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Tooru throws himself against the balcony, leaning against it with a pained expression. "I can't even dance well. And what if no one asks to dance with me?"
Tooru and Iwaizumi, the man leaning over the balcony next to him with a scowl, both know that Tooru can dance quite well (he'd been attending ballroom lessons since he had learned how to walk) and that he was most definitely going to be asked to dance by plenty of people the night of the ball. Still, neither of them mention this.
"I'm sure someone will pity you enough to ask," Iwaizumi says, glancing across at Tooru as he continues to melt his body along the balcony.
Tooru pouts, straightening as he shuffles closer to Iwaizumi. The night is cold, a chill breeze rustling Tooru's loose nightshirt. Tooru's elbow brushes against Iwaizumi's as he leans forward, his chin resting in his palm.
"Don't you pity me, Iwa-chan?" Tooru asks, an easy smile twisting his lips up. He turns and bats his eyelashes at Iwaizumi.
"I'm not dancing with you," Iwaizumi states.
Tooru gasps. "You would deny an offer to dance from the Prince?"
"You never asked me to dance," Iwaizumi points out, shoving him lightly with his elbow. Tooru appreciates this, so much more than he would ever admit to Iwaizumi - the fact that they still treat each other as best friends, who used to escape from Tooru's riding lessons to climb trees and frolic in the fields, Tooru taking the blame every time when they were caught and scolded for their muddy clothes. It didn't matter that Tooru was now Prince Oikawa: Iwaizumi would always be his Iwa-chan.
Dangling so close, yet so far away in the night sky, the stars twinkle and flicker. Tooru often drags Iwaizumi, his dutiful self-proclaimed bodyguard, out here onto his balcony, and refuses to put on more layers despite how biting the wind is and how many times Iwaizumi tells him to. He's always felt so comforted by both of them; the stars and Iwaizumi, of course, and he can always sleep easier on these nights.
Iwaizumi shifts his weight, leaning towards Tooru. "Maybe it's best that no one asks you," Iwaizumi says quietly. Tooru's hair is shifted by his breath - it sends shivers down his spine, but maybe he's just cold. "It will certainly save a few toes from being trampled on."
Tooru squawks, glaring at him. "I'll have you know I'm an excellent dancer!"
"You have two left feet."
"Stop lying! Maidens will be lining up to dance with me," Tooru boasts, ignoring Iwaizumi's sigh and his blatant contradiction. "If you're nice to me, maybe I'll send a few of them your way."
"Ever so generous."
"Of course!" Tooru says with a sharp grin. "You don't appreciate my kindness."
"I don't appreciate you dragging me out here to freeze almost every night."
"Iwa-chan, you're so soft! It's not that cold."
Iwaizumi glances down to Tooru's shoulder pinned against his own, and how his hand is pressed between Iwaizumi's elbow and side. Tooru looks down himself, noticing the bumps that have raised along his arms.
"You're shivering." Iwaizumi says, and he grabs Tooru's wrist with a grunt. "Come on, you have to sleep."
"Iwa-chan!" Tooru whines, as Iwaizumi yanks him back inside to his bedroom. "You're such a brute!"
It's dark in there, their faces illuminated by the lone candle on Tooru's bedside table and the moon behind them.
"The bed's big enough for two," Tooru says breezily. He's smiling, so he can brush it off as a joke if Iwaizumi glares at him and declines.
Iwaizumi's eyes drift to Tooru's bed. "We're not children anymore, Oikawa."
Tooru's smile slips from his lips. He gulps, remembering the looks they had received the last time his servants had found them in bed together, limbs entangled. They hadn't done anything scandalous of course, but that didn't stop the whispers about just how close the Prince was with his best friend.
Tooru drags his eyes from Iwaizumi's face to stare at the bed as well. "Goodnight, then."
"Night."
Tooru is leaning over the edge of his balcony, his eyes closed as the breeze rustles his hair, when he hears a door open and close. Footsteps draw closer, then stop just behind him.
Slowly, Tooru opens his eyes, staring down at the greenery below.
"Shouldn't you be in a lesson right now?" Iwaizumi scolds.
"I said I felt ill, and desperately needed some rest." Tooru explains, straightening to smile at Iwaizumi.
"Are you worried about the ball tonight?"
"No, why?"
Iwaizumi shrugs. "You're being more dramatic than usual."
In response, Tooru hums. Iwaizumi is more than aware of Tooru's dislike for lavish parties.
"I'll be next to you the whole night," Iwaizumi reminds him. "Except when you're dancing, of course. Or pissing. But I will be there."
"You just can't stand to be away from me, hm?"
"Shut it, Shittykawa," Iwaizumi says, whacking the side of Tooru's head.
You didn't deny it, Tooru points out in his mind, then wonders why that excites him so much.
Iwaizumi reaches into his pocket. "Here," he says, as he brings out a loaf of bread. He breaks it in half, and Tooru pretends not to notice that he keeps the smaller piece to himself.
Tooru takes the bread with a grin, tilting his head at Iwaizumi. "You're a man after my heart," he sings, taking a bite into the sweet bread. "When's the proposal?"
"God forbid I have to be stuck with you my whole life," Iwaizumi retorts, staring out across the lands so he doesn't have to meet Tooru's gaze.
Tooru laughs, but there's no humour in it. He can't be angry: he is the one who had brought marriage up. They both knew that it wasn't one of his favourite subjects.
"But you'll still be there," Tooru mumbles. It isn't a question.
Iwaizumi stiffens, glancing out the corner of his eye at him. His gaze softens. "Of course."
Tooru is good at hiding it, but he hates balls, hates the twinkling lights and the smiling faces and the constant hints at, I would immediately accept if you just so happened to propose to me, Prince Oikawa.
Kiyabu Haruka, the daughter of a Duke Tooru had been advised by rich socialites to court in the past, sends him a coy smile across the ballroom. He had never agreed to court her - he has almost perfected his ability to steer conversations away from marriage and relationships, but he knows he won't be able to much longer.
Tooru returns his own smile, then glances down at his chalice, hoping she doesn't make her way over. Please, don't, he pleads, as I'm quite tired and a bit hungry and I'm not interested in flirting with you right now.
"Sorry, ladies," Tooru says to the older women he is surrounded by, wearing an angelic smile, "I have duties elsewhere right now."
He strides away, placing his cup on a table. He passes guards on the stairs, and simply shakes his head at them, hoping they won't follow. Behind him, as he always does, he knows Iwaizumi is tailing him.
Tooru makes to a balcony, his preferred place when he feels the need to escape. He glances down at the magnificent gardens sprawling over the grounds, the beautiful shrubbery painted a light blue in the moonlight. The music from the ball is faint here, but still noticeable.
"All that time moaning about not being asked to dance, and you're hiding out here?"
Tooru snorts humorously as Iwaizumi settles beside him, his hip leaning against the stone banister. He's wearing a dark blue shirt, almost black in the night's gloom. It compliments him well, Tooru thinks, and doesn't allow himself to venture further into that territory.
Iwaizumi has always looked good in blue, though.
Drumming his fingers against the stone, Tooru sighs. "There's only one person I want to ask me to dance."
Tooru frowns; why had he said that?
Tooru hears Iwaizumi exhale. He looks across at him, and finds that he wears his own ghost of a frown, his thick eyebrows furrowed just slightly.
"I'm not Kiyabu, but I'm sure I can act as a decent substitute." Iwaizumi says.
His mouth parting momentarily, Tooru sucks in a sharp breath. His heart beats rapidly, but he isn't even sure why. He allows his lips to twist into a sly smile. "Iwa-chan. Are you asking me to dance?"
"I was joking," Iwaizumi grumbles quickly, turning away from Tooru. A deep blush has settled on his cheeks, and the way he presses a hand to the back of his neck makes Tooru think, no, you were not joking.
"Dance with me," says Tooru. He stands up, straightening to his full height. Iwaizumi watches him with a scowl, his eyes dark.
"Oikawa."
"Come on," Tooru insists, holding out his hand. "Don't deny your prince."
Slowly, Iwaizumi takes it. His hand is calloused and warm against Tooru's cold fingers. Tooru's pulse is beating so fast and so loud in his head that he can't hear the music anymore. He tries to ignore the burn making its way up his wrist just from the slight contact of their hands.
"Who's leading?" Iwaizumi murmurs.
"I am, of course."
Iwaizumi's scowl deepens, but he allows Tooru to hold his waist. Tooru can't tear his eyes away from Iwaizumi as they move, but Iwaizumi is glaring down at their feet, a concentrated frown on his face.
"You are overthinking this," Tooru tells him, but his heart warms at the idea of Iwaizumi fretting over standing on his toes.
"Be quiet." Iwaizumi says, finally meeting Tooru's eyes. "This is so foolish."
"Perhaps," Tooru breathes. He can't help his smile. Iwaizumi holds his gaze as they dance, and there's a fluttering in Tooru's stomach that he can't explain. He's danced with so many partners, but none of them have made him feel so giddy, so flustered. Despite the iciness in the night air, Tooru is incredibly warm.
He wants to whisper something along the lines of, see, I am good at dancing, but Tooru's tongue feels too thick, his heart is beating too fast, and he doesn't dare to break the sweet silence that has settled between them.
The music swells as they draw in close once more. Then, there's a lull as the next song starts. Tooru and Iwaizumi stand there, their bodies flush against each other and their hands entwined and their faces inches apart.
"We should stop," Iwaizumi says, his voice rough and a mere whisper.
"We have."
Nodding, Iwaizumi wets his lips, and Tooru's eyes flick there as his tongue is drawn - agonisingly slow - back into his mouth. Tooru's grip tightens at Iwaizumi's side, clutching at the soft fabric.
He leans in, he doesn't think he's wanted anything more than this, and Iwaizumi's eyes flutter closed.
Footsteps approach from inside.
Iwaizumi jolts away, throwing himself against the balcony wall. Tooru is frozen, his arms still holding the space where Iwaizumi used to occupy. Iwaizumi won't meet his eyes. Tooru's arms drop to his sides as he turns to the open doors: Kiyabu appears from behind the curtains, her hands clasped over her stomach.
"Oikawa-san," she greets. "Iwaizumi-san."
"Good evening," Tooru chimes, putting on a smile.
"Am I interrupting?" asks Kiyabu, her eyes darting from Tooru to Iwaizumi, who is standing stiffly by the wall.
"No," Iwaizumi answers, and Tooru bites his cheek at his eagerness. "Apologies, I was just leaving."
No hesitation, Iwaizumi marches away, his eyes trained on the floor as he passes Tooru.
"Let's go inside, shall we?" Tooru offers to Kiyabu. His throat feels unbelievably dry. "It's freezing out here tonight."
With a sweet smile, Kiyabu complies as they step back in together, the violins growing louder. Tooru watches Iwaizumi's broad back as he strides down the hall, desperately wanting to run after him.
That would be a bad idea, he decides.
He glances down to Kiyabu, fighting the ache in his chest and the stinging of his eyes. "You were looking for me?"