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An laughs again. Gods, her laughter is so bright. It rings in the air, and settles on you like a soft, comfortable blanket. You shake off the urge to shiver at it.
"Not quite, but getting closer! Like - this!"
An-chan, you want to complain. Not everyone can move effortlessly like that. Leave some room for the rest of us who have to flounder and flail through choreos. But you are anything if tenacious, so you nod at her, trying to memorize every single little detail, every texture she does.
And it's easy to remember - it's always easy when it comes to An, you thought, as you carefully, slowly emulate her movements.
"Watch your facials," An pointed out, and you nodded, trying to reset your facial expression to neutral. It's hard. Sometimes, you feel like you just woke up one day as an octopus and you have no idea how to move any of your limbs, much less coordinate them in a well practiced dance. But that's what this extra practice time is for. To makeup for the years of practice your partner has, to chase after your sun.
You two are in the garage of a local university - a local friend that An has somehow managed to make has reccomended the place as a good practice spot, and you're inclined to agree. It's a rough concrete, but you're thankfully not doing any groundwork today, there's plenty of ventilation, and you can blast the music through An's bluetooth speakers as loud as you two want without annoying anyone.
An has taken the trip to the United States like a mermaid to water, making new friends left and right, steering you away from danger every time something remotely close to it comes up. Always such a fusser, you thought bemusedly.
A ghost of a touch snaps you out of your distracted line of thought.
"Careful here," An singsongs as she moves your wrist gently from behind. You do your best to not jump from it. An has always been so generous, so willing to give away her touches to you. You never thought about it, but you never see her being so handsy and touchy with Mizuki, or Haruka, or anyone else.
Only you.
A low flame lit itself up, a pilot light in the pit of your gut.
Focus, focus, you chide yourself, as you distantly listen to An happily talking about the wonders of texture and how it can convey intent in dancing. You wonder if her skin feels as good on the lips as it does on your fingers. She’s right behind you, body pressed against yours, excited breathe ghosting the tips of your ears. She’s not that much taller, but moments like this always reminds you of the fact, of how she sometimes seemingly tower over you with enthusiasm, of how she can so easily scoop you up, and, and-
“Kohane? Earth to Kohane? Sorry, I rambled on too long. We can go back to the song from again, from the top. I think you’re close enough, so if we go all out like, once or twice and everything looks good we can wrap up for the day, and-”
“An-chan,” you breathe out, spinning around in her grasp to face her. Her breathe hitches. It’s always so cute, you think, when you do something unexpected while she’s watching you (and she always is, even if she doesn’t realize you notice), and you get to watch those golden orbs get round and big in surprise.
Your hands mindlessly trace the (lovely, lovely) outline of her hips, and she squeaks at the sudden contact. The flame inside you burns steady now, brighter, hungrier. It's okay, right? She wants this, right? You glance at her again, tilting your head imperceptibly, hands pausing to ask for permission. An blushes, and pushes her hips flush against your body, muttering about “only for a bit” and “you always do this in public, Kohane”, but you didn't hear a no, so you carried on your ministrations under that blue, humid summer sky.