Work Text:
Baxter's eyes are beautiful.
Aarlyn could never forget that shade of rich, coffee brown with flicks of amber and hazel, glowing almost ethereally when the rays of the sun struck them just right.
It always broke her heart to see the dark circles under his eyes or the way his gaze shuttered close, not unlike a window slamming shut, all emotion cut off and replaced by an unfeeling mask.
(Just like when he first left her all those years ago.)
She'd rather see his eyes alight with fondness, whether it was talking about their favorite books and plot hooks (his penchant for purple prose was adorable), critiquing a snobbish restaurant's poor attempt at a creme brulee (they were lucky the croquettes were good) or dancing together anywhere and everywhere: under the stars, in Baxter's apartment, Aaralyn's room. They were young, wild, and free from the judgment of the public, held only by their own inhibitions.
(The same way Aaralyn was choked by her own confession, words stuck in her throat worse than the spikes of a fishbone, more bitter than the darkest coffee.)
Now, here they are years in the future, in the remnants of a wedding reception, just the two of them once again. The music is faintly playing as Baxter double, triple, and quadruple checks the equipment, preferring to do a thorough inspection even after the staff has left.
He's always been so sweet, and so considerate for others. Baxter always did his best to bring joy to their eyes…
Aaralyn takes it upon herself to light that spark in his own. "Would you like to dance with me?"
"Pardon?" Baxter blinks slowly, like a startled cat.
Aaralyn smiles and holds out her hand. "I'd like to dance with you if you wanted. You didn't get the chance during Scott and Jude's reception.”
As he's always done, Baxter gracefully takes it.
His hands are soft as they’ve always been, but his hold is hesitant compared to the rakish audacity from their teenage years. It’s a sharp contrast to how Aaralyn's grip has gotten bolder and more confident, borne out of a wish not to let him go–not this time, not ever.
Two steps forward, one step back.
It’s not a perfect synchronization, not at first. Nothing as torrid as a foot landing on the other’s shoe or side-stepping when one was meant to twirl. Baxter is a beat behind as he studies Aaralyn’s movements, whilst she taps her toes to a different tempo. But as the music swells, she gives him a small, encouraging nod.
It’s okay. Let’s just have fun.
A small smile touches his lips as he closes his eyes–then lets her lead him into a spontaneous spin. Baxter laughs, a deep, velvety chuckle that sends warmth to her cheeks, as she sends him right back into her arms, hands clasping together like magnets.
The song shifts from a classical ballroom tune to a string-instrumental version of a pop ballad that was popular during their teenage years.
“Wait, is this… your private playlist?” Aaralyn asks, not breaking her stride as she pulls him close and then back out.
(One step forward…)
Baxter follows her lead and grins. “Yes. While I usually make one for the happy couple and play that during the reception, what you hear is my own personal taste.”
“Uh-huh. Where’s the rock and roll?”
Slowing to a stop, Baxter pulls out his phone and presses a button. Blaring guitar riffs and piercing screams replace the soothing strings, but they cannot compete with Aaralyn's bright laughter.
“Sweet music to my ears,” he says, a smirk edged in softness. Aaralyn's heart skips a beat at the fondness that sweeps through his tone, lighting up his eyes.
After a while, Baxter casts that magnetic gaze away and runs a hand through dark brown strands. “Thank you for the dance. It's been a while since I had fun like that.”
“Too busy for a dance these days?” she teases, trying to regain her verbal footing and control of her rapid pulse.
“You could say that. Sometimes, I do get the pleasure of dancing, but only to help the clients. It's not as enjoyable without you.”
The truth spills easily from his lips, something that seems to surprise even Baxter himself.
He doesn't take it back, seemingly content to drop some, if not all, traces of pretense around Aaralyn.
“Baxter… I have something to tell you.”
(One step closer.)
“Hm?” Those beautiful brown eyes are fixed (transfixed) on hers, just like they were that night except they aren't dull and deadened with resigned cynicism. Though still a mystery, Baxter holds an open sort of curiosity, a small promise to stay in the way he still clutches onto Aaralyn's hand.
Though Aaralyn couldn't find the courage to spill her soul to him five years ago, things are different now. He is no longer the same yet is still the same man she fell for.
The same man Aaralyn has never stopped loving.
So she opens the cage to her heart, trapped behind bone and sinew, letting him see how much it beats for him, despite how broken it had been by his hand.
(Baxter is the only one who could break it.)
Silence.
Only Aaralyn's rapid pulse rushing in her ears is heard in the deafening quiet. There's a split second where she imagines a sombre face and cold eyes, but the sound of fading footsteps and a door closing shut never comes.
Instead, color floods Baxter's pale cheeks, a sight rarer than a blue moon, as his lips part in shock. His eyes are wide in shock, disbelief warring with wonder.
“You've only been so bold,” he murmurs fondly. “Always fond of saying things I never had the courage to.”
This time, Baxter holds out his hand. As she's always wanted, Aaralyn takes it.
“Does this mean–?”
“Yes.”
She chuckles. “You didn't even let me finish my question.”
“Did I need to? You're usually full of good ideas. I'm not quite sure if picking me counts as one–”
“Shh. It's my best idea yet, no matter what anyone says. Especially you, Baxter.”
Long lashes kiss the tops of his flushed cheeks as he lets out a breath. But still, he does not let go–
–and neither does she. Aaralyn isn't completely sure where the future is going to take them, but as long as Baxter is by her side, she's certain they can figure out the waltz called life together.