Chapter Text
Tsukasa Suou finds ballrooms unbearably stuffy. Most of the year, it’s nothing more than a mild inconvenience, a fly buzzing around his head, but the incoming summer heat makes it far more apparent. Even from a distance tonight, he can feel it - sweat sticking to tacky skin like another layer, warmth of bodies alongside the heat, the touch . It’s unbearable.
Already adverse to such casual intimacy on far colder evenings, Tsukasa has made it his personal mission tonight to turn his gaze from wandering eyes, make himself comfortable with the sighs of disappointment at his polite refusals. It feels nice. Safe. The promise of fresh air blows in from an open window, calling him farther and farther from safety.
It goes against nearly everything he’s ever been taught, but he allows himself the indulgence just this once, this loneliness. There’s something to be said about playing the part of mysterious heir, just for the night.
Tsukasa almost didn’t come tonight. Now, tucked into the back corner of an over-decorated ballroom and sipping on a drink far too strong for his tastes as he waits (im)patiently for his cousin to make his reappearance, he very much wishes he hadn’t.
Not that he’s particularly preferential to these kinds of events - flaunting wealth without purpose, whispers behind gloved hands, rumors he’s constantly one step behind. It’s all part of the game, he knows, something he should have made his peace with years ago.
The complexities of it still make his head hurt. These days, he’s far too busy to waste time on the same song-and-dance he’s been subjected to since before he can remember (inability to enjoy events like this aside).
No, he decides silently as he twirls the glass in his hand, tonight is even worse . Tonight, there’s an extra problem to add to the already unbalanced equation.
Aside from the usual problems that pile up like a snowstorm, a flurry of small things that sting against his skin, is the issue of his family. For one, their lack of appearances here.
Tsukasa’s parents had already warned him of their absence ahead of time - it was really the only reason he was here in the first place. His parents' health, their busy schedules, some other engagement - he couldn’t really recall the reasoning, at this point in the evening. They were all starting to blur together anyways.
Kohaku could have worked as a sufficient stand-in. At least, enough to please the host family that would be aghast if the Suou’s were to be absent from their gala. Tsukasa couldn't imagine the whispers that would arise from such a blatant show of disrespect. His younger cousin wasn't a perfect choice - too abrasive, not Suou enough, uneducated - the list goes on, ridiculous to the last.
And so Tsukasa was here. Alone. How strange, that it still hurt.
Well, Kohaku was here, probably. Tsukasa had caught the gaze of a few pink-haired Oukawas tonight, and his older cousins really only made appearances if Kohaku was in tow.
Despite that - despite his family being here, his friends meeting his gaze and silently pleading for him to come out and enjoy himself, Tsukasa felt a loneliness in his stomach reminiscent of nights in bed, tossing and turning, the pit in his stomach when he knew it was all pointless. Maybe something about the air. It was still too stuffy.
Still, he hums a tune beneath his breath, digging his nails silently into the meat of his palm, soothing the ache.
On auto-pilot, he lets his feet shuffle against the tiled flooring every now and then, making room for each couple that passes him by on their way to the dance floor. Maybe it’s the lights that are contributing to his headache, or the cloud of perfume that seems to follow the crowd like a raincloud, making him wince into the late evening air.
His grip tightens around the glass, watching the liquid swirl to the edges without spilling. He can't stop thinking about it.
Kohaku is normally easy to spot - head of messy pink hair and a glare so piercing you could feel it from a mile away. Tsukasa has been on the receiving end of it enough times to know it’s presence, so wherever Kohaku and his siblings are this evening, it’s not anywhere near him.
Passively, he considers this might be a blessing in disguise, because Tsukasa is still very much not in his good graces.
Being an heir is unbelievably hard.
A shaking hand hangs at his side, suddenly wishing to wrap around another wine glass or a dance ticket, anything to keep it from twitching nervously, or digging into fabric. It’s a bad habit, but he’s fallen victim to too many of those tonight, so perhaps one more isn’t worth note.
He really should go back to the dance floor, or at least appear interested in anything going on tonight, but the tension weighs on him in a way that leaves his chest heavy. If Tsukasa had made a comment or action that set him off, then it was his duty to rectify it, of course, but he couldn’t find a way to do so without his cousin here .
The chandeliers cast a haze over the group, Tsukasa watching passively as pairs dance together, touching and yet not, close and yet distant.
It looks so easy, from this outside view.
As if sensing his internal struggle, a hand glides over the small of his shoulders, the contact just jarring enough to make the redhead turn to follow the path the fingertips draw over silken fabric, up the expanse of pale skin and up into violet eyes.
“Narukami.” He starts politely, a perfunctory bow as he gets his bearings in order.
She slides into the spot by his side so naturally, acclimating to every event like she was born for it.
“Tsukasa,” Arashi responds in kind, voice soothing and yet somehow clear as day above the din of noise, like she expected sound to bend to her will and it could do nothing but listen. Her hand stays there, a small comfort between his shoulder blades, and he’s glad one of the few people whose touch he would not shy away from has offered him this. “You know there’s no need to be so formal.”
“You would not have me start a scandal by suddenly calling you something so familiar, would you?” Never one to mince his words, he catches her gaze again, curious. Tsukasa has never been concerned Arashi was using him for anything other than friendship and the occasional shoulder to cry on.
It was incredibly refreshing.
“I suppose not.” She pretends to consider her next point, tapping a manicured nail to her lip in mock thought. “They already know we’re friends anyways. Hm, but starting the season with a rumor that the next Suou heir was courting me would be quite exciting, would it not?”
It’s best not to validate that with a reaction, even if he can feel her not-so-subtly probe for one. She’s tricky like that. “Many of your potential suitors would be quite upset to hear it.”
This gets a laugh from her, light and sweet enough that Tsukasa very much wants to hear it again. “I’m sure they would.”
She tilts her head, turning to let herself glance over him again. Arashi Narukami never comes anywhere without a purpose, but Tsukasa is content to wait for it to make itself known. He has all night, after all.
Fixing her hands politely to her sides, Tsukasa nearly immediately misses the pressure of her touch. Still, he watches as she grabs a glass of punch, smiling at the way she also seems to blanch at the potency of alcohol. Strangely, it makes him feel better.
After a quiet cough behind a silk-gloved hand, she starts her line of questioning, not meeting his gaze so as to come off as casual. Her lips shine. “I haven't seen you on the dance floor tonight.”
Always a bit too observant, he wonders how she finds the time to keep her eye on him with all the socializing she’s done this evening. “You haven't.” He agrees, seemingly very interested in his drink now.
When he picks it up from the side-table to take a sip he makes sure to keep his expression neutral. It still tastes far too bitter.
A childish explanation waits at the tip of his tongue - petulant complaints about the boring party guests, the quality of the ball itself - but he takes in a calming breath. He feels her gaze pressing into the side of his face, hot.
With the excitement of reading a particularly dense textbook, he re-states his intentions for the evening, turning the glass in hand. “I’m simply here in my parents' stead. I’ve already properly extended my thanks and congratulations to the hosts.”
“Right, but now you’re free to do whatever you like.” Arashi finds it hard not to talk to Tsukasa like she would a troublesome child, especially when he’s acting like this. “Maybe that could include dancing with a beautiful lady?”
The night is still young and the orchestra still upbeat, sending the most beautiful melodies through the domed room in a way that makes Tsukasa undeniably pleased. She must have seen it in his face, the way the music makes him soften.
How sneaky. Tsukasa levels her with a gaze that shows he is not at all amused, but she sends it right back, lips curled into something pleading, over-the-top and excessive in the way she knows he finds amusing. “Just once. Humor me.”
At this, he seems to weigh his options, swirling the liquid around his glass and staring at it like it might have the answers, brow furrowed in a way he would hate to have pointed out.
Tsukasa Suou hates feeling out of his place.
Despite desperately wanting to blend in, it’s hard for these small bits of him not to stand out, to call people to him. Arashi knows him for the convincing actor he is, but she also knows him , all the jagged little bits of Tsukasa that can’t be sanded down despite his best attempts.
He looks at her cautiously.
“Just once.” He echoes, and as if the idea of a concrete end time in sight is enough to pull him into motion, grabs her drink politely and slides the pair of glasses onto the nearest table. It takes little for him to fully put on the well-worn mask of Tsukasa Suou. Letting it slip around Arashi was one thing, but being so casual, in public, was asking for problems.
The small clearing of his throat is unbelievably cute, and her lip can’t help but curl into a bit of a smile when he bows politely, looking up at her the image of a perfect gentleman. “Narukami, may I have this dance?”
“Tsukasa, I thought you’d never ask.” She teases, but takes his hand gratefully regardless, slipping into his and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
He’s glad if he has to dance with anyone tonight, it’s her. There's a comfort in dancing with a partner you’ve known for so long, with no expectations to make irritating small talk or discuss business ventures he had no interest in pursuing.
When he guides her to the dance floor, only half-heartedly glancing at everyone else who attended, it’s obvious he’s far too tired to make much of an effort besides a polite nod as he leads her towards the middle.
Arashi likes to be shown off, and Tsukasa rarely has complaints on the matter considering the nature of his family. While he might not like it, being in the spotlight is anything but unusual, so he can bear it well. He always has.
They fit together like puzzle pieces - years of being eachothers practice making the steps second nature. If only any of this were so easy, with anyone else.
The song passes in silence. As the dancing continues, her hold on his still just as firm, Tsukasa allows her more than he normally would at such functions - he would normally stick to a single dance, just enough to avoid complaint. Silently, he finds himself grateful for the company, of Arashi’s whispers and touches. This is the least he can offer in return.
After all, these balls are terribly boring; the networking so underhanded it makes his head hurt, food too mediocre to even comment on. Having a friend is nice, and he’s almost at the point, a few minutes later while he’s laughing at a joke she whispers in his ear, that he might dare to say he’s enjoying himself when the doors open loudly behind him.
Tsukasa knows how to be observant. High society is often varying degrees of subtlety, so he makes no reaction to the sound, though he is immediately curious as to the cause. Tension makes the rounded edges of his shoulders sharpen, but his eyes stay on Arashi’s, firm.
Luckily the steps of this routine require a lot of turning, so it’s only a few moments before he’s able to angle his body towards the source of the noise. He’s only human, after all.
The cause is apparently a boy probably somewhere around Tsukasa’s age - though the scruffy look makes him appear older, charming in the way that comes with experience. He can’t be that much older, Tsukasa silently reasons, because then he would most certainly have a ring on his finger. Not that he’s looking.
There’s something all-consuming about the way this figure holds himself, the casual yet alive way he waltzes across a room, unbothered by the other gazes that must certainly be following his form. Just thinking of being observed, scrutinized like that without a care, is incomprehensible.
Tsukasa finds he can’t even consider himself any different than common gossipers, because he is undeniably captivated. There’s something so familiar about him in a way the Suou heir rarely finds himself feeling, a warmth he suddenly and passionately wants to sink into.
There’s a whisper of conversation behind him. He prays it isn’t someone observing the way he looks, the way he desires so blatantly, a split-second truth he shoves down just as quick.
Tsukasa murmurs conversationally to his dance partner instead, glancing over between turns at the shock of orange hair.
“Quite rude, to arrive so late.”
The figure has almost immediately made himself comfortable in a small group of gentlemen, blending like he’d been there the whole time. The stab of envy Tsukasa feels at the talent would be enough to sour his mood, but the whisper in his ear quickly diverts his frustrations.
“He’ll be fine. Everyone’s been talking about Tsukinaga Leo these days.” Her response is layered in something, but Tsukasa can’t make any sense of it, because he’s suddenly running hot. Arashi’s next words float in and out of his consciousness. “He just finished a practice with his orchestra, so I guess he’s ‘fashionably late’.”
Oh. Tsukinaga Leo. That Leo.
Whatever response zings through Tsukasa’s body like he’s touched a live wire, he knows she makes note of. Arashi can't make any sense of it. It’s unusual. The response of feigned indifference, even more so, and he knows it but can’t seem to pull himself together in time. “Hm. He goes to balls now?”
By way of explanation, Arashi simply says “The queen seems to have taken a liking to him.” And far be it from anyone to deny the queen’s seal of approval.
While it’s quite uncommon to see such a new family in society - last he heard, the Tsukinaga’s were nowhere near wealthy enough to be in these circles, especially after the last few years - he supposes everyone must want to be on the family's good side, now that they’ve fallen in favor.
Really, Tsukasa considers as the dance comes to a close and his eyes wander to Leo’s, he’s quite pretty in that windblown, messy kind of way - a way he absolutely doesn't like. As a purely objective observer, though, he can see the appeal.
His hair looks a little unkempt, but the shock of color against pale skin is even more radiant than he remembered.
Arashi, always too quick, leans closer to her partner as the final notes of the song die out. “Does little Tsukasa like what he sees?”
It’s possibly the most condescending tone she could have used, so Tsukasa doubts she’s surprised at all when he only scowls in response, cheeks flushing. How childish, to assume he would think like that. She’s clearly probing for an explanation from earlier. Brat.
He knows it’s only natural for her to be concerned, as a friend.
After all, it’s not easy to make it this many seasons in without having found a match, especially when Tsukasa had no shortage of potential partners. The Suou name might as well come with a shining gold star next to it for all it was worth, glimmering in both wealth and status. If he went with the first mildly attractive person he saw, he would have been married years ago.
“He really should fix his jacket.” Tsukasa murmurs instead, the perfect image of a haughty noble if it weren't for the shade of scarlet trailing up his face.
It’s obvious this doesn’t deter her. “Oh, should we go over and tell him?” Arashi’s grin is wicked, response immediate on her tongue and already considering walking his way as the other dancing pairs start to move off the floor. He isn’t sure when the song ended.
“No, it’s quite alright.” He keeps his hold gentle on her waist. “If you’re unopposed, I would like to go for another dance.” It’s a horribly obvious lie. He can feel it - the way it falls from his lips, unnatural.
There’s a pause, a waiting between songs just long enough that Tsukasa believes she might be cruel enough to deny him, or call him out, or a million other things that are written in large letters across his face. She doesn't.
She takes his hand again. It’s only a band-aid solution, this offer. Surely, people will talk about how he’s favored Arashi tonight. She might even get those rumors she was so playfully wishing for. He tries not to let it bother him - after all, there are much worse rumors to be had.
Besides, it allows both her company and a chance to admire Leo in glimpses. Upon closer inspection, the composer seems different from when Tsukasa saw him last. It’s only natural, considering the time between. He still smiles the same though - toothy, wide, like he wanted the whole world to bask in his joy and share it too.
He doesn’t venture out to the dancefloor, despite Tsukasa’s silent wishes. Seemingly content to keep conversation with whatever socialite came his way, it’s so easy to see from an outsider view how masterful it is. The way Leo molds himself to each companion, tilts his head one way or the other, copies their gestures. Still, he looks beautiful.
Looking away is getting harder.
Despite his body telling him otherwise, Tsukasa lets a hand press gently between his companions shoulder blades as the song falls to a close, pointedly steering them in the opposite direction of Tsukinaga Leo. He’s well aware the sigh that leaves his lips is burdened - he doesn't even validate Arashi’s prodding with a response. With one last breath, he allows himself a final glance at Leo's figure before he decides on either finding his cousin or spending the night commiserating with Arashi.
Even in the crowded room, he catches the last notes of Leo’s laugh, so light and airy he immediately wants to know it, to have it directed at him. Before he can really get a good look at the finer details - do his eyes crinkle when he grins, does he blush - the image is cut off by the next wave of dancers making their way to the floor.
Yes, he still needs to go find his cousins, anyways.
Arashi gives him a look, far too pointed and knowing in a way that makes Tsukasa bristle. If she decides to misconstrue simple curiosity as something more, he can do little to stop her, but he can at least prevent her meddling from beginning tonight.
Tsukasa Suou doesn’t cower. It would just be bad manners to interrupt such an important conversation. That’s all it is. That’s all it will ever be.
Besides, high society really isn't that big. As much as Tsukasa wants to avoid him until he can still the racing of his heart, he’s sure he’ll run into him soon enough. He turns and walks away, feeling the last notes of the composer's voice follow behind, a whisper. Yes, Tsukasa decides, picking up the pace, he could really use another drink.