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)
potosi2017-10-29 10:49 pm
pronounces) wrote in potosi2017-10-29 10:49 pm
Entry tags:
this is real hell
me: do you ever think about how these two characters who have the worst fucked up relationship might be better if taken out of their circumstances
me, several aus and many tears later: i made a mistake
aka AU shunazu dropbox i'll make this pretty later
me, several aus and many tears later: i made a mistake
aka AU shunazu dropbox i'll make this pretty later
whoops my hand slipped
this late, after everyone has gone home, the studio is empty, and this is shu's domain, among the wooden floors and full length mirrors along every wall and the ballet barre alongside one wall. the shoes he's wearing are canvas, full-sole, elastic sewn on a long time ago, well-worn and used - it's not his first pair of shoes, shu has no time for nostalgia of that sort, but they are the most comfortable pair that he owns, moulding to his feet like a second skin.
there's music playing faintly in the background, and it's easy to catch the beat and the rhythm of the soft classical music, as shu shifts from first position to second position to third with the ease of long-term muscle memory, languid movement with hidden sharpness.
they called him a prodigy once, long arms and full extensions and all his weight balanced on the balls of his feet in a perfect elevé and shu will never be able to dance that way again, but here, in his sanctuary, he can pick up the fallen pieces, let the fluidity of his first love do the talking.
and despite the mirrors, he doesn't notice, doesn't pay attention when the door to the studio opens; he's too focused - feet turned out, front foot about one foot away from the back, perfect fourth position. ]
welp
the walk to shu's studio is muscle memory, too. nazuna's feet carry him there without even really thinking about it, his headphones in his ears as he walks with his head down, bobbing just slightly to the rhythm of the song over them. it's a soft, dreamy sort of evening, the campus quiet with people studying for finals, and the walk to the studio is accompanied with thoughts of the memories he'd had with mizu--izumi. he'd been some kind of idol, some kind of ballerina (and it tastes bitter in his mouth, the thought that the very thing he'd run from came back to bite him once more), so he could ask, maybe, or see if shu was busy, or--
no, no. he can't bother him, not while he's composing. nazuna's retired, now, by choice instead of by force, but he still makes his way to the studio, hearing the soft sound of music from down the hallway. it's something classical, so he's working on classical dance, and he slides open the door as quietly as possible and is presented with a sight.
nazuna's always thought itsuki was the most handsome when he danced. polished, beautiful, sovereign, a man in charge of his every motion. it's captivating to watch him even just move through the motions, and as he pulls his headphones out, nazuna, quiet as a bunny rabbit, shuts the door and leans against it to watch him dance, heartbeat thumping against his ribcage.
in this studio, dancing is home. it's a place that nazuna, even years after he broke free, would come visit when it gathered dust, a place he's looked on with fondness, and a place he now associates with the very person who's making it come to life right before his eyes. ]
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shu itsuki is a dancer - and it bleeds into his every mindset. every jump should be higher, and every spin should be sharper, and every connection should thrill the audience just as much as the elements one is connecting. he's in the middle of a rond de jambe, leg extended and toes pointed, the drag of the circle lasting the full eight counts as he holds onto the ballet barre, and the exercise is fluid, easy, basic, a standard warm up routine before moving into something a little bit more difficult.
it's only when he's about to shift to another exercise that he finally notices nazuna standing in the corner, their eyes meeting in the mirror, and it takes shu a moment to catch himself, to slide back into first position, heels touching, just barely.
for a moment, none of them speak.
in the background, there's the slow build of crescendos and single strand melodies played by a sole piano.
and finally, finally, shu speaks. ]
Nazuna. [ his posture is still held a little bit too tightly, like he's still on stage, still performing, echoes of a distant, inaccessible past.
it also sounds a bit like did you need something? ]
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so, when shu stops and looks at him, nazuna stays on the memory for a moment, letting the image of a much younger shu--shorter, but not all that different--fade away with the end of his ronde de jambe, until he's brought crisply back to the present with the music playing in the background.
does he need something? he snaps out of it for a second, and then nods, shouldering out of his dance bag so it hits the ground with a thunk. he's got his dance shoes on, anyway, and he's long since decided what he was going to do.
he makes his way over to shu, steps surer than they ever were when he was younger, and holds out his hand, just one. ] ...if you're not busy.
[ stupid, obviously, he's busy. but sometimes, things feel just a little awkward between them--like there's a gap nazuna's still desperately trying to fill in. ] Can you show me?
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when shu first taught nazuna how to dance, it was different, sneakers instead of ballet shoes, hard hitting beats instead of graceful extensions, but in the end--
nothing's really changed, actually.
there's a silence again, because shu has never really been good with words, he's always found it easier to express himself through movement, when words have failed him at some points, and his gaze is piercing, though it flickers to the way nazuna's dance bag hits the floor with a thunk, and while his expression is unreadable, his posture relaxes just a little bit.
it's almost unnoticeable.
but there's relief there, when shu nods, gestures for nazuna to step closer, right up to the ballet barre, and it's a tentative invitation, because it's been years and shu isn't used to doubting himself, not when his movements used to be confident, when his steps were more sure, more elegant. ]
Come here. [ close enough, that it's easy to reach over and touch, that shu can smell the faint hint of nazuna's soap. he pokes at nazuna's arm, a small gesture to hold onto the barre with both hands, for support.
from there, it's easy, shu shifting with a fluid motion to step behind nazuna, hands placed on nazuna's hips, professional but guiding.
nazuna is lean and taut under his hands, and perhaps he's imagining it, but his heartbeat sounds a little bit too loud in his own ears, every exhale sounds a little bit too magnified, a little bit too thundering. ]
Try an elevé. Up on the balls of your feet, and hold there.
[ the french rolls off his tongue like it's second nature, borne from the many years of practice and drills and his love for the language, as natural as breathing since he's known this from the time he was seven years old and slipped on his very first pair of ballet shoes. ]
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his ballet background is pretty minimal. he knows the basics, the positions, but if shu wants him to try, then he'll try.
still, instinctually, he takes in a breath as shu puts his hands on his hips, then opens his eyes to look at them in the mirror. it looks like a lover's embrace from here; he's not really complaining. so, with that exhale, nazuna pushes up onto the balls of his feet and stays still, drawing his core up and his shoulders back to keep his balance. his fingers flex on the barre before he wraps them around it, grip firm and familiar. it really is a bit like riding a bike--he'd always been quick on the uptake, especially when it came to dance.
(besides, he could do this--listening to shu speak french, dancing with him--all day long.) ]
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he still remembers, as clear as day, when they were both preteens and nazuna was the most beautiful person that shu had seen in his entire life, bright eyed with golden hair and pure unrivalled determination to push himself to mimic shu's every move in the mirrors of the dance studio.
nothing's changed much, in that sense.
it's a decent attempt for someone who hasn't lived and breathed ballet, and shu can feel the muscles of nazuna's torso under his hands as he lifts and nazuna follows, fingers moving to make minute adjustments to nazuna's posture, the set of his shoulders, and by this time shu is close enough for his chest to be almost pressed against nazuna's back, a pleased look and an approving nod when their reflections catch each other's gazes in the mirror. ]
Relax. You're gripping the barre too tightly. [ it's a soft murmur, mild admonishment accompanied by shu's hands pulling nazuna back down to the floor after holding there for sixteen counts, eight counts of sinking back down to the floor with both feet firmly placed on the floor again. ] Do you remember first position?
[ he should - it was one of the few things shu had shown him, back then, when they were both younger - but still, and shu's own feet shift back in demonstration - hips turned out, heels touching to create as straight a line as possible. ]
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it feels good to have him this close, too. nazuna glances up, and that pleased look lights something up in him, the feeling of satisfaction of pleasing shu. itsuki, his oshi-san, the nickname long since unused, but...here, it feels like being zipped into one of shu's perfectly made outfit.
he exhales, and carefully sinks back down as told. first position is easy, and he nods, then mirrors him. nazuna's always been lithe and quick on the uptake, even though it's been years since he last picked up his dancing shoes, and he slides into first position just in front of him.
(they're still so, so close; it feels good to let shu take control of his body, just for a little bit, still conscious of what he's doing but letting shu guide him.) ] It's not that hard.
[ his tone just has a hint of a tease to it. i can handle more than that. ]
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I'm just checking - turn your hips out a little more. [ a tap, over nazuna's right hip, before long, elegant fingers press on the small of nazuna's back, just off the centre, off the bumps of his spine underneath his clothes. ] Straighten your back a little bit more, you'll get a better line.
[ it's always been all about the detailing, because shu is meticulous and that's always been the difference that pushed it, elevated it from something normal to pure art.
there's a part of him that wants to press a little closer; rest his chin on nazuna's shoulder and…
(he doesn't.)
instead, what he does is to guide - first position to second position to third, and nazuna has always been pliant under his hands, perfectly moulded, lithe and effortless; hips turned out similar to first position but the heel of the front foot touching the arch of the back foot, left foot in front.
and then-- ] Try an arabesque. [ there's a slight nudge there, just to get nazuna to step back away from the ballet barre, just enough for there to be space to execute the move, shu moving to stand in front of nazuna now, hands braced on nazuna's hips for support, his grip firm but gentle. ] Put your weight on your left foot and lift your right leg. [ he wanted a challenge, right? ] See if you can lift your leg ninety degrees.
[ don't worry, I'll support you, is implied, even if shu doesn't say it outright.
nazuna has the makings of an ballerina, an excellent one, if he'd trained as long as shu had, channeled that energy and that talent into art instead of being an idol and child star.
how wasted, shu doesn't say, because even in these small, basic movements, nazuna moves with shades of that airiness and lightness that every danseur pursues. ]
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he moves lithely, always a good dancer. he'd been somewhat of a sponge the entire time they worked together--shu sniffed and told him his work was too hard, and nazuna said, teach me. it was easy for him, dancing had been easy (becoming someone's puppet had been easy, turning off his own emotions and his feelings to let his manager pull his strings, because why try hard when you're doing what everyone asks already?) and now, as himself, it feels more fulfilling. this isn't dressed as a zombie for a teenager's program, doing a silly dance number for screaming, excited fourteen year olds.
this is elegant, this is--this is something real. shu's fingers anchor him to the ground, and he inhales to try the move.
it's not perfect, but he takes shu's guidance and pushes up, onto his left foot, right foot coming up. it's almost straight, just a few degrees off, and he exhales, cheeks flushing pink with the exertion as he looks at himself and shu in the mirror, surprised. ]
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not bad, actually.
( "I don't know if you're dancer material," he remembers telling nazuna, once upon a time, when they were both younger, steps and dynamic uncertain and when they had barely figured out how to fall in tempo with each other, nazuna a quickening allegro and shu the swell of a grave to moderato and yet, and nazuna had looked back at him with a determined set in his jaw and tried--
it's the first time nazuna nito's surprised him.)
it's not the last time either. and although shu vaguely remembers nazuna being a little more flexible than this (it's probably the lack of practice speaking), it's a decent attempt although the perfectionist in him says otherwise, and shu meets nazuna's expression in the mirror, flushed and radiant, and his breath catches, just for a moment-- ]
Keep your balance, your weight centred. You're leaning a little too far front.
[ he's never really been one for praise, but the critique speaks for itself, for the most part.
shu's heart beats like a drum, staccato beats in half time, sharp and quick in a way that doesn't quite match the slow, languid movements they're doing, and betrays the strength of shu's want.
it's easier, instead, to focus on manipulating nazuna's arms, shoulders turned out, arms extended into a third position, lets him get used to the way his body feels - straightened toes, lifted ribcage, the discs of his spine piled neatly one on top of the other, the way he knows that it's supposed to feel. ]
You're--
[ and it stops there.
beautiful, he wants to say, but it stops there.
there's so much that he wants to say, things that he doesn't know if he can say, anymore, and the twisting in his gut is almost painful, his eyes tracing the minute movements of nazuna trying to maintain his balance.
the least he can offer is his support. ]
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he lets him move his arms in the correct way, too. it's a strange feeling, his body not used to moving that way, but it's not bad. he feels...powerful, sort of. graceful, lithe and elegant. he looks at his reflection in the mirror and doesn't see a too-short-too-skinny-knobby-kneed former child star.
nazuna sees someone with potential. he sees shu's hands on his body and sees someone who could do great things, a nazuna who could step back onto the stage and do the things he wanted to do instead of the things he was told. every muscle in his body is starting to strain from the effort of trying to hold himself in this complicated position, but he doesn't want to drop it. he doesn't want to disappoint him.
nazuna wants to make him proud. nazuna wants to capture the look on his face in the mirror forever--it's like being twelve again, filled with a rush of adrenaline as his impossibly beautiful, impossibly talented dance teacher gave him something close to his approval. ]
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it's why, if he closes one eye, ignores the way nazuna's legs are probably shaking from sheer exertion, ho his extensions are not quite perfect, focuses on the way he holds himself instead--
nazuna looks up at shu like he's the sky and shu looks down at nazuna like he's the earth, and there's a million things going through shu's mind now, combinations and spins in fouetté en tournant, waltz steps and promenades and lifts, glissade across wooden floors in leather shoes and moving into a pas de deux and it's inspiration, creativity all in one, even as shu guides nazuna back down onto his own feet, breaking the lines and the picture and returning to normal as the music fades in the background from a lively allegro to a more manageable moderato bridge. ]
Better.
[ there's a rare, small smile on his features, affection and pride, and his fingers curl around nazuna's, linger on for slightly longer than absolutely necessary before he lets go.
it simmers and burns, under his skin, and if ballet is shu itsuki's first love, nazuna nito is shu's second, greater love.
(if only he actually says it, but that's another matter altogether.)]no subject
his fingers have left little pools of heat on his skin, familiar and unfamiliar all at once. nazuna used to crave shu's touch, his affection, when they were working together as teacher and student, and that doesn't go away--it's matured, now, a curl of heat that leaves his cheeks pink instead of his heart hammering against his ribcage like a child.
it's still there, though. he still craves his attention, his praise. how could he not? it takes a solid moment for him to snap out of it, and he exhales, a shaky breath as his hands move away from the barre.
he doesn't want to snap the moment at all, but, it might be better that way. he inhales, though he doesn't move away from shu. they're still close, and he tilts his head up to look at him instead of at the mirror. ] ...it's as hard as ever.
[ as everything you ever taught him, anyway. his smile's a little sheepish, but warm nonetheless, as he looks up at shu and gives him his purest attention. ] I think I liked watching you better.
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nazuna throws him off-kilter, sometimes.
for one, when nazuna finally lands back on his feet, there's that belated realisation that nazuna is... probably going to ache later, and that makes his smile falter a little bit, actually, since he'd completely eschewed warming up earlier in the heat of the moment - but it's something that they can deal with later. ]
You did fine. Merely a lack of practice, that's all.
[ it would sound a little bit more severe if not for the almost matching pink colour on his own cheeks, just a shade lighter than his own bleached hair, and--
perhaps it's a little uncharacteristic, but also a little stiff and slightly unintentionally awkward - it's like that moment, when one finishes a dance, before the audience applauds, that one moment where your heart sits in your throat from a combination of triumph, exhaustion, fear and anticipation. it feels like nothing, and an eternity at the same time.
at least until his gaze catches nazuna's and shu doesn't avert it, doesn't break eye contact, and nazuna's sheepish smile, warm and full of light--
(it's like the applause, the validation that comes from sold out concert venues and rave reviews.)
it's probably skirting the edge of professional and not, and maybe it's an impulsive decision, but maybe it also isn't, but shu lets his hand drop when he lets go, slides an arm around nazuna's waist, a fleeting touch along the small of his back before it lingers.
is this okay, he seems to be asking. ]
Just watching?
[ is what he asks instead. ]
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at twelve years old, nazuna had decided he was in love with shu. he was amazing, so graceful and powerful and awe-inspiring. he'd seen him then and known he was something special, something different, but he'd never worked up the courage to say anything. after all, he was just... nazuna, a knobby kneed tv star who barely had a personality, compared to him. and then, just like that, he'd disappeared.
so this might be a little new. this might make his heart skip a beat or two when he's up close (he can catch a whiff of the shampoo shu uses, his laundry detergent, feel the warmth from his skin where he was dancing) but it's a familiar song and dance all the same.
it makes him smile, tugging the sheepish edges up a little, and he lifts his small arms up to rest around his neck. they're still close to the barre, but in this studio, every single movement nazuna has ever made has always felt like something beautiful. ]
I can follow your lead. [ of course it's okay. that's his answer, and it rings back as clear as day, and his voice is fond, warm with the memories, with the idea of getting to dance together with him again. ]