and thousands upon thousands made an ocean
;the Atlantic was born today and I'll tell you how
;One-shot
;Ohno Satoshi/Ninomiya Kazunari
;It will go on for months, and when Nino stops to think about it one day he will realise that he’s lost count.
;R
;Angst.
;One cookie to Johnny Kitagawa.
;Note: Title is shamelessly stolen from Transatlanticism, by Death Cab for Cutie.
The first time they fuck, it will be by accident. They’ll be alone in the dressing room, the two of them, and Ohno will be cradling a paper cup of ocha in his hands while Nino will be making lewd jokes about the interviewer’s breasts. In the middle of a reference to an old Shukudai-kun episode with impromptu volleyball and pastel-coloured balloons, Nino will find himself on his back on the floor, his shirt hitched up to his armpits and Ohno’s tongue in his mouth.
Nothing will register in Nino’s mind for the next few minutes, except for strangely mundane details, such as how Ohno manages to pull Nino’s boxers off without having to remove his shoes, or how the tips of Ohno’s hair turn golden against the harsh light of the ceiling lamp as he hovers over him. Nino will wince and let himself cry out when Ohno pushes two fingers inside him, slick with spit and still warm from holding hot tea. Then it will be cock and teeth and skin and sweat, and Nino will grip the leg of the coffee table beside his right temple till his knuckles turn white and get carpet burn on the base of his spine.
Nino will not come but he won’t give a damn. He’ll lie on his back, panting, listening as Ohno dresses up and comes back with a towel from his duffel bag. Ohno will wipe Nino’s chest dry while Nino tries to count the number of cracks on the ceiling, even as Ohno tugs on his boxers and jeans for him and dabs at the sweat blooming on his upper lip.
“Are you okay?” Ohno will ask. “I’m sorry.”
Nino will think about the raw patch of skin on his back and the dull throbbing between his legs, and nod.
--
The second time they fuck, it will become a habit. Ohno will have him pressed up against the wall of the last toilet cubicle on the second floor of the Jimusho. The tiles will feel cool against Nino’s forehead, and this time both their jeans will be pooling around their ankles. When Nino starts to get loud Ohno will cover his mouth with his right hand; Nino will feel rather than hear the muffled moans between their skin, and when he smells cheap soap from the soap dispenser and himself on Ohno’s fingers, he will come on his stomach and all over the wall.
They will dress slowly, speaking to each other in soft tones with words that hardly go beyond “Is there anymore toilet paper?” and “I think I have soapsuds coming out of my ass.”
It will go on for months, and when Nino stops to think about it one day he will realise that he’s lost count. Ohno will have dated five different girls within the same period of time, and at the back of his head Nino will wonder whether they let him fuck them from behind. Nino will date only one girl, and break up with her six weeks after he finds out about her affair.
--
“I’m not gay.”
It will be out of his mouth before he thinks about it. They will be in Ohno’s bed and the lights will be turned off, so all Nino can see is the bobbing of Ohno’s Adam’s apple and the outline of his right knee as he plants his foot on the bed.
“I never said you were,” Ohno will reply softly, and that’ll be the last they talk about it.
--
In February, Nino will be offered the supporting role in a French independent art house film. The director will have spotted him from Letters from Iwo Jima, and have the script translated into Japanese and sent over. At the same time, Shinsuke Sato will call him up to audition for another multi-million dollar live-action film adaptation of another popular anime.
“Remember how successful Gantz was,” his manager will tell him.
Nino will finger his dog-eared copy of the French movie script, listening to the rising shrill of his manager’s voice, before asking her to confirm that his lines will only be in Japanese. The next day, he will start packing his bags, and turn down the audition quietly.
Sho will be the only one to see him off at the airport because the others will be busy, and also because they won’t want to attract too much attention. While he’s waiting for his turn to check in, Nino will let his head fall back to try and count the cracks on the ceiling but Narita International’s stainless steel structures are pretty much close to perfection. Sho will look at him bemusedly, and Nino will mumble something about how five years ago he’d told a magazine that he went to America to accomplish what he could and five years later he finds himself leaving for Paris to get away from what he can’t.
Nino will want to take it back right after because Sho will look worried and confused, eyebrows knitting together and hand reaching out to grab Nino’s wrist.
“I don’t understand,” he’ll say.
Nino will laugh and shrug him off. “The last thing you understood about life was the invisible hand. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”
“Adam Smith has nothing on you.”
On the plane, Nino will eat half a packet of peanuts and drink two cups of juice. When it’s nightfall he will fall asleep, and dream about the Eiffel Tower, freshly baked baguettes and playing Kaibun on Ohno’s skin in the dark.
--
Paris, Nino will think, is surreal. Everywhere he turns he will see these quaint, cluttered cafés, and there will always be more people sitting outside rather than inside them, despite the chilly weather. They will sit outside around tables made out of heartwood, cradling tiny cups of espressos; sometimes it’ll be pale blue porcelain and sometimes it’ll be chipped glass, but Nino will think it’s espresso because the cups are always small. And the chairs are always, always, facing the street.
Sometimes when they’re on location, Nino will look at them - those people with their tiny cups and mismatched saucers, facing the street instead of each other. He will wonder if they’re on the outside looking in, or if he’s on the inside looking out.
--
His co-star will be called Ida, and she will be short and sweet, like her name. Nino will suppose that she should be considered pretty, because even though she’s not well-known people on the streets always give her a second look, but he will not see anything special about her except for how she always has stray eyelashes on her cheeks. In between takes, she will teach Nino how to flirt in French and Nino will teach her how to curse in Japanese.
One day, Aiba will call him while he’s in hair and make-up. He will press his phone close to his ear and listen to the Japanese syllables tumble over each other in waves as Aiba tells him about drama filming, how he got into trouble for buying a kitten for his niece’s birthday and Jun’s perfect double catch on the latest VS. Halfway through their conversation Aiba will insist that Nino let him speak to Ida, after Nino lets slip that she can understand English.
Nino will like Ida as she takes the phone despite how he shakes his head frantically. He will lean a bit closer to her, and between bits of incoherent English punctuated with the occasional “Sugoi!” he will be able to make out Aiba's “Please take care of our Nino-chan,” and “I am Japanese idol.” When Aiba starts singing “Arashi, Arashi, for dream,” just to get his point across, Ida will laugh, revealing the dimple on her right cheek and the gap between her two front teeth, and Nino will like her even more.
--
On his day off, Nino will wake up at ten in the morning and wonder around the shops near his hotel. He’ll find a gift shop nearby and buy a beret for Aiba and a snow globe holding a model of the Arc de Triomphe for Sho. Before lunch he’ll remember that he needs soap. After going into several pharmacies and two upscale boutiques, the kind which sell organic herb-infused bath crystals, Nino will finally come to the conclusion that yes, Japan is indeed the only country capable of producing soap-scented soap, and get the bath crystals for Jun.
Nino will spend the rest of the day roaming around the Centre Pompidou and the Louvre, and unknowingly pick out books on clay and modern art. He will end up buying magnets with artworks printed on them, and tell himself that they’re for anyone he happens to forget, just in case.
--
On the last day of filming, Nino will head out with some of the crewmembers for dinner. They will go to a restaurant with a four-tier chandelier hanging from the ceiling and paintings of several breeds of dogs playing poker on the walls. Between the goose foie gras terrine and the lobster bisque, Ida will laugh at something he’d said, and Nino will stare at her right dimple and the gap between her two front teeth and think that he could possibly like her more than he does right then, or love her, even. After dinner Ida will invite Nino over to her house for coffee but he will decline, using his early flight as an excuse. She will look disappointed but Nino will pretend not to notice, and smile politely after she kisses him on the cheek.
Nino will go to bar and pick up a nameless, faceless redhead clad in a bustier dress and black fishnets and fuck her twice in the sleaziest hotel he can find. He will leave when it’s barely dawn, with nothing more than smudged lipstick on the underside of his wrist and the memory of her hands, pale and freckled, curled against the bedspread on the spot where his chest was just moments before.
He will flag a taxi standing on cobblestone sidewalk with his shoelaces still undone. Inside the taxi, Queen’s Greatest Hits will be playing on the stereo and when Nino breathes in deeply he will smell scented candles and worn leather stale with cigarette smoke. After telling the taxi driver the name of the hotel he’s staying in, he will call Ohno.
“Nino?” is all Ohno will say.
Nino will wind down the window as Ohno’s tiny voice floats down the line, crackly with static. As the taxi stops at a red light Nino will see a couple of drunkards stumbling around the back of an alley, high on tequila and debauchery.
When the taxi starts moving again, the sound of vomit hitting the asphalt will fade away, along with the clicking of chopsticks against bento sets on the other side of the line. Ohno will have walked away from whomever he’s having lunch with and into an empty stairwell, eight hours and six thousand miles away, waiting patiently.
“Yeah,” Nino will breathe.
After that none of them will say a word, and Freddie Mercury will croon ‘Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy’ in the empty spaces between them.
--
Nino’s manager will drop him off at the entrance of his apartment building, and watch as Nino collects his mail from the security guard on duty and disappears into the elevator before driving away.
The first thing Nino will see as the elevator doors slide open is Ohno squatting beside his apartment door, baseball cap pulled low over his head and both elbows resting on his knees. When the wheels of his suitcase get caught on his way out of the elevator Ohno will look up and smile lazily. Nino will let both of them in and lock the door, and Ohno will hardly bat an eyelid.
Nino will leave his suitcase and duffel bags in the hallway and strip off his jacket and socks as he makes his way into the bedroom.
“By the way,” he will yawn, pulling his t-shirt over his head. “I didn’t buy you anything.”
Ohno will laugh and tell him it’s okay, before stripping down to his boxers and joining Nino on the bed. After that, Nino will stop trying. He will fold himself against Ohno’s body, fingertips seeking out familiar angles and nooks, and grow helplessly hard in his boxers. They will come grinding against each other and stay like that, everything hot and sticky in their boxers and Ohno’s finger still lying in the cleft of Nino’s ass.
Somewhere between the edges of consciousness and dreams, Nino will wish Ohno never said sorry the first time. He will want to crawl into the hollow above Ohno’s hipbone and stay there for the night, because Ohno is a fucking marathon, and Nino is tired of running.
We are stuck, you and I, Nino will want to tell him. Stuck between a fuck you and an apology, not knowing where to go or what to do or even, perhaps, who they are, only that this is how they’ll let themselves burn and that somewhere along the way, God, they should have known.
;One-shot
;Ohno Satoshi/Ninomiya Kazunari
;It will go on for months, and when Nino stops to think about it one day he will realise that he’s lost count.
;R
;Angst.
;One cookie to Johnny Kitagawa.
;Note: Title is shamelessly stolen from Transatlanticism, by Death Cab for Cutie.
The first time they fuck, it will be by accident. They’ll be alone in the dressing room, the two of them, and Ohno will be cradling a paper cup of ocha in his hands while Nino will be making lewd jokes about the interviewer’s breasts. In the middle of a reference to an old Shukudai-kun episode with impromptu volleyball and pastel-coloured balloons, Nino will find himself on his back on the floor, his shirt hitched up to his armpits and Ohno’s tongue in his mouth.
Nothing will register in Nino’s mind for the next few minutes, except for strangely mundane details, such as how Ohno manages to pull Nino’s boxers off without having to remove his shoes, or how the tips of Ohno’s hair turn golden against the harsh light of the ceiling lamp as he hovers over him. Nino will wince and let himself cry out when Ohno pushes two fingers inside him, slick with spit and still warm from holding hot tea. Then it will be cock and teeth and skin and sweat, and Nino will grip the leg of the coffee table beside his right temple till his knuckles turn white and get carpet burn on the base of his spine.
Nino will not come but he won’t give a damn. He’ll lie on his back, panting, listening as Ohno dresses up and comes back with a towel from his duffel bag. Ohno will wipe Nino’s chest dry while Nino tries to count the number of cracks on the ceiling, even as Ohno tugs on his boxers and jeans for him and dabs at the sweat blooming on his upper lip.
“Are you okay?” Ohno will ask. “I’m sorry.”
Nino will think about the raw patch of skin on his back and the dull throbbing between his legs, and nod.
--
The second time they fuck, it will become a habit. Ohno will have him pressed up against the wall of the last toilet cubicle on the second floor of the Jimusho. The tiles will feel cool against Nino’s forehead, and this time both their jeans will be pooling around their ankles. When Nino starts to get loud Ohno will cover his mouth with his right hand; Nino will feel rather than hear the muffled moans between their skin, and when he smells cheap soap from the soap dispenser and himself on Ohno’s fingers, he will come on his stomach and all over the wall.
They will dress slowly, speaking to each other in soft tones with words that hardly go beyond “Is there anymore toilet paper?” and “I think I have soapsuds coming out of my ass.”
It will go on for months, and when Nino stops to think about it one day he will realise that he’s lost count. Ohno will have dated five different girls within the same period of time, and at the back of his head Nino will wonder whether they let him fuck them from behind. Nino will date only one girl, and break up with her six weeks after he finds out about her affair.
--
“I’m not gay.”
It will be out of his mouth before he thinks about it. They will be in Ohno’s bed and the lights will be turned off, so all Nino can see is the bobbing of Ohno’s Adam’s apple and the outline of his right knee as he plants his foot on the bed.
“I never said you were,” Ohno will reply softly, and that’ll be the last they talk about it.
--
In February, Nino will be offered the supporting role in a French independent art house film. The director will have spotted him from Letters from Iwo Jima, and have the script translated into Japanese and sent over. At the same time, Shinsuke Sato will call him up to audition for another multi-million dollar live-action film adaptation of another popular anime.
“Remember how successful Gantz was,” his manager will tell him.
Nino will finger his dog-eared copy of the French movie script, listening to the rising shrill of his manager’s voice, before asking her to confirm that his lines will only be in Japanese. The next day, he will start packing his bags, and turn down the audition quietly.
Sho will be the only one to see him off at the airport because the others will be busy, and also because they won’t want to attract too much attention. While he’s waiting for his turn to check in, Nino will let his head fall back to try and count the cracks on the ceiling but Narita International’s stainless steel structures are pretty much close to perfection. Sho will look at him bemusedly, and Nino will mumble something about how five years ago he’d told a magazine that he went to America to accomplish what he could and five years later he finds himself leaving for Paris to get away from what he can’t.
Nino will want to take it back right after because Sho will look worried and confused, eyebrows knitting together and hand reaching out to grab Nino’s wrist.
“I don’t understand,” he’ll say.
Nino will laugh and shrug him off. “The last thing you understood about life was the invisible hand. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”
“Adam Smith has nothing on you.”
On the plane, Nino will eat half a packet of peanuts and drink two cups of juice. When it’s nightfall he will fall asleep, and dream about the Eiffel Tower, freshly baked baguettes and playing Kaibun on Ohno’s skin in the dark.
--
Paris, Nino will think, is surreal. Everywhere he turns he will see these quaint, cluttered cafés, and there will always be more people sitting outside rather than inside them, despite the chilly weather. They will sit outside around tables made out of heartwood, cradling tiny cups of espressos; sometimes it’ll be pale blue porcelain and sometimes it’ll be chipped glass, but Nino will think it’s espresso because the cups are always small. And the chairs are always, always, facing the street.
Sometimes when they’re on location, Nino will look at them - those people with their tiny cups and mismatched saucers, facing the street instead of each other. He will wonder if they’re on the outside looking in, or if he’s on the inside looking out.
--
His co-star will be called Ida, and she will be short and sweet, like her name. Nino will suppose that she should be considered pretty, because even though she’s not well-known people on the streets always give her a second look, but he will not see anything special about her except for how she always has stray eyelashes on her cheeks. In between takes, she will teach Nino how to flirt in French and Nino will teach her how to curse in Japanese.
One day, Aiba will call him while he’s in hair and make-up. He will press his phone close to his ear and listen to the Japanese syllables tumble over each other in waves as Aiba tells him about drama filming, how he got into trouble for buying a kitten for his niece’s birthday and Jun’s perfect double catch on the latest VS. Halfway through their conversation Aiba will insist that Nino let him speak to Ida, after Nino lets slip that she can understand English.
Nino will like Ida as she takes the phone despite how he shakes his head frantically. He will lean a bit closer to her, and between bits of incoherent English punctuated with the occasional “Sugoi!” he will be able to make out Aiba's “Please take care of our Nino-chan,” and “I am Japanese idol.” When Aiba starts singing “Arashi, Arashi, for dream,” just to get his point across, Ida will laugh, revealing the dimple on her right cheek and the gap between her two front teeth, and Nino will like her even more.
--
On his day off, Nino will wake up at ten in the morning and wonder around the shops near his hotel. He’ll find a gift shop nearby and buy a beret for Aiba and a snow globe holding a model of the Arc de Triomphe for Sho. Before lunch he’ll remember that he needs soap. After going into several pharmacies and two upscale boutiques, the kind which sell organic herb-infused bath crystals, Nino will finally come to the conclusion that yes, Japan is indeed the only country capable of producing soap-scented soap, and get the bath crystals for Jun.
Nino will spend the rest of the day roaming around the Centre Pompidou and the Louvre, and unknowingly pick out books on clay and modern art. He will end up buying magnets with artworks printed on them, and tell himself that they’re for anyone he happens to forget, just in case.
--
On the last day of filming, Nino will head out with some of the crewmembers for dinner. They will go to a restaurant with a four-tier chandelier hanging from the ceiling and paintings of several breeds of dogs playing poker on the walls. Between the goose foie gras terrine and the lobster bisque, Ida will laugh at something he’d said, and Nino will stare at her right dimple and the gap between her two front teeth and think that he could possibly like her more than he does right then, or love her, even. After dinner Ida will invite Nino over to her house for coffee but he will decline, using his early flight as an excuse. She will look disappointed but Nino will pretend not to notice, and smile politely after she kisses him on the cheek.
Nino will go to bar and pick up a nameless, faceless redhead clad in a bustier dress and black fishnets and fuck her twice in the sleaziest hotel he can find. He will leave when it’s barely dawn, with nothing more than smudged lipstick on the underside of his wrist and the memory of her hands, pale and freckled, curled against the bedspread on the spot where his chest was just moments before.
He will flag a taxi standing on cobblestone sidewalk with his shoelaces still undone. Inside the taxi, Queen’s Greatest Hits will be playing on the stereo and when Nino breathes in deeply he will smell scented candles and worn leather stale with cigarette smoke. After telling the taxi driver the name of the hotel he’s staying in, he will call Ohno.
“Nino?” is all Ohno will say.
Nino will wind down the window as Ohno’s tiny voice floats down the line, crackly with static. As the taxi stops at a red light Nino will see a couple of drunkards stumbling around the back of an alley, high on tequila and debauchery.
When the taxi starts moving again, the sound of vomit hitting the asphalt will fade away, along with the clicking of chopsticks against bento sets on the other side of the line. Ohno will have walked away from whomever he’s having lunch with and into an empty stairwell, eight hours and six thousand miles away, waiting patiently.
“Yeah,” Nino will breathe.
After that none of them will say a word, and Freddie Mercury will croon ‘Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy’ in the empty spaces between them.
--
Nino’s manager will drop him off at the entrance of his apartment building, and watch as Nino collects his mail from the security guard on duty and disappears into the elevator before driving away.
The first thing Nino will see as the elevator doors slide open is Ohno squatting beside his apartment door, baseball cap pulled low over his head and both elbows resting on his knees. When the wheels of his suitcase get caught on his way out of the elevator Ohno will look up and smile lazily. Nino will let both of them in and lock the door, and Ohno will hardly bat an eyelid.
Nino will leave his suitcase and duffel bags in the hallway and strip off his jacket and socks as he makes his way into the bedroom.
“By the way,” he will yawn, pulling his t-shirt over his head. “I didn’t buy you anything.”
Ohno will laugh and tell him it’s okay, before stripping down to his boxers and joining Nino on the bed. After that, Nino will stop trying. He will fold himself against Ohno’s body, fingertips seeking out familiar angles and nooks, and grow helplessly hard in his boxers. They will come grinding against each other and stay like that, everything hot and sticky in their boxers and Ohno’s finger still lying in the cleft of Nino’s ass.
Somewhere between the edges of consciousness and dreams, Nino will wish Ohno never said sorry the first time. He will want to crawl into the hollow above Ohno’s hipbone and stay there for the night, because Ohno is a fucking marathon, and Nino is tired of running.
We are stuck, you and I, Nino will want to tell him. Stuck between a fuck you and an apology, not knowing where to go or what to do or even, perhaps, who they are, only that this is how they’ll let themselves burn and that somewhere along the way, God, they should have known.