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Seadall’s throat burns as the frigid night air seeps into his throbbing lungs with every labored pant that manages to spill past his tongue. The scrape of his worn shoes against the soil echoes out beside the rustle of leaves, the crinkle of his pants, and the soft song of his breathing–all of which are muffled to the dancer when compared to the cacophonic wail of his own heart. He purses his dry, aching lips against the chilly taste of the sporadic, powdery snowfall that tumbles over his warm skin, and clings to his long hair. Beneath the silver complexation of the full moon, it almost resembles stardust streaking through the sky at midnight.
His heavy eyelids shut slowly, blocking out the wondrous sight of the Sominel all around him, and plunging him into the absolute darkness of his own thoughts as his arms and legs move in familiar patterns that he memorized long ago. Though, never, do they ever feel quite ‘right’. There’s always something he can improve on. Always something he’s lacking. Something he’s missing. Something he can do better. He has to do better. He has to be perfect. So entranced he is by his own maddening thoughts that he fails to notice the lithe footsteps of one of his many companions slipping beneath the branches of the sprawling orchid to find him.
Kagetsu pauses for a moment, the steam from the freshly baked buns and roasted meat billowing up in front of his rosy cheeks, to watch Seadall’s breathtaking performance. Instinctively, his hands clutch the wooden tray tighter against his chest as he feels his heart begin to climb into his throat. His face begins to feel hot, and it’s not from the food he’s cradling either. Seadall is mesmerizing when he dances–whenever he moves in general. There’s something purposeful about every step he takes, and something awe-inspiring about every word that leaves his mouth. But Kagetsu is quick to push aside his wonder with a swift shake of his head, and he loudly clears his throat in an attempt to get the other man’s attention, though Seadall doesn’t even so much as flinch–his dancing remains fluid, and Kagetsu feels as if the other is a world away.
For some reason that terrifies Kagetsu.
“Ahem,” the swordsman clears his throat, louder this time, and then balances the try on his forearm to free his other in order to reach out, and grab Seadall by the wrist–as gently as he can manage while ensuring the other doesn’t tumble in his surprise.
Seadall’s breath hitches in his throat, and a choked gasp escapes his lungs the moment his lips part in poorly concealed shock. He halts with only the grace a man of his practice could manage after being disturbed so suddenly, and whirls around, wide-eyed, to meet Kagetsu’s inviting gaze and warm smile.
“You are as dedicated and impressive as always, Seadall,” Kagetsu praises, still firmly holding onto the other’s wrist without any indication of letting go. His cheeks crinkle with his genuine smile, and his eyes shine as brightly as the stars that linger overhead, but there’s concern swimming in his welcoming features as well.
Seadall’s gaze travels downwards to the hand that holds onto him so firmly. Compared to the cold touch of his own skin, Kagetsu’s palm is burning hot. It threatens to set him ablaze, but he doesn’t make an effort to pull away. “Kagetsu, has something happened?” His brows wrinkle slightly. His voice is still strained as he tries to catch his breath.
“Indeed,” Kagetsu declares, startling the other for but a moment. “The Divine One has informed me you were absent from dinner tonight so I am here to deliver you a meal of meat between two breads.”
Seadall’s shoulders visibly deflate once the reason for the other’s presence is revealed. “It seems I lost track of time.” His voice is soft as he lifts his gaze from the swordsman's hand. His tone makes it painfully obvious that he was well aware of the hour, but he can’t bring himself to admit that he had ignored the bell on purpose because he felt his performance wasn’t up to par. At least not to Kagetsu. Not when the other looks at him with such a bright and affectionate expression. Such a face would render nearly anyone helpless. Or, perhaps, it’s just him who finds his heart aching terribly whenever he looks into those honest, unyielding eyes. “Thank you.” His gaze shifts downwards, the guilt almost feels overwhelming.
Kagetsu quickly shakes his head. “There is no need to thank me. After all, I care about you.” If looks could kill, Seadall is absolutely positive he might have burnt to ashes right then and there. Even the sun pales in comparison to how brilliantly dazzling and searing hot Kagetsu’s grin is.
They both know why Seadall is pushing himself so hard. They’re both aware of his little white lie, but Kagetsu, in his infinite mercy and affection for the other, doesn’t feel the need to poke at wounds still fresh from the battle they had only just barely managed to come out of that morning. Nor does he wish to relieve the horrid moment where they, for a moment, nearly lost Alear in the chaos and bloodshed of war. Kagetsu, while kind, wasn’t naive. Even if Seadall didn’t say the words aloud, he knew the dancer had taken the blame for the day’s events into his shoulders. And it pained him to see.
Fighting back the heartache that still lingers within his chest, Seadall forces himself to speak up, “Kagetsu-”
A loud grumble swiftly chases Seadall’s voice straight back down his throat and into the very pit of his stomach in dismay. So caught off guard by the noise, he finds himself rendered speechless for a moment. At least until he puts two and two together.
Pressing his thumb and forefinger to his forehead, Seadall helplessly shakes his head as he meets Kagetsu’s gaze. The other’s face has turned a bright shade of pink, yet there’s not a single hint of shame hidden upon his features. With a sigh, all Seadall can do is smile fondly at him.
“Kagetsu, it appears the cards have just informed me that you skipped dinner this evening as well.”
Finally, Kagetsu releases his grip on Seadall’s wrist, his wide grin returning despite the loud gurgle of his stomach in the otherwise quiet night. “You see, I glimpsed the future again this morning and saw you and I sitting down to eat together so I could not partake without you at my side.”
Exhaling, Seadall’s tepid breath creates a miniature fog in front of his chapped lips as his hand drops back down to his side as he finds himself longing for the warmth of Kagetsu’s touch once more. A shiver races down his spine without the other’s powerful hand wrapped around his, and he finally begins to feel the chill that had been eating away at his skin, but had stubbornly ignored until that moment. “Did you? Were there any other premonitions you had that I should be informed of?”
He suspects Kagetsu is plotting something. If ‘plotting’ is the right word to use for a man who couldn’t hide his intentions from a rock if he tried. And, currently, he’s not even making an effort to do so.
“In fact there were.” Kagetsu’s lopsided grin shifts into a gentler smile as he slips his haori from his broad shoulders, and silently closes the gap between them to toss it over Seadall’s trembling arms. Running his fingers along the thick fabric, he carefully rubs out the creases in it before straightening up in order to gingerly run his hand through the dancer’s hair to comb out a few flecks of snow that were still tangled within it.
He has the hands of a swordsman. They’re filled to the brim with thick, uneven callouses, and are rough and rigid to the touch. His actions are clumsy when he doesn’t have a blade nestled comfortably between his fingers, but they’re considerate and gentle as well. Thoughtful and so very kind. Kagetsu wears his heart on his sleeve, and pours it into everything he does. He’s earnest and hard-working. He’s loving. And it makes Seadall’s already exhausted heart ache all the more.
“Would you demonstrate them for me then?” Seadall’s voice gets trapped in his throat, and he finds the words hard to say, yet they taste so sweet upon his lips. He hardly needs the extra layer as protection against the cold when he can feel his entire body burning up with every second he spends standing so close to the other, but oh he cherishes the weight of it upon his shoulders, and the familiar scent that filters up from the threads. It feels and smells just like Kagetsu. Warm, and terribly soft. He has an inkling of what’s coming, yet, even with his budding suspicions he can’t quell his own nerves.
“Yes,” Excitement bubbles up in the pit of Kagetsu’s stomach as he thrusts the tray into Seadall’s hands, who reflexively takes hold of it despite the lack of warning or anything resembling an explanation. “Please trust me.”
There is no doubt in Seadall’s mind that he trusts Kagetsu with every mismatched piece of his heart and every flickering flame of his soul, but when the other asks him, so blatantly, to place his faith in him, Seadall feels his heart skip a beat, and thinks, for a moment, he should consider telling his own fortune before he agrees–but only for a moment. Then he nods.
He thought he had known what would follow, but oh Kagetsu has a way of knocking the wind right out of him.
Seadall feels the ground fall beneath his feet–or rather, he feels his feet leave the earth where they had been hitched to for the better part of the day. If not for all of his poise and grace and dignity–as well as pride as a dancer, he might have dropped the tray of lukewarm sandwiches, but he stubbornly grips it tighter instead while every last ounce of oxygen is torn from his lungs. Swallowing his own voice, the cold that had once nipped at his exposed skin and left it red and numb was replaced by an overwhelming warmth. Both from within his own body, as he felt his blood rush to the tips of his ears, the bridge of his nose, and the curves of his cheeks. And from outside of himself as the heat from Kagetsu’s arms seeps into his back and legs while the warmth that radiates from the other’s chest presses softly against his own.
Kagetsu had picked him up. Of all of his own predictions, somehow, Kegetsu’s so-called useless ability to tell the future had gotten the better of him.
A small part of him urges Seadall to leap out of Kagetsu’s arms, but the vast majority of his spellbound mind is content to simply remain there for as long as the other is willing to hold him. And, oh, he suspects, if he were to ask, that Kagetsu would offer to embrace him for eternity, but if he dwells too much on that idea he knows it’ll consume his every waking thought. So, instead, he relaxes, easing the tension in his body as he maneuvers the tray into a more secure position. His legs are dreadfully stiff and his feet are equally as sore, but, somehow the aches plaguing him seem to slowly fade from his body the more he caves to Kagetsu’s whims.
“Was this one of your premonitions as well?” Seadall asks, craning his neck to look up at Kagetsu, and tentatively leaning the side of his head against the other’s chest in the process.
“Yes–just now, I saw a future where you were resting comfortably.”
Seadall thinks Kagetsu is using the word comfortably generously, but he also can’t deny the fact that he’s right as well. Once again. Even if his premonitions are little more than a frigid wind in the middle of a snowstorm or a heatwave in the heart of the desert. He’s also much too tired to argue. Strange. A moment ago he had been so full of energy–so full of desperation and heartache and frustration that had fueled him to continue dancing long after the sun had set. Yet, the moment Kagetsu had sought him out, he felt all of his drive slowly begin to roll off of his body until now, when he feels as if he can scarcely keep his eyes open. So, perhaps, he is truly comfortable.
“So it seems another one of your visions was right.”
Kagetsu turns towards the terrace, mindful of Seadall as well as the tray as he begins to walk. The flats of his sandals make the faintest crunch with every step he takes, leaving behind a faint set of tracks in the shallow snow that’s begun to blanket the earth.
“It is my ability to see the future, after all.” Kagetsu beams, his pace steady and lacking any sense of urgency despite the fact that the steam once wafting off of the freshly baked sandwiches has vanished to the cold wind, and any warmth left residing in them will likely be lost entirely before they make it back inside. Yet the thought of eating them cold sounds rather pleasant so long as they can do so in one another’s company.
“Actually,” Kagetsu begins once more, but his voice wavers and his words are softer–less confident than they had been a moment ago. His gaze trails downwards to Seadall, and lingers on the other man’s face for a moment. Studying the sharp lines of his jaws, the exhaustion lingering in his eyes, and the soft curve of his lips. They’re raw and chapped from the cold, but just as mesmerizing as every other part of Seadall. His own lips part every so slightly as he takes in the small details. How Seadall’s lips are slightly more pink than his own. How they look softer even with tattered bits of skin lining them. Ah, he wonders if they would taste like sweat and frost or if they would taste as sweet as they look instead. Like strawberries or cake. Sweetness, he thinks, suits Seadall.
“Then, what else does the future you see hold?” Seadall urges Kagetsu, tilting his head knowingly as his heavy eyelids fall to half-mast to peer up at Kagetsu through long lashes. This is what he had been expecting. What he had been yearning for.
Kagetsu can feel his hands trembling ever so slightly as the nerves begin to eat away at him, but he never allows his hold to falter. He purses his lips awkwardly, and tries to ignore just how intensely his ears and cheeks burn. “A quiz between you and I, if I can, that is.”
It’s hard to bite back the smile that threatens to twist his expression into an amused grin at Kagetsu’s nervousness, but, somehow, Seadall manages. “You can.” Securing his hold on the tray with one hand, he extends his other to slowly caress the sharp line of Kagetsu’s jaw before cupping his cheek within his palm. Kagetsu’s skin feels like fire against the tips of his fingers, and the soft touch of his uneven breaths ghost against Seadall’s knuckles. As he closes his eyes, he can feel the awkward and swift drum of Kagetsu’s heart where his chest is pressed against his. And his own beats in an equally uneven rhythm, though he conceals it far better.
Swallowing the excited lump in his throat, Kagetsu inhales deeply, and carefully, tenderly, bridges the gap between them. His own lips meet Seadall’s chapped ones in a clumsy, but soft embrace that makes his chest throb and his head spin. If he tastes of iron and sandalwood, Seadall tastes of gold and roses. He reminds Kagetsu of the fleeting, but breathtaking sunsets he used to watch as a child from the window in his room. Of the freshly washed linens that he would haphazardly toss onto his bed in the morning so he could throw himself into his training as quickly as possible. Of the picturesque mountains he could spy in the distance whenever he scurried up one of the nearby trees to escape his guards. He reminds Kagetsu of everything that is both comforting and familiar, as well as mysterious and beautiful and out of reach. But instead of being as distant as the stars or as unattainable as the sun, Seadall is in his arms right now, kissing him back with just as much passion and tenderness he kisses him with.
Seadall is here, in his arms, alive and well. His nimble fingers feel like silk where they gingerly stroke his jaw, and his long hair tickles Kagetsu’s bare arms as it flutters in the wind. The rumble of his heart vibrates against his own while the hem of the haori he lent to Seadall flaps gently against his thighs. Seadall is warm–his cold lips feel rough against his own, but in a way that is welcoming and enticing. In a way that reminds him that there exists a place in this world where he belongs–where he is embraced with open arms.
Seadall would argue Kagetsu tastes like honey and lavenders–far removed from the phantoms of war. He reminds Seadall of the dancing embers upon the fires he would help kindle while settling down for the night. Of the comfort of a wool blanket draped over his shoulders when the weather would take a turn for the worse. Of the laughter and joy that would ring out in familiar voices as he danced alongside his master. Of the sight of a new town he had never dreamed he would get to see with his own eyes. Kagetsu reminds Seadall of everything that is both loving and safe and warm, as well as awe-inspiring and frightening and fragile. He reminds Seadall that here, in this world he still bears scars from, there is a family for him to return home to–one where he can feel at ease, one where he understands what peace and security feel like. So he can only kiss him back with a desperate urgency that is full of so much passion and love it nearly threatens to consume him.
Kagetsu is here, with his arms wrapped around him, alive and well. His firm grip feels like a lifeline cast out to sea to keep him afloat. The tie that secures his hair sways against his ear while the hilt of his sword leans gingerly against Seadall’s thigh. Kagetsu’s lips are soft and plump compared to his own–in a way that feels open and unconditional. In a way that tells him, here in this moment, he can let down his guard, and allow himself to be free–that he can tuck his constant worry away for a moment to simply enjoy Kagetsu’s presence.
Kagetsu pulls away first, excited pants rolling off of his kiss-stained lips as he breaks out into a grin that Seadall finds himself mimicking. The other’s joy is infectious.
“Can I- '' Kagetsu begins, utterly breathless, but is cut off by Seadall softly placing a finger over his lips.
“When we get inside. Both myself and the sandwiches won’t last much longer in this cold.” He waits for his words to register in Kagetsu’s dazed mind before he lowers his hand back down.
“Yes, of course.” With an enthusiastic nod and lopsided smile, Kagetsu adjusts his grip on the other man to head back towards the terrace.
The sandwiches are ice cold by the time they slip through the ornate doors.