past three years hanging onto this, waiting for these very moments, for the way he feels when shu opens the door. the smile on his face goes from little to beatific, widening until he's beaming at him, cheeks flushing pink just at the sight. they both probably look like a mess--nazuna's still got bedhead, he's wearing a faded yellow dance company shirt from when he was twelve and a pair of pink, rabbit print pajama pants, and he's never felt happier to see shu in his life.
he hangs up the phone without taking his eyes off of him, really, and then flushes a little more, nodding to his actual question and putting his smartphone back in his pocket. ]
Thank you. [ he doesn't stutter or stammer, either, even if he's a little flustered (and maybe, still a little lovestruck) and steps in before shu. his apartment is nice, really nice, and he looks around as shu comes inside, turning to face him before moving to settle down on the couch, folding his legs up underneath him as he makes himself comfortable. ]
I'm okay. [ i'm okay now, is what he wants to say, but that feels so unbelievably forward, way too close to a precipice he teetered over for so long, tiptoes on the cliff as he considered everything he'd ever liked about shu when things were almost over, when he opened his mouth to speak and--
shu left. he was gone.
it sobers his thoughts just a little, and he smiles up at shu as he comes in, hands on his ankles. ] Thanks for inviting me over.
[ he tilts his head, a little, a silent: come sit with me? ]
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[ i'd rather have you here than alone, he doesn't say. it's stupid, it's cliched, and shu's never been enough of a romantic to quite believe in inane things like love at first sight (he's not wataru, thank fucking god for that), but in that moment
it feels something like that
and they've always had chemistry, they've always been good partners, but somehow, it's always been easy for shu to read nazuna's every movement, even the subtle invitation in that small head tilt
(almost like the strings of a marionette
like a doll responding to its master, perfectly attuned--)
the thought comes unbidden, and it takes pretty much most of shu's self control not to let that thought show up on his features.
there's more than enough space for two, on the couch.
and shu obliges him, settles in next to nazuna on the couch, close enough to touch, but not quite. there's a stray lock of golden blond hair that's covering nazuna's ear, tousled from the bedhead, and shu resists the urge to lean over to smooth it out with his fingers, to tuck nazuna's hair behind his ear like he's done before so many times when they were younger - (is he even allowed to do that, anymore?) - when nazuna's smile made him feel.
(it still does.)
what he says, instead: ] ... You cut your hair.
[ it's shorter, but not by much, but shu's always been someone who's ridiculously sharp and observant, and. well. ] It suits you.
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still, it goes with the feeling that shu's looking at him, something he's always enjoyed. he likes captivating his attention, even if the intensity in his gaze sometimes catches him down to the bone, and though he has to fight the urge to fidget a little, he does reach up to touch the longer side of his hair. it's only half gone--he likes the aesthetic of it, the half-and-half look that seems to be so popular nowadays. nazuna's cheeks have gone red with the compliment, embarrassed, but pleased. ] I got tired of people mistaking me for a girl, so.
[ not that his haircut has really stopped them, but.
nazuna can hear his heartbeat in his ears, and somehow, it's so much more pleasant than it was after the dream. this is his reality; shu inviting him over in the dead of night to help him calm down from a scary dream. not what he saw, not the puppet master. nazuna would never let himself be controlled again.
who knew what his subconscious was thinking, pairing shu of all people with his manager, but at least it's over now. here, he can focus on the quiet, relaxing feeling of shu's apartment and the way just talking to him feels like drinking a cup of warm tea on a winter morning. it's home.
so shu doesn't say it. he doesn't have to, because nazuna will. he's always been bold, a lion when necessary instead of a shrinking rabbit, and he's the first one to just let the word vomit come out with a blurted out-- ] I missed you.
[ overnight? or over the three years? ] --I'm glad you're home.
[ he doesn't really know what he's referring to anymore. he's glad shu was awake, that he helped him again, sure, but there's no place in the world he'd rather be than right here. even if nazuna never confesses his feelings (because there's no way someone like shu could like him back), he's happy to be close, to lean in just a little naturally as they talk, bridging the gap when he shifts so their thighs touch. ]
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so many things that he wants to say, more importantly, like how he likes that nazuna gets easily flustered by compliments but still meets his gaze head on, like how it would be absurd for people to mistake nazuna for a girl if they just looked at him properly and didn’t just jump to conclusions, but they're all inconsequential if nazuna doesn't like him back, and there would be no reason for nazuna to - he deserves better than someone who's broken, someone who left for three years without a word.
someone who doesn't think that the image of nazuna, strung up like a marionette, blank and docile and silent, is beautiful.
(If I could, I would want to stow you away forever in a museum!)
it’s another stray thought that comes from almost out of nowhere, and for a moment, shu almost. loses his composure, inhaling sharply, letting his gaze flicker over nazuna for a moment.
he stays silent. he tells himself it’s so that he doesn’t say something wrong, that he doesn’t hurt nazuna, accidentally or intentionally.
at least, up till the point where nazuna says the very words that shu can’t (won’t?) bring himself to say, and that causes him to freeze, caught just the slightest bit off guard, lips parted, eyes slightly widened, like he can’t really believe what he’s hearing. it lasts for a short period. a couple of seconds? it feels like longer, before shu’s expression softens, although it retains its intensity. ]
... I am, too.
[ that's not a lie, at least, because his parents' house has never really felt like home, too cold and too impersonal, especially when he'd been struggling to get back on his feet, to re-learn how to walk, how to dance again.
this feels more like home than anything - with nazuna, bright and bold and beautiful, and when he shifts closer, so that their thighs touch, shu allows it. he's not usually the kind of person who likes physical contact, but nazuna has always been a rare exception.
the tension unwinds from shu's body like a string going slack, and at some point, shu stretches out and reaches over, takes nazuna's hands in his own. he’s always been better when it comes to actual body language instead, more so on stage than off it, actions to express intent, treating it like a performance that he’s intimately familiar with.
nazuna's hands are warm in his, soft, smooth skin under his fingertips, just a shade darker than his own pale skin, pressing his palm against nazuna's before their fingers lace together.
somehow, when he glances down at their interlaced fingers, all the differences are all the same as they were three years ago, and despite the spike of deja vu, it feels nothing like the nightmare from earlier.
at the very least, he has this. ]
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nazuna's always been close to shu. he's been lifted by him, danced beautiful, romantic love songs across the wood floor of his familiar studio, been just a hair's breadth apart when people were watching. when nazuna danced with shu, it always felt like no one was there. his whole world--good days, bad days, big audiences, small audiences--would just narrow down to shu, to the music in his ears and the connection of their bodies. their chemistry had been staggering, and then--
it stopped.
three years, and it was gone, and nazuna thought maybe, just maybe he'd get over shu. the world didn't stop moving just because nazuna fell out of step, and as his manager bore down on him and he counted down the days until someone broke the lock on his birdcage, he'd still let his mind wander to shu when he was home alone at night, hugging his pillow and wondering what would have happened if maybe, they'd run away together.
life was supposed to keep moving. nazuna thought he'd never see him again, and just when shu started to become something written into his memories, he opened the door to his studio, and he came back to life again, the first breath before a measure, the curtains lifting on a stage. looking at shu gave him the same, anticipatory feeling, the adrenaline pumping through his veins and turning in to butterflies.
if shu's paying close attention--which he surely is--he may notice that nazuna starts to turn pink the minute their hands touch. his breath catches too, just a tiny thing, and he glances down at their joined hands. his fingers have always looked small in shu's, like (a doll's) a child's, but it feels like a perfect fit. he squeezes, subconsciously, the moment they interlace, and ends up leaning just a little forward.
he could kiss him. he wants to kiss him.
he's always wanted to kiss him.
nazuna chooses his words carefully. it's hard to talk around the butterflies in his throat, but he exhales slowly, and makes every word he says purposeful, without a stutter. ] Thank you for letting me in.
[ that has nothing to do with the apartment. it has everything to do with the way shu's back--and more so, that he's let nazuna come back home. ]
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when it comes down to it, anyone can do the steps in time to music, but it's the chemistry between partners that brings the musicality, the emotions of it to life, transcends it into an art form beyond comprehension, perfect, beautiful and worthy.
shu has had his fair share of partners, but none like nazuna.
nazuna, who's been able to keep up with him from the time that they've started dancing together, perfect rond de jambes and arabesques, positions and extensions and isolations, nazuna, who's danced with him long enough to even anticipate the slightest change in weight and grip and to adjust accordingly so that he doesn't fall, nazuna, who trusts that shu won't drop him in lifts and tricks, nazuna, nazuna, nazuna.
and it's probably telling, that even after three years since shu last saw nazuna, they still fall into each other in sync, almost like he'd never left at all, the chemistry between them still there, still burning low but steady.
life is a dance, isn't it? freestyle, unchoreographed, but still-- he lets nazuna squeeze his hand, subconsciously, and when he leans forward, shu does too - it's almost familiar, they've done variations of these a hundred times or more, leaning in close enough to each other to provide the illusion of a kind of tension of some sort.
but this isn't a stage, and shu is close enough to hear nazuna's breath catch, exhale, to see the pink tint to his skin, and--
(he's missed this.)
shu's not really someone who thrives on impulsive decisions - even nazuna knows that most of what he does is meticulously planned at best, micromanaged at worst. but still, it feels right, when nazuna is done talking, for him to lean in just a tad bit closer
close enough to press a light kiss to the corner of nazuna's lips. ]
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but nothing compares to the actual moment itself.
nazuna has liked shu for so long, it's hard to remember a time when he didn't, but he's never entertained shu liking him back. after all, shu is--a genius. intelligent, graceful, beautiful, clever, creative. he can be eccentric, sure, but he's earned every accolade he's ever gotten as much as he's earned nazuna's love and affection. nazuna started to like him the first time he saw him dance; he fell in love with him when he asked to text him outside of work, just a little awkward, the sweetness making his twelve-year-old chest ache.
but nazuna's... nazuna. he's plain, fading into the background like a dancer dressed in black. he never even thought someone like shu--a star, a supernova now--could have ever felt the same way as him, and yet.
and yet, almost ten years later, here they are now.
his mouth is soft, and the kiss is quick, but the dam breaks. nazuna's moving before his brain properly processes what he's doing, as if learning a complicated choreography step by watching it once. he doesn't shoot up, but he leans forward to kiss him again, this time surely on his mouth, tilting his head to make the angle just right. he's wanted this for so long that the urge to rush has to be forcibly tampered down; if he had a free hand, he'd be cupping his cheeks, trying to hold it close.
instead, his hand squeezes in his again. this is his shu. not the puppet master, the terrifying man with the strings of the marionette. the kiss breaks, soft, and he mouths against his lips, forming words for just a moment before he speaks, just loud enough for the two of them to hear. ] I love you, [ nazuna says, because he can't wait anymore, because three years of silence never stopped how he felt, and neither could a nightmare. because nazuna is emotional, because he thinks his traitorous tongue is going to fail him the very second they pull away-- ] Itsuki, I love you.
[ the third one's almost a whisper, with a kiss pressed between phrases, again, his hand held tight in his. ]
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even if clad in black, nazuna shines brighter than any other star - it's very reason why he had caught shu's attention, at first, when nazuna first stepped into his teacher's dance studio, awkward limbs but an intuitive grasp on musicality and rhythm.
shu had never seen anything like that before.
and just watching nazuna - powering through complicated choreography with sheer willpower and determination, and also helping his younger co-stars out when necessary - somewhere along the line, shu had fallen in love, too, even if he hadn't noticed it, at first. they were both young then, after all.
ten years is a long time. and right here, right now, nightmare forgotten, the fact that nazuna is kissing him back is enough to catch him off guard, even if he doesn't pull away when nazuna presses his lips to shu's mouth again, and he tilts his head the other way when they lean in, together, parting his lips slightly. it's the first time they've actually kissed but somehow kissing nazuna is familiar and makes his chest ache with something.
it feels like love, although he's not quite sure how to place it just yet.
the kiss breaks, and it's quiet enough that this close, shu can hear every single breath that nazuna takes, can feel the way his lips are mouthing words against his, and then--
I love you
--he lets go of his hold on nazuna's hands in favour of using one arm to pull him closer, the fingers of his other hand tracing over the line of nazuna's cheekbones, lets nazuna lean into it when they finally part again, this time with enough distance with them that shu can look at him properly.
nazuna looks at him like he hung the stars in the sky, and shu swallows, though he never averts his gaze, doesn't look away. ]
... I missed you. [ finally he admits it, soft, almost under his breath, whispered into the space between them, small as it is.
another sharp intake of breath. ] I've always loved you.
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he feels it for a minute, the hot burn of tears at the back of his throat, and it comes out as a wet giggle instead. shu's hand comes up to his face, and it feels like its leaving a trail of heat on his cheeks, straight down to his heart, squeezing through his chest, his ribs. this moment is so perfect it almost feels like something out of a dream; he wants to pinch himself.
i've always loved you.
he thinks about it again, and again. i've always loved you. i missed you. nazuna's thought about his reunion with shu a hundred times over the past three years, imagining a hundred different scenarios--some happier, some with him slapping him right across the face and shouting at him about how irresponsible he was (and reality turned out to be a mix of both)--but the kiss had never gone like this. he'd maybe daydreamed shu saying that he missed him, that he loved him, but now that it's happening, it's making him giddy.
he giggles again, a tiny little noise as he puts his hands over his mouth between them. nazuna is smiling so hard his cheeks are starting to ache, and the tears pricking at his eyes are happy now, but his natural urge is to cover it just a little, to let his shoulders come up near his ears as he just tries to contain the giddiness, just for a second. ]
You could've thaid so! [ but he doesn't sound accusing, or mad, just delighted, effervescent enough that his stutter slips in, and nazuna's on him in seconds, his own hands coming up to cup shu's cheeks, to pull him over into that little space again for a kiss, another, another, until he's almost in his lap trying to get closer to him. it's like he'll never be close enough--no physical touch can bridge a three year gap, maybe, but nazuna'll be damned if he doesn't make up for this lost time.
there's another kiss, and then another, and at this point, he's small enough to in fact end up in his lap, right leg swinging across shu's thigh to settle on him. he ends up leaning in to press their foreheads together, shutting his eyes, sniffling a little. ] I never stopped, either, you know, I never--ever stopped loving you, even when you were gone, Itsuki, I always hoped, maybe, maybe...
[ he trails off, giggles again, a wet noise, and leans in to kiss him again. it's a little longer this time, and he murmurs against shu's mouth, just one more time-- ] I can't believe thish is happenin'.
[ now this... this would be more like a shu dream of nazuna's, though he won't say that out loud. ]
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usually a standing ovation follows, because he's shu itsuki, and he'll be damned if nothing less than absolute perfection was shown on stage.
this kind of feels like that moment, until nazuna breaks into a smile (as bright as the sun, he thinks, in the back of his mind) and before he can properly process and realise what's happening, nazuna's pressing into him again for another kiss, and nazuna's hands are on his cheeks and his own hands are coming up to close around nazuna's wrists, lets himself drown in nazuna the way he drowns in applause after a performance, giving in to adrenaline rush and instinct.
when it fades, his lips are kiss-bitten thanks to nazuna, and he probably looks more than a little bit dazed, pupils dilated, because nazuna is in his lap, their foreheads pressed together, shu holding on to him and
this feels kind of a little bit surreal, actually
and when nazuna sniffles, giggles, he loses himself in one more kiss before they pull apart, and shu laughs.
(he hasn't laughed in a while.) ]
I-- [ and there's a stuttered intake of breath, he's always been composed, almost unflappable, in front of nazuna, and this is. certainly a way to destroy that impression of him, and--
his grip tightens, just a little, and although it's firm, it's still gentle.
never meant to hurt. ]
I would never have imagined-- { another laugh, but this time, if nazuna listens closely, there's a trace of bitterness, maybe a hint of self-depreciation. ] I would never have thought you would want to return to me, to someone broken.
[ (--won't you return to me? You were mine first, after all--) ]
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how could he stop now that he's started? it's like a dam's broken, one that's been up for half of nazuna's life. he's thought about kissing shu so, so many times, and now it's happening, and nothing could've prepared him for this. nothing could've prepared him for the way he looks when they pull away, the slightly dazed look in his blue eyes, his kiss bitten lips. nazuna's falling in love all over again; if he could get shu to make that face every day for the rest of his life, he could probably die happily. it's picture perfect and so, so real, it just--makes him want to kiss him again, honestly.
but shu's talking, so. he stops the urge and just stays close to him, still close enough to nearly brush their noses together, enjoying the proximity. shu's thighs are warm underneath his, and he feels so solid, so real, so--nothing like the one from his dream.
someone broken conjures up the image again, him, crumpled on the stage, little porcelain pieces, but nazuna refuses to let that nightmare ruin what's happening. he's turned it into an opportunity, now, and instead, he just lets the fondness in his chest swell up like a balloon as he reaches forward to cup his cheeks.
(his laugh sounded like the first notes of a symphony.) ] You're an idiot.
[ he sounds so sweet and affectionate when he says so, though, so, so fond. ] You're here.
[ and that's what matters. he doesn't care that he's broken, because nazuna's seen him do amazing things in the studio again, watched him make ten other kids faces light up like he did to nazuna all those years ago, when they were little and still learning each other.
there's still lots of learning to be done, though. there's a whole side of shu he's getting to learn now, and it starts here, with his hands on his cheeks and the soft way nazuna presses his lips against his to seal the deal. it's slower, less giddy and energetic as he reigns himself in, reminds himself to find some control. ]