Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situation created and owned by Eiichiro Oda and various publishers including but not limited to Shonen Jump and TV Tokyo. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Yet.
A/N: Three hundred and thirty eight words for a story. Companion fic to These Hands. I thank all readers and reviewers of the previous fic.
Our Dance
-The hardest way of missing someone is when he's sitting right in front of you.-
Let's forget for a moment that we have little of something in common. Would you not take my hands in yours and lead me to the dance floor? Let's sway our hips together, gently, to the constant rhythm. Yours against mine, until night sleeps away and morning awakes.
We will stand in front of each other, silhouettes of what may come. A sacred space of breath lies between us, forbidden and not ventured. I will catch your calloused hands in mine, surprised at how warm they feel. For all the time we have spent together, I have never held them.
Let's stop pretending that we prefer the companion of rum instead of each other's. Put your glass away, swordsman, and taste something different. Use your fingertips to feel this throbbing pulse of mine. Would you not look at me?
No?
Close your eyes then if it's too much.
On that floor, we will be nameless. Just two bodies, a stranger to the other. I will put your hands around my waist like the way I've always imagined it. Keep closing your eyes, hear me sigh, and we will move.
In a perfect world, our dance will be perfect. We will be graceful and passionate. We will be smiling our secret smiles, and the dream will never end.
In this red world of blood and flesh, it will be better than perfect. Our dance will be real.
That's why, that's why, will you not have this dance?
…No?
That's all right.
Someday, I will have the courage to say all of these to you. Someday, I will no longer keep this dance in silence. I will know the feel of your hands against mine. Right now, I am satisfied with these unanswered questions.
But…
Look at me, swordsman.
Across this wooden table, amidst the dried mugs, among our friends.
Find me.
And maybe, maybe tonight we will have our dance after all.