I saw him take his hand, a gentle movement with a touch that was sacred and bold, leading up to a tug and a pull. Come, he murmurs, follow me, lead me to the dance floor. He took a light step back, to the side, to the front, come, come, he invites, and seduces with a small teasing smile. Like a child, he urges, like an adult, he coaxes. He's not to be resisted, and so undoing his constrictions, the other man returned the playful sentiments. He touched him back with softness in his rough fingers, hesitant and anxious. Lead me, he whispers, follow me. The offer accepted, the deal struck, they begin to move - slight and cautious, this was not the smooth waltz of romance and lovers. They are not harmonious, only absently in tune with the double-faced music; they lead and follow in broken rhythm on a long-running bar. These men are elegant men, proud men; yet, they fumble when they face each other, and become clumsy in a way that cannot be seen. They are not in step with each other because they refuse to listen to the other, or any other, even while their hands are gripped together, deceiving of their softened hearts that beat irregularly, off-tempo from their partner. Still they continued - with each step they struggled to come to an understanding, with each turn, a consensus.

"Stop stepping on me, you idiot! I have to return these shoes, you know!"

"I wouldn't be stepping on them if you knew how to move properly!"

"You're too quick! You're musically inept aren't you? The world doesn't revolve around you, listen to the beat, stupid!"

"You're too slow! Are you retarded? How long does it take for your brain to process information? Stupid!"

"Your head isn't even in touch with the world. It's a simple 1, 2, 3 waltz, it's not going to abandon you and run away, so just step with it, idiot!"

"The crazy thick curls of your perm must be blocking all your senses. You're going at 0.5, 1, 1.5 instead of 1, 2, 3. Have you already been abandoned? Idiot!"

"It'll never abandon me, you'll get dumped first, mayonnaise-smoking demonic dope!"

"You'll be dumped first, sugar-inhaling silver-perm bum!"

"No, you'll get dumped,"

"No, you will,"

"Don't be stubborn and accept reality, you'll get dumped,"

"The one refusing to face reality is you, you dumped,"

"No, you've been dumped,"

"No, it's you,"

"No....."

They held tightly onto each other as they continued to step in various directions, spinning in unplanned circles. For the path of love never ran smooth, soon they were to end with a crash into the buffet table. Not wanting to witness the embarrassment, I quickly left the room, while the steady rhythm of the music mingled with spontaneous toneless vocals, followed by clinks and smashes.


A/N: The 'I' could be anyone, really. Tsunpo? Heh~ Anyway, hope you enjoyed it, and thank you very much for reading! Sorry for the lack of plot as always. It's uh...abstract and introspective...?

I know I didn't do the waltz justice at all, since I just wanted a dance scene...feel free to comment on that (or anything else, of course).