this is real hell

[pronounces]

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

Comments

[handcraftings]

[ it's--

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. ]

[pronounces]

[ i'm terrible at this. nazuna's brain finishes the sentence for shu, but he takes the pointers anyway, carefully shifting his weight back the last tiny bit necessary to center his weight. it's not easy to to keep his balance like this, but for itsuki-- for shu--he's going to try.

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. ]

[handcraftings]

[ posture, shu's own instructor used to tell him, that many years ago, is half the battle. if you have good posture, you look more confident, and people will think you know what you’re doing.

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.) ]

[pronounces]

[ slowly, so slowly, nazuna comes down to his feet. even just that extension was rough on his muscles, so unused to this type of dance, but--it was sort of exhilirating, too. they just had a moment. nazuna's not blind to it, and he's sure shu isn't too.

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.

[handcraftings]

[ he isn't blind to it. but it's been so long, and shu likes to pride himself on his composure, elegance and power even under the harshest of stage lights, but--

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. ]

[pronounces]

[ nazuna's breath catches just a little when shu's hand touches his back. his arm's warm, heavy but familiar, and he's pulled just a little closer to him with it. this isn't unfamiliar; they've been close together like this hundreds of times before when they were a bit younger.

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. ]