[Arashi] [Ohmiya] importance.
[Title] importance.
[Author] honooko
[Rating] PG
[Notes] I am on nyquil. Hopefully this makes sense to people other than me!
The reasons for kissing Ohno have changed, over the years.
At first, Nino kissed him because he was happy, and Nino is nothing if not openly affectionate. He is tactile and is lulled into a sense of security by touch. His excitement bubbles over until he can’t contain himself, so he drapes himself around the shoulders of friends, purring in their ears and pressing close to their sides, sharing warmth. And at first, Ohno was the same. Ohno was there. And then some how, one day, Ohno smiles just so; his nose crinkles and he looks both embarrassed with himself and strangely pleased. And Nino thinks, ‘I want to kiss him.’
So he does. On the cheek, a peck, and Ohno turns that smile to Nino. His heart doesn’t skip, or stop, or anything dramatic, but he does think clearly, ‘I want him to kiss me.’ He has never thought this before that he can recall.
Nino keeps kissing and touching Ohno, but it’s different now; it’s more important now. Like something that’s always been a rule now has a reason he understands. ‘Don’t touch the stove’ now has ‘because it burns’ added after, and he looks at Ohno and knows there’s something beyond what there was before. He’d been acting on instinct; now he acts on desire.
The actions escalate; his hand strays from ‘safe’ regions of Ohno’s body like his arms and knees to more risky places, like his hips, his ass, his neck. Places that don’t get touched in any way but intimate, places with unspoken relationships attached to them by proxy. Ohno starts, but doesn’t stop him, doesn’t question it, and Nino is both thrilled and crushed by this. If Ohno asked, maybe he’d realize that things have changed. Maybe he’d want things to keep changing.
He wants to touch Ohno, reaches out to do so. Every last touch is a desperate cry of, “Notice me, please-anything, anything Oh-chan just don’t let me be invisible.” But Ohno doesn’t notice; he is far to accustomed too Nino’s touch to recognize that the underlying motive has changed. Nino doesn’t want to be familiar anymore, he wants to be new and strange and beautiful. He wants Ohno to learn him all over again, and he wants it to be frightening and exciting with his heart thudding in his ears. He wants it all to be different, but he can’t say it in any way that makes sense.
When he kisses Ohno on stage, he keeps his eyes open because he wants to see that flash of understanding in Ohno’s eyes. But it doesn’t come, it never comes, and Nino swallows against the disappointment and wash of loneliness after. Every time Ohno doesn’t connect the admittedly scattered dots, Nino feels that much farther away from him. Sometimes he feels lost in the sheer weight of his own emotions, forcing them back, away, only to be overwhelmed by them later. Jun is the only other person to really understand this; both have expressed fear of themselves in those dark, quiet moments when they are simultaneously so many things at once. Nino has locked himself in his bathroom, covering his mouth with one hand as he screams his rage, even as he feels so close to tears that they burn at the corners of his eyes.
Sho says it’s stress, a breakdown.
Nino and Jun softly whisper to each other and never quite say in words that they think it’s a bit of insanity.
Ohno overwhelms Nino in a similar way; he’s never quite sure what he wants to do next, what it will take to be noticed, recognized. He needs Ohno to see him in a new light, but he also needs Ohno to do it all on his own. He needs to know he isn’t forcing things to go his way.
But Nino is easily driven by his feelings, his emotions, and he can only ‘need’ for so long without doing something. So he pushes Ohno against a wall after a show, presses them together head-to-toe and lays his head on Ohno’s shoulder. His hands are flat on the cool concrete of the wall, low, to either side of Ohno’s waist and Nino wonders into the silence if this was not just one more mistake in a long list of mistakes.
He can feel Ohno’s heartbeat; a steady rhythm, never once quickening. And he thinks, ‘Is this it? Is this all I mean to him? Is this the only beat I will ever be?’
And he says, “Oh-chan,” the name soft and laden with everything he can’t find the words to say. Everything he needs and wants and keeps trying, trying to make Ohno understand.
And he says even softer, “Oh-chan, please,” and this time Ohno’s left hand is on his back, stroking. It’s nice, but not what he wants, not what he needs, and not what he asked for. The ache in his heart returns and he wonders if maybe he should just give up on this.
Instead, he kisses Ohno.
A simple, chaste brush of lips, a fraction of a moment between the two and something snaps, fizzes in the air. Something is different, different enough for Ohno’s hand to shift on Nino’s back and Nino’s heart to pinch. There is no other reason for this kiss than the obvious one, for once. It is not a joke, and cannot be confused for one. Simply put, there is nothing else it can be.
And Nino realizes that he has taken away his own safety net completely by accident, and that there is nothing now that Ohno doesn’t know. He is filled with an inexplicable terror and sense of impending loss; it would be so easy for Ohno to no longer be comfortable with him, with this. It would be so easy for them to lose that common ground. But he still doesn’t have the words, and can only trust that Ohno will understand him better than he understands himself.
Ohno kisses him, so careful, so hesitant, that Nino wonders if he isn’t imagining it completely. Nino catches Ohno’s eyes and sees something he recognizes: fear. And it occurs to him that if he is afraid of this moment, Ohno can only be more so, because Ohno doesn’t know how much Nino wants this. Ohno is making a choice based only on what he sees and understands, and the fact that he has chosen the risk of kissing Nino back speaks volumes more than Nino thought possible.
Nino has forgotten how to speak.
It doesn’t matter; he is braver, braver than he’s felt in years, and he wants this more than anything. His lips meet Ohno’s with more surety, brimming with false confidence. Ohno’s movements are all hesitating, as if he isn’t sure he’s allowed to go this far, to try these things with Nino, and Nino doesn’t know how to reassure him except by doing it all first. Nino remembers his own insistence on Ohno understanding everything all on his own, and thinks that maybe, he’s missed something important.
Something like Ohno, waiting for him.
The pull apart for air, and Ohno’s cheek is resting against Nino’s. His breath puffs across Nino’s ear, and it sends a shiver straight down Nino’s spine. He feels like he’s made of electricity, or fire, something quick and sharp and unpredictable. He feels closer to Ohno than he’d thought humanly possible before now.
“Nino,” Ohno breathes against his skin, and Nino feels even closer.
[Author] honooko
[Rating] PG
[Notes] I am on nyquil. Hopefully this makes sense to people other than me!
The reasons for kissing Ohno have changed, over the years.
At first, Nino kissed him because he was happy, and Nino is nothing if not openly affectionate. He is tactile and is lulled into a sense of security by touch. His excitement bubbles over until he can’t contain himself, so he drapes himself around the shoulders of friends, purring in their ears and pressing close to their sides, sharing warmth. And at first, Ohno was the same. Ohno was there. And then some how, one day, Ohno smiles just so; his nose crinkles and he looks both embarrassed with himself and strangely pleased. And Nino thinks, ‘I want to kiss him.’
So he does. On the cheek, a peck, and Ohno turns that smile to Nino. His heart doesn’t skip, or stop, or anything dramatic, but he does think clearly, ‘I want him to kiss me.’ He has never thought this before that he can recall.
Nino keeps kissing and touching Ohno, but it’s different now; it’s more important now. Like something that’s always been a rule now has a reason he understands. ‘Don’t touch the stove’ now has ‘because it burns’ added after, and he looks at Ohno and knows there’s something beyond what there was before. He’d been acting on instinct; now he acts on desire.
The actions escalate; his hand strays from ‘safe’ regions of Ohno’s body like his arms and knees to more risky places, like his hips, his ass, his neck. Places that don’t get touched in any way but intimate, places with unspoken relationships attached to them by proxy. Ohno starts, but doesn’t stop him, doesn’t question it, and Nino is both thrilled and crushed by this. If Ohno asked, maybe he’d realize that things have changed. Maybe he’d want things to keep changing.
He wants to touch Ohno, reaches out to do so. Every last touch is a desperate cry of, “Notice me, please-anything, anything Oh-chan just don’t let me be invisible.” But Ohno doesn’t notice; he is far to accustomed too Nino’s touch to recognize that the underlying motive has changed. Nino doesn’t want to be familiar anymore, he wants to be new and strange and beautiful. He wants Ohno to learn him all over again, and he wants it to be frightening and exciting with his heart thudding in his ears. He wants it all to be different, but he can’t say it in any way that makes sense.
When he kisses Ohno on stage, he keeps his eyes open because he wants to see that flash of understanding in Ohno’s eyes. But it doesn’t come, it never comes, and Nino swallows against the disappointment and wash of loneliness after. Every time Ohno doesn’t connect the admittedly scattered dots, Nino feels that much farther away from him. Sometimes he feels lost in the sheer weight of his own emotions, forcing them back, away, only to be overwhelmed by them later. Jun is the only other person to really understand this; both have expressed fear of themselves in those dark, quiet moments when they are simultaneously so many things at once. Nino has locked himself in his bathroom, covering his mouth with one hand as he screams his rage, even as he feels so close to tears that they burn at the corners of his eyes.
Sho says it’s stress, a breakdown.
Nino and Jun softly whisper to each other and never quite say in words that they think it’s a bit of insanity.
Ohno overwhelms Nino in a similar way; he’s never quite sure what he wants to do next, what it will take to be noticed, recognized. He needs Ohno to see him in a new light, but he also needs Ohno to do it all on his own. He needs to know he isn’t forcing things to go his way.
But Nino is easily driven by his feelings, his emotions, and he can only ‘need’ for so long without doing something. So he pushes Ohno against a wall after a show, presses them together head-to-toe and lays his head on Ohno’s shoulder. His hands are flat on the cool concrete of the wall, low, to either side of Ohno’s waist and Nino wonders into the silence if this was not just one more mistake in a long list of mistakes.
He can feel Ohno’s heartbeat; a steady rhythm, never once quickening. And he thinks, ‘Is this it? Is this all I mean to him? Is this the only beat I will ever be?’
And he says, “Oh-chan,” the name soft and laden with everything he can’t find the words to say. Everything he needs and wants and keeps trying, trying to make Ohno understand.
And he says even softer, “Oh-chan, please,” and this time Ohno’s left hand is on his back, stroking. It’s nice, but not what he wants, not what he needs, and not what he asked for. The ache in his heart returns and he wonders if maybe he should just give up on this.
Instead, he kisses Ohno.
A simple, chaste brush of lips, a fraction of a moment between the two and something snaps, fizzes in the air. Something is different, different enough for Ohno’s hand to shift on Nino’s back and Nino’s heart to pinch. There is no other reason for this kiss than the obvious one, for once. It is not a joke, and cannot be confused for one. Simply put, there is nothing else it can be.
And Nino realizes that he has taken away his own safety net completely by accident, and that there is nothing now that Ohno doesn’t know. He is filled with an inexplicable terror and sense of impending loss; it would be so easy for Ohno to no longer be comfortable with him, with this. It would be so easy for them to lose that common ground. But he still doesn’t have the words, and can only trust that Ohno will understand him better than he understands himself.
Ohno kisses him, so careful, so hesitant, that Nino wonders if he isn’t imagining it completely. Nino catches Ohno’s eyes and sees something he recognizes: fear. And it occurs to him that if he is afraid of this moment, Ohno can only be more so, because Ohno doesn’t know how much Nino wants this. Ohno is making a choice based only on what he sees and understands, and the fact that he has chosen the risk of kissing Nino back speaks volumes more than Nino thought possible.
Nino has forgotten how to speak.
It doesn’t matter; he is braver, braver than he’s felt in years, and he wants this more than anything. His lips meet Ohno’s with more surety, brimming with false confidence. Ohno’s movements are all hesitating, as if he isn’t sure he’s allowed to go this far, to try these things with Nino, and Nino doesn’t know how to reassure him except by doing it all first. Nino remembers his own insistence on Ohno understanding everything all on his own, and thinks that maybe, he’s missed something important.
Something like Ohno, waiting for him.
The pull apart for air, and Ohno’s cheek is resting against Nino’s. His breath puffs across Nino’s ear, and it sends a shiver straight down Nino’s spine. He feels like he’s made of electricity, or fire, something quick and sharp and unpredictable. He feels closer to Ohno than he’d thought humanly possible before now.
“Nino,” Ohno breathes against his skin, and Nino feels even closer.