I should really write about another pairing.

Dust particles danced in the rays of light that shone through the window. If Anzu had the strength, she would have raised her arm. Not to touch them, for she never could, but to watch the specks twirl around her fingers. How they reminded her of herself, of how she had danced. Of how she had taken to stages, leaving behind a trail of blood and sweat visible only to her. Sometimes she thought she could still see the darkness at the back of the audience, even after so many years, and her mind always drifted towards it. But each time she would pull herself back to reality's light. To her empty bed.

Anzu prided herself on being a logical woman. Down-to-earth. But there were times, especially in her younger years, when she had been naive. Too hesitant towards change. She had worked out her aspirations, refused to let anyone contradict her plans. Tried her hardest to make them happen. Accepted no less. She had put her heart into what she loved.

And then he went away.

She dated a few men, some of them friends from her teenage years, but no one fitted the hole he had left. Anzu knew it was stupid to mourn what could have been but never was, but she never forgot him. Not when she graduated. Left Japan. Appeared on Broadway. Got married. Had children. Grandchildren. And as she watched her life roll by, watched people she loved move on, Anzu realised that meeting him wasn't wishful thinking anymore. It was all too real.

Turning away from the window, Anzu was almost surprised to see someone standing at the foot of her bed. Almost.

She knew he would come for her. He always had, once upon a time.

Anzu smiled as he walked around her bed so he could stand next to her, royal blue cape swishing. He didn't look a day older. Even his outfit remained the same. His hand swept over the edge of her mattress, fingers pattering across her duvet.

He stopped, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards slightly as he gazed down at her.

"You look so young," Anzu croaked.

He didn't reply, crouching and slipping his hand under her covers. She felt her gown rub against her stomach and sought out his hand, entwining her fingers with his.

"Am I dreaming?" she asked.

"Not at all," he replied.

"I've had dreams like this before," Anzu explained, choking slightly.

He cupped her chin with his other hand. Anzu shuddered. She hadn't felt anything like this for a long time. Not since her husband had died. And even then, as bad as it sounded, his touch had never created the spark she felt now. Anzu's free arm creaked as she raised it and placed her hand over his.

Warmth spread across her face. Her eyes seemed too bright for her leathery skin. "Have you found the others?"

He nodded. "We've been watching over you for a long time, Anzu. Waiting."

"For now?"

He nodded again and stepped back, pulling their hands away from her chest and towards him. Instead of the duvet rising with them, their body went through it. Anzu felt herself lighten, her knees tucking into her stomach. She uncurled, the soles of her feet brushing against her bed. He raised his arm so it was vertical, lifting Anzu off the bed for a moment.

It was then that she realised she was naked. Not only naked, but devoid of wrinkles. Anzu rubbed the back of her hand against her cheek. Smooth. She glanced over her shoulder. A tired woman lay amongst a mess of blankets and pillow. Anzu didn't look away until her visitor tugged her arm.

His elbow lowered and so did she, landing in front of him on the carpet. She kept hold of his hands, squeezing them. Neither spoke as they stood opposite each other, absorbing the other's appearance. Anzu didn't know how long they stood there for. She didn't even know if time passed.

"Ready?" he asked. Everything around them faded into black. Everything except where their skin touched.

Anzu averted her gaze. "I... I don't-"

He pressed his lips against hers. Anzu closed her eyes and felt another lifetime pass her by. When he pulled back, eyes analysing her face, she grinned. His expression mirrored hers.

"I'm ready," she said.

And the two walked into nothingness.