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A night like many others.
Two figures under the open sky, their outlines softened by the moonlight and the gentle swaying of cherry blossom branches. The constellations twinkled overhead, scattered like sugar across dark velvet, untouched by cloud or smoke. These soft glows made the universe feel endless yet gentle.
They sat together on the grass with the jungle breathing behind them, and waves rolled against the distant shore in a rhythm older than memory. The warm air was tinged with the faint sweetness of blossoms and the cool bite of night. Crickets sang lazily in the dark.
Fluixon lay on his back, one arm tucked under his head, while the other lazily toyed with a fallen petal. Saparata sat cross-legged beside him, his eyes fixed on the sky. His curls caught flecks of moonlight, and his shoulders were loose and unburdened. They basked in comfortable silence.
For once, the world was still.
“... Hey Saps.”
“What?”
“I was just curious… Do you know how to dance?”
Saparata glanced down, chewing the inside of his mouth.
“Uh... What's the definition of knowing how to dance?”
Fluixon stared at him with a half-amused expression and sighed.
“... Never mind, I already know the answer.”
“...”
“... Pathetic fuck—”
“TAKE THAT BACK!”
Playful punches flew between them. They laughed breathlessly as they shoved and kicked, hands grabbing fistfuls of cherry blossoms and throwing them at one another. Petals fluttered in the air like confetti as Saparata lunged at Fluixon, who easily rolled away, grinning from ear to ear. They collapsed into the grass again, panting, smiling, with laughter settling into a softer rhythm, like the tide.
Fluixon exhaled, still laughing, sweat rolling down his cheek like glistening crystal. His bright purple eyes sparkled like amethysts, reflecting the moonlight.
“How the heck are you so strong—”
“Heh, ever consider that you just suck at fighting?”
Saparata smirked, wincing as another soft kick landed on his ankle.
“Ow. Stop being salty, Flux.”
“Yeah, yeah, better than someone who asks for the definition of a good dance.”
Before Saparata could even fire back, Fluixon extended a hand, without his usual arrogant flourish, but with quiet grace.
“... Want to try dancing?”
Saparata blinked.
“Wait. Are you serious—”
Without waiting for a reply, Fluixon grabbed his arm and tugged him up from the ground, his eyes twinkling with amusement. An infuriatingly mischievous smile spread across his face, so infectious that even Saparata felt the corners of his mouth tugging upward.
“Care for a dance, darling ?” Fluxion jokes.
“... Please never call me darling again.”
Saparata groaned as if annoyed, his legs still trembling slightly from being pulled up so suddenly. Yet he didn’t let go.
And Fluixon pulled him in.
They moved into a waltz with no music but the wind, no floor but the grass, no audience but the stars.
Fluixon's hands were steady, his movements elegant and fluid, guiding Saparata with an ease that made it seem like the dance had always been a part of him. He didn't just move, he glided. Each step was a note in a song only he could hear, each turn deliberate, graceful, and as smooth as silk slipping through fingers. He hummed low in his throat, a fleeting melody that wrapped around them like silk, smooth and soft.
Saparata, by contrast, was a whirlwind of chaos. He kept glancing down at his feet, trying to mirror the rhythm but tripping over invisible obstacles. He stepped left when he should have spun right, pivoted half a beat too early, and his hands alternated between stiffness and flailing. The grass caught under his toes, and the fabric of his pants tangled around his ankles.
Yet, he laughed. Loudly and genuinely, his laughter echoed into the night. Fluixon chuckles too, a light and feverish sound that spread across Saparata’s skin like wildfire.
Every time he stumbled, Fluixon was there to catch him. Not with grand gestures or dramatic swoops, just a steady hand at his waist, a subtle shift in their pace, and a hum through his teeth as if to say, “Follow me; I’ve got you.”
And Saparata did.
Slowly, clumsily, but wholeheartedly.
One-two-three. One-two-three.
The stars spun around them, and the trees swayed in time, singing and waltzing to a song composed by Mother Nature. Petals clung to their hair and sleeves, painting their shoulders with soft pink flecks. The night air was warm, wrapping around them in a gentle hush. Fireflies flutter inside Saparata’s stomach, straining his ribcage.
Their fingers brushed and lingered, cold ones melting into warm.
Their breaths mingled.
The distance between them narrowed, not just physically, but in a deeper, unspoken way neither of them dared to name.
Time blurred.
The tempo slowed.
Saparata was still stepping awkwardly, but it didn’t matter anymore. Fluixon wasn’t correcting him. They weren’t trying to match the dance; they were embodying it. Their feet barely moved now, swaying in a slow, close circle, their bodies aligned and their shadows intertwined.
The breeze whispered by, rustling the leaves and carrying the scents of salt, blossoms, and a hint of nostalgia.
They weren’t looking anywhere else anymore.
Only at each other.
Maybe Saparata was imagining it, or perhaps he was just hoping, but in a moment when the moonlight shone just right, he swore he saw a blush tint Fluixon’s cheek. Yet he couldn’t joke about it or even speak. Deep down, he knew that the way his heart raced, faster than their steps, the way warmth spread across his own cheek, was more vivid than the cherry blossoms above them in that moment.
In that instant, the world felt softer than it ever had.
Nothing blocked their path, nothing troubled them. Just two fools under the stars, tangled in a dance they never learned, smiling as if they had forever.
They didn't know. They couldn't know.
That one day they would stand on opposite ends of a courtroom, a battlefield, or in a memory too painful to revisit. That trust would fracture. That one day, the place they once called “home” would be nothing but shattered pieces of nostalgia.
But tonight, they danced.
And for a little while, that was enough.