YOU'VE BREATHED YOUR LAST!

Or, perhaps he too sees the complications. Even if there were feelings, it's pointless to act on them.

"Are we behaving?" he asks. He can't tell; he hopes they're not. Subconsciously, his arm pulls Saizo in tighter. By the time Ryoma realises what he's done, it's too late to back away. It's all part of the dance, he tells himself. That's all this is. Soon, it'll be like this never happened.

"I'm sure it was difficult work; I imagine it was quite difficult working for me." Even more so when the lines had blurred. There's a thudding ache in his chest that he'd rather not focus on.

Ryoma can't stop himself as words tumble out, "then I'm glad you never had to learn." If they had married in the end, then yes, Saizo would have learned. He would have done the dance classes, the etiquette classes, the politics - all of it. Maybe it was for the best Saizo never ended up with his Ryoma.

It is. How little he cares scares him but he wouldn't know how Ryoma felt in return if he didn't say anything.

There's a small smile that forms behind his mask again, and his gaze averts downwards then over to their joined hands as he's pulled closer. It's unexpected though his steps do not falter as their dance continues. Maybe Ryoma doesn't realize he'd done it, maybe it was necessary for the dance. He can hear his heart pounding through his ears now, and he knows it will continue as long as they are this close.

"I never got tired of it if that's what you're implying. I still had a purpose and a role I was happy to fulfill." Even while they were seeing each other. He did very little complaining because there was nothing to he was unhappy about. The war took it's toll on his body but that seemed to be the case for everyone in the army. Saizo gives Ryoma's hand a squeeze. It's gentle, the increase in pressure is just barely there but he's holding his hand a little bit tighter now.

Ryoma cuts off his mind before it can wander. They are friends. He is imagining and hoping that Saizo's words are flirtatious, but it's Saizo. He wouldn't do that.

As much as he wanted to sneak away, neither of them needed to rush. All they were doing was dancing, and they just started too. They had all night. Saizo hoped they did. Despite that, there is still a part of Saizo that doesn't want to behave.

"It was difficult work. I didn't mind it." As the son who had been expected to take his father's place as leader of their village, he wasn't given much of a choice in the matter. Saizo embraced his role regardless.

At the mention of Ryoma's etiquette lessons, he couldn't help but chuckle and nod in agreement. "You're right. I don't know how much of it I would have been able to endure." He liked to think he'd been taught enough. He knew not to talk back to adults and royalty and was as polite as he could be when spoken to. That much had been drilled into his head as a boy and well into his teens when he began spending more time at the palace. "I'm glad too. This is nice."

Both of Saizo's hands are on Ryoma's shoulders. He could allow it, pull their bodies close and sway as if that is dancing. They aren't teenagers, and that won't fly. They're professors, and they are to set a good example.

"Not quite." Ryoma takes one of Saizo's hands again, and extends their joint hands. "It works a touch better if one of us is wearing a gown, I suppose." There's nothing to hold up, no fabric to move out of the way. However, like this, Ryoma can keep some distance, and keep away some of the thoughts that won't stop racing in his mind.

He doesn't try to close the distance between them. It would make him feel like he's overstepping. And he needs to exercise some restraint. Certainly the current closeness wasn't helping to control his other thoughts but if anything, Saizo prided himself on being trying to remain disciplined.

"I have no need to keep you far away anymore. You know the truth; there's nothing left to hide." He doesn't know if it's better or worse that Saizo knows, but he never left Ryoma, even knowing his king is back home. How far will Saizo's sense of duty go, if he'll follow a man who had been his king in another branch of fate?

The way Saizo strokes the back of Ryoma's hand is too familiar. It sends a jolt up his arm, up to his heart and, for a moment, Ryoma thinks he may just die all over again. He doesn't want to let go and lose that.

He does anyway. What right does he have to these small moments?

There's less suspicion now, if any at all, and everything feels a little more right. Maybe similar was the word he was looking for. Rubbing the back of his hand was a small gesture he'd used to do while they laid together during quiet mornings before the stress of the war.

His mind clears, not completely, but it's enough for him to focus on the man in front of him. As if he could bring himself to tear his gaze away in the first place. Ryoma frees his hand and Saizo allows him to move the other to his shoulder, and then he feels Ryoma's own hand settle on his waist.

A memory creeps back into his mind. A fortune teller, grinning at him, assuring him there's still a chance. It's a load of expensive hogwash, and yet.

The question makes Ryoma's heart stop. There had been a time, before the war, where he had idly daydreamed of a future where they could dance together at a formal event. A future where they would marry, they would have fought to earn that right, and they would enjoy such a moment together in public.

That had been neither Saizo's nor Ryoma's future. They had either died, or they had drifted apart due to their duties. Each half stands here now, ripped apart yet carefully glued back together. Ryoma takes hold of Saizo's hand, and guides him to the dance floor.

"Of course I'd like to dance with you. We've done far more-" Ryoma clears his throat, before he can say anything incriminating. "You don't need to be so embarrassed about it. We are friends, are we not?"

A part of Ryoma hopes Saizo says no. What a foolish hope.

And again he's grateful for the mask covering the lower half of his face. Especially as Ryoma mentioned their shared past. He supposes he doesn't need it around the other man, his friend... But with the rest of the students, faculty and staff present as well, Saizo does not wish for them to see what he tries so hard to keep private.

Unconsciously, he gives Ryoma's hand a gentle squeeze as he's led to the dance floor, and takes a deep breath in and out as if that would lessen the nervous fluttering in his stomach and the heat still rising in his cheeks. "I'm trying not to be. I'm glad you said yes, just..." There's a pause, if only for a moment, and Saizo finds himself squeezing Ryoma's hand again. It's a little harder than before and unconsciously, he starts tracing his thumb over the back of the other's hand in small circles. "I thought you'd still want to keep me at arm's length." Thank the gods that doesn't seem to be the case. "I'm glad we're friends."

Relief washes over him and he gives a nod of his head. "Please. I don't have the slightest clue as to how." It's likely that he'd be able to figure it out but a part of him would actually like to learn, especially if this opportunity arrives again.

Perhaps keeping his mask on was a good idea after all. "Ryoma, I wanted to give you one of these," he says presenting one of his crimson and white lilies to him. Out of habit, the ninja's posture is rigid, but he's also chalking it up to not being able to fully relax his nerves yet.

"And ask you if you wanted to dance... With me?" For someone who preferred keeping his presence scarce during these sorts of events, asking the high prince of Hoshido to join him on the dance floor was not a way for him to do so. He hardly danced either. His ninja training hadn't included those specific lessons when he was a boy but he knew the basics of some of Hoshido's traditional dances. "You can decline, of course, but I figured it'd be nice.." He wanted to try forgetting about the different branches of reality that they're both from. Even if it was only for a short amount of time.

Is Ryoma being too much? Maybe. Yet he doesn't stop.

He shifts a little to look at Saizo's face redden. He hadn't expected such a response; he has expected a gruff no or stern silence, not this. Ryoma blinks at him. He's cute when he's embarrassed, and it's such a rare response that Ryoma simply must take it in as much as he can.

Saizo's face is as red as his hair, but despite it all, he smiles. Ryoma wants to capture this moment forever, but he'll settle for engraving it into his memory.

As he reaches over, so too does Saizo, and their fingers lock together.

"As crown prince, I should have been thinking about the topic of marriage years ago - in fact, it's unusual I have no plans to marry, at the moment. This means I should be thinking about it already." He knows whoever he picks, Mother would approve - political marriage isn't strictly necessary.

Saizo ignores the way Ryoma shifts on top of him, likely to stare at the way he's hiding or make an attempt to remove his head from the crook of his elbow. It's another few seconds and when that does not come, Saizo turns his gaze back to him again. Whether or not his face is still red, he's unsure, but his smile softens once again when his partner tangles their fingers together. He gives a gentle squeeze in return, bringing their hands up to press his lips to the back of Ryoma's hand.

"If we do end up needing to explain this to your family," he lifts their hands as if that would serve as a gesture between the two of them, "I'd be happy to be there when you do." He can't imagine it would go over well with the rest of Hoshido's council or officials but their opinions hardly mattered. One thing at a time. For now, Saizo was extremely content with the way things were.

"I wasn't aware you would be joining us at Garreg Mach. I hope your journey was uneventful. There was a pirate problem and the docks were closed a couple months ago." Saizo's posture straightens again and he takes a small step back as not to invade her space. It feels wrong of him to analyze her the way he's attempting, especially seeing as she was a member of Hoshido's royal family. In the moment it doesn't seem all that important. He's greeting her as a retainer and offering his assistance should she need it. "Do you need someone to help show you around? I'd be happy to guide you to wherever you need to go."

↪[ TXT -> Saizo 💍 ] : Would you have asked directly?

Ryoma knows the answer before Saizo can say anything. It's cute, he thinks. He's left his suit jacket on the back of a chair, glad to see the back of it and glad not to have the deep red logo of his campaign ribbon staring at him. When he's home, he is Ryoma.

His shirt has given up on staying neat, crumpling against the pressures of the day. The top button is undone, and his sleeves are rolled up. His hair is, mercifully, tied up and out of his way. He moves to the door and swings it open to greet his boyfriend.