untitled arashi ficlet
625 words of jun/ohno for aeslis. her prompt: beach, there's a storm coming. obviously fiction. also posted here on ao3.
There's a storm coming. Jun's a city boy, but he can feel it, he can smell it--he fucking can see it, okay, that was really the first clue, and earlier, when they were at the hotel, and he was just waking up, watching the morning news because his brain was still half-asleep, and Ohno was still snoring away next to him, the weatherman said, "Watch out for inclement weather along the coast especially."
It's still fucking balmy, though, and Ohno has been working on a sandcastle of found objects out closer to the water for almost an hour solid. (So far it has sand, obviously, but also a single child's jelly-sandal in magenta, a small collection of driftwood of various shapes and sizes, kelp, shells, et cetera.) It's practically the Taj Mahal of sandcastles at this point, but Ohno's crouched over it in his shorts and pink t-shirt like he's Michaelangelo and this is his Sistine Chapel, instead of just another tourist playing by the waves on his vacation.
Sometimes Jun's embarrassed by how much he enjoys watching Ohno; he looks out at the waves, instead. They've gotten choppier in the last half-hour, with little white caps. The whole sky has gone gray and foreboding towards the east.
The wind is blowing Jun's hair into his face. It's really time to get out of there.
He stands up from his chair and folds it awkwardly under one arm, picking up their beach bag in the other. "Ohno-kun!" he shouts. "Time to go!"
Ohno makes no sign that he's heard him. Jun shifts his weight on his hips, sighs, and walks over, the sand getting in between his feet and his sandals. "Ohno-kun," he says, when he's close enough that he's sure Ohno can hear him this time, "we have to get going."
Ohno looks up, first at Jun, and then at the sky. "Ah," he says, and puts the shell in his hand down by his feet. He stands, still reluctant to leave behind his masterpiece, but when Jun starts walking back towards civilization, Ohno seems to follow peaceably enough.
It starts to rain just before they reach the hotel. Jun feels the first few droplets and starts to speed up; he hates getting rained on. Ohno lets out a startled noise and Jun grins, glancing back at him. "It's raining," Ohno says, catching up to Jun, incredulous.
"Yeah, imagine that," Jun says, not bothering to hide his smirk.
Back in their hotel room, they order room-service ice cream sundaes and watch a movie that's both terrible and engrossing. When their bowls are empty, Ohno says, "Matsujun," in that strangely unreadable tone of his.
Jun looks at him. "What," he says. Sometimes with Ohno it was hard to tell if you had to push him or let him be.
Ohno, though, Ohno's looking at Jun like Jun's especially interesting right now, at least as interesting as the melodrama being broadcasted. Ohno sits up straighter and leans up right next to Jun, right in front of his face. Jun's eyes almost cross looking at him get so close.
"We should be making out right now," Ohno says, and that close up all Jun can smell is sweet chocolate syrup.
Jun grins, because okay, sometimes Ohno has a good idea or two. "Yeah?" He doesn't move closer, but he doesn't move away. It's awkward but there's a comfortable anticipation. Ohno's maybe not very surprising most of the time only because he makes his decisions very deliberately and then always follows through.
He follows through this time, too; they spend the rest of the afternoon entangled in hotel sheets, turning off the TV only when the program switched to a loud variety show. The play of rain on the window made a shadow theater along the floor and bed and wall.
There's a storm coming. Jun's a city boy, but he can feel it, he can smell it--he fucking can see it, okay, that was really the first clue, and earlier, when they were at the hotel, and he was just waking up, watching the morning news because his brain was still half-asleep, and Ohno was still snoring away next to him, the weatherman said, "Watch out for inclement weather along the coast especially."
It's still fucking balmy, though, and Ohno has been working on a sandcastle of found objects out closer to the water for almost an hour solid. (So far it has sand, obviously, but also a single child's jelly-sandal in magenta, a small collection of driftwood of various shapes and sizes, kelp, shells, et cetera.) It's practically the Taj Mahal of sandcastles at this point, but Ohno's crouched over it in his shorts and pink t-shirt like he's Michaelangelo and this is his Sistine Chapel, instead of just another tourist playing by the waves on his vacation.
Sometimes Jun's embarrassed by how much he enjoys watching Ohno; he looks out at the waves, instead. They've gotten choppier in the last half-hour, with little white caps. The whole sky has gone gray and foreboding towards the east.
The wind is blowing Jun's hair into his face. It's really time to get out of there.
He stands up from his chair and folds it awkwardly under one arm, picking up their beach bag in the other. "Ohno-kun!" he shouts. "Time to go!"
Ohno makes no sign that he's heard him. Jun shifts his weight on his hips, sighs, and walks over, the sand getting in between his feet and his sandals. "Ohno-kun," he says, when he's close enough that he's sure Ohno can hear him this time, "we have to get going."
Ohno looks up, first at Jun, and then at the sky. "Ah," he says, and puts the shell in his hand down by his feet. He stands, still reluctant to leave behind his masterpiece, but when Jun starts walking back towards civilization, Ohno seems to follow peaceably enough.
It starts to rain just before they reach the hotel. Jun feels the first few droplets and starts to speed up; he hates getting rained on. Ohno lets out a startled noise and Jun grins, glancing back at him. "It's raining," Ohno says, catching up to Jun, incredulous.
"Yeah, imagine that," Jun says, not bothering to hide his smirk.
Back in their hotel room, they order room-service ice cream sundaes and watch a movie that's both terrible and engrossing. When their bowls are empty, Ohno says, "Matsujun," in that strangely unreadable tone of his.
Jun looks at him. "What," he says. Sometimes with Ohno it was hard to tell if you had to push him or let him be.
Ohno, though, Ohno's looking at Jun like Jun's especially interesting right now, at least as interesting as the melodrama being broadcasted. Ohno sits up straighter and leans up right next to Jun, right in front of his face. Jun's eyes almost cross looking at him get so close.
"We should be making out right now," Ohno says, and that close up all Jun can smell is sweet chocolate syrup.
Jun grins, because okay, sometimes Ohno has a good idea or two. "Yeah?" He doesn't move closer, but he doesn't move away. It's awkward but there's a comfortable anticipation. Ohno's maybe not very surprising most of the time only because he makes his decisions very deliberately and then always follows through.
He follows through this time, too; they spend the rest of the afternoon entangled in hotel sheets, turning off the TV only when the program switched to a loud variety show. The play of rain on the window made a shadow theater along the floor and bed and wall.