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She won’t admit it: not to him, not to a teacher and never to herself, but Kyouko Kirigiri couldn’t dance. She had no idea how people could move so intricately, as if they were one and the same, sharing one mind so they could move in sync. To be so close to someone and understand what they were thinking, where they were moving before they moved: She had to give them credit, it was something only people so talented could do. She wasn’t one of those people, she couldn’t dance. She would never, ever admit it out loud.
She didn’t realize that it was customary for couples to dance together after their wedding, or that they would be the only ones on the floor, or that it would be recorded. So when the wedding reception began and the music filled the room, her finally husband Makoto standing in front of her with his hand outstretched, she felt an internal panic.
“Care to dance?”
Well, if she were being honest, she’d say no. No, she doesn’t dance, she was here at the reception because it was mandatory of her after her wedding. She would have been perfectly happy sitting at their table, sipping at her fresh champagne and watching as Makoto eagerly socialized. But one thing she’d learned in her years with Makoto was that she could never, ever say no to him. He wore his emotions on his sleeve and any rejection shown clearly in his hazel eyes. So, she accepted his hand in her own- which was clothed in a satin white glove for the occasion- and offered the barest hint of a smile.
“Of course.”
She was swept off her feet as soon as her fingers curled around his hand. It was sudden and she wouldn’t lie and say she wasn’t startled; She struggled to stay on her feet as she stumbled towards the brunet. When the two were but inches from each other, his free hand securely placed on her hip, the music changed. A slightly slower pace, which seemed much more fitting for a first dance. Not to mention, she figured it’d be easier to sway to a slower song. After all, Makoto didn’t know how to dance either, her shortcomings shouldn’t be as obvious as others. While they stood and waited to gain their bearings of the dance, she realized just how short the brunet was compared to her. She was normally taller than him, towering a staggering three inches above him, and her heeled shoes only exaggerated that difference. He had to look up at her if he wanted to look her in the eye.
“I have a confession to make,” Makoto starts, pulling her along and leading her in the dance. She’s instantly aware that his steps are much more calculated than hers, each step planned and precise. He knew how to dance. Of course, the one time she genuinely needed his inabilities, he knew well what he was doing. He steps to the side and she clumsily follows, feeling her face fluster despite her attempts to school in her expressions. “I’ve been taking dancing lessons. I mean, not for a long time or anything,” He says and she’s brought back to the fact that he’d been speaking before. She has to look away from their feet to look him in the eye, where he’s smiling genuinely. “I wanted to impress you, so I’ve been lying about working late.”
She isn’t sure how to respond. Of course she’d known he hadn’t been working late, she wasn’t an idiot. She just hadn’t figured to ask him what he’d been doing him. Against her better judgement, she trusted him wholeheartedly. He wouldn’t betray her. So whatever business he was attending to away from her could be his secret, she didn’t mind. She’d had plenty of her own, in fact. But knowing he’d spent his time taking dancing lessons for this occasion alone, just to impress her, who couldn’t dance to save her life, made her her heart stutter in the slightest. It also upset her, just slightly.
“You didn’t need to do that, you know,” She says in a cool voice to which he just laughs.
“I know, but this is special. I wanted to do something over the top, to show just how much I cherish this,” He says and to punctuate, he dips her. Her eyes widen and suddenly her grip on him is too tight. “See? If I’d done that before, I might’ve just dropped you.”
“With your luck, I wouldn’t doubt it.” He laughs again and pulls her back up. Once again, he’s back to stepping in circles, pulling her to follow each of his moves. She does her best to follow, however she’s vaguely aware she’s stepping on his feet and by now he should’ve realized she can’t dance. She won’t be telling him that, however.
Of course, he follows her train of thought. They may not be in sync when it comes to dance, but he always seemed able to follow her thoughts and even complete them. “Lean down a little and follow my lead, okay?” He offers and she’s more than a little reluctant to accept his help, but she bends her knees in the slightest and follows as he moves fluidly. She has to admit, letting go of her tension, even if just some, helped her follow him closer. She’s still stepping on his feet, but the smile he has let’s her know he realizes she’s trying her best, and it may not get any better. But, she enjoys it. She enjoys the dance, the illusion that they know where the other is going to step, even the times she falls against his chest after tripping on her dress. She enjoys every moment of it, no doubt because it was with him. She enjoys most everything when it’s with him, as ridiculous as that sounds.
The song is over after what feels like a minute and an eternity simultaneously. She’s both relieved and reluctant to leave her spot against him, but she removes herself regardless. He keeps his hand in hers, and the guests soon flood the floor as the next song begins. His hazel eyes are once again boring up at her, and she has the decency to hum in acknowledgement.
“Would you care to dance with me, again?”
She knows she could go back to her seat now, enjoy her champagne and watch the guests mingle. She knows Makoto wouldn’t hold that against her. But she smiles and nods. “Of course,” She says, giving his hand a slight squeeze.