Dancing Alone:

Morrison Abebe:

The backyard made as good a place for a dance as any hall or opulent floor when it came down to it. Said less eloquently; beggars can't be choosers.

The sun was shining, yet also setting, and the day was luckily warm enough that they could probably stay out till the first hours of moonlight without having to break out the thermal blankets and warm woollen clothing. That depended on if the wind picked up, naturally, but for the time being at least an optimistic projection of 'nice evening isn't it?' Seemed fair.

He was dancing, by someone's definition of the word, and she was watching. It was nice.

"One and two, and one and two and…" Although he hardly needed to count aloud to keep his rhythm anymore he found, even now, that it still somehow made the entire process feel somehow safer. He'd started using it as a substitute for the lack of a partner to dance with a while ago, filling the void which normally would have been filled by the sight of another person in front of him focusing equally hard.

Your left foot always first, then your right and remember that's your left not mine, was a mantra so deeply caved into his skull (by more than a few literal blows to his skull) that, at this point, he doubted he'd be able to expunge it from his memory with anything short of a sledgehammer. He'd tried softer methods of forgetting already but those had all, to put it mildly, failed.

Not, he would sometimes laugh mentally to himself, that failure was anything new for him. In the story of his life failures tended to have some pretty fierce competition for recognition.

"Then step and spin and…" with a display of coordination which was actually so unlike his normal bumbling demeanour that it almost seemed jarring to watch, he finished his dance, breathing more heavily than he'd thought he would, and remembering exactly why dancing had made such good fitness training.

"And that's- "

"Yay! That was so good Morry, so cool~" whatever he'd wanted to say was lost in the excited high pitched squeal and erratic applause of the woman watching, her eyes beaming with the sort of brightness and pride that mothers uniquely reserved for their children. It was the sort of pride which made clear that the actual objective quality of what was performed wasn't really being commented on at all since he could have fallen flat on his face and she still would have likely applauded it.

It was embarrassing. His mouth opened as he tried to sputter out a deflection;

"N-nah it's just a little something I learned, nothing special mom," he muttered, face turning red from a mixture of humility, relief and fatigue. As deflections went it probably wouldn't have been judged particularly well, deflection was one of his many weak points, but it also served its function so there was no point splitting hairs about it.

"You know…it didn't look to complex actually, hmm~" She pursed her lips contemplatively, ignoring his faux humility as she often chose to do, her one finger still tapping in time to his rhythm upon her knee.

He knew where this was going and, supplementary to that, he also knew he wasn't going to like where this was going to go so, in order to stop it, this, going to the place he was scared it was going to go, he quickly made his way to where she sat on the porch, talking rapidly in an attempt to drown out the suggestion he knew she'd be making soon;

"Oh well its actually a lot harder than it looks trust me, I still can't really get it right alone, and I'm always stepping on her toes-"

"Do you think you could show me how to do it Morry? With a few lessons, you think?" That was it, now it had officially gone where he didn't want it to go.

"Uhhhh," was his oh-so-coherent response as he near gulped his own Adam's apple down, with visible consternation written all over his face.

'Now what?' Was a pretty succinct translation of both his expression and thoughts as Morrison's characteristic combination of awkwardness, anxiety and paranoia all jostled to be the one making him feel worst.

Obviously strenuous physical activity of any sort wasn't advisable for a frail woman still recovering from heart surgery, Morrison didn't have to be smart to know that, and yet at the same time there was already such a comprehensive list of activities she was medically precluded from, this list was in fact provided by smart people, that Morrison couldn't help but feel horrible if he were to add to it. Of course paranoia, his bed mate and metaphorical devil-on-the-shoulder from the moment he'd come back home, made sure to chime in, reminding him that if he did say yes, and something awful did happen (however slim the odds might be) he'd always have to live with the knowledge the he could have said no.

So what did he do? Ifs and buts would always have a point, he couldn't just dismiss them since they were usually right, but at the same time to live life ruled by them meant accepting that you'd never really do anything…or at least that's what he'd been told by someone a long time ago.

You have to get off your ass sometimes, if all you do is hide under your blanket you aren't really living much now are you, eh?

It was disconcerting to remember her advice twice in one day, even if it was correct, but for now he brushed off the feeling in his chest, either out of confidence that it wouldn't get too bad this time or, otherwise, because of a masochistic desire to feel something again.

"Alright but…we're gonna take it easy okay? Nothing hectic mom, it's getting late anyway so I don't want to stay out for much longer, does that sound good?" He gave her one of his resigned smiles, the sort he'd gotten very good at giving in his last year at the Genetics Institute, using the one genuinely intelligent trick he did know; framing his desire to stop as not being because of her health but because of his desire not to get cold, allowing her to agree without feeling like she was being coddled by her teenage son and her teenage son to get out of worrying over her health. It was a rare win-win deception for the two of them.

"Mmm-hmm, sounds good, but be nice Morry, I haven't danced in, like, ages and I've never danced any of these hip new stuff you see on the tv," she said, her excitement plain, as she began rising from the porch, earning an ironic snort from Morrison.

He honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd met someone worse at something than he was but, then again, he supposed it made some sense for son to take after mother.

She stumbled, for a fraction of a second, and Morrison lurched forward almost instantly, the apprehension he'd suitably battled down before conceding to his mother's request almost instantly retaking all the ground it'd lost inside him as he bit worryingly at his bottom lip.

"Nothing to worry about Morry, just a steep step," she was on the grass now too, approaching him, a bit of a clip to her tone as he saw the familiar rebuke in her eyes. But she had learned to accept that him stopping to panic over every little detail was about as realistic an expectation as his desire for her to stop trying out new things. They had learned to live with the parts they didn't like.

"So…how do we start…?"

Yes, how do we start? It was a valid question, a bit of an unexpected one too even though Morrison really should have expected it. The problem was, or rather, the truth was he simply hadn't danced with a partner in about…well…

He shook his head to avoid recalling the length of time since the last times as, by definition, that would require his mind to retrace the steps to the dance in question and, inextricably linked to that, then further the matter of why it had been his last dance with a partner.

There was definitely a feeling in his chest now, it wasn't really one he could ignore anymore, but because he was an idiot, and in general just very bad at everything, he tried to ignore it anyway and simply continue on, a strategy some might recognize as the classical ostrich 'If I stick my head in the sand nothing can get me right?' stratagem.

"Well, first I take your hand like this, then…" the initial explanation was more technical than she probably expected, which was actually somewhat similar to how he'd felt the first time it'd been explained to him as well, and he rushed through it to avoid her unamused expression;

"C'mon Morry, enough talk, let's do it," and that was about the rub of it really.

So with a deep breath and a mental 'here we go' they clasped hands took a step forward, incorrect at first but she got it on the second try, and went at it.

It would be a lie to say the dance was 'good' seeing as it largely consisted of the exact same three steps repeated endlessly in a circle, and even then she struggled to keep the tempo he was trying to set, but at the very least the only audience present seemed to be enjoying it and, by a certain measure, perhaps that was all it took to qualify as 'good'. Participation ribbons and all that.

"Wow Mom, you're so good at this," he praised, smiling, as he chuckled a little, consciously making sure to not go too fast, and stepping lightly about her toes.

"What? You say that like you're surprised?" She asked, jokingly, as she gave him a wink and ignored his conscious attempts at slowing their pace down and instead tried to pull him along with her at an even faster pace.

"I'm not a kid Morry, c'mon, let's go faster," the enthusiasm in her voice was infectious and, despite paranoia's insistent attempts otherwise, he couldn't help but feel his own smile broaden as he twirled about her faster, enjoying the comfort that came from having a partner in the dance.

Dancing alone certainly made it impossible to step on someone else's toes but, he'd come to realize, stepping on toes was preferable to dancing alone.

The technical aspects of the 'dance', which was perhaps a generous description of what Morrison and his mother were doing anyway, were now completely lost and in its place two amateurs were largely just moving around in each other's presence with smiles, chuckles and self-deprecating humour.

"See? I'm a natural, I haven't even stepped on your toes once yet," she laughed.

Don't get angry if I step on your toes.

I really am absolutely worthless.

To Morrison's credit he did not collapse as he normally did when consumed with his panic attacks, nor did he bolt off towards his hiding place as was his other proclivity in such a situation.

Perhaps because of the overriding paranoia he felt around his mother at all times the sudden feeling of air escaping his lungs, of ice in his veins and dizziness was largely concealed beneath a frozen smile and a tighter grip.

In a stroke of pure coincidence, it seemed, shortly afterwards his mother had finally reached the end of her enthusiasm and, with a noticeably heavier breath, she slowly came to a halt, arms drooping to her side, smiling down at her son;

"Enough for today, huh? We should probably get inside anyway so you can take your- "He stopped, surprised, when she suddenly leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close against her body and allowing him to rest his chin on her shoulder. It reminded him, suddenly, of younger days, when his mother still had to work, and lying on her stomach late at night after her shifts finally ended, struggling to hear even the faintest heartbeat.

"You're okay, Morry?" It was a question but, as any good mother knew, said in a tone meant to make it a statement and dissuade doubt. Although it certainly didn't suddenly cause his panic to subside or vanish, if it was that easy to remove he wouldn't need medication and he wouldn't have needed a tutor to get through his basic courses in the Genetics Institute, it certainly helped ease his breathing.

But he was still very glad for it.

"Mhmm-hmm," he agreed, the guttural noise conveying a clearer message then he could with words at that moment, as he buried his face into his mother's shoulder to hide it from the world.

~Last Dance

NCEITFOA: And no doubt this is one of the strangest, if not the strangest Freezing Fanfiction anyone will ever write/read. Focusing on some bizarre minor character I doubt most Freezing Fans even know and his suffering.

Quick info dump since I presume many will not know; Morrison Abebe is(was) Arnett McMillan's Limiter Partner and was an incredibly insecure and paranoid boy with enormous anxiety and self-worth issues. He became a Limiter to pay for his mother's medication as she suffered from a severe heart disease (no father is ever mentioned at all so, logically, I'm assuming he's either dead or simply never stayed) and in a side story it was revealed that he and his mother are incredibly close to each other.

Anyway since I like to explain the story behind why I write, and there is almost always a story behind why I write since my writing is intimately linked to my feelings, I'll give a summary of what motivated this;

Odd as it might seem I really enjoyed Freezing's decision to have a plurality of couples. I like that, really like it, it is one of my all-time favourite thing if a story can pull it off. In Freezing I adored the Pair Love Stories as well and particularly liked Arnett and Morrison's chapters.

So I was really depressed with the recent developments in the main manga, from 196+ if you want to check, pretty much spelling the end for any relationship which doesn't revolve around Kazuya. Really, really, really, really depressed. *sigh* So I wrote this as a sort of farewell to a couple I really liked and felt was very nastily sunk just to objectify women more.

Originally I was working on a series of one shots called; 'Sweet Nothings' which would pretty much be a chapter-per-a-couple of inane fun and fluff and I had gotten through Creo, Arnett and Attia when I read chapter 196 and lost all ability to write it. It's still sitting, half-completed, because some vague part of me hopes for a resolution I can enjoy but…since it is LDY I know that hope is possibly really dangerous.

Anyway I needed some way to deal with the tumult of emotion inside of me and so I wrote this. I doubt very many people will like it or read it (I think there's about four people who care about the Limiters other than Kazuya in all of the Freezing fandom) but I didn't really write it for any other reason than to express my emotions so I'm content.

As always I hope you enjoy and am open to any and all queries or questions (I don't bite) and would love to hear feedback from everyone.

Ciao!