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The blinding lights go out as the last notes die on the keys. For just one second, all Keigo can hear is the deafening beat of his rushing heart in his ears and the shallow sound of his panting breath.
And then, everything is covered by a thunder of applause, whistling and his crew yelling from the front row. The lights come back and he meets sparkling blue eyes surrounded by smeared eyeliner.
He grins and gestures the musician to join him. Slender fingers intertwine with his, and they bow in front of the enthusiastic crowd.
One month earlier
Touya groans at the sound of his phone buzzing on his nightstand. He buries his face under his pillow and proceeds to ignore it. The noise stops before starting again. Whoever is trying to call him at this ungodly hour better have a fucking good reason. He grabs his phone and fumbles with the device to pick up with his eyes still half-closed.
“What?” He croaks, voice muffled by the mattress where he desperately wants to disappear.
“Were you still asleep?”
Touya bites back a curse and has to fight his urge to simply drop his phone in the glass of water on the nightstand. It’s too fucking early for that. It really is.
“Hello, father. Yes, I was until you decided to wake me up at ass-o’clock in the morning. What do you want?”
“It’s 9 am, you slept more than enough.”
“I composed until 5,” he groans.
“Work during the day, like normal people.”
Touya sighs and rolls on his back, pillow still on his face. He’s not going to argue about how inspiration works with his father before his first coffee. “Whatever. So, again, what do you want, oh dear father?”
“Keep your sarcasm in check, brat. I’m calling because you still haven’t answered Nedzu about the charity performance next month. He wants an answer but you’re not responding to his emails or calls.”
Touya grumbles, finally removing the pillow blocking the dim light in his bedroom. “Was busy. What was it again?”
“Your lack of professionalism is a disgrace, Touya. I raised you better.”
“Don’t get me started on your parenting skills, father. It’s way too early for that. So?”
His father sighs, exasperated. “It’s for the Christmas gala. They want to get the classical world to meet modern dance. Hip-hop to be exact. They have apparently already found the dancer. But they want you to perform live.”
“I don’t like dancers, you know that.”
“It’s good for your image. Stop being difficult, will you? I told Nedzu you’ll do it anyway. Check your emails, you’ll find the details.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. I’m not a goddamn kid anymore.”
“Then behave like an adult.”
His father hangs up and Touya stares at his phone, dumbfounded. He really needs to get himself a proper agent so his father stops cucking him over like this. He opens his email app and scrunches his nose in distaste. They want him to collaborate with a dancer to create an exclusive performance or something. So yeah, the pay looks good but working with a dancer? Ugh. After the last time he performed with two ballet dancers, he promised himself never again. Fucking vain assholes with a stick up their scrawny asses, seriously. Worst experience ever.
He has a first meeting scheduled for the day after in a dance studio downtown to meet his new teammate, one Takami Keigo.
Never heard of him.
Heh. Whatever.
Touya rolls on his side with a yawn, ready to fall back asleep. He will go and if he doesn’t like what he sees, he’ll call Nedzu and tell him to find someone else. He has better things to do than waste his time on something like that. Like hopefully going over his goddamn block and finish composing his new piece.
The day after, Touya is late but he still stops to grab a coffee at the nearby Starbucks. When you’re already half an hour behind schedule, what are five more minutes?
The dance studio doesn’t stand out and Touya has to double-check the address and his GPS to make sure he’s at the right place. He pushes the glass door and steps in a small lobby. A young girl is behind the counter, her blond hair pulled into two messy buns on each side of her head. She grins at him. “Hello! What can I do for you, Mr. Mohawk?”
Touya raises an eyebrow. “Is that how you’re supposed to welcome people, kid?”
She giggles, a pink flush coloring her round cheeks. “Well, you’re a mister and you do have a mohawk.”
“Good job pointing out the obvious, Sherlock.”
“Himiko.” Her grin widens.
Touya rolls his eyes. “I have an appointment.”
“Ooooh. Are you Keigo’s 3 o’clock?”
“Yeah, I suppose I am.”
Her grin grows wider. “You’re late, y’know! It’s not very nice to be late for your first date.”
Touya blinks. “Not a date. It’s a job meeting.”
“Whatever you say, cutie. Studio 3, up the stairs. Follow the music, you’ll find him.”
Touya stares at the blond girl and shakes his head. He takes the stairs, as indicated, and soon enough the beats of a popular song reach his ears. Ah great. Crap music. Just what he prefers. He purses his lips, the ring stud in his lower lip pressing against the upper one.
The door of Studio 3 is wide open and he stops at the doorway, looking at the scene. The studio is packed, people sitting or leaning against the walls, all watching the four dancers in front of the large mirror. It smells like sweat and overheating bodies and the music is drilling his eardrums. He can feel the loud bass in his very gut. He leans against the doorframe, next to a girl with her white hair in a high ponytail, a towel around her neck. A sports bra reveals impressive abs and muscled shoulders and arms. Compared to her, Touya feels like a twig. She glances at him, her eyes giving him a once-over.
“You’re no dancer.”
“What gives me away?”
She smirks. “Call it a sixth sense. I suppose your Keigo’s appointment.”
“Yeah. Which one is he?”
“The blond shrimp with a cap at the front.”
Touya looks at the reflection in the mirror, locking his gaze on the blond guy leading the three other dancers. His moves are fluid, smooth, but controlled. It’s so different from what Touya is used to, so far from the codes and habits from ballet dancers, that he can’t avert his eyes.
The three other dancers move with him and a girl with a pink curly bob whoops loudly from the sidelines. “Come on, Kats! Show them!”
The second blond dancer takes advantage of a spin to flip the girl off, a feral grin twisting his face, but he doesn’t miss a step. However, Touya has a hard time paying attention to the rest of the bodies moving in sync, focused on the legs clad in a dark legging and a pair of baggy shorts and the toned arms left exposed thanks to a white tank top. There’s a hint of a red tattoo covering the back of the dancer’s triceps, obviously part of a bigger piece.
“He’s good, isn’t he?”
Touya stops his shameless ogling to look at the girl standing next to him. She gives him a knowing smile. “Careful, you’re drooling, Mohawk.”
Touya huffs but doesn’t answer. That Takami guy is certainly hot, you’d have to be blind to not notice it. And the way he moves is definitely interesting, but that’s it. Nothing more, nothing less. And to be fair, Touya wonders how that kind of dance could ever match his music.
The last beats die down and the spectators burst into whistles and applause. Takami grins and clasps a tall raven-head on the shoulder. “Well done, Shindo.”
“Thanks, babe. Finally got those hips moving again.”
Takami wipes his face with his tank top, revealing a toned stomach. “Careful with your knee, though. We don’t want to send you back to the hospital.”
“Aaaaw. You care about me, after all?”
The blond girl who has been dancing with them punches that Shindo guy in the arm. “Nah, you ass. We just pity the nurses who had to deal with your lame pick-up lines.”
“I am wounded. ”
The white-hair girl next to Touya chuckles and pushes away from the wall. “Oy, Kei! Your date is here.”
Takami finally looks in their direction and his smile freezes for a second as he notices Touya. It doesn’t last though. He leaves his dancers to walk toward them. “Class dismissed,” he calls out. “Stretch properly and go home. I’m tired of your faces.”
He stops in front of Touya, all toothy smile and pretty golden eyes. “Hi! You must be Dabi. Nice to meet you.”
He offers his hand for Touya to shake. His palm is warm against Touya’s skin. “Let’s go downstairs to talk, it’s more convenient.”
Touya follows him back to the lobby where Himiko waves at them. Takami leads him to a small kitchen with just a table, a few mismatched chairs, and a coffee machine. “Coffee?”
“Yeah sure.” Touya slouches in one of the chairs, accepting the mug offered to him. Keigo sits in front of him with just a bottle of water.
“So…” Takami cracks the water bottle open. “We’re supposed to work together.”
“Supposed to, yeah.” Touya sighs. “Look, I’m not going to beat around the bush. I’m not convinced that we could work together. I guess your dancing isn’t too bad but I can’t see it matching my music.”
Takami leans against the squeaky backrest, sipping on his water. His golden eyes don’t leave Touya’s. “You can tell after seeing me dance just once for like two minutes?”
Touya shrugs, his many silver rings clicking against the mug as he rolls it between his hands. “I’m playing classical music, dude, not hip-hop or whatever.”
Keigo raises an amused eyebrow. “Excuse me if I have trouble believing it. You look like you just left a punk concert.”
Touya smirks. “I like blurred lines. You should see me in a suit.”
“An interesting mix, I’m sure.” Keigo leans forward, his head resting on his closed fist. “But for someone who likes ‘blurred lines’, you don’t seem very adventurous.”
“I’m adventurous alright. I just don’t like wasting my time with something I know won’t work.”
“Give me a chance, at least? I’m sure I can convince you.”
“How?”
“Play something, whatever you like, and let me improvise on it?”
Touya raises an eyebrow. “Do you even have a piano?”
Takami finishes his water bottle and stands up. “Actually we do, in the ballet studio. Don’t expect a grand piano, though.”
Touya shrugs and follows him out of the small kitchen. “It’s fine. As long as it’s tuned.”
The ballet studio is on the other side of the hallway. Takami switches on the lights and gestures Touya toward a wall piano in a corner of the room. Touya drops his jacket on the top of it and sits, his fingers brushing instinctively over the smooth keys. He plays a few notes and nods, satisfied. The instrument is tuned perfectly.
Takami is already standing in the middle of the room, stretching his arms above his head. He catches Touya’s eyes in the mirror and grins. “Whenever you’re ready, Maestro.”
Touya rolls his eyes and starts playing a tune he could play in his sleep. It’s a slow crescendo, a bit dark, a bit melancholic, very far away from the upbeat song Takami was dancing on earlier. Of course, he could have picked a better song to make the task easier but hey, the guy wants to prove he can dance to anything so Touya is going to test the extent of his alleged talent.
Takami remains still, eyes closed, visibly focusing on the music. Touya barely takes his eyes off of him, his fingers still running on the keys and filling the large room with the melody.
Then the dancer opens his eyes and he starts moving. Takami’s motions are slow, following perfectly the tempo Touya supplies First, it’s only a graceful spin, the sole of his sneakers squeaking against the hardwood floor. His arms follow and give a whole new range to his fluid movements. There’s no wasted effort, no tripping, just an endless flow of smooth motions, like a river flowing. Takami plays his body like a well-tuned instrument that accompanies Touya's melody perfectly. Touya feels like he’s rediscovering this piece he thought he knew so well. Takami is giving it a new meaning, another dimension, bringing his own interpretation to the notes Touya is pulling from the piano.
Touya keeps playing but before the end, he switches to one of his own compositions. Takami catches his eyes in the mirror once more and gives him a crooked smile but he keeps moving, undeterred by the change of rhythm. This one is fast, unforgiving, alternating frantic chords and slower parts but Takami doesn’t stop.
At some point, his tank top is sent flying in a corner of the room and Touya has to fight his urge to gape at the sight of the majestic wings tattooed on the dancer’s back. Takami adds jumps and poses to his dance, convincing his body into impressive moves that Touya didn’t even know were possible. Takami is literally defying gravity just to match the wildest parts of the melody. The roll of muscles of Takami’s back seems to give life to the red wings inked on his glistening skin. He looks like he’s soaring every time he jumps, light and agile on his feet. For the first time in forever, Touya actually has a hard time keeping his attention focused on his music. The way Takami moves on that specific piece, how he once again gives life to Touya’s music with his whole body, the way he holds himself, proud and focused and driven by an inner fire, all of this makes Touya’s heart beat in an unforgiving staccato. The tempo picks up again, demanding the best of Touya’s dexterity and speed.
He’s not going to fail.
He’s not going to lose.
Lose what? He doesn’t know exactly but if Takami can keep up, he will as well.
When he finally stops smashing the keys, he’s a bit breathless but it’s nothing compared to Takami who simply collapses on the polished hardwood floor. He removes his cap, revealing a mane of messy blond strands, matted against his skull with sweat.
“Fuck man, you didn’t go easy on me.” He flops on his back and turns his head to look at Touya. “It’s been a while since the last time I went that hard.”
Touya chuckles, spinning on the stool to face the exhausted dancer. “Poor you.”
“Poor me indeed. So? Did I pass the test?”
Touya hums and stands up. “I’ll be in touch.”
“Is that a yes?”
Touya doesn’t answer and walks toward the door, already thinking about chords and arrangements that could accompany the blond still sprawled on the floor.
“Come on, dude!”
Touya smiles for himself and opens the door of the studio. “See you around, birdie.”
“Alright, let’s take 5.”
“Thank fuck.”
“I thought you were determined to kill us.”
Amused, Keigo watches Camie and Shindo flop on the ground, out of breath. He wipes the sweat from his brow with the hem of his shirt. “Oh, I very much am.”
Shindo gasps, hand over his heart in a dramatic pose. “You’re breaking my heart, darling.”
“You don’t have a heart,” Camie pants next to him, pushing away a blond strand that escapes her braid. “Kaaaats. Pleeease.”
Katsuki clicks his tongue and throws water bottles to the two sweaty lumps on the floor. “I told you to come running with me in the morning. Your stamina is shit.”
“But Kats, my beauty sleep is at stake!” Shindo whines, pressing the cold plastic against his cheeks.
“Well, stop staying up until 3 am to watch make-up tutorials!”
Camie snickers and downs half of the bottle in one go. Keigo listens to them, used to their constant bickering now. He’s stopped questioning why the three of them always stick together despite being so different long ago. Their thing worked and they were amazing dancers, that’s all that mattered after all. Keigo picks up a towel and checks his phone. Still no message.
“No news from Mohawk weirdo?”
Keigo glances at Katsuki who’s standing next to him. “Nope.”
He doesn’t like to admit it but he was a bit miffed that Dabi didn’t contact him again. He really thinks he did a good job during their first meeting, showed everything he was capable of in terms of skills and improvisation. But it’s been two days, and still no news from that unfairly hot jerk. No-one should have the right to wear a mohawk and not look stupid.
Camie sits up. “If he can’t see what he’s missing, it’s his loss Kei.”
Shindo undoes Camie’s braid, running fingers through the strands. “She’s right. He’s not the only piano player in the world.” He starts braiding, ignoring Camie’s curses as he tugs too hard on her hair. “Even though he’s quite hot.”
“Yeah, if you dig the punk/grunge/emo look. Yo, I swear to god, I’m going to smash your tiny balls if you keep pulling my hair like that.”
“You know they’re not tiny, babelicious. They’re swollen like ripe, oversized papayas.”
“The only oversized thing about you is your unjustified ego,” Katsuki growls. “And your balls are more like durian.”
Camie and Keigo burst out laughing.
“Didn’t seem to bother you last night when they were in your mouth.”
“Oh my god, stop,” Keigo wheezes. “I don’t need that kind of detail.”
As on cue, his phone buzzes in his hand, signaling a text from an unknown number.
[Unknown number] Hey. When can we meet again?
[Keigo] Dabi, I suppose?
[Unknown number] No, your last hook-up.
[Keigo] My last hook-up’s number is filed under “Do not answer, sex was lame.”
[Unknown number] That’s rough, buddy. Accidents happen.
[Keigo] Do you have “accidents” often, Dabi?
[Unknown number] Nah, I’m a machine. Anyway, when are you available?
[Keigo] Show-off. And I have time after 6pm today.
[Dabi] Perfect. Your dance studio?
[Keigo] Yeah sure. See you there.
“Aaaaawe look at him smile,” Shindo cooes. “He’s getting a second date with the emo punk.”
Keigo drops his phone in his bag and turns around to give a flat look to the other dancer. “Not a date , you jerk.” He goes back to the center of the room. “And you know why I’m doing this.”
Camie stands up, kicking Shindo in the shin. “Not everything is about one’s dick. It’s good, Kei! It’s going to give you the exposure you need, I’m sure of it.”
“Hopefully. Kats, from the start, please.”
Katsuki presses the play button on his phone and soon, Keigo loses himself in the beats and moves of their new routine, forgetting for a moment, the guy with the not-so-stupid mohawk.
Keigo is sitting in the middle of the empty ballet room a bit before 6, working on the last video he needs to upload on his Youtube channel. He does his best to ignore all the little flaws in his moves, all the slight stumbles and wonky arms of his crew, reminding himself that it’s just a practice video. He hums along the well-known song as he checks one last time that the music is correctly synchronized with the video.
“Yo.”
He jumps violently and catches Dabi’s reflection in the mirror as he strolls in the room. The mohawk is down today, long white strands framing the sharp features of his face. There’s no eyeliner either but the blue eyes are still as striking as in Keigo’s memories. A lazy smirk pulls on his pierced lips as he comes closer. “Did I scare you, birdie?”
“What’s with the nickname?” Keigo questions instead as he forces himself to focus back on his screen.
He startles slightly when he feels a warm hand pressed against his back. Dabi is now crouched next to him, an amused glint in his eyes. “I don’t know, I see wings, I think bird. I’m a simple man.”
Keigo snorts. “If you say so.” He clicks on the upload button and sets his laptop on the side. “So, how do you want to work? You compose, I dance? I dance, you compose? A mix of both?”
Dabi stands, offering a hand to Keigo to get up. “I guess I can play for a bit, you do your thing and we go from there? Like if you feel like you need a breather or something more upbeat, you tell me?”
Keigo accepts the hand and nods. “Sounds good to me.” He removes his hoodie and stretches his stiff legs.
Dabi takes a seat in front of the piano, slender fingers softly pressing the keys. “You ready?”
Keigo re-laces his sneakers, jumps once, twice. “Yup. Good to go.”
For the next two hours, Keigo lets Dabi’s music guide his steps and spins, his jumps and pops and locks. He doesn’t think, he just lets his body move only on instincts that years of practice have ingrained in the marrow of his bones. The motions come to him easily, almost as if Dabi’s music took him by the hand and guided his every step. Every note echoes in him, resonates with his very core. Even without words, it speaks to him. Dabi is whispering him a story, a tale about passion and dedication that Keigo knows perfectly but feels like he’s rediscovering it through the chords Dabi pulls out of the piano.
They barely talk or stop. Keigo tells Dabi when he likes a certain sequence and Dabi scribbles it down in a small notebook. Dabi hums appreciatively at some of Keigo’s combinations.
Keigo finally stops, exhaustion carved deep in his bones. His legs are shaking, his abs and thighs are burning, he’s drenched in sweat. “I think we can call it a day.”
Dabi blinks, confused, and checks the time on the clock above the door. “Oh shit. Yeah, sure. Dude, you should have told me to stop before. I lose track of time when I’m in my zone.”
Keigo chuckles, slumping against the wall and fumbling for his towel. “Yeah, I noticed.” He wipes his face and looks at Dabi, and the way his fingers caress the keys, dragging a muted sound from the instrument. The way all of his attention is directed on the piano, the slight scrunch of his pale brows, the way the lights of the dance studio glint on his many piercings -- Keigo has a hard time looking away. Dabi is handsome, there’s no doubt about it but there’s something more about him, like an inner fire that makes him even more attractive. There’s passion in every press of a key, in the faint smile and half-lidded eyes. It’s something familiar, something Keigo understands all too well. He feels the same whenever he dances, every time he finally manages a complicated sequence or when he finally unblocks a part of a routine.
It’s something that not everyone can get.
“You’re staring,” Dabi says without looking away from the piano.
Keigo smirks. “What if I am?”
Dabi snorts and closes his notebook. “It’s rude.”
“Is it now?”
“That’s what they say.” Touya shrugs on his jacket. “Don’t catch a cold, Birdie.”
Keigo hums and pulls on his hoodie. “Would be a shame, wouldn’t it?”
“Indeed. Now that we started, I’d hate having to stop because you’re sick.”
“Aaaw, how sweet of you. I don’t get sick easily, don’t worry.”
Dabi huffs. “If you say so.”
Keigo shoves his laptop and towel in his sports bag and stands up on wobbly legs. “Want to grab a bite? I’m starving.”
Dabi looks at him from head to toe. “Only if you shower first.”
“What? You don’t like the sweaty look?”
“I don’t like the sweaty fragrance.”
Keigo chuckles. “Fair. Give me like ten?”
Dabi hums with a dismissive wave of his hands and Keigo hurries to the locker room. He usually likes to take his time in the shower, especially after such a draining workout, but he’s not convinced that Dabi is the patient type. He trades his leggings, shorts, and hoodie for a pair of washed jeans and a clean sweater. He bundles himself up in a puffy jacket, and joins Dabi in the lobby where Himiko is chatting him up, visibly excited. Well, more excited than usual.
Dabi sees him and something close to relief lights up his face. “Thank god.”
Himiko puffs her rosy cheeks. “You’re mean.”
“And you talk too much.”
Keigo chuckles and ruffles Himiko’s hair. “See you tomorrow, gremlin.”
“Bye Kei! Have a nice date!”
“Not a date,” he and Dabi answer at the same time. They look at each other and Keigo shrugs with a half-smile.
The winter night has fallen a while ago, and the cold is biting. Keigo shivers, zipping his coat up and burying his nose in the white fur of his collar. “Damn, man, you’re not cold?” Touya is only wearing a thin sweater and his leather jacket is wide open.
“Nah. I naturally run hot,” he answers with a smirk.
Keigo raises an eyebrow. “Oh, is that so?”
Dabi offers his hand and Keigo touches the open palm. “See, not cold.”
“Lucky you. I’m freezing.”
“Poor thing.” Dabi leans toward him with a playful smile, his hand closing around Keigo’s cold fingers. “Want me to keep you warm?”
Keigo rolls his eyes and uses his free hand to push his handsome face away. “Careful or I’ll change your name to ‘Don’t answer, cheesy pick-up lines’ on my phone.”
Dabi barks a laugh and lets go of Keigo’s hand. “Cheesy pick-up lines maybe, but the sex is great.”
“Such a bold statement.”
“I guess I’ll have to prove it.”
“I don’t mix business and pleasure,” Keigo answers with a smirk, leading Dabi toward his favorite yakitori place.
Dabi slings an arm around Keigo’s shoulder, his lips way too close from his ear shell. “So stop giving me bedroom eyes, Birdie.”
Keigo huffs. “I like looking at pretty things, that’s all.”
“Awe, you think I’m pretty?”
“You’re objectively handsome, yeah.”
Dabi squeezes Keigo’s shoulders and this time, he doesn’t let go. “There’s nothing objective about beauty.”
They’re welcomed by the comforting heat and amazing smell of food as soon as Keigo slides the restaurant door open. “Such a philosophe.”
Dabi has to let go of him to pass the narrow door. “I’m full of surprises.”
The conversation between them doesn’t stop for one moment, even once their food is served. Dabi is witty and clever, has an opinion on everything and everyone. It’s fun, it’s easy, unlike the last couple of dates Keigo indulged himself with in the past few months.
“So, how did you end up in that project?” Dabi asks at some point, his fingers drumming against the table.
Keigo reclines against the backrest of the bench. “Hizashi and Nemuri, the owners of the dance studio, are good friends with Nedzu. And he has followed me since my first video on Youtube. You?”
“Friend of the family. Well, mostly my father. So you’re famous or something?”
Keigo smiles. “Not really. I have a decent following but -”
Dabi looks unconvinced. “Define decent.”
“Around 500k on YouTube and 10k on Twitter?”
The blue eyes widen in surprise. “That’s more than decent, man.”
Keigo shrugs, scratching his cheek, a bit embarrassed. “Maybe but I still lack exposure. I hope that this gig will help. What about you?”
“I’m famous in the classical sphere. Mostly because of my father. And also because I don’t really fit.”
“I really wonder why,” Keigo snickers. “Who’s your father?”
“Todoroki Enji.”
“Never heard of him. But the Todoroki name rings a bell.”
Dabi shrugs. “He was a famous conductor. But you probably heard about my baby brother though.”
“Oh?”
“Shouto. He made his debut a few months ago.”
“Oh yeah! With his band or something? Himiko is completely nuts about their bassist.”
“Deku?”
“Yeah, him.”
Dabi snorts. “She’ll have to fight my brother on that.”
Keigo gestures to the waitress to have another round of beers. “She’s going to be heartbroken. For at least five whole minutes. Fun fact though, he actually went to school with Katsuki and she’s been hunting him down to get Deku’s phone number.”
“Katsuki?”
“The angry blond in my crew.”
“Oh right.”
Two more pints are settled on their table and Keigo clinks his glass against Dabi’s before taking a large gulp. The alcohol and the warmth of the small restaurant make his cheeks burn, as surely as the intense gaze that never leaves him.
“Your name isn’t really Dabi, right?”
Dabi hides his smirk behind the rim of his chope. “What makes you say that?”
“I don’t know. I would question your parents’ sanity if that was the case.”
“You’re so rude.”
“So?”
“No, it’s not. You can call me Maestro, if you prefer.”
“Yeah right. You’ll have to work for it.”
Keigo startles when a foot climbs up along his shin and he stares at Dabi with wide eyes.
“Stop tempting me, Birdie. I’m not very good at resisting it. Or very patient.”
Keigo is unable to hold back his grin. “Sounds like a you problem.”
“Give me one minute and I promise it’s going to become a you problem.”
“Oh? And what are you going to do, Mister Mohawk?”
Dabi’s grin turns into something predatory and before Keigo has the time to react, Dabi has leaned toward him, tangled his fingers in the front of his sweater, and yanked him up and forward. A mouth ravishes his and a demanding tongue licks his bottom lip. Keigo is too stunned to react, besides slightly opening his mouth. Dabi tastes like beer and the lingering sweetness of the yakitori sauce. His piercing brushes against Keigo’s tongue, and sends shivers down his spine.
Dabi pecks his parted lips several times, nibbles at his lower lip once more before letting go, taking back his seat and his beer. Keigo blinks several times, trying to reboot his obviously short-circuited brain. His heart races against his ribcage and he feels like his mouth and the rest of his person is on fire. Can a kiss even do that? What?
Dabi looks at him with a very smug face, patiently waiting for Keigo to gather his thoughts. Once it’s done, Keigo has made a decision. Probably a stupid one but honestly? He can’t find it in himself to give a fuck right now. He downs what’s left of his beer. “Let’s get out of here.”
Dabi chuckles, visibly satisfied. He finishes his drink and after splitting the check, they go back to the winter night. The cold is not enough for Keigo’s cheeks to stop burning, especially not with Dabi’s lingering touches.
“Where do you live, Birdie?”
The teeth running on the shell of his ear and the hot breath against his skin make it hard to think. “Not far.”
“Good. Let’s go there, then. Can’t be assed to go back to my place.”
Keigo’s apartment is genuinely close, and usually it would take around ten minutes to walk there, but Keigo loses all track of time after the third time Dabi drags him into a dark alley to devour his mouth and grinds his hips against him. By the time they arrive to his apartment complex, Keigo is a disheveled mess with an aching hard-on pressing against the zippers of his jeans.
Dabi wraps himself against his back as Keigo fumbles to find his keys, grinding his equally hard cock against Keigo’s ass. “Hurry, Birdie. I want my dessert.”
“Stop distracting me, then. Ha!” The key finally slides in the lock, and Keigo stumbles in, Dabi right behind him. He doesn’t waste a single moment, removing sneakers and jacket, and the rest of his clothes on his way to the bedroom. He doesn’t even bother to switch on the lights. Dabi chuckles and follows without a comment. Keigo falls on his bed, wiggling out of his tight jeans and crawls until his back rests on the many pillows stacked there.
Dabi stands at the foot of the bed and Keigo arches an eyebrow. “Getting shy now?”
“Nope. Just admiring the view.”
“What about admiring the view from closer? And with fewer clothes on?”
Dabi hums and slowly removes his sweater, revealing a lithe chest that Keigo can’t wait to touch. The piano player makes a whole show of unbuckling his belt that drops on the carpeted floor with a muffled noise. Keigo slides his thumbs under the waistband of his underwear and removes it. His hand wraps around his already leaking cock and strokes it lazily, legs spread wide and inviting.
“Look at you,” Dabi teases. “Already all worked-up.”
“Yep. Totally your fault. Now would you please take responsibility and fuck me?”
Dabi unbuttons his jeans, a cat-ish smile on his face.“What about you not mixing work and pleasure?”
Keigo groans as a burst of pleasure twists his gut. “You have very good arguments.”
Dabi’s grin turns even more smug. “You haven’t seen anything yet, Birdie.”
The jeans and underwear finally slide from narrow hips and Keigo can’t stop the breathy curse that escapes his lips at the sight. Dabi is very hard. Dabi is very big. Dabi is very pierced.
The other man finally joins him on the bed, settling between Keigo’s parted thighs. He leans forward, his nose brushing against Keigo’s. “Lube?”
“Yeah. Right. Lube.” Keigo blindly reaches for the nightstand, unable to avert his eyes from Dabi’s. His fingers finally meet the bottle he’s been looking for and Dabi snatches it before leaning in for a searing kiss. Keigo moans against his lips when he feels the pierced cock pressing against his.
His fingers tangle in the white locks and he arches his back, trying to find more contact, more friction, more everything. Dabi has awoken a hunger Keigo hasn’t experienced in a while.
Dabi breaks the kiss long enough to pour lube on his fingers before stealing Keigo’s mouth again. Keigo hums when a slick finger starts teasing his entrance. It presses in, breaking through the tight rim of muscles.
Dabi is slow and careful, attentive to Keigo’s every reaction and honestly? It’s a nice change compared to his last hook-ups. A second finger is soon added, stretching him and nudging against his prostate. Keigo groans at the intrusion of a third digit but Dabi shushes him with another kiss that robs Keigo of all his air. The clever lips then leave his mouth to attack his neck, his shoulder, and his chest. He pushes against Dabi’s face when he starts sucking at one of his nipples, catching the metal bar stud in it between his teeth and gently tugging on it.
Keigo curses softly, one hand in Dabi’s soft hair, the other clenched around the sheet. Dabi is already bringing him too close to the edge, just with his mouth and his skilled fingers. The musician seems to pick up the clues and withdraws his fingers from Keigo’s ass.
“Not so fast, Birdie. I still need to make you call me Maestro again.”
Keigo smirks at the man hovering over him. “And I told you you’ll have to work for it.”
“Oh, I have every intention to make you beg before the end of it.” Dabi takes back the bottle of lube and slathers his cock with a generous amount. The rings adorning his fingers click softly against the metal of the piercings. “Enjoy the ride, pretty face.”
Keigo’s comeback is muffled with another kiss and all his thoughts vanish when the pierced head of a hard cock passes his entrance. Once more, Dabi goes slow, giving Keigo enough time to feel every metal bar catch against his rim, one after the other.
The stretch is burning, Dabi fills him completely and Keigo’s brain goes blank. “Holy fucking shit.”
Dabi’s chuckle is a bit breathless. “Right back at you, Birdie.”
Keigo lifts his legs and wraps them around Dabi’s slender waist. “What about you move now?”
And without another word, Dabi does. The pace is slow, lazy, and Keigo is grateful for it. He closes his eyes and lets his body get used to Dabi’s girth and extra-accessories but it quickly becomes not enough. He digs his heels in the small of Dabi’s back.
“More,” he moans against Dabi’s neck, his teeth grazing against the pale skin.
Dabi groans but doesn’t pick up the pace. He keeps his languid thrusts and sucks on Keigo’s earring. “What about you ask nicely?”
Keigo rolls his hips, trying to get what he wants, to no avail. “Please.”
“Almost. Try again, Birdie." Dabi snaps his hips harshly, the piercing rubbing against Keigo's soft spot just the right way.
He keens, his fingernails digging in Dabi's back. "Please Dabi."
Dabi nips at his nose, hips unmoving. "Wrong answer."
Keigo groans and tries to move again but Dabi is pinning him down into the mattress. "C'mon."
Dabi shifts slightly, sending a jolt of pleasure down his spine and Keigo caves in. "Please Maestro."
Dabi pecks his lips. "Wasn't that hard, was it?"
"Asshole."
"Very much so." Another kiss. "Hold on tight."
And boy, does Keigo need to hold on. Dabi's pace is unforgiving, relentless. He's pounding into Keigo's ass, hitting his prostate with every merciless thrust. A mix of moans and curses fall from his lips as pleasure builds quickly.
"Fuckfuckshit - god - Dabi. I'm close. I'm-"
"Good. Sing for me, Birdie."
Another harsh thrust and Keigo is gone, all his body tensing and clenching around Dabi, before going limp. Dabi keeps moving inside him for a while longer before his hips become erratic and stall when he comes inside Keigo with a groan.
His body slumps on Keigo's boneless one, panting breath tickling Keigo’s skin. Keigo stares at the ceiling, his pleasure-addled mind drifts in a satisfied fog of blissful numbness. “Fuck that was good.”
Dabi snorts and peppers kisses on his neck. “Yeah, it was. 10/10 would do it again.”
Keigo chuckles and unwraps his legs from Dabi’s waist but keeps his arms around his shoulders, fingers distractedly playing with the white locks. “If I want to be able to dance tomorrow, I’m going to need to sleep at some point, y’know? You’ve already exhausted me during practice.”
Dabi pulls out and moves away from Keigo, face planted in the pillows. “You dancers are supposed to have stamina and shit, no?”
Keigo stretches with a smile and rolls on his side. “My stamina is pretty good, thank you very much.” He follows the line of a tattoo on Dabi’s back and spreads his hand on the small of his back, covering an intricate pattern of lines and curves. He scoots closer and drops kisses and gentle bites on the exposed shoulder blades. “Give me a moment and I’ll be ready for round two.”
Dabi turns his head enough for Keigo to catch his eye. “You do the work this time.”
“Aye aye, Maestro.”
Touya wakes up from his deep slumber when a ray of sunshine hits his face through the closed curtain. It takes him a few moments to remember where he is exactly. He rubs his cheek against the soft fabric of the pillow and rolls with a groan, his lower back sore. Damn, the bird didn’t go easy on him last night.
The spot next to him is cold and the apartment is quiet. Touya doesn’t mind. At most, he feels sorry for Takami being forced to get up early for his morning class, especially after their all-night marathon.
Touya stretches and lets his eyes wander in the dim-lit bedroom. He smiles at the large collection of sneakers lining up under the window. Several pictures are hung on the walls but there’s not enough light for Touya to figure out what they are.
Last night was definitely fun and delicious. Takami’s body is both a work of art and weapon of massive destruction. Touya thought he had stamina but the dancer definitely put it to the trial. Neither of them seemed to get enough of each other, barely napping for half an hour before jumping the other’s bones for another round.
He yawns widely and dozes off for a few more moments, simply enjoying the calm and the comfortable bed. Until the stickiness between his legs becomes too uncomfortable, and his system is demanding for his coffee and nicotine fix.
He rolls out of bed, opens the curtains and window wide. The view is nice, directly on the river. Touya shivers as cold rushes into the warm room and he retreats quickly. He finally gets a better look at the pictures on the wall. Takami is clearly dedicated to his bird aesthetic. They’re all abstract of wings, feathers and such, except for one who is clearly a snapshot of himself caught mid-jump.
Touya stares at this one for a while, tracing the curves of muscles, of the strong thighs that were wrapped around him a few hours earlier like an iron noose. If it’s up to him, he’ll get those legs back around his waist sooner rather than later.
He finds the bathroom without difficulty, and indulges himself a long shower, getting rid of the lingering soreness under the warm water. He gets dressed quickly and is about to leave the apartment when he finds a red sticky note glued on the door.
“Hey Maestro,
Didn’t want to disturb your beauty sleep. Hope you’re not mad I didn’t make you breakfast. Call me later.
Keigo.”
Touya picks up a pen in his inner pocket and scribbles an answer.
“Hey Birdie,
I was on the brink of despair when I woke up alone. You’ll have to make it up to me ;)
See you around.
Touya.”
He takes his time to go back to his place, walking along the river bank for a while and soaking in the warmth of the pale sun of December. He doesn’t think about what he’s going to compose, he lets that gently bubble at the back of his mind for the moment, and focuses instead of the memories of Takami moving, both in the dance studio and in the dark bedroom. There’s a grace in each motion, beauty even when he unravels completely and shakes between Touya’s arms.
Takami - or Keigo, is probably one of the most beautiful people Touya has ever met and god knows he’s met a few. Ballet dancers are usually on the pretty side of eye-pleasing. But there’s something else about Keigo. Something more. Something more raw, wilder, untamed, something Touya can relate to. Unlike the ethereal grace of the ballerinas, Keigo feels real. Touchable. Sturdy.
He smiles to himself as he hops on the subway. The tips of his fingers itch to touch the keys of his piano. The urge to create a melody that will give Keigo the opportunity to soar and give life to his red wings is burning Touya’s gut. He feels like he’s about to create something new, something that will top everything he’s done to this day.
He can’t wait.
Keigo doesn’t hear from Touya for a few days, save for a text telling him to not worry, that he’s not ghosting him but is going to go AWOL for a few days to compose.
So Keigo tries not to get too antsy about it. It’s not always easy when the memories of white hair spread on a pillow and bright blue eyes glazed with pleasure invade his thoughts without warning and usually at the most inconvenient times.
Like now.
“For fuck’s sake, Kei, that’s the third time you missed that step,” Katsuki groans as he goes to pause the music.
“Sorry, sorry,” Keigo mumbles, sheepish.
“You’re distracted,” Shindo states.
“No kidding, Sherlock. Could you stop thinking about your fucking piano player’s ass for one minute? Please and thank you, cherry on top?”
“Kats, chill.” Camie drops a hand on Keigo’s shoulder and squeezes. “Was he that good?”
“I’m not going to comment on that,” Keigo grumbles.
Shindo tuts. “You owe us details, considering how out of it you’ve been.”
“Fuck no. I don’t want to hear about his sex life!” Katsuki cuts off with an angry scowl. “Can we please fucking focus on this goddamn routine?”
Shindo waves the angry blond off and leans toward Keigo with a lopsided smile. “So. How big? How many times? Who topped?”
“Oh my god, shut the fuck up,” Bakugo yells, throwing a water bottle toward Shinso who simply catches it without even looking.
“Come on, Kei, give us something,” Camie cooes. “Just a crumb. For your favorite bitches.”
Keigo gives them both a deadpan look. “You are awful.”
“That’s why you love us,” Shindo answers with a ridiculous wiggle of eyebrows. “So?”
“Big, pierced, I lost count after 6 and both. Happy now?”
Camie whistles, Shindo bursts out cackling and Bakugo groans, rubbing his red face with his hands.
Keigo slips away from Camie’s grip and takes back his position. “Can we please go back to practice now?”
“Fucking thank you. From the start. And don’t fucking mess up this time, you lovestruck pigeon,” Bakugo scolds as the first beats of music echo in the studio.
Touya sighs, his fingers still resting on the keys of his piano. His back is stiff, his shoulders burn and he’s pretty sure that he’s going to have to wear braces on his wrists for the next two days but goddamnit, it’s finally done.
He grabs his phone and blinks at the time. How did it become 11 pm all of a sudden? It was 3 last time he checked. Ha well, nevermind.
[Touya] I’m done
[Keigo] I want to listen to it.
[Touya] when are you available?
[Keigo] Now. Text me your address.
[Touya] So eager. Don’t you need your beauty rest or something?
[Keigo] Don’t play hard to get now. Address, now, please.
[Touya] fiiine.
Location sent
[Keigo] I’ll be there in 30. Have you eaten?
[Touya] huh? Does coffee count?
[Keigo] Nope. See you soon.
Touya chuckles, actually pleased to have the chance to see Keigo tonight. He gathers all the empty mugs of coffee littering every surface of the room he has turned into a music studio and piles them in the sink before going to shower. It’s probably necessary since he can’t really pinpoint the last time he washed up.
He just exits from the shower when the buzz of his intercom echoes in his apartment. “Yeah?”
“It’s pizza guy. Let me in.”
Touya snorts and unlocks the door, hurrying to his bedroom to at least put on a pair of sweatpants. Keigo is toeing his sneakers off, carrying two large boxes of pizza when Touya steps out of his bedroom. The smell directly strikes his empty stomach.
“You’re a fucking blessing, I’m starving,” Touya says as a greeting.
Keigo grins and gives him a once-over. “Hey handsome.”
“Hey.”
They settle down in Touya’s living-room, the boxes of pizza dropped on the coffee table. Touya proceeds to wolf down three slices before being able to think about talking.
“God, when was the last time you ate?”
Touya burps quietly and downs half a can of beer. “Don’t know. Think I had, like, instant ramen this morning? Or maybe it was yesterday.”
Keigo blinks, visibly baffled. “Wha-? Dude, how do you live?”
Touya shrugs. “The Muse is a demanding bitch.”
“I -” He shakes his head. “That’s intense.”
Touya reclines back on his couch, the exhaustion of the past few days coupled with a full belly finally taking its toll. “Very much so.”
Keigo hums and finishes another slice. “You’re still able to play what you composed?”
Touya glances at the blond man next to him and smiles at his concerned face. “Pffft of course I am. I’m not dead yet. Maybe a kiss to get my blood pumping?”
Keigo raises an eyebrow. “Oh really?”
“I worked hard. I deserve a reward.”
“You’ll have a reward if I’m satisfied with the result.”
“Bitch.”
Keigo bursts out laughing and Touya’s smile widens. He really likes that sound. The dancer scoots closer and goes to straddle Touya’s hips. His tired hands find their way to Keigo’s firm ass and he looks up, meeting a golden gaze full of mirth.
“A kiss and you play for me?”
“That’s the deal, yeah.”
“Alright, then.” Keigo leans in and Touya’s eyes flutter close. He feels a hot breath against his lips and his gut already contracts in anticipation. Keigo’s lips land on his cheek instead and Touya snaps his eyes open.
“Oy.”
“What? You weren't precise.”
“You goddamn tease.” One of his hands leaves Keigo’s ass to wrap around the nape of his neck and pulls him forward. Keigo doesn’t fight it and Touya kisses his laughing mouth, his tongue finding Keigo’s with ease. It’s as good as he remembers and they both lose themselves in the slow slide of their lips.
Keigo is the one who breaks it, to Touya's greatest displeasure. “I can feel your blood is pumping enough right now,” he comments with a roll of his hips against Touya’s half-chub. “What about you play me your little aria, Maestro, and then we’ll see about the rest of that reward.”
“Or I can get my reward right now because I know that my piece is awesome.”
Keigo leaves his lap with a snort. “Yeah, yeah. Let me be the judge of that. Your thing better be danceable, hot stuff.”
Touya huffs and stands up. “Who do you take me for? Some lame-ass composer?”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
“Ass.”
“Dick.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
Keigo chuckles. “C’mon, woo me with your skilled fingers.”
Touya grabs him by the waist and sinks his teeth in his shoulder. “Stop.Teasing.”
“Nope.”
Touya lets go of the infuriating blond and leads him to his studio. Keigo slumps in the fatboy in the corner while Touya takes back his seat in front of the piano.
The melody starts slow, light, like a summer breeze and Touya’s eyelids drop half-closed. By now the chords are so ingrained in his fingers that he doesn’t need to watch the keys. Instead he lets his mind drift toward the vision of the blond spinning and swaying in his head, even as said blond sits at hand’s reach. His fingers fly and the melody soars, the image of two red wings spreading floating in front of his eyes.
The melody reaches its peak and then slows down again and stops on a last lingering deep note. Touya lets out a breath, reconnects with the real world and turns his head to see Keigo’s reaction.
The blond is staring at him with wide, shiny eyes, lips slightly parted. He blinks several times before rising to his feet. Before Touya has the time to register anything, his mouth is ravished into a searing, hungry, all-consuming kiss. Touya wraps his arms around Keigo’s shoulders and pulls him closer, drowning in the tongue mapping his mouth, in the sensation of warm hands cupping his face.
Keigo pulls away but only to rest his forehead against Touya’s, breath short and eyes bright.
“I take that you liked it,” Touya comments but the snark is lost in how broken his voice sounds.
“I think you indeed deserve your reward.”
Strong arms hoist Touya up, sit him on the keyboard, dragging dissonant sounds from the piano. Before Touya can protest, his words and thoughts are swallowed by Keigo’s mouth again. A clever hand sneaks past the loose waistband of the grey sweatpants and his fingertips brush against Touya’s cock. Touya groans at the sudden touch and parts his legs wider, causing more notes to escape the instrument under him.
Keigo’s fingers bring him to full, painful hardness in no time and he bucks his hips into the teasing hand.
“You’re creating the new symphony here, Maestro,” Keigo chuckles against Touya’s neck. His breath on the spot he was just busy sucking sends shivers down Touya’s spine.
“Fuck you.”
“Mmmh. No, I think I’ll do the fucking right now. I need to show you how much I appreciate your hard work.” A twist of his wrist makes Touya groan loudly.
“No - shit. No fucking - god, Keigo. No fucking on the goddamn piano,” he finally manages to blurt out.
Keigo hums and nibbles at his throat. He tugs slightly on the piercing adorning the tip of Touya’s cock. “You sure about it?”
Touya pants, eyes tightly closed as Keigo keeps stroking with just the right amount of pressure. “Fuck. I don’t have lube in here.”
Keigo’s teeth graze the shell of his ear. “Good thing I always have a pack in my wallet.”
Touya huffs. “Slut.”
“Nah. More like a scout, you know. ‘Always prepared’.”
“You didn’t just say that.”
Keigo laughs in the crook of Touya’s neck. “I very much did.” He pulls away and reaches behind him to get his wallet out of his pocket, retrieving the infamous package of lube. He unbuckles his belt and slides down his zipper to reveal the bulge straining his navy blue underwear. He tears the package open with his teeth and Touya can’t avert his eyes from him, dick throbbing between his legs and his hole already clenching.
Keigo grins and extracts his cock from the confines of his briefs, slathering the content of the small purple pack on it.
Touya doesn’t fight when Keigo rolls his sweatpants down his legs and ankles, leaving him completely naked and draped on his beloved piano. Keigo hooks Touya’s legs around his waist and Touya has to rest his hands on the keys to keep his balance. The tip of Keigo’s cock presses against his entrance.
“Let’s build a nice crescendo, Maestro,” Keigo murmurs and he presses in, slow and careful, stretching Touya open as he eases into him.
Touya wraps an arm around Keigo’s shoulders, his other hand still dragging deep notes from the instrument. “Fuck, Keigo. God.”
“Too much?”
“No, god.” He gasps for air when Keigo finally bottoms out, his lips blindly reaching for the blond’s and pulling him into a sloppy kiss.
Keigo moves slowly inside of Touya, supporting a part of his weight by holding the legs around his waist. Touya’s moans echo Keigo’s groans, the sounds adding to the discordant notes every motion of their linked bodies create.
Touya sinks his teeth in Keigo’s shoulder again when he finds the right angle, his cry of pleasure muffled against the dancer’s sweater. It seems encouraging enough for Keigo to pick up the pace, his thrusts becoming deeper and faster. Touya holds onto him, head buried against his shoulder. Pleasure rises in him, burning and all-encompassing, like an unstoppable wave that is going to drown him.
He throws his head back with a shout when he comes, his eyes staring at the ceiling without seeing it. Keigo’s lips press against his jaw as he keeps going, the pace now relentless. He holds him close, Touya’s body barely touching the piano now. It doesn’t take him long to join Touya in his bliss, breath labored against Touya’s skin, slightly trembling. Touya doesn’t let go, arms and legs tightly secured around the other man’s body, his ass clenched around the cock deeply buried inside him.
They remain still for a moment before Keigo moves. His cock slips out of Touya, but he doesn’t put him down. Instead he walks out of the room, to Touya’s bedroom.
“I’m staying the night,” he whispers in his ear.
“As if I was going to let you go anywhere,” Touya groans, clinging even more to the dancer.
“Glad we’re on the same page,” Keigo chuckles, settling Touya down on the unmade bed.
“God, you’re in deep, babe.”
Keigo looks up from his phone to meet Camie’s hazelnut eyes. “What?”
She rolls her eyes and hooks her arm around his, effectively leading him through the busy mall where she dragged him for some shopping. “Your mohawk guy.”
“Touya.”
“Yeah, yeah. You look like a 13-year-old with their first crush. It’s cute.”
Keigo blinks, confused. “I don’t?”
“Oh yes, you do. Always texting, daydreaming, smiling like a goof every time he appears for your rehearsals. You’re falling, Kei.”
“I am?”
“Omg. You are so dense. Worse than Kats.”
Keigo lets her guide him to a small coffee shop. She sits him on a couch, drops all her bags on his lap before going to order for them both. He looks at her graceful figure leaning toward the counter, outrageously flirting with a flustered barista, lost in thought. Is he really ‘in deep’ ?
Like yeah, he’s more than aware that he likes Touya. He likes spending time with him in and outside the dance studio. He likes their creative sessions, he likes their heated nights together where they lose themselves in each other’s warmth. He likes watching Touya play the piano and compose stunning melodies, seemingly effortlessly. He likes their banter and their animated discussions about this or that.
He likes his dedication.
He likes his passion.
He likes -
Oh.
Shit.
Camie comes back with two steaming mugs and sits next to him.
“What am I going to do?” Keigo whines.
“Did you just have your ‘oh’ moment?” She asks with a knowing smile.
“I did. It’s awful. I hate it. Please take it back.”
“No can do, babe. You’re absolutely smitten.”
“But -”
“Not a bad thing, fam. Pretty sure he’s as smitten as you are. He looks at you like you hung up the moon and stars every time you dance.” She sips on her macchiato. “It's disgustingly cute.”
“Oh shut up,” Keigo groans, head falling into his hands. “What am I supposed to do now?”
“Nothing.”
“What do you mean, ‘nothing’?
She shrugs and sets her mug on the coffee table. Her hand comes to rest on his knee, the obnoxious pink of her nails clashing with the lime green of his jeans. “You just keep going as you do now. Seems to work, no?”
“I suppose?”
“Don’t hurt your brain with overthinking, Queen. You two are vibing without trying.”
Keigo reaches for his mug of chai latte. “I hate when you talk like this,” he grumbles.
She gives him a half-smile. “I know. So, tell me more about him.”
When Touya leaves his apartment, the night has already fallen. He looks up at the grey skies and breathes in. A small smile stretches his lips. It smells like snow. Touya likes the snow. He likes winter. The naked trees, the chill in the air, the lazy mornings bundled up in bed, just watching the low sun course in the pale sky.
His new favorite thing about winter though is having a warm body snuggled against his side, looking for extra-warmth. Keigo doesn’t like winter and doesn’t like the cold. At all. Which is an endless source of amusement for Touya.
It’s barely been two weeks since they first met but Touya feels like it’s been months. He doesn’t really know if it’s just going to be a one-month thing and once their show will be done, they won’t see each other ever again.
Touya doesn’t want to hope for anything, less try to label whatever’s going on between them. Natsuo had tried to hunt him down about it when they met for their weekly beers-pizzas-dudebro-night but Touya didn’t relent. He doesn’t want to share, not yet. Or not ever.
All he knows is that he likes Keigo. He likes spending time with him. He likes how everything about him fuels his creativity. Touya’s never really believed about artists being inspired by a living Muse or whatever. Sounded like a whole lot of bullshit for sappy teenagers. Until he ran into Keigo and spent night after day composing on his piano, writing more chords and melodies than he ever did to that day.
The trip from his place to the dance studio is now familiar, ignoring Himiko’s nosey questions, a routine, climbing the flight of stairs and following the music until he reaches Studio 3, something he looks forward to.
He always manages to arrive a bit earlier now, to make sure to catch the sight of Keigo in his element. He and his crew are working on a new routine that they’re supposed to show during a contest in February, along with two other choreographies and a solo piece each.
Touya follows the synchronized movements of Keigo and his dancers. He will never admit it out loud but he’s really admirative of the way the four bodies move as if they were one but all keeping their own identities. Bakugo is all strength and sharp gestures, his motions controlled and regular. Camie moves like a snake, bringing grace and elegance to their routine. Shindo is the wild card, sometimes going totally off-track, improvising some new moves but somehow, most of the time, it blends in well with the rest of the choreography. And when it doesn’t, Bakugo makes sure that Shindo knows about it. Touya has rarely met someone with such an inventive language. He definitely picked up an insult or two that he will throw at his father’s face in case of emergency.
But no matter what, his eyes always come back to Keigo. He’s their core, the eye of the storm, the gentle but firm hand that guides them all just where he wants them. He’s the combination of the other three’s styles. He dances like he breathes. It’s natural, it’s right.
Tonight though, it feels different. Touya frowns at the slight stiffness in Keigo’s moves. He can’t really pinpoint what’s wrong but there’s definitely something off. He’s probably not the only to notice.
Bakugo stops the music in the middle of their routine and Keigo glares at him. “What are you doing?”
“We’re stopping here for today.”
“Like hell we are.”
“Kei, you need to rest,” Camie tries to appease.
“We don’t want you to hurt yourself now,” Shindo adds. “I don’t want you to steal all the nurses.”
Keigo clicks his tongue, visibly annoyed. “I’m fine.”
Bakugo spots Touya and scowls at him. “No rehearsal tonight, Mohawk. Got it?”
“Katsuki, shut up. It’s none of your -” Keigo starts.
“Sounds fair,” Touya cuts off, raising an unimpressed eyebrow at Keigo’s miffed grimace.
“For fuck’s sake, I’m okay! Just cramps.”
Camie pats him on the back. “Just let your boyfriend give you a massage tonight.”
Keigo’s cheeks take on an interesting shade of red. “Not my - ugh.”
Touya chuckles. Boyfriend, huh? That would be an interesting development, if only to see more of Keigo blushing. He steps in the dance studio, the sole of his sneakers squeaking onto the polished floor. Bakugo hands him Keigo’s bag without a word. “Let’s go, Birdie.”
Keigo sighs, defeated and pulls his hoodie on. “You all are impossible.”
A shit-eating grin spreads on Shindo’s face. “Nah, we’re just looking after your perky ass, babelicious.”
Keigo mumbles a bit more but follows Touya outside of the studio. “I can carry my bag.”
“Stop bitching, will you? Your place or mine?” Touya asks as they make their way downstairs. He notices how Keigo slightly limps by his side.
“Mine. It’s closer.”
Without a word, Touya wraps an arm around Keigo’s waist, supporting a bit of his weight. Keigo doesn’t protest but the pout on his face is obvious. As soon as they arrive at Keigo’s place, the dancer turns the heater on and locks himself up in the bathroom, visibly grumpy.
Touya doesn’t pay it any mind. He helps himself with a beer in Keigo’s fridge and pushes away the clean laundry piling on the couch to be able slump on the cushions. He turns the TV on to have a background noise and resumes the reading of a book he started last time he was there, some kind of novel about a fisherman and a baker.
Keigo exits the bathroom, only wrapped in a towel and flops next to Touya, propping his legs on his lap. A tube of cream is shoved in Touya’s hands by a still pouty bird.
“What is it?”
“Anti-inflammatory cream.”
“And what do you want me to do with that?”
“You allied yourself with those traitors, now you take responsibility and massage my tired legs.”
Touya gives a deadpan look to Keigo who just glares back at him. He didn’t take Keigo for the drama-queen type. “Why are you so bitchy?”
“I’m not bitchy.”
Touya pours cream in his palm. “You very much are. You’re behaving like a brat.”
Keigo mumbles something under his breath.
“Didn’t catch that.” He starts kneading gently into the toned calves. “What’s up? There’s nothing wrong with taking a break.”
Keigo sighs and uncrosses his arms. “I don’t like it when I feel my body betraying me. I can’t stop, Touya. I’m so close.”
“Nobody’s asking you to stop, moron. You need to take care of your body, I’m sure you’re aware of that. If you sprain or break something now, what good will it do?”
The dancer groans, rubbing his face with his hands. “I knooooow. But it’s frustrating. I feel like I’m failing.”
“That’s stupid.” He insists on a knot in the left calf.
Keigo hums and falls into silence but the broody expression lifts off, replaced by a relaxed one. “You’re good.”
“Skilled fingers.”
Keigo chuckles. “Don’t I know that.” He falls back into silence again as Touya starts on the right calf. “Thank you.”
“Mmmh. No need to thank me. I don’t want all my effort in composing a masterpiece to go to waste. I need my dancer to make it complete.”
Keigo glances at him, a small smile floating on his lips. “Your dancer?”
“I didn’t stutter.” Touya squeezes his shin. “Now you shut up and you let me work.”
“Aye, aye, Maestro.”
“I think we can call it a day,” Touya says with a pointed look at Keigo.
“One more time, please,” Keigo replies, wiping the sweat from his brows with his already damped shirt.
“No.”
Keigo clicks his tongue and glares at the piano player in the mirror reflection. “Why not?”
Touya shakes his head. “We’ve been here all afternoon. You need to rest before tomorrow’s representation. I need to rest.”
“But -”
“We are ready, stop freaking out, for fuck’s sake.”
“I’m not freaking out!” Keigo snaps back.
Touya rolls his eyes and leaves the stool where he’s been sitting for hours. “Yeah, right. And I'm a prime ballerina.”
Keigo snorts. “Yeah, no, you’re definitely not. You’re as flexible as a plank.”
Touya smiles and throws him a towel. “Rude. Do you need to go back to your place first?”
Keigo shakes his head. “Nah, I packed everything this morning.”
They’ve agreed on spending the night at Touya’s place, to be closer to Yueei and save Keigo more than an hour of commute. They’ve barely spent a night without each other since their first, and Keigo has stopped questioning it. Touya seems to roll with it, whatever it is, so why would Keigo deny himself something that makes him feel happy?
But he can’t help but feel anxious about what will happen after they’re done with this event. There won’t be anymore rehearsals, anymore late nights spent in Touya’s studio, listening to his last arrangements for their piece, no more excuse to hang out together.
Do they need one though?
Maybe he should try to talk about it with Touya? Just to know what he should expect. But maybe not tonight. He doesn’t want to have to stand on stage with a broken heart.
The night is cold and windy, and Keigo instinctively leans toward Touya. That man is a walking furnace, always running too hot. Or just perfectly hot, in Keigo’s opinion. Without a word, Touya wraps an arm around his shoulders and tugs him closer.
“Ugh, you reek, Birdie.”
“Charming,” Keigo scoffs. “‘Scuse me if my part requires more than sitting on my ass for hours.”
Touya clicks his tongue. “Do you want me to cry?”
“Yes please. Shed some tears for my pain.”
Touya huffs. “What do you want for dinner?”
“I don’t care, I need carbs and protein.”
“Sounds lovely. I was thinking about Italian.”
“Pizza?”
“Pizza is not the only Italian food in existence, Birdie.”
Keigo snorts. “Nah, there’s also spaghetti and meatballs.”
“You’re hopeless.”
Keigo presses closer, his hand in Touya’s jeans backpocket. “I’m sorry, Mister Fancy-pants. Not everyone grew up in a richy family.”
Touya hums but doesn’t comment. Keigo has learned from all the silences and deflections that Touya’s family was a touchy subject. Though he managed to pick up that he has a good relationship with his siblings. He rarely talks about his mother and all he has to say about his father is that he’s a bastard. Keigo knows now that it’s better not to talk after Touya hung up with his father. Usually, the musician will be grumpy for a good hour and then becomes extra touchy-feely, asking for more attention than normal, attention Keigo is always more than happy to give him.
The train ride to Touya’s place is long and Keigo starts to feel the exhaustion wearing into his bones. He just wants to shower, eat and sleep now, preferably with a heated teddy bear in his arms.
Keigo curses when they exit the train station. Fluffy snowflakes have started to fall while they were underground. Sticky, cold, awful snowflakes.
Touya chuckles and lowers Keigo’s jacket hood on his hair before taking his hand. “Come on, Birdie, the walk is not that long.”
“I hate snow, Touya. I do. I really really do.”
“Yeah, I think I figured it out after your last ten tantrums.”
“Those are not tantrums, fuck you very much.”
“You whining in bed and refusing to get out because there are two miserable, half-melted snowflakes falling, is not a tantrum?”
“It’s not! It’s called self-care.”
Keigo ignores Touya’s flat look and presses closer, pulling his scarf higher on his nose and glaring to the offending fluffy white stuff trying to get in his fortress of warmth. He sighs in relief once they reach Touya’s fancy apartment complex. Keigo is used to it now but it took him a bit of time before feeling comfortable in all that luxury. It’s clearly not something he could afford with his meager wages as a dance teacher but obviously, money is not a problem for Touya. He appreciates that he’s not smug about it though. And Keigo does enjoy the comfort and space of a high-standing apartment.
Something he’s definitely going to miss if -
Nope. Not going that way.
“Go shower,” Touya orders as he lets go of Keigo’s hand. “I’ll take care of the food.”
Keigo hums but doesn’t remove his layers of clothes, scarf and jacket included, until the shower is running and filling the bathroom with steam. He takes his time to wash, letting the hot droplets of water run on his face and tired muscles. He replays tomorrow’s routine in his head, again and again, doing his best to ignore the knot of nervousness trying to twist his gut. They’ve got this. Keigo feels ready. He knows his choreography is good and matches Touya’s melody perfectly. They both worked hard to create a symbiotic piece and Keigo is proud of what they accomplished in so little time.
He reluctantly leaves the shower and wraps himself in one of Touya’s comfortable bathrobes. Why does he have so many, Keigo has no idea but he’s not going to complain. He’s welcomed by a delicious smell when he exits the steamy bathroom. Food must have arrived while he was turning into a walking wrinkled prune under the shower.
He pauses as he spots Touya stirring something on the stove.
“You’re cooking?” He can’t help but blurt out, confused.
Touya looks over his shoulder. “What does it look like? I’m not playing mini-golf, Birdie.”
“But I thought you wanted to eat Italian?”
“And? I can cook more than just stir-fry and eggs, you moron.” Touya opens the fridge and grabs a bottle of wine. “Want some?”
“Sure…” Keigo hoists himself up on a stool, trying to figure out why seeing Touya cook for them is making him feel so gooey. Touya places a glass of white wine and a plate with creamy rice and perfectly cooked chicken.
“What is it?”
“Risotto.” Touya joins him, perching on the other stool and digging in immediately.
“Never tried that.”
“It’s rice with good stuff in it. Just eat.”
Keigo is not really used to eating with a fork but he manages. The first mouthful of rice melts in his mouth and he groans. “Fuck, it’s good.”
Touya scoffs. “Of course, it is.”
They eat in silence for a few minutes and Keigo revels in the warm feeling coiling into the pit of his gut and radiating until the very tip of his toes.
“Do you have plans for Christmas day by the way?”
The question takes him by surprise and he glances at Touya, unsure. “Not really. Probably some training. Why?”
Blue eyes meet his. “We should spend it together then. I think we both deserve a break after tomorrow.”
Keigo blinks. “You want us to still see each other after tomorrow?”
“Yes?” Touya frowns, confusion clear on his face. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“I -” Keigo struggles to find his words. “I don’t know. I thought -”
“You’re overthinking.”
“I’m not overthinking, I’m trying to figure out -”
“Figure out what? I like you, Keigo.” Touya smirks, confusion replaced by amusement. “Do I need to ask you out officially to make things clearer? Even though I’ve already stuck my dick in your ass?
Keigo punches him in the shoulder. “Oh my god, shut up. You’re such a jerk.”
Touya bursts out laughing and leans more in Keigo’s space, mischief sparkling in his eye. “Do you want to be my boyfriend, Keigo?” he asks in a sing-song voice.
Keigo pushes him away, hating how warm his cheeks felt. “God, you’re insufferable. Let me finish my meal in peace, would you?”
Touya snickers and refills their glasses. “So, is that a yes for Christmas day?”
Keigo smiles. A knot in his gut he was not aware of unravels and a weight on his shoulders is lifted. “Since you insist.”
Touya rolls his eyes. “Who’s insufferable now?”
They’re both silent during the train ride to Yueei, both lost in their own world, headphones secured on their heads, but their hands don’t let go of each other.
Keigo’s feet never stop moving, repeating again and again the steps on his choreography and Touya’s free fingers drum on his thigh, along the melody playing in his ears. He’s nervous but not overly so. Just the right amount of stage fright to keep him on his toes without blocking him completely. He’s not quite sure about Keigo though. The dancer didn’t sleep really well and was awake way before their alarm went off. He barely touched his breakfast and lunch. The only moment where he actually seemed to relax was when Touya threw him onto the unmade bed and made him cry his name. It didn’t last but at least, it had been enough to put Keigo to sleep for a good hour before they had to leave for Yueei.
It’s snowing again when they arrive at their destination but Keigo doesn’t bitch about it as they climb the hill to reach Yueei’s building. He simply presses closer and Touya lets go of his hand to wrap an arm around his shoulders in a familiar gesture. He drops a kiss on his temple, comforting. Keigo looks up with a soft smile but doesn’t say anything.
The familiar building of the National Music School appears in front of their eyes and for Touya, it’s a bit like going back home. He hasn’t set a foot here in almost five years but nothing has changed since he graduated. He leads Keigo through the well-known hallways to the large concert room where he performed his graduating piece all those years ago. He stares at the scene, a bit nostalgic of his school years.
Keigo pokes at his ribs, startling him. “You okay there?”
“Sorry, yeah. Was a bit lost in memory lane.”
“Oh really? Couldn’t tell.”
Touya shrugs. “I studied here. Shouto did too. And my father before that.”
“And you were probably the most annoying brat ever. You were lucky you were a genius.”
They both jump in sync and turn around to meet the owner of the voice. Touya grins. “Aizawa-sensei, it’s been a while.”
The man huffs. “Indeed, problem child.” The black eyes surrounded by dark bags land on Keigo. “I hope this annoying jerk didn’t give you too much trouble.”
Touya’s protests are covered by Keigo’s laughter. “Thank you for your concern but I think I can be as annoying as he is.”
Aizawa groans. “A match made in heaven. Or in hell. Whatever. Touya, you know the way. You have the next two hours to rehearse before the kids of the quartet finish classes. They’ll need the stage then.”
“Sure. Let’s go Birdie. See you later, Sensei.”
“Not your Sensei anymore, brat. Nedzu will probably come and bug you before the start of the show.”
“Joy of joys,” Touya grumbles.
Aizawa hums, visibly amused before leaving them with an unconcerned wave, probably on his way to find a spot to nap in peace.
Touya takes Keigo backstage where they shed their extra layers before joining the stage. Keigo warms up while Touya stretches his fingers on the grand piano, playing some pop-crap covers to help Keigo to relax.
Keigo finally cracks up when he recognizes the first notes of Rhianna’s Umbrella and Touya smirks at him, happy to hear the bubbly sound. Keigo moves on the upbeat rhythm, with exaggerated hips sways and ridiculous arm swings as if he was actually carrying an umbrella.
Touya laughs, and keeps going for a while longer, looking at Keigo spins and jumps, his pales cheeks growing pinker with effort, before he switches to their piece.
As promised, Nedzu busts into the small room where Touya and Keigo are waiting for the beginning of the show with pizza and coke. The small man hasn’t changed, except for his receding hairline that is even more receding now. Aside from that, he’s as weird and as cryptid as ever. He drowns them with words, hardly listening to their answers, and leaves in a hurry to go welcome the guests, his wishes of good luck almost lost in the hustle.
Half an hour before they have to get on stage, Touya starts his pre-performance ritual. He trades his jeans and sweater for a tuxedo and retrieves a pair of red winged sneakers from his duffel bag.
Keigo snorts. “You’re not going to wear those, right?”
“Watch me!” He puts them on, and the lights on the side switches on as he stands. “Pretty cool, huh?”
“I appreciate the red wings,” Keigo chuckles. “Really stylish.”
“I know right?”
Keigo shakes his head and puts on new clothes as well. They’re simpler than Touya’s, just a pair of dark leggings, baggy shorts and a golden cap that matches his sneakers. The red wings on his back are in full display and Touya can’t help but run his fingers on the tattoo, following the long feathers hugging the small of Keigo’s back.
Keigo hums and leans into the touch. “Warm.”
Touya drops a kiss and a gentle bite on his shoulder before getting on with the delicate task of styling his mohawk and applying eyeliner around his blue eyes that he makes a point to artistically smear. Keigo falls quiet once more during that time, sitting still in his chair.
“Ready?” Touya asks once he’s done with putting on all of his silver rings on his fingers.
Keigo nods and accepts Touya’s hand. The quartet is still playing when they reach the side of the stage. Touya listens to it distractedly. The kids are not too bad, Aizawa trained them well. Not that he’s surprised.
Keigo’s fingers clench around his, and when Touya glances at him, he frowns at how pale his bird looks.
“You okay?”
“Nervous.”
“There’s no need. We’re going to rock their world, birdie.”
Keigo chuckles weakly. “Yeah, I hope so.”
“I know so.”
The crowd applauses when the quartet finishes playing and Keigo lets out a shuddering breath. Nedzu jumps on the stage, thanking the kids and their teacher and starting his introduction speech for Keigo and Touya’s number.
Touya tunes down the words and lets go of Keigo’s hand to cup his face, forcing the dancer to look at him. He presses their foreheads together. “Good luck, Birdie.”
“Yeah. You too.” Keigo pushes forward and their lips meet briefly before Nedzu calls Touya’s name.
Touya steps on the stage, briefly blinded by the spotlights. Keigo joins him as he sits down behind the piano. Nedzu pats Keigo’s shoulders and leaves them alone. The audience is quiet, waiting for Touya to start. He makes a show to crack his fingers and neck, taking his time to settle down.
His eyes meet Keigo’s and he presses the first keys. From there, everything is only muscle memory and the result of hours of practice. Keigo dances, follows the rhythm Touya created just for him. Touya can’t help but feel proud. Despite his nervousness and the things at stake for him, Keigo dances like no-one else’s is watching. His motions are smooth and flawless, perfect. Touya pushes his music, builds the crescendo, his fingers giving birth to the gust of wind beneath Keigo’s wings, a summer updraft that sends his bird soaring always higher.
Keigo spins and turns and launches himself toward the grand piano, his light feet finding just the support they need in the sturdy frame of the instrument to send him flying. Touya looks at him with a wide smile as he spreads his arms for a graceful back loop.
The bold move is welcomed by whistles and enthusiastic cries and it seems to give Keigo even more energy to finish their performance.
The last notes die down under his fingers and Keigo stills, chest heaving. The lights go out for just one short moment. The silence is broken by enthusiastic applause and deafening cries. The lights come back and Touya is hit by a smile more blinding than all the spotlights illuminating the stage. Keigo is radiating untainted joy, the gold of his eyes shining with raw emotions that strike Touya directly in the heart with the precision of a missile.
At this precise moment, Touya realizes that he will never be able to let go of Keigo. Of his Muse. Of the man who gives life to his music.
Touya smiles back and leaves the bench in front of the piano. His fingers find Keigo’s once more, and they bow deeply.
Touya slings an arm around Keigo’s shoulders and waves at the crowd. He easily spots the white hair of Natsuo, Fuyumi and their mother in the front row. He smirks at the scowl on his father’s face and tugs Keigo closer to him, going as far as kissing his sweaty temple. Not far from them, Keigo’s crew, Toga and Rumi wave back frantically.
“See, it wasn’t that hard,” he whispers into Keigo’s ear.
An elbow digs into his ribs. “Tone down the smug, would you?”
“No can do, Birdie. It was in the package deal.”
They both wave at the audience one more time before retreating to the side of the stage where Nedzu waits for them with a wide grin on his round face.
“Never signed anything, Maestro.”
“Yet.”
Keigo’s laughter rings into his ears and Touya thinks that he will never compose a melody as beautiful as that sound.
~ The End ~