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Daiya followed Ishida’s lead, twisting, turning, bouncing on the balls of his feet and catching himself before he fell. His balance had improved remarkably since he’d started attending Ishida’s classes, though he wasn’t sure if it was from his own skills solidifying or his body rejecting his inherent laziness to avoid injury. They spun together, dipping and swaying in time with the jazzy music thrumming through the studio.
Finally, the coda. Daiya tugged his partner close to his body, and they breathed heavily with their chests pressed together.
“That was shit,” Ishida spat. “You have no fire, you’re just doing the motions. You’re wasting my time.” He pushed away from his student in disgust.
Daiya frowned; he was sure it had gone well, too. “Fine, I can go again, I’m not tired,” he panted, eyes half-closed.
“Don’t give me that shit,” Ishida spat back. “I’ve never seen you fired up even once in my class. Is there anything you’re good at? Do you have any fucking hobbies?” He waved his hand through the air, turning away to grab his water bottle.
Daiya chuckled heartily, and followed him. “Well, yeah, of course!” He reached out one rough hand, and poked Ishida in the stomach.
The albino jumped and rubbed at his skin, squeaking through a mouthful of water.”What the fuck?!” he roared.
“You got some muscle, fight me.”
“I beg your fucking pardon?”
Daiya laughed again, and casually leaned back into a stabler fighting pose. “Yeah, I saw you at the gym, what style do you do? Tae Kwon Do? Kung Fu? Kickboxing? Got a karate sensei training you?”
“None of the above.” Ishida rolled his eyes. “I’m in a kendo class with my brother.”
“Oh, sweet,” Daiya responded a little less enthusiastically, “well I saw some brooms and metersticks and shit propped in a corner, we could--”
“Abso-fucking-lutely not! A broomstick is no shinai, Oowada-san. Besides, I could beat you without a weapon. But we’re not here to punch one another, are we? We’re here because you’re still terrible at dancing and yet you won’t leave my class.”
“Well, okay, how’s this? You wanna see my fire? Fight me.” Daiya stomped his foot down again, showing that he was planted firmly. “You and I, right now, one on one. If you don’t see it, I’ll come in tomorrow too. But if you do, we get to have some fun today, and you admit that I’m not terrible.”
“If you waste my time, Oowada, you’ll be in here for five hours tomorrow instead of three.”
“Deal,” Daiya gulped.
“And we’ll do it my way.”
“Oh, alright, what does that--”
Ishida hit play on the sound system, and another jazzy song began to play. He grinned sadistically up at Daiya, and motioned for him to come and dance.
Daiya closed his mouth with a snap, and raised one eyebrow. He wasn’t sure what Ishida wanted, so he took his outstretched hand cautiously.
Ishida drew him close, swayed, and led Daiya in a simple spin. He caught him, and dipped him. But instead of leaning Daiya towards the floor and then pulling him back up, Ishida dropped him.
He hit the wooden floor with an “oof” of air and a slam that shook the room. Daiya reeled for a moment, and then propped himself up on one elbow. Ishida raised his middle finger, still dancing in time with the music.
“You little--” Daiya chuckled, and jumped to his feet. He balled his hands into fists, ducking behind them like a boxer, and then ran at Ishida. He barrelled towards him, full tilt, and tackled him to the floor.
Ishida’s knuckles met Daiya’s cheekbone, and Daiya’s palms clapped over Ishida’s ears. Ishida headbutted Daiya under the chin, and Daiya punched Ishida in the mouth. Then, Ishida rolled the two of them over, and squirmed away.
They separated and then clashed together again, Daiya throwing a punch and Ishida returning it. They wrestled, flipping over and over on the ground, grappling and kicking at each other. They stood, palms against each other’s shoulders, pressing away yet still moving to the beat. Flawlessly, Ishida wrapped an arm around Daiya’s waist, and led him once again.
He spun and dipped, and this time, he easily pulled Daiya back to his feet. The two of them swayed and bounced as one body, feet moving in time.
Daiya threw his head back and laughed. Ishida looked away, and nearly tripped over his own feet.
The final notes faded out, and Daiya plopped down on the floor without elegance. “Fuck,” he gasped, “that’s it, I gotta take a break, holy shit. That was fun, yeah?” He beamed up at his teacher, bruises already darkening under his skin and sweat dripping from his brow.
Ishida bent near a bag he’d brought along, and lifted a bottle of water. “Here,” he grit out, offering it to Daiya first. “You’re a fucking mess, so you take it.”
“Thanks, babe,” Daiya laughed again, and caught the bottle when Ishida threw it at him. He unscrewed the top, and took a sip. He tossed it to Ishida when he’d finished, and Ishida poured some into his mouth. He sat beside Daiya and passed the bottle back, hoping Daiya didn’t mind the blood from his split lip.
“So, you’ll be here for five hours tomorrow,” Ishida grumbled.
Daiya raised an eyebrow. “Why? You a sore loser?” He cracked his knuckles.
Ishida grabbed the bottle out of Daiya’s hands. He didn’t say anything for a long time, instead staring down at the plastic and crinkling it in his fingers.
“I...had fun today,” he breathed.
Daiya glanced over at his companion. He grinned shyly, still looking down at his hands, face flushed from exertion and...something more. He caught Daiya peeking at him, and switched to a scowl.
“You’re coming in tomorrow,” he growled, and stood, leaving the water bottle behind him. “That’s final.”
“Yessir, professor cuteass,” Daiya smirked. And then, when his mind caught up, he blanched. “Shit, shit, I meant hardass! Fuck!”
Ishida turned his back to Daiya, trying his best to keep his scowl from twisting up into a smile.
“Yeah, okay, I’ll be here,” Daiya sighed with a soft smile on his face. “I’m sorry to have disappointed you, Ishida-sensei.”
“Look,” Ishida spun on his heel, “just...” He grasped at his thoughts for a second, biting his lip. Finally, he pulled his phone from his pocket. “Here,” he stomped back to Daiya’s side and showed him the screen, “here’s my number, you know, in case you have any questions about dancing, or your schedule, or...stuff.” He scratched his head and didn’t look at his student.
“Thanks man!” Daiya beamed. He clicked his phone keys a few times. “Got it! Oh, and sensei, don’t forget your bag!”
Ishida snorted in displeasure. How bothersome. He hoisted his bag over his shoulder, and then turned to leave.
Daiya whipped the empty plastic bottle over Ishida’s head, bounced it off of the wall, and sunk it cleanly into the trash bin. He punched the air and shouted in celebration.
“That bottle belongs in the recycling,” he scolded Daiya without turning to face him. “Fix it before you leave, Oowada-san.”
“Haha, yeah, can do!” he agreed. “Oh, before you go, gotta make sure I didn’t fuck up your phone number. Hold on.”
Ishida obediently froze as he reached the doorway, and pulled out his phone. He counted to ten, and then opened the text message.
There sat a little heart.
He felt red rising in his face a hundred times brighter than before. He gave Daiya one last glance, and swallowed at the older man’s smile and the gentle, unasked question in his eyes.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Oowada-san,” he mumbled just loud enough to be heard. And with a snap of his phone closing and a click of shoes against tile, he left Daiya to his own devices.
When Ishida sat in the driver’s seat of his car, he stuck the key in the ignition, but didn’t turn it. He flipped his phone open again, and stared at the little heart. He pressed the phone to his forehead, closed his eyes, and sighed.