#( kuni has like. this light blue in his hair and the hair clips. ) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lumiconic · 9 months

Text

“ all i see tonight ”

✧ slow dancing at a party with 6REEZE (not a sequel to 'if you'd say you love me' just in the same setting!)

✧ kunikuzushi, venti, kazuha, heizou, aether, xiao ; idol au ; not proofread

request from @darthvada ! i hope you enjoy and once again sorry for the wait :'))

the lights are swirling above you, beaming a blue and white glow upon kunikuzushi's scowling face. it's almost enough to make him look pretty, with his sharp, feminine features and expensive suit matching his shiny dark hair, but the perpetual look of fury on his face always ruins what could otherwise be a contender for the role of main visual.

"why do we have to do this, exactly?" he grumbles, swiping his blunt bangs off of his forehead. even his motions are angry, you think with a wry smile, and he seems to take that personally, narrowing his eyes. "what's funny?"

"nothing," you say, shrugging slightly. "and... i mean, no one's forcing you to, but it's supposed to be a party. we're here to celebrate you guys!"

"whatever." he cuts his eyes towards heizou, dancing with a pretty green-haired girl in a purple tuxedo. "look at him. how does he not get embarrassed when he's so obviously trying to show off?"

"i don't think heizou ever gets embarrassed," you say dryly, placing one hand on your hip and tilting your head. "seriously though, if you don't want to dance, you can go home. i'm sure xiao has already taken his leave."

"no," he says quickly. "that's fine. i'll just stay here until everyone else is done. i don't really wanna walk home in the dark." you nod, shifting your attention back to the others. as the lights pass on and off of your face, throwing you into sharp clarity and then blurry shadows, kuni resists the urge to look, just to watch the way it reflects off your face like you're underwater.

the two of you stand in silence, both watching the couples dancing. it's so hot in here, kuni thinks, pulling his collar away from him as he wipes sweat off his forehead. he really should have gone home by now. why is he even still here?

maybe because you look so pathetic, standing here on your own. yeah... pathetic. lonely, even. that sounds right. it would just be rude, not to mention boring to go home at this point. he shoves his hands into his pockets, looking down at the floor.

"um, kuni," you start. he blinks, looking over at you. there's a faint flush on your cheeks. "would you dance with me, maybe? it could be more fun than just standing here, right? only if you want to." you extend your hand, your lips slightly pursed as you wait for a response.

once again, you look so pathetic holding out your hand like that. he stares at it for a second. he can see that your nails need clipping, the gleaming gold polish chipped. he can't possibly refuse -- the expression on your face is so earnest, so hopeful, and -- anyway, he doesn't want to risk offending the person in charge of all his deals.

he hesitates for barely a second, then says, "okay. fine." as he takes your hand and you move slowly towards the center of the room, he's sure you can feel how sweaty his palm is, which makes him want to snatch it back instantly. there's something so embarrassing about the idea of you being able to feel his nervousness.

wait, no, it's not nervousness, because he's not nervous! it's just because it's hot in here. that's all. and of course it's hot, with all the people crammed into the room, and why is he here again? just because he didn't want to hurt your feelings? it's so ridiculous, the way his brain is going into overdrive over nothing at all. why is he always like this around you?

seemingly not noticing his dilemma, you say, "here, you lead", gingerly guiding his hand to your hip, and his face bursts into color. he dips his head, trying to hide it from you as you continue to fix your position. "have you ever done this before?"

"no," he manages to get out, clearing his throat. "no, i haven't. is that -- is that a problem?"

"no, that's fine," you hum, in the same calm, reassuring tone you usually use towards him. from anyone else, it would only aggravate him more, but it's different somehow. "technically, i should lead since i have more experience, but you're a bit stronger than me -- "

he smirks, and you glare. "a bit, i said, and it's only because you do more training. anyways, it'll be easier with you leading. just follow what the others are doing, and i'll tell you if you need any help. okay?"

he nods without answering. you almost ask if he's nervous -- his fingers, interlaced with yours, are clenching so tightly that it nearly hurts -- but that might lead him to refuse dancing entirely, and his eyes, softening into an almost gentle focus as you begin to sway back and forth, are shining so brightly under the lights.

after a few minutes, his instincts from years of dancing seem to take over, and he starts to time your movements to the quiet classical music being played in the corner of the room. a step with a loud chord from the piano, a sweep of his arm as the violin crescendos. it's easier and easier to follow his lead.

of course, he had no reason to be nervous. his arrogant exterior makes it hard to believe it sometimes, but he's so talented. sometimes, it takes your breath away.

"this isn't so bad, right?" you ask. he takes a moment to respond, shaking his head as if coming out of a dream. "i mean... i don't hate it, but it's not my thing." his response is typically clipped, said with an edge, but it doesn't quite feel the same as usual. maybe it's the tight grip he has on your arm, as if he's afraid you're going to slip away.

"oh, it's not fun?" you say, slightly disappointed. "sorry, i thought you might enjoy it. since dancing is your thing, and all."

"not this kind of dancing," he says, a small grin on his lips. the usual kuni smile, more of a smirk than anything. "but it's fine. i'm starting to get it."

"naturally." you smile back, and his eyes glimmer just a bit brighter.

the violin player goes into a solo, notes climbing higher and higher, and he steps sideways, pulling you into an unexpected twirl. you follow without hesitation, spinning on your heel, easily able to keep your balance with his firm grip above your head.

"don't trip," he says as soon as you regain your footing, grinning with your hair falling over your face, and you're about to ask what he means when in a heartbeat, you plunge into a dip.

the position is so fragile, like both of you could fall with one finger. one hand on his shoulder and the other clasped in his palm, and the world snaps into clear focus as you stare into his eyes. his eyebrows are furrowed as if concentrating on something; you can feel your heart pounding in your chest.

and then he smiles, features just as sharp and cold as ever, and you think for the thousandth time, he always looks so angry. but, then -- with his teeth gleaming, one of them sharp as a fang, and his hair hanging over his eyes -- just then, it doesn't feel like the emotion gleaming in his eyes is anger. or even anything less than joy.

the hand clutching yours feels too warm for that.

it's odd enough that venti isn't wildly parading around in the midst of everyone else to show off his outfit, even moreso that he's not dancing at all. you've been looking for him for a while now, but when you finally find him standing against the wall, playing his violin with the rest of the orchestra, you're so surprised your jaw drops."haha, what?" he asks, still playing as he focuses in on you. "is it really that shocking?"

"i-i mean, i didn't know that you even played the violin," you sputter. "i thought you played the lyre? that old harp thing?"

"i used to take lessons when i was younger." venti shrugs with a smile, finally setting the violin down with a nod to the other orchestra members. "i wanted to join in, since i had no one to dance with... " he sighs, batting his eyelashes as he looks at you.

you roll your eyes, but laugh, turning and stepping towards the other people dancing. "okay, okay. i got it." he follows eagerly, flitting beside you like a bird; his footsteps are always light, gentle and soft as though he's being carried on a breeze. he's not the dancer that kuni is -- not even close -- but he has his own charm, all the same.

"so, how are you feeling about an entire party, just for you?" you ask, settling into a spot away from the thicker parts of the crowd. "well, not you specifically, but still. this is pretty impressive, even for 6REEZE. you've just been climbing higher and higher, lately."

"i like to believe it's just for me," he says, winking, and tucks his arms onto your shoulders. you blink at the sudden contact, goosebumps running up your arms, but -- it's just venti. that's just how he is. always attached to someone; clinging to heizou's elbow as they walk together or leaning on aether's shoulder during a moment of rest. you shouldn't be as surprised as you are.

venti's warm green eyes watch you closely as you relax, following the simple pattern of the music. he's one of the taller members of the group, and it's easier to keep up with him, even though he still has far more grace than you. you tentatively put your hands on his waist, and his eyes crinkle as he smiles.

there's silence for a while, both of you comfortably quiet. xiao shuffles past you two, clutching a plate of cheesecake. venti waves hello and gets an blank, icy stare back. you smile, casting your gaze up towards the ceiling.

"about 6REEZE, i think you're right, though," he says unexpectedly.

you look down again. "hm?"

"we're getting really popular, really quick." he laces his hands behind your head, turning slowly in a circle. "did i tell you, i heard aether's solo viator playing at the supermarket earlier? i actually like that we're becoming mainstream!"

"i mean, it was only a matter of time. you guys are all... " you blow out a breath, and your hair drifts upwards slightly. his gaze tracks the movement of each strand before it falls back into place, and you examine his hair more closely in turn as he tilts his head up.

it's a party, so he's not wearing his signature braids today, hair falling around his face so that he has to shake his head to get it out of his eyes. even so, the luminescence of the glowing blue strands remains, so that it seems even brighter in the dim light. you press a lock of it behind his ear, and your breath catches in your throat as he locks eyes with you.

it's something you've done a million times before interviews or photoshoots, fixing his hair or smoothing a wrinkle in his clothes, but with the two of you barely inches apart, your fingers only separated from his stomach by a piece of sheer fabric, it feels almost painfully intimate. your fingertips brush over his neck as you pull your hand back, and his lips part slightly without noise as though there's a word that caught on his tongue as it was leaving his mouth.

then the moment passes, and you clear your throat. "s-so, you heard aether's solo, right? that one was unexpectedly popular. i'm really happy for him. xiao's just released, so i think... oh!" you nod. "yours is next! it'll be called carmen dei, and i think barbara is going to compose for it. you know her, right?"

"yeah," he says, hesitating. "wait... so, she'll be the one writing the music?"

you nod. "why, is that a problem?"

"um, well, not a problem, but i was hoping to maybe -- like, do the music myself?" his eyes go to the side, and you can feel him tense up, the draw of his shoulders and torso tightening. "so it's my solo, not SHOGUNATE's, you know? when i'm done with this whole idol thing, i don't want my reputation to be all about me not singing my own songs."

you've heard out his complaints about the way SHOGUNATE ENTERTAINMENT micromanages every aspect of his idol persona a million times, but this is the first time that he sounds actually serious about it. you nod slowly. "i get that, but... lyre and violin music isn't exactly... "

"marketable?" venti says wryly. "yeah," you sigh. sometimes you're surprised by how down-to-earth he can be, considering how he normally is. he waves his hand before brightening. "hey, wait! i play the guitar, too! that's definitely marketable. everyone loves a cool guy with a guitar."

you're surprised for a moment, then not at all; of course, he would play three different instruments. only venti. "yeah, we could work with that. so, you can sing, dance, and play the violin, lyre, and the guitar? is there anything you can't do?" you question teasingly.

he leans in closer, and you can see every shade of green in the depths of his eyes. you're suddenly hyper-aware of how close you are to each other. "yeah, here's something. i can't stop myself from falling for you," venti quips, the smirk on his face huge and pronounced.

"oh," it escapes your mouth more of a sound than a word. you stare at him, your own eyes as wide as plates. he holds it for a few seconds, then bursts into laughter that seems to billow to life on the wind, filling up the room. you see other people turning to look at who's making so much noise as heat rises to your face, ducking away so that they don't connect you with him.

"why are you like this?" you groan, pressing your hand to your forehead to shield your face, and his expression settles into a fond, affectionate smile, resting his chin on your shoulder. "come on, [name]. you know you love me."

"... yeah," you say, and fold your fingers through his, swaying slowly with an exasperated, yet fond expression. "i do."

you can't see his face; you couldn't possibly know what he was feeling, not with his heart hidden away from you behind every joke made specifically to trick you that it's exactly that. just a joke. but with his eyes closed -- all long eyelashes and softened brow -- and his lips pressed together, head on your shoulder, he can almost pretend that 'love' of yours was the kind he's dreamed of for so long.

"you know you love me," he repeats in a whisper, so quietly he's barely making any noise, and you're so focused on the music that you can't hear, and maybe that's for the better. "so is it really my fault that i love you?"

kazuha has never been one for events like this, preferring the simpler solitude of working alone in his room or with only a few other people. though he's at least slightly more social than xiao, he tends to skip out when it becomes a larger gathering. it's especially annoying if everyone else is doing something that he has little interest in. he always ends up feeling painfully awkward and leaving early.

which means this situation, in which he's standing stiffly in the corner and white-knuckling a glass of sparkling apple juice, is his absolute worst nightmare.

he's been trying to get himself to join the other boys and you, spread out through the room, for a while now. venti is telling some story that has aether in hysterics. the corner of kazuha's lips turn up as he sees your expression, looking very confused but still laughing, a look that he’s seen on you a million times. being around you always feels so comfortable, like coming home after a long time away; though he doesn’t know if you feel the same, he always wants to be with you.

he catches himself a moment after thinking that. it’s not – not like that. he only means it because you’ve been friends for years. of course, he would prefer to be with someone who’s so close to him. it’s a simple, understandable thought. the way he feels about you is strictly friendly. still… even though it is – it is – he could never voice it aloud. no need to think about why, he thinks, idly swirling his juice.

oh – speak of the devil, he thinks surprisedly, then with a smile, as your gaze alights upon him. you grin, giving a quick goodbye to venti and then making your way over to his side. as you approach, his posture relaxes, grip on the glass loosening.

“hey, kazu,” you say, leaning on the wall beside him. his stomach flutters at the nickname, simply nodding back as he doesn’t trust himself not to get tongue-tied.

you sigh, seeming tired as you glance over at him. “how’s it going? ah, you know, you're old enough to drink.” you gesture at his glass. "can i get you something else, maybe? i know i need something stronger than apple juice to get myself through this."

his heart leaps at your words – thank god that he’s not the only one who doesn’t want to be here – and he smiles sheepishly. "ah, i probably shouldn’t. i’m something of a lightweight, i wouldn’t want to embarrass myself in front of all these people. are you also feeling out of place?”

“yeah, i’m not really sure what i’m supposed to be doing. i’ve slow danced, but this feels different. i don’t have anyone to do it with, either.” you click your tongue, disappointed. “and i got all dressed up, too.”

kazuha does a double take; with the room steadily darkening as the sky outside turns to a velvety black, he hadn’t taken in your outfit, assuming you were simply wearing another tuxedo. but no, now he sees every inch of it. silky silver fabric the color of fog, shimmering like water as you shift your weight, and spiraling threads of midnight blue embroidery on the hem and sleeves. the fabric swirls around your hips and shoulders, with a ribbon pulling it in at your waist, and you look…

heart-achingly beautiful. but that’s no different from usual. sometimes he think he could drown in it.

he’s vaguely aware that he’s probably losing the last shreds of his dignity with every second that he’s unable to muster a response, and he forces himself to lift his eyes back to your face. you’re smiling slightly.

he swallows, aware of the burning color on his face. “you look nice.” you do a little twirl, clapping your hands and laughing, and he almost loses it again.

“would you, uh… would you want to dance?” you ask, pointing over your shoulder. there’s a faint blush on your face. his heart speeds up, keeping his even expression with some difficulty. “we can’t leave, at least not for a bit – it would be ridiculous for us both to leave from 6REEZE’s own party, but…”

he blinks. “you want to dance? you mean, together?”

“of course!” you beam, taking his glass of cider and and clasping his hand. “don’t forget, i’ve known you for a long time! you know how to do it – your cousin does ballroom dancing, doesn’t she?”

“yes, that’s right,” he nods, unable to muster a better response. the feeling of your palm against his is distracting. “i’m not as good at it, though. i can try… ”

“that’s okay.” you tug him away from the wall, placing the glass on a nearby table, and put your hand on his hip. he shivers at the contact, fingers threading through yours, and hesitantly matches your stance. “you don’t need to be nervous,” you hum, guiding his arm around your waist. your voice is quiet – words blooming like smoke off your tongue, and he’s the only one who can hear them. “you’re the one who knows how to do this, so just take it slow.”

“all right,” kazuha agrees, following the music as it picks up and stepping back and forth. you note, as soon as he starts feeling more comfortable, that he moves as smoothly as a professional. he’s elegant, that’s the only word for it. as graceful as a leaf in the wind. you twirl around him, catching and releasing hands, with a smile as your fingertips meet again.

someone in the room has started singing, another musician with the orchestra, maybe. the words are too quiet for you to make out, but kazuha’s head starts to move gently with the high and low notes, chin bobbing as he spins away from you. he’s wearing earrings, you realize, long dangling silver things that twinkle with every movement. it’s a wonder they haven’t gotten tangled in his hair yet.

the singer grows louder, her voice silky and warm, and you stretch up to your tallest stance, twirling around him in a burst of misty cloth, faster and faster but never losing your balance, and at the longest note where you can practically feel the singer’s chest aching, he catches you into his arms. your back to his front. you can feel his chest rise and fall with each breath.

he releases you as soon as he seems to realize, and you step back. there’s a second of silence where neither of you knows what to say, and then you shake your head, regaining your bearings. he ducks his chin, pinching the back of his hand as though he’s in a dream.

“i know you don’t like it, so thanks for being willing to dance with me,” you say cheerfully, tilting your head. he nods, blinking rapidly like someone who spent too long looking at the sun. his ponytail has come undone at some point, platinum locks spilling around his ears. honestly, dancing, and dancing with you are two different things, but…

he stammers, nervously, and it breaks your heart a little but makes you grin, too, “thank you to you, too. it’s not – it was really nice, so – ”

in a heartbeat, you lean in and kiss him on the cheek; he stops midsentence, and it’s like fireworks are exploding in his head, temporarily blinded. your hair tickles his skin. you smell like expensive shampoo. such a tiny contact, and yet it feels as though his heart will belong to you forever after this.

you pull back, and kazuha’s face is bright red; from where your lips met his skin, it feels like flames are spreading across his face, heat bursting, prickling at him just under the surface. you look embarrassed too, opening your mouth and closing it like you weren’t planning on doing that. but god is he glad that you did.

for the first time, his fingers tangled in soft fabric and your hand in his, it feels like maybe he can admit how he feels. like maybe, he has a chance.

as always, heizou is the center of attention; he’s danced with at least three people since the party started. you’ve seen him clumsily switch between partners, waving goodbye to one person and flitting off to be with someone else. to his credit, he seems to do it smoothly enough, but it’s still hard not to laugh seeing him pop up in front of yet another potential partner with a flirty smile.

maybe you shouldn’t have laughed, it seems to have baited him over. and now, your time has come.

“please, please, please,” he begs, clasping your hands and opening his eyes as wide as he can to make them sparkle. it’s a move that you’ve seen him use on countless fans but that doesn’t quite work on you anymore. you tilt your head down, looking at him blankly. “please what?”

“dance with me, of course! i have no one else to go with, so help!” he pops the ending of his words on the tip of his tongue, like a bubble. you blink slowly. “there’s like, a hundred people in here that would happily accept if you asked, you know.”

“yeah, yeah,” he waves his hand. “but that’s the problem! until now i’ve just been warming up. i don’t want to ask just anyone, i’m saving it for someone special. soo… what do you say?”

“what.”

he’s practically on his knees, headband falling out of his hair. you poke it back in and he barely seems to notice. “please. i’ll give you free merch. i’ll let you cameo in one of our music videos. i’ll credit you in my solo for inspiration – ”

“okay first off, you don’t have that power, second, i do and i don’t even want it.” you press your lips together. “but… fine. if it’ll make you stop asking.”

he looks so happy, apples of his cheeks pink as he pumps his fist and pulls you towards him, that in that moment you can’t even be exasperated. you’re mostly invincible to his charms – you have to be, while dealing with his ridiculous requests and flights of fancy – but every now and then you remember why he’s so incredibly popular. those shining eyes and hair the color of expensive wine; and of course, he spends an exorbitant amount on expensive skincare products. ah, the life of an idol whose job is to be pretty…

“i’ll lead,” he says, easily settling into the stance. you nod. your hand curls over his shoulder, the other going to his waist, and you don’t realize until he turns a faint shade of pink that your fingers are on his bare skin.

“oh – i’m s-sorry,” you stammer, pulling your hand back like you’ve touched fire, and now your face is burning as you scan his outfit and see that his high-collared shirt, for whatever reason, is open on the sides. you hadn’t noticed because the hem is tucked neatly into his slacks. “i can just hold your arm instead – ”

heizou clears his throat. “it’s fine, if you’re okay with it, you can just… yeah,” he trails off as you place your hand back where it was.

“okay,” you mumble, swallowing thickly, fingertips brushing over his side. you can feel how warm his skin is, the muscles of his stomach; it feels improper almost, and you prepare yourself for heizou making a million comments about it, as is typical behavior from him.

but as he starts to move, stepping carefully in a circle, being careful to avoid his shoes catching in the fabric billowing around your legs, you see he’s looking everywhere but at you. his face is still shaded pink. you marvel at seeing him flustered. it’s… cute.

as soon as you think it, you shake your head at yourself, focusing on the dance. just the dance. you only agreed to get him to stop begging.

a few minutes go by as you get your bearings, tentatively following his movements. you pride yourself on being easy to imbalance (in many ways), but heizou is a bad dancer. it’s a wonder that the people he was with earlier were willing to put up with it. there’s something almost lovable about it – the way he stumbles every now and then as his shoes slide across the slick floor, long fingernails skidding over your wrist as he loses his grip. you can’t help but smile.

“people are looking,” he says, whispering it into your ear as you bend backwards into a dip. you can practically feel him straining to hold you up with one arm in a lazy grip around your back. despite yourself – despite how little you know about dancing, how little he seems to know about dancing – you’re having fun, and you can’t bring yourself to care, laughing as you say, “let them look!”

he looks shocked. you understand, of course; normally, you’re not the kind of person who revels in attention from others, not the way that he is. but you’ve been the manager of 6REEZE for so long now that you’re starting to get used to it, and this isn’t something you would do normally, either. but for now you can delight in it instead of spending too much time thinking.

funny how he of all people is having that effect on you.

a flute player starts up in the orchestra, the other instruments softening to let the fast-paced, sweet music drift through the crowd. it settles like a fine, light mist over the dancing couples. against your better judgment, you speed up your movements, pirouetting between two others and letting go of him for a moment – you see his eyes widen as you vanish, only to reappear a second later and grab his shoulder again, pulling you back together. today is a day for surprises.

he’s wheezing with what might be amusement or exhaustion, and you can’t help but join in, and you stare into his eyes and they sparkle like precious gems. those peridot-colored eyes. for just a second, you can study every bit of his face. he’s almost unfairly gorgeous.it takes a tiny internal struggle to pull yourself away as his laughter turns to confusion, and you pretend as though nothing has happened when you return to the dance.

he knows, though; he saw the feeling in your gaze. you know he knows. and the space between you has narrowed.

“have you ever heard that a mole under your eye means you’re going to have bad luck in love?” you ask, tightening your grip as he spins clumsily. “you have two of them, so doesn’t that mean you’d have double the bad luck?”

heizou blinks, side-stepping another couple. “hmm, maybe, but it’s fine with me. i’ve heard people say it makes me look more mature, so i can put up with something like that. especially since i’m able to naturally counter it with my good looks, y’know?”

“you’re so shallow,” you say, eyes glimmering. if it was anyone else, you’d feel bad talking to them in such a way, but heizou always provokes you to this kind of immature banter. it feels natural, real in a way that not much in the idol world is. real the same way your arms around his shoulders are. “imagine if you acted like this without being the main visual. you’re lucky you’re pretty.”

his mouth opens into a perfect O for a second – your heart catches in your throat – and then softens into the same playful smile as always. “if all i’ve got going for me is my looks, then i’d happily use them to charm you!” he hums. “no matter how long it takes. i won’t give up.”

and all you can do is laugh. how could you say that he’s already succeeded?

maybe it’s unfair, but you’re not expecting to see aether with anyone as you approach him, much less a pretty blond girl with a expensive-looking flower clip in her hair. not because he’s shy, exactly – more cautious. he doesn’t have as many admirers as the other boys and it’s no secret (at least to you) that it makes him… well, hesitant.

but he’s smiling, and something clenches in your stomach; not jealousy, maybe confusion. his happiness always makes you feel the tiniest bit bitter, because it makes you wonder how anyone could see him like that and not fall in love with his smile.

“hey aether,” you say, tapping his shoulder and smiling at the blond girl. “nice to meet you, i’m 6REEZE’s manager, [name].”

“ohh, you’re [name],” the girl says, tapping her chin and smiling slightly. she glances at aether. “nice to meet you. aether’s said a lot about you, you know – ”

“okay, thanks for that,” aether cuts her off, speaking through gritted teeth. he turns to you. “this is lumine, my twin sister. she’s a member of 4BYSS.”

your eyes pop. “your sister is in 4BYSS?”

he starts to laugh and lumine rubs the back of her neck sheepishly. 4BYSS is a very popular girl group under MRX Entertainment consisting of four members who always wear masks during their videos. when 6REEZE was first marketed they were considered as their ‘male counterpart’ until it was made public knowledge that they had been put together by SHOGUNATE – to know that aether’s twin is also a famous idol is just…

“wow. so the idol talent runs in the family?” you say, shaking your head disbelievingly. “i can’t believe i never knew this! aether, you should have introduced us sooner.”

“sorry. i try to keep my family and my friends separate, since my sister likes to tease.” he glares at her. she giggles, covering her mouth, and flicks her hand. “whatever, it’s not like i’m doing anything wrong or lying. after all, aether has quite a few stories about – ”

“okay,” aether interrupts for the second time. your lips tug up as lumine frowns. “i think you should go get something to eat, lumine. you seem… out of it.”

“fine,” she huffs, and then her eyes light up. “oh! since i’m going, why don’t you two dance together? otherwise, you’ll have only danced with me this whole time and that’s just sad. plus – well, you know. be brave, little brother.” she pats you on the shoulder, squeezing just a bit as she winks at you, then flutters away towards the food.

aether pinches the bridge of his nose as you turn to him, amused. “that’s… wrong. she’s three minutes younger than me.”

“what a cutie,” you say with furrowed eyebrows, before you cross one arm over your chest, tucking it under the other nervously. “um, so what she said about dancing, do you wanna?”

his eyes light up and he beams, and you blink when he nods excitedly instead of hesitating with “yeah, sure!” but then again, you shouldn’t be surprised; aether is the kind of person who always agrees to things. you, really, really hope he’s not just trying to make you happy.

you place your arms over his shoulders. his silken gold hair is in a high ponytail that curls over his back, messy bangs out of his face, and he’s wearing bracelets. light, silver things – herringbone, you think absently, smooth and delicate – that make soft jingling noises as his wrist moves, taking your hand.

the music picks up, and you’re off; a light but firm grip on your hip, fingers ready to let go of you at any time. it’s almost a surprise how good he is at it– but not quite, because it’s still him, and he is nothing if not a hard worker. he’s not good at things by chance. and yes, you can feel the undercurrent of supporting strength in his muscles as you step, hand clasped in his high in the air.

he is steady. as always.

you sweep your arm to avoid bumping into a giggling, pale-haired boy in an top hat as he spins in a circle. aether looks after him with a grin, still keeping up with you even as his gaze drifts. “it’s kind of nice to see you like this,” you say without thinking.

he raises an eyebrow, attention shifting back. you feel heat creeping up your neck. “what do you mean?”

“i-i don’t know. relaxed? cheerful?” even you know how it sounds, saying that aether, the friendliest and most positive member, is not normally cheerful. there’s really no way to articulate what you mean – that you know his usual optimistic demeanor is a facade? that you can tell he’s exhausted? no, that’s not something you can say aloud. you half-shrug, twirling away. “you just seem… happier lately. less stressed?”

he nods. “yeah, since my solo came out, um… ” he trails off, looking embarrassed, his nose dusted pink. his blush always starts there. it’s taken you a long time to figure that out, since he almost never gets flustered. you incline your head slightly for him to continue. “i mean… it ended up being really popular! a lot of people know me now. and that’s… it’s cool, right?”

your heart melts a little. “of course! i know how hard you worked for that,” you hum, fingertips grazing over his back as you shift your position. he turns on one leg, sweeping the other out behind him to maintain his balance. he’s gliding more than moving, without stumbling a single time. the music bleeds into your ears, and he’s humming. the lights drift over his face. his gaze seems far away, swinging your arm out and stepping back and forth. you try not to smile.

one of his bracelets catches the light, as though a spotlight has alighted onto aether’s wrist; he pivots on his heel, leaning back so you can lean forward. his shoes tapping on the floor. you tilt just a bit too far, bumping into him – and you’re flooded with the scent of orange blossoms and cinnamon. you’re not sure if it’s body wash or if he just smells like that. you wouldn’t be surprised.

he turns you around by the hand, fingers curling over yours, and says suddenly, “thank you.”

you blink as you face him again. for a second you think you imagined it, because his eyes aren’t on you. “for what?”

“believing in me,” he says, tightening his grip on your waist – color bursts over your cheeks and you open your mouth – and then you’re whirling through the air as he spins in a circle. you laugh out of disbelief; with anyone else you might be afraid to move, worried he’d drop you, but… it’s aether. you don’t think he’s even capable of that.

time seems to slow down, the moment stretching into an eternity. you can see head and shoulders above everyone else, but the only thing you’re looking at is him; and his smile, his eyes are as bright as the sun.

you expected xiao to leave within the first hour – hell, the first ten minutes – of the party, but he lasted over two hours before finally slipping out. you’re a bit proud; even as an idol, he doesn’t have much experience with these kind of events, only speaking when he has to and going silent entirely when he’s too tired not to. you understand it, of course. he’s supporting the whole group.

you give a quick excuse to kazuha and head towards the door that xiao took. as soon as you step through the doorframe, you’re hit with a blast of cool air, a welcome difference from the stuffy atmosphere inside the main room. the hallway is empty.

“xiao?” you call. “are you here?”

there’s no response, but your gaze catches on the one door that’s slightly ajar. you approach it, peering inside, and find him sitting on the room’s windowsill, staring out over the city. you clear your throat and he turns his head; even at night, the golden lights shining from both skyscrapers and houses is almost blinding, and he’s bathed in it. the sharp lines of his face seem softer.

“hi,” you say. he seems to be registering your presence, and returns, “hey,” tilting his chin up. “why are you here?”

you frown, lined with a teasing edge, at the same moment he realizes it sounded rude, and you see his brow furrow. “sorry. that came out wrong. i just meant… ”

“i know what you meant,” you answer, the corner of your mouth lifting up. “i was looking for you. i thought – maybe you would want some company?”

his eyes spark with something that could maybe be happiness, maybe anticipation. “yeah. that would be nice.” it comes out like a mumble, as do most of his comments; and maybe you’re just hoping for it, but it sounds like there’s a bit of genuine gratitude in there.

you sit down on the windowsill beside him, admiring the view of the city. if it were a truly perfect evening, it might start raining, lending an air of peacefulness to the scene, but nothing in real life is that perfect. for now, it’s nice just to sit with him like this.

“so, why’d you dip?” it’s easy to guess the answer: that he simply got tired of pleasantries. you’re surprised when his face screws up, propping his chin up with his hand. “i’m not a good dancer.”

“yeah you are!” you protest. “what are you talking about?”

“not at slow dancing.” xiao glares at nothing in particular. “i don’t have any practice. i’ve never done it.”

you can’t help but smile a bit, turning to face the window. you speak a bit haltingly, pressing your palm to the glass. it’s smooth, cold. raindrops fall between your fingers. heat runs to your face as you talk. “i’m sure you could pick it up. do… do you want to practice?”

he doesn’t answer for a long moment, and you glance at him out of the corner of your eye, stomach churning. his lips are pressed together, a tiny flush lighting up his pale face, and he finally says, “okay. if you want to.”

you slide to your feet, fumbling with your phone for a second and landing on a playlist of classical music. you press the play button and drop it on a table before turning to xiao, who looks slightly lost. soft music starts to leak into your ears, and you press a bit closer to him, searching for his frame in the dark. when you place one hand into his, laying the other tentatively on his hip, he stiffens for barely a fraction of a second, then relaxes.

“sorry,” he mutters. “i don’t know where to put my hands.”

“here,” you whisper, guiding his tense fingers to your waist. there’s something a bit too clumsy, a bit too endearing about the gesture for it to be embarrassing. “and just keep the other one where it is. and then… step, one, two, move your arm… ”

he’s a quick learner, naturally. he wouldn’t be such an amazing group center if he wasn’t. you were expecting it. but still, it barely takes him a few beats to pick up the measure. dancing in this empty place is so different from the other room you were in before. there’s a million less things to focus on and at the same time, a million more. every bit of him a tiny miracle.

it’s not quite dark, not with the shining glow of the city’s skyline outside, but you can only slightly make out the general shape of xiao’s features. soft cheekbones, full lips and dark hair. he’s still got a hint of sternness in his expression, but his eyes shine slightly; yellowish, with pupils like a cat’s.

connected in the slow rhythm, swaying with your arms around him, you can hardly breathe. or maybe it’s that you don’t want to breathe, not quite – you don’t want to disturb the moment. it feels like you’re moving through molasses, slow and sweet and wonderful. his grip relaxes as you go, his steps and sweeps of his arm become smoother, until he’s moving just as evenly and fluidly as you. neither of you speaks.

there’s a plunking sound, like someone’s dropping pebbles into a puddle of water. you look out the window. it’s raining, the lights starting to go dark as the raindrops running down the glass distort the city’s horizon; xiao barely seems to notice, though you catch a hint of a gentler look on his face in the last bit of gleaming gold before the rain obscures it entirely.

the shadow cast by the drops on the glass forms itself on the wall behind you, scattering over your face. it’s slightly blue, mostly black, almost silver in places. just like a movie. “it’s perfect,” you whisper to yourself, and xiao doesn’t give any sign that he’s heard, though he moves just a bit faster as if something is spurring him on.

you shift your weight slightly, rest your head on his collarbone. the room is quiet, and if you strain, there’s the orchestra music from the main room, layered under the gentle piano pouring from your phone and curling through the air like smoke. you can hear – can feel – his heart beating. even with everything else, at least for this moment, that could be your favorite song.

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