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When Bruno danced, he transformed.
Looking back, seeing him dance for the first time was when Pol fell in love. Or maybe not love, not just yet, but definitely in lust. Bruno was just so utterly unselfconscious, so confident in his body and his movements, in complete control of every muscle as he lifted the female dancer with an ease that made Pol's stomach tighten.
Later, in a massive bed with a stunning view of the city, Pol found that same confidence translated to Bruno's love-making.
Even that first time Bruno knew to trust what his instincts told him. He more than held his own against Pol's bravado and greater experience, his hands firm, holding Pol as they'd held his dance partner, his body hard yet supple against Pol's. Giving and taking easily, smoothly. No wonder Pol kept coming back for more, no matter how messy their relationship was otherwise.
Even when they were barely talking, realising that Bruno had stopped dancing dented Pol's heart a little. Bruno without the release of dance just seemed... wrong. Like a wild bird that stayed in an open cage. Did Bruno instead find freedom having sex with others? The thought shouldn't bother Pol, but it did.
When he told Bruno, once he'd finally stopped running, Bruno laughed, called him jealous, and Pol wasn't able to deny it. Although it had taken him a long time to admit it, in a way a part of him had never let go of Bruno. He knew he was lucky Bruno had missed it, too, the effortless connection they shared. They fell into bed, and Bruno's grace still took Pol's breath away.
He loved him, loved all of him, every facet of his character, every inch of his skin.
There would be no parting them again, and when they moved in together, Pol installed a barre and a huge mirror in their spare room, presenting it to Bruno without a word, knowing he'd understand. Seeing it, Bruno's face cracked open, and Pol didn't need to see his tears to know that Bruno would never stop dancing again.