i've got no strings. | recolle sample

[pronounces]

[ 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. ]

Comments

[handcraftings]

[ there are so many things that he could say, instead.

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. ]

[pronounces]

[ it's not the first time they've held hands, as dance is an intimate thing.

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. ]

[handcraftings]

[ he knows, better than anyone, the importance of chemistry.

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. ]

[pronounces]

[ nazuna can see it happening before it even happens, because he's imagined this moment in his life a thousand times. no matter how many times he's thought about it, though, the places where he could do it, how he'd feel when it was happening, how shu's mouth might feel on his--

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. ]

[handcraftings]

[ oh, but nazuna, supernovas burn out. in a brilliant flash of light, nonetheless, one that's capable of illuminating even the dullest of dancers, brilliant white contrasting with darkest black, like ink splatters on a pristine white page.

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.

[pronounces]

[ nazuna could cry.

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. ]

[handcraftings]

[ it's like the end of a performance. that moment when the music ends, when the lights fade out, and as a dancer, as a performer, there's always those few seconds in between where there's complete silence, a complete lack of anything to signal what's going to happen next.

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--) ]

[pronounces]

[ nazuna wants to kiss shu every moment for the rest of his life, that's it.

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. ]