As Akira intensifies, Solomon holds him back less. A guide to bring him back to center, a balance to keep him afloat, but he pushes and pulls with more frequency, a sway of hips and waist and sharp turning of the feet. A spin here, a wrap there, the rhythm no longer counted as the structure turns more and more towards improvisation.
He starts letting Akira's hands go completely, extending it back out to let Akira decide if he wants to take it back between measures. Counting based on sound, movements based on sight, letting instinct guide his partner and seeing how long it would continue.]
That isn't my decision. Is it?
[How long until the fledgling decides to fly when it believes it's already halfway out of the nest?]
[It's a rhythm that comes as naturally as traversing the battlefield, but his enemy is different. Akira never met a lock he couldn't pick, no foe that couldn't be felled with the right combination of gumption and dogged determination. Why, then, does Solomon slip from his grasp like grains of sand?
Akira's eyes briefly close and he listens only to the cadence of their footfalls, trusting Solomon to guide him, catch him, push and pull him. Whatever hesitation he felt knowing their dance might draw attention has left him and all that remains are those questions, those damning questions, that have grown so oppressive in their weight.
This is why Akira can't look away. Solomon refuses him that option.]
You should have some idea, if you're guiding me. Then again...
[Akira trusts himself back on a half-turn, both anticipating and expecting Solomon to catch him before he meets the ground.]
...It's hard to tell when you won't let anyone in close enough to know for sure.
[A better version of what he already is... big words coming from a shameless tease. He could choose to snap and snarl at that retreating hand, but he won't give Solomon the satisfaction. There ought to be repercussions for people who continually tease an open flame with their hand, but patience is a virtue. He'll burn Solomon at his leisure.
He's gotten the hang of this, reliant less on Solomon's guidance and more on his own surefootedness as their dance continues on. That doesn't stop Akira from tangling his fist up on Solomon's lapel on the way back in, pulling him into his orbit.]
Your purpose? It's because you talk like that that everyone calls you an old man. Have you already become the best version of yourself, or are you running away from your problems?
He allows the moment of shifting, of testing the boundary, adjusting himself to meet Akira but never quite letting him take the lead away. Not yet. They're not quite done.]
There is never a best version, Akira. There is only better. And better likes to change just as often as time on a clock. That's no different for me than it is for you.
[His energy slowly, slowly starts to die down, turning reactive rather than participating equally. From a partner dance to a guided solo.
[Something in the air around them shifts and stirs. He's spent enough time around Solomon to sense his magic close by, but this feeling is something a little more innate than that. Solomon is withdrawing, the spitting image of a wizard sorcerer locked high in his tower, except he is the one who bolted the doors shut from the inside.
A bit too close for comfort, eh? Good. That's right where Akira wants to be. Solomon's first and most dire mistake was opening up that door just wide enough to give Akira a glimpse at what lies inside.]
When did yours stop ticking?
[Even a clock's arms stop moving eventually. Not content to let the man retreat, Akira takes Solomon's hand in his and sets the other on the small of his back. No backing down now. Withdraw if you will, Solomon, but Akira won't be the one taking the coward's way out.]
[He grows pliant at the resistance, at the sudden pull back into motion, which earns a tired laugh. It was always hard to separate. It was always harder for them.
His hand takes to Akira's shoulder. Another stanza, before he slowly starts to repeat his previous actions. Never fully stopping, never interrupting, but shifting once again to react and retreat.
Fly further, little bird. This nest can't stay your home.]
[...Then why? How can Solomon move forward if every action speaks to his desire to push people away?
Sure, Akira considers that he's the only one lucky enough to be met with such staunch resistance at every push, but he doubts that's the case. Solomon has honed his craft of keeping others at a distance, hasn't he? And when they draw too close, he simply reacts and retreats.
He's sure that method has worked for Solomon more often than not. Too bad, then, that Akira refuses to let him slip away, shifting to fill in every careful gap Solomon leaves between them, refusing to let him disengage. He tugs Solomon into him with more insistence.]
You can't spend your life focused solely on others. At some point, you'll run into someone who won't let you waltz out of their life like you were never even there. Eventually, you'll get tangled up in their web.
[...]
No, I bet you've already made that mistake once or twice.
[It's becoming less of a dance and more akin to a one-sided fight now. Akira's grip turns firmer, his pulls back harder. Solomon still doesn't resist. He follows the momentum. His body starts to ache with the force Akira uses. But he doesn't stop his gentle drifting, twisting his hands just so from waist to shoulder to challenge the lead Akira tries so hard to keep. Never forcing, only guiding, even if Akira snaps him somewhere else a moment later.
There's confidence in the motions, an underlying sense that he could. He could. He has every ability to overpower. He is choosing not to.
Because that's not his purpose for one like this.
Eventually. Eventually.]
It's been far more than that. And I would not call it a mistake.
[He is not even going to deign that with any further argument, even as he braces his hands against Akira once again - lacing tense fingers in one hand and trying to reposition a grip on his waist as he tries to catch his breath.]
Which is harder to stop, Akira? The tangle of the web? Or the rain that will inevitably fall?
[Resisting him again. Refusing him again. Akira knows what will happen if he relies on force to sway Solomon. He knows digging in his heels and stubbornly insisting that Solomon yield will only backfire and reinforce those walls he's built so very high.
It's pointless, Akira should think, but his thoughts are the opposite. He's getting somewhere, inch by inch, even if it feels like he's being met with resistance at every turn.
That won't keep Akira from carving a path forward inch by grudging inch. If Solomon is wise, and Akira knows he is, he'll see the futility of pushing Akira away when there comes a day he no longer can.
He won't be putting his hand where Solomon wants it. With their fingers intertangled, Akira holds on tight. His hand now, fool.]
If it isn't a mistake, why fight it? The rain is going to fall no matter what you do. You need to love yourself a little.
[More than a little. Akira squeezes Solomon's hand, gentle but insistent.]
You can't stop that either— the love others will show you time and time again. Don't you think you deserve that much?
[He wonders if Akira's grasping at straws now, trying to find a reaction. Trying to reach out to a lost soul.
And just like that, Solomon completely drifts to a stop, fingers going slack. Akira may continue, he may pull, he may grab, but Solomon will not engage.]
[No, no, he's had enough. Akira lets Solomon go without complaint or retort and simply stops, pocketing his hands, no more worn from their dance than he is electrified, strung up on tenterhooks and raw nerves. He breathes in, breathes out, breathes in, breathes out, trying to vent out some of that pent up energy.]
Sure. [Easy, casual. No resistance.] We can call it a day if you're spent. I won't mind.
[Especially if he's gotten nowhere, only going backwards when Akira thought he'd been making steady progress. There's no sense in pushing up against a brick wall. Akira knows how it'll end.]
He laughs quietly as he summons his broom to his side, carefully seating himself against it. He's not all that tired, but it's been a while since he'd done anything like that with another person.]
[Why indeed? Akira's shoulders roll, his shrug an easy, noncommittal thing.]
What, is it a crime to be concerned? You're huffing and puffing over there. I would've brought water and some snacks if I knew your stamina was that lacking.
So cruel, Akira... I'm a sorcerer, not an athlete.
[In reality, it's just... strange. Strange to feel his limits again. Strange to momentarily not be suspended as the world goes by. Not for very long - a drop in a sea.
But it sure was a fun ripple of a moment.]
I don't mind. I don't get to dance with another person very often anymore, and definitely not at that sort of pace.
[Akira summons his broom and demonstrates a pullup on it. What a big strong twink he is.]
Who says you can't be both? You need to get on my level.
[He could share his workout routine with Solomon, but he expects the man would politely decline.]
Maybe you should dance a little more often? You were handling it just fine up until the end.
[Akira smirks, winking at the fact that Solomon very firmly refused to budge after a certain point. That is progress, now that Akira considers things from a different angle. He knows where the line is, but crossing it is a different problem.]
Mmm. We were taking too different of a rhythm by then. Sometimes it's important to stop before someone gets hurt.
[One leg crosses over the other, his hands resting gently in wait. The ring on his finger catches the ever-present light of the moon as he lifts his touch to ruffle his own bangs, freeing them from the small sheen of sweat.]
I wonder if you were looking for my heart in between the honey from your lips.
[He's no timid mouse. Akira will wait poised on his broom, no ounce of tension in his shoulders, no trace of fear brought on by the look in Solomon's eyes. Go ahead. Prove him right.]
[He drifts, a smooth motion. Right up to Akira, hand under his chin, tilting it up as his other hand reaches to slide his glasses up and cover the teen's eyes.
A shift of wait, a brushing of hair against his face.
[His eyes slip closed under the weighted warmth of Solomon's palm. A tease as always... But his words against his ear, sweet as honey in their own right, elicit a small shiver.]
Think you can?
[Not so much a challenge as it is disbelief. Solomon would never. That's not his purpose, is it?]
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As Akira intensifies, Solomon holds him back less. A guide to bring him back to center, a balance to keep him afloat, but he pushes and pulls with more frequency, a sway of hips and waist and sharp turning of the feet. A spin here, a wrap there, the rhythm no longer counted as the structure turns more and more towards improvisation.
He starts letting Akira's hands go completely, extending it back out to let Akira decide if he wants to take it back between measures. Counting based on sound, movements based on sight, letting instinct guide his partner and seeing how long it would continue.]
That isn't my decision. Is it?
[How long until the fledgling decides to fly when it believes it's already halfway out of the nest?]
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Akira's eyes briefly close and he listens only to the cadence of their footfalls, trusting Solomon to guide him, catch him, push and pull him. Whatever hesitation he felt knowing their dance might draw attention has left him and all that remains are those questions, those damning questions, that have grown so oppressive in their weight.
This is why Akira can't look away. Solomon refuses him that option.]
You should have some idea, if you're guiding me. Then again...
[Akira trusts himself back on a half-turn, both anticipating and expecting Solomon to catch him before he meets the ground.]
...It's hard to tell when you won't let anyone in close enough to know for sure.
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That's because that isn't my purpose.
[Here? In general? He leaves it vague. He knows Akira will hate that. But it's his choice nonetheless.
He brings Akira's hand to his lips in a mimic of a kiss to the knuckles before letting him go again. Longer this time.]
Guidance isn't meant to turn you into something else. It's meant to turn you into a better version of what you already are.
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He's gotten the hang of this, reliant less on Solomon's guidance and more on his own surefootedness as their dance continues on. That doesn't stop Akira from tangling his fist up on Solomon's lapel on the way back in, pulling him into his orbit.]
Your purpose? It's because you talk like that that everyone calls you an old man. Have you already become the best version of yourself, or are you running away from your problems?
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He allows the moment of shifting, of testing the boundary, adjusting himself to meet Akira but never quite letting him take the lead away. Not yet. They're not quite done.]
There is never a best version, Akira. There is only better. And better likes to change just as often as time on a clock. That's no different for me than it is for you.
[His energy slowly, slowly starts to die down, turning reactive rather than participating equally. From a partner dance to a guided solo.
It wasn't his place to stay forever.]
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wizardsorcerer locked high in his tower, except he is the one who bolted the doors shut from the inside.A bit too close for comfort, eh? Good. That's right where Akira wants to be. Solomon's first and most dire mistake was opening up that door just wide enough to give Akira a glimpse at what lies inside.]
When did yours stop ticking?
[Even a clock's arms stop moving eventually. Not content to let the man retreat, Akira takes Solomon's hand in his and sets the other on the small of his back. No backing down now. Withdraw if you will, Solomon, but Akira won't be the one taking the coward's way out.]
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Who says it ever did?
[He grows pliant at the resistance, at the sudden pull back into motion, which earns a tired laugh. It was always hard to separate. It was always harder for them.
His hand takes to Akira's shoulder. Another stanza, before he slowly starts to repeat his previous actions. Never fully stopping, never interrupting, but shifting once again to react and retreat.
Fly further, little bird. This nest can't stay your home.]
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Sure, Akira considers that he's the only one lucky enough to be met with such staunch resistance at every push, but he doubts that's the case. Solomon has honed his craft of keeping others at a distance, hasn't he? And when they draw too close, he simply reacts and retreats.
He's sure that method has worked for Solomon more often than not. Too bad, then, that Akira refuses to let him slip away, shifting to fill in every careful gap Solomon leaves between them, refusing to let him disengage. He tugs Solomon into him with more insistence.]
You can't spend your life focused solely on others. At some point, you'll run into someone who won't let you waltz out of their life like you were never even there. Eventually, you'll get tangled up in their web.
[...]
No, I bet you've already made that mistake once or twice.
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There's confidence in the motions, an underlying sense that he could. He could. He has every ability to overpower. He is choosing not to.
Because that's not his purpose for one like this.
Eventually. Eventually.]
It's been far more than that. And I would not call it a mistake.
[He is not even going to deign that with any further argument, even as he braces his hands against Akira once again - lacing tense fingers in one hand and trying to reposition a grip on his waist as he tries to catch his breath.]
Which is harder to stop, Akira? The tangle of the web? Or the rain that will inevitably fall?
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It's pointless, Akira should think, but his thoughts are the opposite. He's getting somewhere, inch by inch, even if it feels like he's being met with resistance at every turn.
That won't keep Akira from carving a path forward inch by grudging inch. If Solomon is wise, and Akira knows he is, he'll see the futility of pushing Akira away when there comes a day he no longer can.
He won't be putting his hand where Solomon wants it. With their fingers intertangled, Akira holds on tight. His hand now, fool.]
If it isn't a mistake, why fight it? The rain is going to fall no matter what you do. You need to love yourself a little.
[More than a little. Akira squeezes Solomon's hand, gentle but insistent.]
You can't stop that either— the love others will show you time and time again. Don't you think you deserve that much?
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And I know, very well, what love can do.
[He wonders if Akira's grasping at straws now, trying to find a reaction. Trying to reach out to a lost soul.
And just like that, Solomon completely drifts to a stop, fingers going slack. Akira may continue, he may pull, he may grab, but Solomon will not engage.]
I think I've seen enough.
Catch your breath for a moment.
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Sure. [Easy, casual. No resistance.] We can call it a day if you're spent. I won't mind.
[Especially if he's gotten nowhere, only going backwards when Akira thought he'd been making steady progress. There's no sense in pushing up against a brick wall. Akira knows how it'll end.]
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You've changed your mind?
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Me? Nah. But I'm giving you an out if you've had enough.
[But Akira? Nothing but energy to spare. That's all Solomon's fault, but he's not giving him the satisfaction of knowing that.]
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He laughs quietly as he summons his broom to his side, carefully seating himself against it. He's not all that tired, but it's been a while since he'd done anything like that with another person.]
You would know if I'd had enough. Don't worry.
Why the concern all of the sudden?
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What, is it a crime to be concerned? You're huffing and puffing over there. I would've brought water and some snacks if I knew your stamina was that lacking.
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[In reality, it's just... strange. Strange to feel his limits again. Strange to momentarily not be suspended as the world goes by. Not for very long - a drop in a sea.
But it sure was a fun ripple of a moment.]
I don't mind. I don't get to dance with another person very often anymore, and definitely not at that sort of pace.
You're very energetic.
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Who says you can't be both? You need to get on my level.
[He could share his workout routine with Solomon, but he expects the man would politely decline.]
Maybe you should dance a little more often? You were handling it just fine up until the end.
[Akira smirks, winking at the fact that Solomon very firmly refused to budge after a certain point. That is progress, now that Akira considers things from a different angle. He knows where the line is, but crossing it is a different problem.]
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[One leg crosses over the other, his hands resting gently in wait. The ring on his finger catches the ever-present light of the moon as he lifts his touch to ruffle his own bangs, freeing them from the small sheen of sweat.]
I wonder if you were looking for my heart in between the honey from your lips.
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[He can admit that easily enough. In fact, Akira sounds rather proud, miming Solomon's posture on the broom. Without missing a beat, he adds—]
Want a taste?
[He already knows the answer. Akira wouldn't make such offers so casually if he didn't.]
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...
The broom stays where it is as Solomon promptly rises to his feet and starts to cross the space.]
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A shift of wait, a brushing of hair against his face.
A low tone, humored against his ear.]
Should I taste your heart instead?
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Think you can?
[Not so much a challenge as it is disbelief. Solomon would never. That's not his purpose, is it?]
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before he'll feel one of Solomon's knuckles shove right into the space under his sternum, just hard enough to ache.]
A demon would swallow you whole like this, Akira.
Don't be reckless.
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