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“Xavier, how did you learn to dance like that?”
Xavier, who was lounging on your couch in a pile of your plushies, yawns and blinks sleepily at you.
“Dance like what?” he asks, with the usual air of sleepiness tinged in his tone. You grab his face with both hands, gently shaking him to ensure he doesn’t fall asleep on you. It worked; he was now staring at you, eyebrows furrowed with concern and slight annoyance.
“On your birthday, by the fountain,” you clarify while staring back into his deep blues. He frowned, looking away in thought. There he goes again. You learned by now that he can’t make eye contact with you while he crafts a lie, but at this point, you trusted that he would tell you things once he’s ready to. There has to be a reason that he’s so careful about what he reveals to you, choosing to protect you from something perhaps, but he ends up dodging your questions the more persistent you are. “Don’t you trust me, your partner?” he asked you once, when your mind was swirling with doubt and suspicion about his past after a particularly tough mission retrieving a Protocore. And damn it, you did. So, you’ve let it go, and he has chosen to tell you things as it comes. Sometimes.
“Ah, right. An old friend of mine taught me a while ago,” Xavier says. He brings his own hands to yours, gently cupping them and pulling them from his face so he can clasp your hands in his.
“Why did you learn how to dance?”
Xavier ponders on your second question, running his thumbs absentmindedly over the backs of your hands. He’s taken to hold you and touch you as often as he can, and sometimes you feel some sort of underlying fear and guilt that comes with his touch. It’s fleeting, and disperses he answers you.
“I wanted to impress the one I like, so I asked my friend to teach me a dance,” he says, bringing his eyes back up to meet yours once again. Your face turned warm, and it was your turn to look away. He chuckles, freeing one of his hands to pinch your cheek.
“Interested?” he asks, tilting his head to the side to inquire. You break out into a smile. He somehow always knows what’s on your mind, as if to make up for the lack of transparency in his end.
“Maybe,” you reply slyly, and pull yourself away from his grip and off your couch. He grunts in disappointment that you were out of his reach but sat up to give his full attention to you. You hum, feigning deep thought. “I want to impress the one I like too. Do you think you can teach me, so I can have a proper dance with him?”
Xavier knew you were talking about him, but he couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy with the fact that you didn’t address him directly. He stood up, grabbing your hands again to pull you in.
“I can, but only if you reserve this dance for me,” he says and brings your hand up to leave a trail of kisses. You giggle at his possessiveness, but hum in agreement.
“Alright. But for a proper dance, we need the right dance floor. How about we head to the roof?”
It was already evening once you and Xavier had your agreement, and the rooftop was dimly lit with the lights that Xavier had placed there for his rooftop garden. With your hand in his, he brought you to the open space, his eyes twinkling with the small rooftop lights and the city lights below. Mimicking the dance on his birthday, you place your left hand on his shoulder while he moves his right hand down towards your waist, interlocking his fingers with your other free hand. You beam at him, but shiver as you feel a gust of wind hit you from behind. He tightens his grip on your waist, drawing you in closer.
“Stay close to me and I’ll keep you warm,” he whispers, and you hum in contentment. For a moment, you forget what you were both up there for, just basking in his body warmth and scent. After a moment, you break the silence, remembering what task was at hand.
“How am I supposed to know where to put my feet, though?” you ask and pull away from his warmth. He looks down at your feet, and hums in thought. Slowly, light orbs appeared below you, illuminating a short path that encircled you both.
“Follow the lights and my lead,” he says, and gently pulls you to the closest light orb.
“Right foot there,” he says, directing your body and you follow his direction, placing your foot right on a light orb. The orb disappears and reappears a few steps away. “Left foot here,” he continues, moving his right foot next to another light orb that you place your feet at. You laugh in delight, letting yourself get lost in the movements and his gentle direction. You can make out that he is teaching you a waltz, but you have no idea if you will remember this dance after this night. The dance you shared on his birthday was magical, but this dance added an extra layer of intimacy. Maybe it was the fact that this wasn’t tied to any event in particular, and you and Xavier just wanted an excuse to be this close. Or maybe it was the fact this was happening in your day-to-day shared space, where you wanted nothing more but to lock this night away into the deepest crevices of your heart and soul, only sharing this space with him.
You both continue to sway and spin, Xavier now halting his verbal instructions as you learned where to place your feet without his direction. He hums a tune and moves you to the beat. This man never ceases to surprise you; how does he know this by heart? The night air is brisk yet sweet, only permeated by Xavier’s humming and your gentle footsteps. He picks up his pace, twirling you around and you laugh, feeling the wind ruffle your hair and disheveling your shirt.
He is so in love with you. It’s written all over his face. If you learned another thing, it’s that this was one of the few emotions he allows to show outward, as if to declare it to you, the world, whomever would listen. He is so possessive of you, wanting to be by your side at all moments, pouting whenever you are sent away on a solo mission. You feel that possessiveness in his touch, the grip on your waist, the fire in his eyes. It’s not suffocating; if anything, it’s comforting to know that you have someone who would go to hell and back, if it meant being with you forever. And yet. There’s that hint of sadness and guilt again. As if he tried but failed to. Your hand tightens in his, to wordlessly reassure him I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.
You feel yourself falling; you gripped his shoulder tightly and he laughs when you realize he was dipping you down with a finishing move. He’s out of breath, staring at your lips for a few beats before he pulls you up again. You sigh, pulling yourself into his arms and drawing him into a tight hug.
“I think he really liked that,” you mumble into his shoulder. Xavier rests his chin on your head, taking a deep breath in. Your shampoo always smells so nice, like wisteria flowers. He always associated those with you, when springtime came around and the light purple flowers were in bloom. He decides to find a garden that has wisteria trees and take you when the season comes around.
“I think he did too,” he whispers back, and gently pulls away to get a good look at you. Your face had a light flush of red, tinged from the dance and the cold air. He brings his hands to your cheeks, mimicking the teasing you gave him earlier before your dance recital.
“Thank you,” he suddenly says, with nothing but pure and unfiltered love in his eyes. You tilt your head in confusion.
“For what?”
“For being you.” He presses his lips to yours, and you are bathed in a soft glow.