[One-shot] I danced with you once upon a dream
I danced with you once upon a dream
MA/They - Yara/Yamaryo
2847 words, PG, AU
It had been just more than two weeks since he’d started dreaming of Yara and the room filled with mirrors and candles and mystery.
For yararanger ♥ Somewhat inspired by this :D ♥
Gracefully Yamamoto spun, winding around in a circle until he was tucked against Yara, the other’s arm warm around his waist and his lips ghosting over Yamamoto’s cheek.
“You’re getting better, kitten,” Yara chuckled, a sound that seemed to rumble through him like a cat’s purr. He spun Yamamoto back out so they were facing each other, catching Yamamoto’s hands with playful ease. “It won’t be long before you know the whole thing perfectly.”
Yamamoto smiled, wanting to tell Yara that he’d been practicing the dance, but knowing that if he spoke it would break his concentration. But the compliment made him glow as they dipped in front of the glittering mirrors that surrounded them in perfect synchronization.
But a moment later, Yamamoto’s eye caught on their reflection as Yara leaped beside him. Before he could stop himself, he stumbled and all went black.
Yamamoto woke up, instantly cranky.
“Dammit,” he groaned, throwing his covers off in frustration. He had stumbled! Again! And he’d been doing so well too. It left a sour taste in his mouth, one that didn’t go away while he got ready for school.
It had been just more than two weeks since he’d started dreaming of Yara and the room filled with mirrors and candles and mystery. It had just slowly shifted into focus out of the darkness of his dreams and Yamamoto had stepped into the flickering light, knowing that Yara would be there, waiting for him.
“Dance with me, Ryouta~,” Yara had said, holding a hand out, with a smile that spoke in volumes of confidence and experience, shaded in with an affection Yamamoto had never seen before.
Back then, Yamamoto hadn’t even been able to reach his hand out before the dream abruptly ended, but the memory of Yara was crystal clear even as he lay wide awake in bed.
Yara Tomoyuki. Yamamoto wasn’t even sure how he knew the man’s name, but he did. It floated through his mind throughout the day, ending up doodled down in the margins of his notebooks and hanging on the tip of his tongue.
Yara Tomoyuki…
When night came, he dreamt of Yara again, waiting for him in the same room. He was just as Yamamoto remembered him with that smile that made Yamamoto’s cheeks flush red.
“So you will dance with me this time, right?” Yara asked, lips twitching in amusement as Yamamoto carefully walked over to his side. “C’mon, let me show you. Let me show you, Ryouta.”
Yara took Yamamoto’s hand in a gentle but firm grip, and Yamamoto awoke up moments later, his hand practically tingling.
He spent the rest of the day with Yara invading his every thought. He wanted so badly to tell someone just because the idea of Yara was so poignant, so vivid, and yet he was just a dream of Ryouta’s. He had never gone to bed more eagerly before with the silent hope that Yara would be there again.
His wish was granted with mirror and candle light, Yara standing there waiting for him. “Keep on vanishing like this and I’m going to start thinking you don’t want dance with me at all,” Yara teased, hand outstretched as it had been before.
“No, no,” Yamamoto said quickly, flushing. “I just…” but Yara’s fingers entwined with his, pulling him into the middle of the room.
“Before you wake up, I want you to remember at least a little bit,” Yara said, more a whisper in Yamamoto’s ear than anything else. The next thing Yamamoto knew, they were spinning, their reflections dancing every which way in the flickering light. One, two, three, four, five, seven, eight, stop. He froze as he found himself staring straight into Yara’s eyes.
They were the last thing he saw before he was suddenly awake in his own bed. Strangely he felt more relaxed than he had in ages, staring at the ceiling of his room as he tried to remember every single move, every single image of them dancing in the mirrors.
“Who is it?” Tatsumi asked him as they rolled their bikes down the side-walk, taking their time returning home from school. “You’ve been in the clouds for days now, tell me!”
“What?” Yamamoto blinked, taken aback at the question. He hadn’t been paying attention, his thoughts having wandered away to dwell on the mysterious dancer in his dreams. Even though Yamamoto had woken up after eight counts, they had actually danced this time. He felt slightly muddled as he replayed images of Yara in motion, fluid, powerful, enthralling.
“That smile of yours!” Tatsumi accused, “You like someone and you’re holding out on me! Who is it?”
“I’m not smiling!” Yamamoto said defensively, his lips dipping down as if to prove a point. But they didn’t stay there long, slowly curving back into a smile as he contemplated telling Tatsumi about Yara. Surely Tatsumi was going to laugh at him for being so silly, but Yara…
“See?” Tatsumi’s finger poked at his cheek. “That smile. Spill the beans, Ryo-chan.”
Yamamoto paused, regarding Tatsumi for a moment. Tatsumi was one of his best friends, the closest thing he had to an older brother, and he so wanted to tell him… “This way,” he said finally, veering towards the park near where they lived. He didn’t speak again until they were parked under a tree, the breeze rustling through the leaves.
“There isn’t anyone,” he began, unable to look at Tatsumi as he spoke, cheeks warmed. “Not really… it’s just… I’m. He’s…”
Tatsumi waited patiently for several moments, but reached over to nudge at Yamamoto’s shoulder when he didn’t continue. “Ryouta?”
“I’ve had the same dream a couple nights in a row,” Yamamoto confessed, “And it’s… well, sort of the same but not. There’s this guy there and he… well, he wants to dance with me. But like, it starts the same, but it gets longer every time… And I keep on waking up from it suddenly and I don’t know why but he’s… different. Or something.” The words tumbled out, his tongue tripping over one after the other, but he knew if he stopped talking in the middle to catch his breath, he’d lose his nerve instead.
Instead of laughing or teasing the way Yamamoto full expected him to, Tatsumi was silent. He was so silent that Yamamoto risked peeking at his face, and was quickly taken about at how thoughtful Tatsumi looked.
“I don’t know what to tell you, really… But you seem rather taken with him,” Tatsumi flashed him a smile, patting him on the shoulder. “Embrace the dreams, maybe they mean something more than you think, Ryouta.”
The words stuck with Yamamoto as he crawled into bed later that night. He wasn’t quite sure what Yara could mean, dancing with him in his dreams like that. But embrace it he would, that was more than easy enough.
The dreams had continued, always ending with Yamamoto suddenly wide-awake in the real world, clinging to every image and sensation from the dreams. It was both exhilarating and eternally frustrating that he just couldn’t hold on even a moment longer, that he always lost concentration or got distracted or tripped.
Throwing on his school uniform, Yamamoto gave his reflection in the mirror a passing glower before dashing out the door.
Tatsumi was waiting outside Yamamoto’s house, elbows resting on the handlebars of his bike, but he straightened as soon as Yamamoto darted out the door. “You don’t look happy… I take it you tripped again.”
Puffing his cheeks out in frustration, Yamamoto threw a leg over his own bike. “Ugh, and it was going great too,” he said, balancing on his tip-toes for a moment. “I know almost the whole dance now, but I tripped before he could show me the rest.” And it was true, he could do it even when he was awake, though there were some moves that were difficult without Yara.
“Eh, so you’ve almost learned it all?”
“Mmhm!” Yamamoto nodded excitedly. “I’m not sure how much more, but it feels like it’s almost finished? He said I know almost all of it.”
“… Ryouta, I have a question,” Tatsumi said after a pause. He seemed unconcerned that they were going to be late for school at this rate, focusing on Yamamoto with surprising intensity.
“What will happen when the dance ends?”
The question was like a punch to the gut, Yamamoto’s eyes widening as his breath caught. He had never thought about it before, had never taken the time to consider it. (Why would it matter, after all? He didn’t know the dance properly.)
But now he tried to give the question full consideration. What would happen when the dance ended? Would he continue to dance with Yara? Or would…
Or would Yara just simply vanish once the dance was completed?
The possibility alone filled Yamamoto with dread. He shook his head, frowning at Tatsumi as he tried to stamp down the sudden ache in his heart. “I don’t know,” he answered finally, “I really don’t know.”
Tatsumi hesitated again, seemingly reluctant to speak again. “I just… I don’t know, Ryouta. He’s only a dream but I don’t want-“
“We’re going to be late for school!” Yamamoto declared, taking off down the sidewalk without so much as a pause. He didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to hear about how Yara wasn’t real, he didn’t want to think about the possibility of Yara not being there again, and he didn’t want to see pity in Tatsumi’s eyes.
It was stupid, he knew, but his heartbeat throbbed dully in his chest. It made it hard to concentrate on school the whole day, his teacher constantly scolding him for his wandering attention, but no matter how hard he tried to not think about it, Yara was everywhere.
“Where’s your head?” Takahashi asked him over lunch, and Yamamoto could only shrug helplessly.
It shouldn’t have bothered him so much and yet it did. His heart ached and Yamamoto wished it would stop. Who was Yara to him anyway? They danced together, wasn’t that all? Yara would show him every step, every swing, and he smiled, was so pleased, every time Yamamoto got it just right. He was a good teacher but there was no reason to be so morose over the idea of losing him.
But you love him.
It was the second time that day that a small handful of words had left him speechless. Everything seemed to freeze for a single glorifying moment as the truth sank in.
“I love him,” he said aloud, marveling at how the words just seemed to slide off his tongue.
Takahashi looked alarmed. “Man, what is up with to you today?”
“I…” Yamamoto flushed, realizing he’d spoken loud and clear and that all his friends were giving him odd looks. “It’s… nothing! I was just saying how much I loved… Michael Jackson! You know… he’s really cool.”
He dropped his eyes to his lunch, refusing to look up because Takahashi was eyeing him like a hawk.
“Heeeey,” Senga protested from farther down the table, “Michael Jackson is my favorite!”
When it was time to head home, Tatsumi did not bring up the subject again, which Yamamoto was thankful for. He wasn’t sure if he could explain to Tatsumi how much the dreams really meant to him, even if a part of him knew that Tatsumi understood anyway.
“Good luck,” Tatsumi told him when they got to Yamamoto’s house, the words warming through Yamamoto’s heart. Unable to really form words properly, he threw his arms around Tatsumi, squeezing him for a moment before stepping back, watching as Tatsumi pedaled down the street.
When nightfall came, Yamamoto did his best to force himself to stay awake. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but the idea had formed during school. That the next dream would be the one where the dance ended. He wasn’t ready for the end and he needed to just have a bit more time before he faced Yara, for what could be the last time.
It became harder and harder to keep his eyes open and in one last act of rebellion, he dressed himself again, pulling on a hoodie before carefully sneaking out of the house. It was well past midnight and his parents would kill him if they found out, but the night air stirred his blood and suddenly he was more awake than ever.
It was sprinkling when he stepped onto the sidewalk, not enough to really deter him, just enough to wet the pavement. He enjoyed the cooling sensation as he walked aimlessly down the street. He didn’t have anywhere he particularly wanted to go, he just needed to stay awake and he needed to think.
It began to rain properly as his feet lead him to the park, into the basketball courts. He stared at the black pavement and yellow lines and thought of Yara. Images flashed through his mind, the dreams replaying from the start. Yara laughing and dancing and dancing and laughing, everything blurring together. Dancing with Yamamoto even when Yamamoto didn’t know the ending of the dance.
Standing in the middle of the court, bathed in orange lamplight, Yamamoto found himself falling into a familiar beat and rhythm. Though it was not the room of mirrors and candlelight, he found himself dancing, throwing his all into the dance because everything was feverbright and Yara’s laughter was ringing in his ears.
He danced along the yellow lines, whirling and crouching, leaping and locking. Soon he would have to stop, but until he reached the end, he would dance.
The end.
But before he could finish, before he even had the chance to start, his sneakers slipped on the slick concrete. He crashed to the ground, there was a white-hot flash of pain, and then all was black.
The candles flickered, reflected double in the mirrors as Yara waited for him.
“You’re late,” Yara chided and Yamamoto just let the words wrap around him.
“I didn’t mean to be,” he said, hesitating to take the hand that Yara offered him. “I just needed some time to think about things.”
Yara regarded him for a moment before giving him a small smile of understanding. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, Ryouta,” he said, hand still outstretched. “It’s just me.”
“But I don’t… I don’t want this to end,” Yamamoto whispered as Yara laced their fingers together, but he couldn’t resist as Yara drew him into the middle of the room.
Yara drew him closer, a hand on Yamamoto’s hip as they began to dance again. “All things come to an end, Ryouta. Even the good things.”
They danced and danced and Yamamoto’s heart felt like it could burst. But he returned every smile Yara gave him, danced freer than he had danced before, and when the dance drew to a close, he danced with all his heart.
The end came, a pinnacle of emotion and energy and it was like the heart of a supernova as Yamamoto danced and wished he could make this one moment last forever.
“I don’t want this to end,” Yamamoto breathed out, nervous as they spun into their last position, but he didn’t want to risk losing his one chance. “Yara, I need you,” and all his desperation came spilling out with those few words because he didn’t want the end to come, he couldn’t lose Yara.
So when the dance ended, he reached out, curled his fingers into Yara’s shirt and kissed Yara the way he’d wanted to kiss him from the very first moment he’d laid eyes on the man.
Yara’s hands were suddenly in his hair, cupping his cheek, tilting his head to find just the right angle. The kiss sent a shudder down Yamamoto’s spine, and he leaned in to get every last little bit he could, but then all the world went black and the dream was gone.
There was rain on his face when Yamamoto came to, splattering on his cheeks and tickling his nose. Someone was gently probing his skull, but then he heard a very familiar chuckle.
When he opened his eyes, Yara was leaning over him, drenched but oh god, real. “I would think you had more sense than to dance when it’s wet, kitten.”
Yamamoto gasped, his speech garbled as he tried to take in Yara wet and smiling and real. “What-? But…!”
“Shhh,” Yara pressed a finger to Yamamoto’s lips. “I said all things come to an end sometime… I didn’t say this was going to end now.”
Yamamoto let out a soft cry, hands scrabbling for purchase on Yara’s shirt, yanking him down to kiss him one more time. He didn’t have the words to express all the feelings that made his heart squeeze, the ecstasy that invaded all his senses, but as Yara began to kiss back just as fiercely, as they sprawled out in the middle of the rain on the basketball court, Yamamoto knew the man already knew.
MA/They - Yara/Yamaryo
2847 words, PG, AU
It had been just more than two weeks since he’d started dreaming of Yara and the room filled with mirrors and candles and mystery.
For yararanger ♥ Somewhat inspired by this :D ♥
Gracefully Yamamoto spun, winding around in a circle until he was tucked against Yara, the other’s arm warm around his waist and his lips ghosting over Yamamoto’s cheek.
“You’re getting better, kitten,” Yara chuckled, a sound that seemed to rumble through him like a cat’s purr. He spun Yamamoto back out so they were facing each other, catching Yamamoto’s hands with playful ease. “It won’t be long before you know the whole thing perfectly.”
Yamamoto smiled, wanting to tell Yara that he’d been practicing the dance, but knowing that if he spoke it would break his concentration. But the compliment made him glow as they dipped in front of the glittering mirrors that surrounded them in perfect synchronization.
But a moment later, Yamamoto’s eye caught on their reflection as Yara leaped beside him. Before he could stop himself, he stumbled and all went black.
Yamamoto woke up, instantly cranky.
“Dammit,” he groaned, throwing his covers off in frustration. He had stumbled! Again! And he’d been doing so well too. It left a sour taste in his mouth, one that didn’t go away while he got ready for school.
It had been just more than two weeks since he’d started dreaming of Yara and the room filled with mirrors and candles and mystery. It had just slowly shifted into focus out of the darkness of his dreams and Yamamoto had stepped into the flickering light, knowing that Yara would be there, waiting for him.
“Dance with me, Ryouta~,” Yara had said, holding a hand out, with a smile that spoke in volumes of confidence and experience, shaded in with an affection Yamamoto had never seen before.
Back then, Yamamoto hadn’t even been able to reach his hand out before the dream abruptly ended, but the memory of Yara was crystal clear even as he lay wide awake in bed.
Yara Tomoyuki. Yamamoto wasn’t even sure how he knew the man’s name, but he did. It floated through his mind throughout the day, ending up doodled down in the margins of his notebooks and hanging on the tip of his tongue.
Yara Tomoyuki…
When night came, he dreamt of Yara again, waiting for him in the same room. He was just as Yamamoto remembered him with that smile that made Yamamoto’s cheeks flush red.
“So you will dance with me this time, right?” Yara asked, lips twitching in amusement as Yamamoto carefully walked over to his side. “C’mon, let me show you. Let me show you, Ryouta.”
Yara took Yamamoto’s hand in a gentle but firm grip, and Yamamoto awoke up moments later, his hand practically tingling.
He spent the rest of the day with Yara invading his every thought. He wanted so badly to tell someone just because the idea of Yara was so poignant, so vivid, and yet he was just a dream of Ryouta’s. He had never gone to bed more eagerly before with the silent hope that Yara would be there again.
His wish was granted with mirror and candle light, Yara standing there waiting for him. “Keep on vanishing like this and I’m going to start thinking you don’t want dance with me at all,” Yara teased, hand outstretched as it had been before.
“No, no,” Yamamoto said quickly, flushing. “I just…” but Yara’s fingers entwined with his, pulling him into the middle of the room.
“Before you wake up, I want you to remember at least a little bit,” Yara said, more a whisper in Yamamoto’s ear than anything else. The next thing Yamamoto knew, they were spinning, their reflections dancing every which way in the flickering light. One, two, three, four, five, seven, eight, stop. He froze as he found himself staring straight into Yara’s eyes.
They were the last thing he saw before he was suddenly awake in his own bed. Strangely he felt more relaxed than he had in ages, staring at the ceiling of his room as he tried to remember every single move, every single image of them dancing in the mirrors.
“Who is it?” Tatsumi asked him as they rolled their bikes down the side-walk, taking their time returning home from school. “You’ve been in the clouds for days now, tell me!”
“What?” Yamamoto blinked, taken aback at the question. He hadn’t been paying attention, his thoughts having wandered away to dwell on the mysterious dancer in his dreams. Even though Yamamoto had woken up after eight counts, they had actually danced this time. He felt slightly muddled as he replayed images of Yara in motion, fluid, powerful, enthralling.
“That smile of yours!” Tatsumi accused, “You like someone and you’re holding out on me! Who is it?”
“I’m not smiling!” Yamamoto said defensively, his lips dipping down as if to prove a point. But they didn’t stay there long, slowly curving back into a smile as he contemplated telling Tatsumi about Yara. Surely Tatsumi was going to laugh at him for being so silly, but Yara…
“See?” Tatsumi’s finger poked at his cheek. “That smile. Spill the beans, Ryo-chan.”
Yamamoto paused, regarding Tatsumi for a moment. Tatsumi was one of his best friends, the closest thing he had to an older brother, and he so wanted to tell him… “This way,” he said finally, veering towards the park near where they lived. He didn’t speak again until they were parked under a tree, the breeze rustling through the leaves.
“There isn’t anyone,” he began, unable to look at Tatsumi as he spoke, cheeks warmed. “Not really… it’s just… I’m. He’s…”
Tatsumi waited patiently for several moments, but reached over to nudge at Yamamoto’s shoulder when he didn’t continue. “Ryouta?”
“I’ve had the same dream a couple nights in a row,” Yamamoto confessed, “And it’s… well, sort of the same but not. There’s this guy there and he… well, he wants to dance with me. But like, it starts the same, but it gets longer every time… And I keep on waking up from it suddenly and I don’t know why but he’s… different. Or something.” The words tumbled out, his tongue tripping over one after the other, but he knew if he stopped talking in the middle to catch his breath, he’d lose his nerve instead.
Instead of laughing or teasing the way Yamamoto full expected him to, Tatsumi was silent. He was so silent that Yamamoto risked peeking at his face, and was quickly taken about at how thoughtful Tatsumi looked.
“I don’t know what to tell you, really… But you seem rather taken with him,” Tatsumi flashed him a smile, patting him on the shoulder. “Embrace the dreams, maybe they mean something more than you think, Ryouta.”
The words stuck with Yamamoto as he crawled into bed later that night. He wasn’t quite sure what Yara could mean, dancing with him in his dreams like that. But embrace it he would, that was more than easy enough.
The dreams had continued, always ending with Yamamoto suddenly wide-awake in the real world, clinging to every image and sensation from the dreams. It was both exhilarating and eternally frustrating that he just couldn’t hold on even a moment longer, that he always lost concentration or got distracted or tripped.
Throwing on his school uniform, Yamamoto gave his reflection in the mirror a passing glower before dashing out the door.
Tatsumi was waiting outside Yamamoto’s house, elbows resting on the handlebars of his bike, but he straightened as soon as Yamamoto darted out the door. “You don’t look happy… I take it you tripped again.”
Puffing his cheeks out in frustration, Yamamoto threw a leg over his own bike. “Ugh, and it was going great too,” he said, balancing on his tip-toes for a moment. “I know almost the whole dance now, but I tripped before he could show me the rest.” And it was true, he could do it even when he was awake, though there were some moves that were difficult without Yara.
“Eh, so you’ve almost learned it all?”
“Mmhm!” Yamamoto nodded excitedly. “I’m not sure how much more, but it feels like it’s almost finished? He said I know almost all of it.”
“… Ryouta, I have a question,” Tatsumi said after a pause. He seemed unconcerned that they were going to be late for school at this rate, focusing on Yamamoto with surprising intensity.
“What will happen when the dance ends?”
The question was like a punch to the gut, Yamamoto’s eyes widening as his breath caught. He had never thought about it before, had never taken the time to consider it. (Why would it matter, after all? He didn’t know the dance properly.)
But now he tried to give the question full consideration. What would happen when the dance ended? Would he continue to dance with Yara? Or would…
Or would Yara just simply vanish once the dance was completed?
The possibility alone filled Yamamoto with dread. He shook his head, frowning at Tatsumi as he tried to stamp down the sudden ache in his heart. “I don’t know,” he answered finally, “I really don’t know.”
Tatsumi hesitated again, seemingly reluctant to speak again. “I just… I don’t know, Ryouta. He’s only a dream but I don’t want-“
“We’re going to be late for school!” Yamamoto declared, taking off down the sidewalk without so much as a pause. He didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to hear about how Yara wasn’t real, he didn’t want to think about the possibility of Yara not being there again, and he didn’t want to see pity in Tatsumi’s eyes.
It was stupid, he knew, but his heartbeat throbbed dully in his chest. It made it hard to concentrate on school the whole day, his teacher constantly scolding him for his wandering attention, but no matter how hard he tried to not think about it, Yara was everywhere.
“Where’s your head?” Takahashi asked him over lunch, and Yamamoto could only shrug helplessly.
It shouldn’t have bothered him so much and yet it did. His heart ached and Yamamoto wished it would stop. Who was Yara to him anyway? They danced together, wasn’t that all? Yara would show him every step, every swing, and he smiled, was so pleased, every time Yamamoto got it just right. He was a good teacher but there was no reason to be so morose over the idea of losing him.
But you love him.
It was the second time that day that a small handful of words had left him speechless. Everything seemed to freeze for a single glorifying moment as the truth sank in.
“I love him,” he said aloud, marveling at how the words just seemed to slide off his tongue.
Takahashi looked alarmed. “Man, what is up with to you today?”
“I…” Yamamoto flushed, realizing he’d spoken loud and clear and that all his friends were giving him odd looks. “It’s… nothing! I was just saying how much I loved… Michael Jackson! You know… he’s really cool.”
He dropped his eyes to his lunch, refusing to look up because Takahashi was eyeing him like a hawk.
“Heeeey,” Senga protested from farther down the table, “Michael Jackson is my favorite!”
When it was time to head home, Tatsumi did not bring up the subject again, which Yamamoto was thankful for. He wasn’t sure if he could explain to Tatsumi how much the dreams really meant to him, even if a part of him knew that Tatsumi understood anyway.
“Good luck,” Tatsumi told him when they got to Yamamoto’s house, the words warming through Yamamoto’s heart. Unable to really form words properly, he threw his arms around Tatsumi, squeezing him for a moment before stepping back, watching as Tatsumi pedaled down the street.
When nightfall came, Yamamoto did his best to force himself to stay awake. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but the idea had formed during school. That the next dream would be the one where the dance ended. He wasn’t ready for the end and he needed to just have a bit more time before he faced Yara, for what could be the last time.
It became harder and harder to keep his eyes open and in one last act of rebellion, he dressed himself again, pulling on a hoodie before carefully sneaking out of the house. It was well past midnight and his parents would kill him if they found out, but the night air stirred his blood and suddenly he was more awake than ever.
It was sprinkling when he stepped onto the sidewalk, not enough to really deter him, just enough to wet the pavement. He enjoyed the cooling sensation as he walked aimlessly down the street. He didn’t have anywhere he particularly wanted to go, he just needed to stay awake and he needed to think.
It began to rain properly as his feet lead him to the park, into the basketball courts. He stared at the black pavement and yellow lines and thought of Yara. Images flashed through his mind, the dreams replaying from the start. Yara laughing and dancing and dancing and laughing, everything blurring together. Dancing with Yamamoto even when Yamamoto didn’t know the ending of the dance.
Standing in the middle of the court, bathed in orange lamplight, Yamamoto found himself falling into a familiar beat and rhythm. Though it was not the room of mirrors and candlelight, he found himself dancing, throwing his all into the dance because everything was feverbright and Yara’s laughter was ringing in his ears.
He danced along the yellow lines, whirling and crouching, leaping and locking. Soon he would have to stop, but until he reached the end, he would dance.
The end.
But before he could finish, before he even had the chance to start, his sneakers slipped on the slick concrete. He crashed to the ground, there was a white-hot flash of pain, and then all was black.
The candles flickered, reflected double in the mirrors as Yara waited for him.
“You’re late,” Yara chided and Yamamoto just let the words wrap around him.
“I didn’t mean to be,” he said, hesitating to take the hand that Yara offered him. “I just needed some time to think about things.”
Yara regarded him for a moment before giving him a small smile of understanding. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, Ryouta,” he said, hand still outstretched. “It’s just me.”
“But I don’t… I don’t want this to end,” Yamamoto whispered as Yara laced their fingers together, but he couldn’t resist as Yara drew him into the middle of the room.
Yara drew him closer, a hand on Yamamoto’s hip as they began to dance again. “All things come to an end, Ryouta. Even the good things.”
They danced and danced and Yamamoto’s heart felt like it could burst. But he returned every smile Yara gave him, danced freer than he had danced before, and when the dance drew to a close, he danced with all his heart.
The end came, a pinnacle of emotion and energy and it was like the heart of a supernova as Yamamoto danced and wished he could make this one moment last forever.
“I don’t want this to end,” Yamamoto breathed out, nervous as they spun into their last position, but he didn’t want to risk losing his one chance. “Yara, I need you,” and all his desperation came spilling out with those few words because he didn’t want the end to come, he couldn’t lose Yara.
So when the dance ended, he reached out, curled his fingers into Yara’s shirt and kissed Yara the way he’d wanted to kiss him from the very first moment he’d laid eyes on the man.
Yara’s hands were suddenly in his hair, cupping his cheek, tilting his head to find just the right angle. The kiss sent a shudder down Yamamoto’s spine, and he leaned in to get every last little bit he could, but then all the world went black and the dream was gone.
There was rain on his face when Yamamoto came to, splattering on his cheeks and tickling his nose. Someone was gently probing his skull, but then he heard a very familiar chuckle.
When he opened his eyes, Yara was leaning over him, drenched but oh god, real. “I would think you had more sense than to dance when it’s wet, kitten.”
Yamamoto gasped, his speech garbled as he tried to take in Yara wet and smiling and real. “What-? But…!”
“Shhh,” Yara pressed a finger to Yamamoto’s lips. “I said all things come to an end sometime… I didn’t say this was going to end now.”
Yamamoto let out a soft cry, hands scrabbling for purchase on Yara’s shirt, yanking him down to kiss him one more time. He didn’t have the words to express all the feelings that made his heart squeeze, the ecstasy that invaded all his senses, but as Yara began to kiss back just as fiercely, as they sprawled out in the middle of the rain on the basketball court, Yamamoto knew the man already knew.