Yuuri interlocked their fingers, and Viktor found himself surprised at the boldness of the gesture. His breath caught in his throat. It scared him for a moment, but he didn't move away. It was warm and firm and real- and trembling. Yuuri was just as nervous as he was. This was somehow relaxing, and when the pair made eye contact they both released shaky laughs.
Yuuri tenderly took Viktor's other hand, not lacing their fingers together but instead holding gently with his thumb on Viktor's palm and his other fingers delicately wrapped around. Even though the amputation site was healing now, Yuuri was still being ginger so as not to cause any pain. The simple gesture was very touching in Viktor's opinion.
They stepped in time to the music, Viktor afraid that his lack of expertise at human dancing would show. But they didn't seem to be doing a particular dance, only feeling the music. Viktor was too transfixed by Yuuri's eyes to pay proper attention to where he was moving his feet. Yuuri let go of Viktor's right hand and delicately twirled him around. Viktor's white nightgown swirled, lace swishing.
With each spin, Viktor waited until the very last second before whipping his head around, so that he could look at Yuuri as long as possible. It was if he was mesmerized, unable to look away. The two of them swayed about the room, and Viktor felt like he was gliding. Like a ballerina, or maybe a swan. He beamed, invigorated as the orchestra swelled and picked up their tempo. He felt so free, his soul as light as a feather and his heart not weighing him down like a burden. In that moment, he felt so unbelievably happy.
The song had reached its peak, now showing the telltale signs of being on its way to its conclusion. Viktor spun around Yuuri, laughing. They moved closer and farther apart to the music, exchanging both long and fleeting touches. Yuuri placed a hand on Viktor's hip and Viktor wrapped an arm around his neck and was dipped low. The movement ended in a flourish.
They both stared at each other, breathing heavily. Both of them shared twin rapturous grins. But Viktor saw a glint out of the corner of his eye and glanced over to see an antique, dusty mirror that was half-covered with a ghostly sheet. He saw himself reflected in it.
A skinny, sickly fairy with a dishevelled braid brushing against the floor, a naively happy expression, a face flushed with exertion, and sweat shining on his forehead in the dim light. The frilly nightgown, unsuited to touch his filthy body, with holes freshly added to the back to crudely slide his large wings through. Him. A disgusting slave. Clinging to his master in such a way. The smile melted away. What on earth was he doing?
Irrational terror and alarm suddenly threatened to suffocate him, all of his exuberance fleeing in an instant. His eyes widened and he slipped out of Yuuri's touch in a panic. He dashed out of the room and down the hall. Heart pounding, he entered his room and closed the door behind him. He folded his wings and sank back against it sliding down to the floor. There was an awful ache in his heart beneath the fright, like it was being squeezed by a constricting snake.
He stared blankly at the ornate wallpaper on the other side of the room. The vines and flowers printed onto it were as complicated and intertwined as his thoughts and feelings. What was wrong with him?