[Every movement tells their story. The violence of second year, the triumphant breakthrough on the roof. Every single moment they've shared together is reflected in this dance, Wataru thinks, all portrayed by the push and pull, the weaving together of different styles, the way it comes together in the end where their palms touch and--

Wataru's hand is up, but Eichi's isn't. Eichi is closer than he's supposed to be, Eichi is staring, all it would take is a little courage and Wataru could close that gap and forget the rest of the dance. Is this a test? Is he seeing if Wataru will give in and come to him? Is he waiting for an opportunity?

They stand there, frozen, as the last few lines play. Then the clicks at the lead of the track start playing, the track repeats, and Wataru's chest aches as he stands there, stock still, staring into ice. Beautiful ice, half melted into pools he could get lost in forever. If only he could!

He tips forward slightly, their lips millimeters apart, when an alarm on Wataru's phone cuts through the music and startles him away. Staggering back, he looks away shyly, a hand clutched over his heart. Slowly, he heads over to his phone to silence the alarm. He can't say a word. He feels the tension between them, so thick it's like they're both being strangled by the red string that ties them together. The alarm is killed, then the rehearsal track, and Wataru stays on the ground, kneeling beside his phone, trying to catch his breath and hide a suddenly very awkward part of himself.]

Ah, we almost had it. I think that went really well! Tomorrow, we can try again, right? It's dinner time, after all.