wrecked_egg | IC Voicemail:

Shiro orders a juice, and the waitress smiles and leaves them to go fetch the drinks. It's sort of a strange feeling; she's done this before--the ordering part, not any of the rest--but it feels different in a place like this, and with her current company. She feels--older, maybe. Just different.

"This is--I kind of like this place," she says after a moment, looking around. "It's kind of like a movie, you know? With all the different people here. I guess we're in it, too." Silly, maybe, but it does feel kind of unreal. Smiling, Shiro offers him her hand again. It's just nice, being able to touch him again, and she'd like to do more of it.

Credence smiles in his typically modest, secretive way - eyes down, head ducked - and puts his hand over hers on the tabletop.

"I've only seen a couple movies," he admits. "But - I think this would be a good one."

Better for her being in it.

He's got a nice smile. Sometimes she thinks she'd like him to not look so guilty about it, to know it's okay to be happy. Maybe he will, eventually. "I think so, too." It's better for having both of them, together. She's pretty sure it wouldn't be the same, otherwise.

His hand covers hers and her fingers brush against his palm, feeling scar tissue. It's different from her own, but still familiar enough to almost be comforting. "I know I said, but--I'm really glad you invited me. I really missed--spending time with you. You know?" And he remembered how much she enjoys music. That means more than a little, too.

"Yes. I missed you too. I don't have very many friends here, so when I wasn't spending time with you any more, it was..."

He'd felt terribly lonely. Isolated, even knowing he'd brought it on himself.

"I'm sorry." The words are impulsive, but still genuine. "I shouldn't have--I should have talked to you. About everything. Instead of just..." Instead of not. Instead of just thinking he'd finally realized she wasn't as good as he thought.

"I won't do that again. I just--you're really important to me, and I don't want to just give up again."

"I don't either. I - I thought it would make it easier. Walking away so I didn't have to be hurt when you leave, or - if you disappear. But it didn't. It just meant I was hurting already."

"I did that. Before." Maybe now isn't the right time to talk about this, but she thinks he should know, and if she doesn't say it now, maybe she won't. "There was--someone on the barge, my first year here. He was--important. Not like you, exactly, but...he was the first person who really saw me as Shiro, no matter what. Whether I was the happy Shiro, who liked food and friends, or--the other one, who hurt people and broke everything. Some stuff happened, and I guess--I was scared like that. Scared I'd hurt him, or he'd leave and I'd get hurt. So I told him I hated him, and that Shiro--the one he knew--was dead. And he left, and when he left, he still thought that." The words are difficult. Talking about Beyond is still difficult.

"So I guess--I understand. I mean, it's not the same, but--still, I mean, I don't care if it hurts someday. I'd rather be with you now. Even if someday you decide to leave. I'd rather have at least one date, you know? Something good to remember. Just in case."

Credence nods his understanding. The band are starting to set up on stage, another mix of humans and not, and he glances that way for a moment.

"I'm hoping we have more than one," he says, soft but bold.

The words are a reassurance, a warmth in her chest she'll carry with her. "Me, too," she answers, fingers lacing with his. "I'd really like more than one."

She's content to watch the band set up, and doesn't pull her hand from Credence's as the waitress comes back with their drinks. It's not a bad thing, people seeing. She's not ashamed. And it's a date, anyway--it seems right.

And for Credence, there's something about it that will eventually need to be challenged - most of his notions around this have more to do with courtship than dating, and holding her hand for all to see is as good a signal as any that she's not for anyone else to approach. He thanks the waitress, and lifts his glass, watching the bubbles rise.

"We should - I don't know. Drink to something?"

Maybe it will be challenged, although she'd be surprised. Truthfully, she doesn't know much about the difference between courtship and dating or how any of this works, and she doesn't expect anyone else to look at her the way Credence does, and doesn't know that she'd want them to, anyway. But for now, it's just them, and as he raises his glass she raises her own, dark liquid reflecting the light. It's not a custom she's familiar with, but she's got enough faint breach memories and Hollywood movies in her head to try it.

"Maybe--to...to first dates, and more later. To you and me, and--talking. Or just--to us," she says, and as uncertain as she sounds about the words, there's still a warmth that shines through in the smile on her face she can't quite get rid of.

Credence nods, with a trace of pink staining his pale cheeks. Yes. He can work with that.

"To us," he agrees, and lightly touches the rim of his glass to hers before taking a sip.

His voice echoes her words, and the sound of it is just...more official, more right. She's still smiling at the clink of glasses, as she sips her juice, and she doesn't know if she'll ever stop.

She definitely doesn't stop as the band tunes up and rolls right into their first number without pausing or announcement, and while she doesn't forget Credence is there--how could she--her eyes are focused entirely on the stage, and on the sound, and how she can all but feel it in her bones. It's amazing, and nothing at all like a recording. Delighted, she laughs, looking at Credence to see if he's just as enchanted as she is.

Credence, too, is enthralled. Of course he never went anywhere jazz was played like this, back home. His mother would pull him to move faster past street performers she considered 'ungodly' - essentially all of them, but jazz attracted special criticism for drawing young innocents into unlawful drinking and other such vices.

Now it's thrumming all the way through him, lively and real, and he can barely draw his eyes away.

Credence's mother was wrong about a lot of things, but especially about music like this. Who needs drinking, or anything else, when this music is in your chest, filling you up with music, making you dizzy with delight? She loves the brass, bright notes rising high and calling people to the dance floor, she loves the bass she can feel beating in her veins. This can't be anything but good. And it feels spontaneous, in a way that none of the music she's learned ever has, like it'll be different every time.

It takes only a few songs for the dance floor to fill up, and only a few more for Shiro to look to Credence with a nod of her head at the dance floor. "It's okay if you don't, but maybe do you...?"

"I do," he nods quickly, pleased and relieved that she feels the same. "Very much, we can - "

He lets go of her hand to stand up, then reaches out to take it again, to lead her across the polished wood.

His quick reply makes her smile grow, and she's so excited she's practically dancing already as they sweep out from the booth, floating across the floor carried by the music. Shiro laughs again as she turns to face Credence, reaching for his shoulder and swinging in close. This is so much different from New Year's, she thinks; so much better. And she doesn't think she needs words to tell Credence that, right now. She's pretty sure that he feels the same.

Credence puts his hands very cautiously on her waist and shoulder, like she's fragile - or as if he's frightened of his own strength. It's a very different kind of dancing that most people are doing here, looser and faster, and while he doesn't have the confidence to try to truly replicate it? He can be a little easier with himself, a little more fluid.

He's always so careful with her, Shiro thinks, like she'll break, even though he knows she won't. With anyone else, that might be frustrating, but with Credence at least she can follow the thought. He's not used to things not breaking in his hands.

Her fingers tighten on his shoulder just a little, and Shiro doesn't look away as they start to dance, that smile still lingering on her lips. They aren't moving quite as fast as the rest of the dancers, but that's okay; she can follow Credence's lead, and they aren't stepping on each other's toes, and every moment makes it easier to move a little lighter, a little faster. It's okay times like this to not worry so much about doing it right, she thinks. She thinks maybe when you're with the right person, there isn't a wrong way to do this at all.

There's so many people around them, focusing on their own partners, that eventually Credence's selfconsciousness falls away. It comes across in the way he moves: a little lighter on his feet, a more confident grip on her hand.

Eventually, he lifts his eyes from where he's been watching his own feet, and smiles as he makes eye contact.

There are a lot of people around them, more than Shiro usually likes, but it's hard to notice any of them when she's dancing with Credence like this. Easier instead to focus on his hand around hers, his other hand on her waist, hers on his shoulder, and she can feel by increments as the tension slips away from his muscles, the way the moving gets even easier as the band plays on.

Eventually, he looks up; looks right at her and smiles in a way that sets her heart to pounding. He never smiles like that, rarely looks her in the eyes, and she's struck all at once by how lovely the look is, how pretty his eyes are when he's not so worried about how he looks. She doesn't look away, only smooths her fingers over his shoulder, shifts her fingers in his to grip more tightly as she smiles back at him. This is perfect. This is just what she wanted. It's still a little too loud to talk, but she thinks he knows exactly what she's feeling. After all, her heart is pounding hard enough to practically feel in her fingertips.

Credence's pulse is likely just as rapid, so loud in his ears that it feels like it might drown out the music. The lights roll and swirl over them, painting bright stripes across Shiro's hair, her pale skin, her dress.

"You look beautiful tonight," he says, almost whispering it, as the song winds down.

The song is ending, but it feels like she's still flying, Shiro thinks, flushing slightly at Credence's words. Maybe he won't notice, her cheeks are already pink from dancing, but she can feel it.

"I'm glad you think so," she murmurs back, leaning in closer so she doesn't have to talk any louder as much as she wants to be closer. "Wasn't sure what I should wear, on a date, or to a place like this. I--wanted you to notice." Wanted him to see that she thinks he's worth all of this.

"You look really nice." Her fingers brush his collar, reach for a stray bit of hair. "These kind of clothes look nice on you, too." More than nice, she thinks. Enough that she can't stop looking, either.

"Oh - do you think so?" He glances down at himself, fidgets with his collar. "I wasn't sure, about - anything, really. But the lady at the store said I looked good."

Probably to make a sale, but he wasn't really thinking about it that way.

"Mmhm. You look good. I mean, you look good normally, but I think this looks really nice on you. It--fits. I mean, it fits, but it looks right," she corrects herself, and that flush deepens. She looks down, pushing her hair back behind one ear, trying to catch an escaping strand, but also to catch her breath.

"I'm really glad we're getting to dance, tonight. It's--really nice, being this close to you."

IC Voicemail:

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)