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One of the ways that the Shinyas were alike was in how much they practiced, and loved to practice. One of the ways they were different was that Suzuki preferred to practice with music, and Sugiki preferred to practice without. But they hadn’t practiced together since Blackpool.
And Suzuki wanted to change that, with or without music.
The day after Suzuki had fucked Sugiki in front of the mirror, he nearly had a panic attack contemplating whether he should ask Sugiki to practice with him again. It had derailed his practice session with a very confused Aki, until he finally confessed what was on his mind.
“What if it’s weird between us?” Suzuki asked her.
“Why don’t we all practice together again?” Aki offered as an alternative. “Fusako and I love dancing together, and we’re all dating, so it’s not weird.”
“You make it sound so easy,” Suzuki sighed. He was lying on the floor with an arm thrown over his eyes, and he looked a bit like a little kid refusing to do something.
“It is easy,” Aki replied.
“Why is everything so easy for lesbians?” Suzuki asked.
Aki rolled her eyes. “What do you even know about lesbians?” she retorted. “Besides, we’re both bisexual, you idiot.”
Suzuki looked at her. “You’ll come with me? You’ll come with me if I practice with him?”
“Yes! My god, how old are we?” Aki exclaimed, drawing out the last word in a high pitch. “But only if I can dance with Fusako and with Sugiki. I don’t want to sit there and watch just you and Sugiki dance with each other. That would be weird.”
Suzuki snorted. “You’re right. Okay.”
“What are you so worried about?” Aki asked, more gentle than before. “Didn’t you two just have the hottest sex of your life or something?”
Suzuki groaned and sat up. “What if…what if we get too competitive or critical of each other and it wrecks everything?”
Aki smiled softly. He was in deeper than she’d ever seen him before.
“You love each other, right?” she asked. Suzuki gave the smallest nod of his chin. He hadn’t actually told her that part yet; she had figured it out. God, how transparent had he been? Had everyone known?
“Then first, don’t be critical and competitive. And second, you talk it out with him just like you do with me when we get too harsh with each other,” Aki said.
Suzuki nodded. Aki could tell the conversation wasn’t over yet, by the wrinkles on his brow.
“What if we break up again?” Suzuki whispered.
Wow. Aki loved Suzuki — she would fight off a pack of wild dogs for Suzuki — but he had never confided to her like this about a relationship before.
“Then…you will dance again,” Aki answered, slowly, walking over and extending her right hand. Wise, patient Aki. How did she always know the right thing to say?
Suzuki looked up into her kind face and took her hand.
—
Sugiki said yes — of course he said yes — when Suzuki asked if they could practice together. Sugiki and Fusako looked visibly excited when Suzuki and Aki arrived at Sugiki’s studio, on time. They exchanged hugs and kisses on the cheek and pleasantries, and Fusako led Aki by her hand to the dressing room to change. Suzuki had a lot of questions about their relationship and hadn’t figured out how to ask all of them yet.
“They seem happy,” Suzuki said, gesturing vaguely at the two women as they disappeared. It occurred to Suzuki that he didn’t know if Sugiki knew about Aki and Fusako yet. He didn’t want to out them.
“They told me they’re dating,” Sugiki said. “If you’re worried I didn’t know.” Suzuki let himself exhale the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Their eyes met, and Sugiki smiled at him. It was so soft, so open, that Suzuki relaxed a bit. They were lovers. They were in love, with each other and with dancing. The last time they had danced together, it caused a minor tsunami in the Japanese dance world. They could practice together.
“Ah, good, one less secret for me to keep,” Suzuki said, pulling off his shirt to change into a black one.
“Any other secrets you want to share?” Sugiki asked, and his low voice was suddenly right behind Suzuki’s ear. He placed his hands on Suzuki’s waist and kissed the nape of his neck. It sent goosebumps cascading across Suzuki’s shoulders.
Still facing away from Sugiki, Suzuki said, “Well, I was nervous about practicing with you today. If that’s a secret.”
Sugiki exhaled slowly. “Hm. Why?”
Suzuki turned and looked at Sugiki. His face showed curiosity, only that.
“I guess I worried that we might fight or disagree or something,” Suzuki said. “Or that we might hurt each other.” Shit. Saying the words out loud was much scarier than he thought it would be.
Suzuki thought back to the night when Sugiki ripped apart his tango here, how it had sent him spiraling into insecurity and made him question his ability. It had propelled him into his favorite bar and prompted his friends to ask if Suzuki wanted Sugiki. The beginning of the end. The beginning of everything.
“Hm,” Sugiki murmured. “It’s probably good for me to hear you say that.” He fell silent. Suzuki changed his pants and sat down to slip on his dance shoes.
Sugiki dropped down alongside Suzuki and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I was the Grim Reaper with you when we practiced, wasn’t I?” Sugiki asked.
Suzuki nodded. “There were a couple times.”
“It hurt you, didn’t it?”
Suzuki nodded again. His throat felt like it was trying to choke him, it was so tight. Sugiki sighed and closed his eyes.
“I’m sorry. I really am. I think things are different now between us. I don’t want to be like that with you again,” Sugiki said.
Suzuki nodded, finally looking up into Sugiki’s face again. He looked genuinely remorseful.
“I’ve missed practicing with you. Really. Should we get started?” Suzuki asked.
Sugiki nodded, and smiled.
—
“It’s not working,” Aki said, pulling apart from Fusako with a furrowed brow. “Why isn’t this working?”
Fusako looked deep in thought for a minute. “Could you try it again for me, more slowly? I will watch and see if I can spot the problem.” Aki resumed her position.
She danced the step once, twice, even slower on the third time. “I think I am doing it right,” she concluded, and Fusako agreed.
“Let’s try it together again, half tempo,” Fusako suggested.
“One and two and three and—“ Aki and Fusako stumbled again, out of alignment.
“Am I the problem?” Fusako asked. “It might be me.”
“No, it’s probably me,” Aki said. “You know slow foxtrot is my worst dance.”
“No, you’re getting so much better—you’re amazing. It’s just this one step, and it might be me,” Fusako insisted. “Will you count it off for me again, half tempo?”
Aki began the count, and Fusako executed the step flawlessly.
“Aish! It is me! I told you!” Aki whined loudly. “Let me try again.”
Fusako gave the count again, even more slowly this time, and that’s when she saw it: Aki’s left foot was lagging just a moment too long on one step. Fusako explained, then demonstrated, then demonstrated again. She never raised her voice once. When Aki saw the problem, she practiced the step like Fusako had shown her, counting out loud to herself. Once, twice, three times. Four times.
“Can we try it together again?” Aki asked.
The lag in the step disappeared this time, and Fusako and Aki stopped, twirled, hugged each other, smiling and delighted.
“Ah, that was it — you fixed it,” Aki said, kissing Fusako on the cheek and squeezing her hand. Fusako blushed, but her eyes were proud.
“Are lesbians always that good at working together?” Sugiki asked, from where he and Suzuki had been standing and watching the drama play out.
“They’re bisexual, actually,” Suzuki replied, and finished his bottle of water. “Let’s go again.”