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To say that Toya disliked formal events would be a bit of an understatement. Dinners, conferences, the occasional concert, everything, he couldn’t stand any of it. But most of all, the grand ball his father seemed intent on holding tonight.
There’s people here from kingdoms he’s never even heard of. They all seem to blur together as they drift across the ballroom floor, faceless people talking and laughing stiffly over their drinks. The hall is magnificent — it’s the main ballroom of the Aoyagi estate, with stained glass stretching to the dizzyingly high ceilings and painting the edges of the room in pale moonlight, the sun having long set. And despite the openness of the room, it’s terribly, terribly suffocating, like a vice had clamped around Toya’s throat the moment he passed the threshold.
It’s worse when they look at him, when they talk to him, because then Toya has to put on his polite smile too, the one practiced after years of discipline, nodding at all the appropriate times even though each word is just noise to him. Everything here is just noise.
“Mm,” he mumbles over the rim of his glass as another nameless man turns to him to speak. Not like the man would have anything interesting to say — he’s learned that all anyone bothers to ask him about is his father or if Toya has found some girl he’d like to marry yet. Because to everyone, that’s all he is, the third and youngest son of the Aoyagis, a glorified doll meant to only preserve the dignity of the family name. The questions are meaningless at best, because it’s not like he’s the one making any decisions for himself.
He lowers his hand, staring into the now-empty glass instead of making eye contact with any of the nobles that seem to hover around him. There’s a dull throbbing at the base of his skull, worsening with each minute that passes and the world seeming to come out of focus. The grip on his glass tightens to the point of hurting — or it would if he could think about it, could think about anything besides the dreadful chill that’s starting to settle over him, rendering him freezing in a room full of people. He doesn’t want to be here. There’s no reason for him to be here at all, really, because he can’t do anything. Everyone just stares at him and whispers Over there, isn’t that the third prince? He rarely appears in public like this, you know. Always in the castle, prince, are you alright? Pr—
“—ince. Hey, you there with me?”
The weight of a hand on his shoulder shocks him out of whatever state he was in, and the voice, he knows that voice, and when he opens his eyes again (because they must’ve slipped shut somehow) he’s met with not another faceless person but perhaps the only exception to all of his earlier thoughts.
Akito’s looking at him, worry etched into the furrow of his brow, and Toya can only manage a long exhale in response. Glancing around, it seems like all the nobles had vanished, and for a moment he wonders where they all went when he sees Akito turn to glare at somebody approaching. It makes sense after that. Toya lets himself relax, finally, and he directs what he thinks is a reassuring smile at Akito. Thank you, Akito, he wants to say. “Weren’t you supposed to be with the other knights?” he says instead and immediately winces.
So much for reassuring Akito, who seems more confused than concerned now. “Uh,” he starts, like he wasn’t expecting Toya to ask that. “You looked like you were getting stressed out. I’m supposed to look after you, aren’t I?” It’s rhetorical, but Toya nods slowly anyway, and the tension seems to leave Akito’s shoulders. The hand on his shoulder (warm, Toya thinks) slips down to his bicep, and suddenly they’re walking, Akito guiding him somewhere quieter as he continues talking. “Anyway, Akiyama ran off to god knows where in the middle of our conversation, so that’s when…”
As they walked, Toya tried to focus on Akito’s presence — he was grateful for it, genuinely, because Akito was one of the few people who’d actually notice he was getting overwhelmed, and one of even fewer that would actually do something about it. He’d always do this, too, where he’d loop his arm around Toya or just leave a hand on his arm and then he’d start talking about anything that came to mind while Toya composed himself. Toya was always happy to listen, thinking about the comforting tones of his voice or how solid his hand felt and how forever thankful he felt for having someone like Akito as his knight, always by his side. The one person in this kingdom he’d entrust his life to — and he had, really, by appointing him as retainer, and not once has he ever regretted that.
Point in case: right now. Akito’s led them to the opposite corner of the ballroom, and it’s far, far quieter here, the din of the attendees lowered to something tolerable. From here, he can still see everything — there’s a girl with flowing, pale blue hair smiling serenely (a princess, he thinks, judging by how she holds herself) at a pink-haired girl, nearby another princess with her hair pulled into a high ponytail, and if he looks to where everybody’s dancing he can spot a girl with little stars in her hair twirling and laughing with —
“Akito,” he says, suddenly enough for Akito to snap his gaze to him. “Isn’t that Akiyama dancing with that girl there?” Shiraishi An, if he remembers correctly. He’s seen her plenty before, always full of cheer, and he supposes this explains a few things.
“Huh?” Akito turns to follow his line of sight, and Toya worries for a moment that he might hurt his neck with how quickly he’s doing so. “Guess that’s where they disappeared to.” He crosses his arms, frowning, but Toya can hear the hint of amusement to his tone.
It seems like they’re having fun, at least. Shiraishi’s dancing isn’t anything like he’s seen before, a far cry from ballroom etiquette, but it doesn’t seem like she cares in the least, nor does Akiyama, who returns a grin just as bright to their dancing partner. They spin and spin until Toya thinks he might get dizzy just from looking at them, but he doesn’t dare look away, even when their steps begin to stumble and Shiraishi nearly knocks into Akiyama.
He hears Akito make a noise from beside him, something like realization, and then he speaks up again. “You wanna dance out there too, prince?”
Toya blinks wide-eyed, turning to Akito. “Eh?” The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind, honestly, but… thinking back to the sheer joy on Akiyama’s face, it’s not a terrible idea. If Akito —
“Why not ask someone? I’m sure anyone here would be willing to take your hand.”
— wanted to. Toya deflates a little, shoulders sagging. Why does it sound like you’re excluding yourself from this? But then again, if he said anyone…
“Then would you dance with me, Akito?” he says, and the sound Akito makes is spectacular, like he’d had all the air forced out of him at once. He has half the mind to pat him on the back, but Akito just waves him off as he tries not to cough up a lung.
“What—” a cough. “No, I can’t — I couldn’t possibly. As your knight — what would people think?” he manages, somehow still short of breath. He seems to find the floor more interesting to look at, though it’s obvious he’s red to the tips of his ears.
Toya can feel his smile growing kinder. A ridiculous question, really. “Since when have you ever cared about what other people think?” and now Akito’s looking at him, shock written across his face. His expression twists for a moment and Toya finds himself fascinated by it, how animated he always manages to be, even as he tries to keep himself together.
“It’s, you know…” he shakes his head, cutting off the sentence there. “Besides, I’m not any good at dancing.” He’s doing the thing again, where he looks at Toya but doesn’t really look at him, staring at some spot on his forehead instead and Toya knows he’s lying because throughout the whole time they’ve known each other Akito has lied to him twice and he’s done this exact same thing. And they were for a good enough reason, but here Toya can’t think of why he’d be doing that except that Akito just doesn’t want to dance with him, but — it doesn’t make any sense.
So he presses. “But you still know how, right? Just one dance,” and then, quietly, “please.”
The fact that he has to plead with his own knight for something would be ridiculous by anyone else’s standards, but it’s different with Akito and it always has been. What they have between them, even if Toya’s not really sure what it is, it’s… different. Akito is a knight and his retainer, yes, but he’s also — ah, how does he put it…?
“Fine,” Akito grumbles, and Toya doesn’t have the time to consider his own thoughts before he’s taking Akito by the wrist, tugging him toward the center of the room, ignoring the rest of Akito’s complaints that follow behind.
He slows them to a halt near the edge — they’re bound to draw attention regardless, Toya holding the title he does, but he doesn’t particularly have the nerve to bring them toward the middle just yet. When Akito turns to face him, Toya clasps one of his hands in Akito’s and raises his other to rest on Akito’s waist —
— but Akito beats him to it, a warm hand settling on the small of his back, and Toya arches a brow at him. It’s a pleasant surprise, but a surprise nonetheless. “You’re going to lead?” he asks, and Akito looks right above his eyes again.
“It’s the only way I’ve learned.”
So be it. With a small smile, Toya brings his hand up to Akito’s shoulder and squeezes. Akito takes a deep breath, his shoulder rising and falling with the movement, and then they’re moving.
It’s a simple box step at first, a careful waltz to test the waters, following the rhythm of the orchestra. It’s not a slow piece by any means, and in fact, it’s one of the faster ones they’ve played tonight. Surprisingly, Toya doesn’t immediately recognize it, though perhaps that might have something to do with how intense Akito’s gaze on him is, making his brain stutter. Soon enough, they’re sweeping through the ballroom with ease, Akito deftly leading him through each step and he had to be lying when he said he wasn’t any good at dancing, because Toya doesn’t think he’s seen anyone better. He’s only able to keep up because of his own extensive training — it’s the only reason he doesn’t stumble when Akito adjusts his grip on Toya’s hand and leads him into a spin. By the time he’s pulled back, there’s a wild grin on Akito’s face, one that steals the breath from his lungs. It’s as if the orchestra is playing just for them, setting their pace even higher until it feels like they’re barely even touching the ground.
If they didn’t have everyone’s attention before, they sure as hell do now, because Akito keeps coming up with more and more elaborate ways to spin and twirl him and never once does he look away. For what has to be the first time in his life, he hopes his father is watching him, has his cold, unforgiving gaze trained directly on the two of them, because Toya wants him to see this. To see how happy he is with his heartbeat drumming against his ribs, sailing across the floor of this cold, cold hall. He doesn’t even care that the other dancers have to dodge out of their way, because they don’t matter, not in the slightest.
They’ve fallen under the same spell that had Akiyama and Shiraishi earlier, and it’s truly like they’re the only two people in the universe right now, Toya’s thoughts broken down to Akito, Akito, Akito, how could he possibly think about anything else? People are whispering again, that’s the prince and the knight he always keeps with him, what is Prince Toya doing, but their words aren’t able to sink their claws into him, gone from his mind as soon as Akito turns them again. The music swells, mixing with everything else into a terrible symphony, a wonderful cacophony, strings trilling high and Akito’s eyes are bright, brilliant and blinding like the sun. They reach a precipice, the very edge of a crescendo, and Toya doesn’t realize they’ve made it to the center of the ballroom until his sight turns to the ceiling.
Akito dipped him — Akito’s dipping him, arm wrapped tightly around his waist, and he followed as naturally as anything else. The world slows to a stop and yet the orchestra continues but he can’t hear it. There’s only the closeness of Akito’s face, their breaths mixing as they heave from the exertion, and for a very, very long time, nothing happens.
Somehow, Toya’s the first one to speak, barely audible above everything else. “I thought you said you weren’t a good dancer,” he all but whispers, the smile on his face beginning to make his cheeks ache.
A beat. Akito shifts, holding Toya even tighter. “Toya,” he breathes out, nothing less than reverence in his tone, and Toya thinks he might’ve collapsed if Akito wasn’t holding him. That single word — his name — makes something spike in his chest and there’s absolutely no way he’s not bright red by now. Akito’s never said it before, not in that warm voice of his, and the sound of it loops in Toya’s mind, knowing he’ll never, ever get sick of it. “Run away with me.”
What?
“A-Akito? What are you—”
“You were right. I don’t care what other people think. Let’s leave this place behind, go find somewhere, I don’t know, spend the rest of our lives together—”
“Yes,” Toya answers before he has the chance to think about it.
He knows what Akito is to him now, he knows what this is between them.
Akito is his other half.
The boy who always provided a safe place for him, who’s always been an escape from the monotony of his day-to-day life and the overwhelming pressure that threatens to crush him every moment they’re apart. Because with Akito, he’s not the prince, he’s not just his title, he’s Toya. He’s allowed to be himself, and he’s never considered running away, never even knew it was a possibility for him, but it’s real. It’s real and that possibility is holding him in its arms and smiling down at him like he’s truly beautiful, treasured, loved.
Love, that’s the word. And it’s in the way Akito laughs in response, a weak wheeze because he’s still out of breath, but it’s there. It must be the adrenaline that’s gotten to the both of them, because he’s never seen Akito like this — he’s seen intense and determined, but never like this.
They’ll be together, just the two of them with nothing to get between. It’s everything he could’ve asked for. As long as it’s them, as long as they’re together, they’ll surely find happiness, because for Toya happiness is right here in Akito’s arms.
“I know the fastest way out of here. When I lift you back up, don’t let go of my hand.” Akito squeezes his hand. “It’ll be the two of us now, my prince.”
“My knight,” he exhales, and that’s the last thing he says before he’s pulled into the night.