Prompt 8: You've Been Friday'd! (please go have your eyes examined) - Team What-If
Title: Over It
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Nino/Masami, Ohmiya
Summary: It's time to grow up.
Prompt: You've Been Friday'd! (please go have your eyes examined)
Notes: All the love in the world to the amazing, amazing J, who held my hand through this. (And man did I cling. Hard.) To R, for all her input, and to Y, my first beta on this long journey.
After four years, the beginning of the end is on a Friday.
Nino isn't prepared for it. None of them ever are. They get phone calls in the nebulous hours of the morning from their managers with battle tactics: "Don't acknowledge anything, smile for the camera like nothing's happening. We'll take care of it."
This time is no different, but this time, Nino has no idea where the rumor is coming from. "What?" he croaks into the phone, rubbing at his eyes and trying to focus on his clock. What time is it? His toes are cold; he pulls them back under the covers with a shiver. Autumn has crept into the nights.
"Friday has gotten some pictures of you and Kuroki Meisa kissing," his manager says, and Nino can hear the censure in his voice.
Nino can't wrap his head around this. "…What?" He thinks he'd remember kissing her, really. A girl like that? "Pictures?"
"I don't know what you're going to tell Masami-chan, but you'd better think of something good. In the meantime, smile for the cameras, Ninomiya-kun."
Nino doesn't go back to sleep after they hang up. His bed feels empty, and his mind is racing, trying to remember. He feels his way through his apartment without turning on the lights, fingers dragging against the wallpaper on his way to the kitchen. Coffee. He can't think without coffee.
And he can't think with coffee, either, because ten minutes later when he's sitting there with a mug of it cupped between his hands, he still can't make sense of anything at all. The silence around him is broken by the wet sound of each heavy sip. He still hasn't turned on the lights.
What is he going to tell Masami if he can't even remember himself?
+
It takes three months, four days, and nine hours. (The phone call that morning is permanently branded into Nino's mind; he will never forget the time it woke him). They don't have many arguments, and he's seen her sulk, but he's never seen her like this: she is sad, but distant as if across an ocean formed by all her doubts. He doesn't have a boat to cross it. He feels like they're standing on their own islands, even in the intimacy of this, their own living room.
Only it's not theirs now, it's just his. The bag in her hands is small, but it has her toothbrush, her loofah, her stuffed bear that he's never once laughed at. "If you find anything else of mine, will you send it to me?" she says. She speaks carefully, trying to sound friendly, like the sadness isn't there.
He hates these games of pretend. He's been smiling fake smiles for three months, and this one hurts the most. "Yeah, of course. I know your number."
Masami bites her lip, looking anywhere but his face. "I'm really sorry."
"It's fine," he says. "You tried."
He remembers everything about her in that moment: the curl of her shoulders; the brush of her hair against her chin; the fit of her dress, one of his favorites that always made him want to slide a hand around her waist to pull her closer.
It's a moment he could write a song about.
"Goodbye," she says.
Nino shuts the door after her, and stands there until he hears the click of her heels fade away.
+
He goes back to work and doesn't bother to smile in the green room because it's the one time he doesn't have to. The other members do a good job of pretending they're not hovering, but Nino's not stupid. He appreciates it, though, so he doesn't say anything when Jun keeps handing him things he wants before he even asks, or when Sho starts rubbing his shoulders between takes. Aiba leaves him alone, but he says inane things that make Sho-chan laugh within hearing distance, and Nino knows it's partially for his sake, even if that's just the way Aiba is.
Ohno doesn't do anything, but Nino can tell he's hovering just like the others. Nino can feel his eyes. They land on him every time Nino's not looking, weighted with consideration. But when Nino turns his head, Ohno is staring off into the distance again.
So Nino decides to sit on him. "Hey, stalker," he says as his butt slides right off Ohno's thigh. He leaves his knee strewn across Ohno's lap, though.
"You noticed?" Ohno says, his chin tilting down towards Nino, the sharp point of his nose accentuated by the angle.
Nino confirms with a hum, letting his weight slouch against Ohno's small frame. It's not that Ohno is solid, or even all that reliable, but in that moment, Nino can feel the strength of Ohno's mysterious healing presence. It seeps into him with Ohno's body warmth through Nino's off-season jacket. He can feel Ohno's ribcage rise against him, strong with breath, and lets the rhythm fill his mind, chasing away all other thought.
They don't move again until it's time for Ohno's solo shoot. Nino doesn't make a fuss, he just slips away, filling his own seat properly. But Ohno pauses above him. The studio lights, bright against the ceiling, make his face cool with shadows. "I think I'll be done after this. I'll stick around. We can go to dinner."
Nino can't actually remember a time when Ohno has been the one to instigate a date, which makes it even harder to turn him down. "That's okay," he says, still, because he knows he is the worst sort of company right now, and all he wants is to hide in his cave and be annoyingly pitiful.
"We'll do something," Ohno says more insistently. Nino looks up sharply, surprised, but Ohno has turned away, and Nino doesn't have the will to call out after him.
And true to his word, when Nino shuffles his way around all the wires and rigging and staff members standing around with nothing to do, his part done, Ohno is there in the green room, hunched over a fishing magazine. Nino stares at him for a second, feeling uncharitable. He wants to be alone. Why would Ohno choose now to defy him? And worse, he hasn't even noticed Nino come in.
"I told you not to wait," Nino says, picking up his bag with a sigh. It hangs heavy on his shoulder, pulling at his posture.
"Oh, Nino," Ohno says. "Done already?"
"You really shouldn't have," Nino insists, shoving his hands into his pockets. He knows how he must look right now: like a sullen little boy. But he doesn't care, either. His heart is sore and his patience has run thin, and he knows Ohno won't blame him for that.
"Where are we going?" Ohno says.
"Nowhere," Nino retorts. He's starting to feel like a cat with his fur up.
"Your place is fine."
Nino stops. Ohno's voice doesn't even have a hint of steel, and there's nothing defiant in the way he stands or the soft fold of his eyelids. He's denying reality and creating his own with such certainty that he's not even bothering to fight. It's bemusing; something in Nino's chest flutters and squeezes, and the irritation seeps out of him like water down a drain. He doesn't have the energy to deny the inevitable.
"I promise to be a pain in the ass," he says. His fatigue is catching up with him, dulling his words. "And forget about being entertained."
Ohno must hear it too, because he takes Nino's hand. "That's fine."
+
So Ohno follows Nino home like a puppy. Now that Nino's come to terms with that fact, he can't even find it in himself to be bothered. Ohno is just there, a presence that fills the gap like a shadow as he lets them both into his apartment. Nino throws his keys on the shoe cabinet and nearly trips up the single step. He could just go to sleep right now, that would be nice.
But shadow though Ohno may be, Nino can't quite forget he's there, and he can't manage to make himself be a bad host on purpose, no matter how much he wants to be. He trudges into the kitchen without preamble, aiming for the fridge.
"Sit down," he orders, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees that Ohno does.
Masami wouldn't do that, he thinks, and without warning the thorns in his heart prick deeper. He grimaces, bottle-opener still poised against the lip of the beer in his hand. It's freezing cold, not even sweating condensation yet. But he can't see it: what he sees, in one sharp flash, is a morning two months ago.
She is already dressed for work, slim in dark pants, legs crossed at the ankle as she leans against their counter with her coffee held in both dainty hands. "Your hair is sticking up," she remarks, making eyes at him over the edge of her cup. "Hardly fitting for an idol."
"You should sit down," he says, his voice light to keep with her teasing. He can still feel the what-ifs lurking around the corners of their pleasant conversation, but the normalcy of this moment is a gift.
"Why?" she says, primly. She seems to sparkle. "I have a good vantage point right here." Her fingers wiggle, probably in imitation of what his hair looks like.
He really only means for her to be careful of spilling on herself, but in the end, it doesn't matter anyway. He leans in beside her, nose in the steam of his own coffee. Mornings like this are precious. They stand, companionable in their silence, until she sets down her empty mug and seems to shake herself. "Already time to go," she says, her lips pulled into a pleasing pout.
But when Nino leans in to kiss it, she steps out of range after the first soft brush of promise. All at once, the world between them is put out of place again, their tenuous balance broken. When she smiles at him, it's awkward and apologetic. She stands just out of reach, already half-turned away. "See you later," she says, stepping too quickly for the door.
Nino slams his hand down on the counter, and startles when the bottle in his hand makes a sharp thunk against the tile. He'd forgotten he was holding it.
He can hear Ohno stand up behind him, but he doesn't turn around. There are no footsteps--Ohno steps too lightly--but Ohno appears at his side all the same, and gently extracts the beer from Nino's grasp. The cap hisses off the top when Ohno opens it, and a volcano of bubbles froths from the mouth, running down the sides and over Ohno's hands. "Ah! … Ah, ah, what do I--"
"The sink!" Nino says, and pushes him bodily till Ohno's arms are suspended over his pitiful little sink. Ohno looks so dumbfounded, frozen there, staring at the bubbles still popping over his skin, that Nino can't help cracking a smile. "Idiot, what did you think was going to happen? I just shook the thing."
"But," Ohno says, and then, "well…"
"You weren't thinking," Nino fills in for him, and turns on the tap.
Ohno's eyes scrunch in helpless amusement at his own folly.
Nino helps him clean up, fussing more than he normally would. It helps to chase away the memory, and it's only later that he starts to wonder if that hadn't been Ohno's intention from the start.
+
The beginning of the new beginning is on a wintery Saturday morning in the conference room, but Nino never realizes, and so he doesn't think of it as such.
"We've flown, we've dunked ourselves in water, we've exploded into the air. What's left?" Jun says, tapping his pen against the table.
"Are you out of juice?" Sho says, clearly laughing on the inside.
Nino listens, huddling deeper into his jacket. He rarely contributes anything to these conversations, and doesn't have anything to say now, but he likes listening to them toss ideas around.
"Doesn't anyone like the giant chessboard idea?" Aiba says.
"If you were serious, I'd hit you," Jun says, tossing his pen away and rubbing at his face. He looks frustrated, but Nino knows it's because he's wrapped up in possibilities and is trying to organize his imagination.
"Or the paper airplane," Aiba goes on, trying not to smile, which just makes his grin bigger. He ducks with astute timing when Jun swipes at him, rings glittering in the light.
"How would you even make that fly?" Sho says. "Or do I want to know?"
"Um," Aiba says. "I've always been a fan of balloon power!"
"Could we do an Ohmiya SK skit?" Ohno speaks up. All four heads swivel his way. It's the first time Ohno has said anything since he walked in the door, looking more like a sleepy animal than a boyband member.
"Leader's awake!" Aiba chirps, leaning towards him. "Good morning."
"Good morning," Ohno replies easily.
Jun frowns, and scratches at the stubble on his chin as he looks over his setlist. "A skit, huh."
"What kind?" Nino says.
Ohno gives him a rueful look, unusually shy. "I don't know. I'm sure we could think of something. It's just been a while."
"Well, you guys conference about it, then, I can't make shit up for you. But we can put it here," Jun says, and scrawls Ohmiya SK in after the first MC, decision made.
+
Nino and Ohno aren't like Jun: the don't need set conference times to decide things. The are the S in Spontaneous and the K in… well, something else.
Which means they start spending a lot more time together in the break rooms and off-set, getting into character and trying to figure stuff out. Nino welcomes it, because it takes his mind off all the lurking negativity that he still hasn't been able to shake.
"We could walk like this," Ohno says, puffing out his chest and sticking out his jaw.
"What are you supposed to be?" Sho says from his seat on the couch.
Ohno stumps towards him, nearly tripping over Sho's ankle, which is stuck out under the coffee table. "Yuji's failed experiment," he says, adopting a bad accent.
Sho bursts out laughing as Nino does a flying leap onto Ohno's back. It's wild and off-center and he almost knocks Ohno flat on his face, but after a windmilling moment, Ohno is galloping around with Nino stuck on like a koala calling out, "Run, Taka, run!" They fall into a pile right next to Sho, kicking him in the shoulder by accident, and don't get anymore work done even though they do have a great wrestling match.
+
Ohno calls the next night at ten, right when Nino gets in his front door and is trying to maneuver his shoes off. "Yeah?" he says, his phone pulsing neon lights in the still-dark apartment.
"Did you think of anything today?" Ohno says. Nino hasn't seen him, and won't see him again face-to-face until next week, when they film VS Arashi and he has to wear something newly ridiculous (he is constantly amazed by the stylist's imagination, but isn't sure why it only pertains to him).
"No, not unless new costumes is an idea. It's not really, though."
"You don't like being silver?" Ohno says. "I could trade you. You could be red and gold for a change."
"The 'S' will stand for 'sexy' for once," Nino says, sliding into his couch with a long sigh.
"I thought we were both sexy," Ohno says, sounding boyishly lost and mournful in the way that only Leader can.
Nino pulls off his socks, letting them both fall to the floor. (Masami wouldn't have liked that: "That's what the hamper is for," she would have reminded him, and tickled him until he put them away.)
Ohno breathes on the other end of the line. There's silence until he speaks again: "Nino?"
"Yeah?" Nino says, still staring at his socks. The shadows make them look dirtier than they are. "Oh. Sorry." He turns his face up, and turns on the TV, leaving it on mute. "Did you have any ideas, or anything?"
"Aliens," Ohno says immediately. "Taka and Yuji can land in a spaceship."
"They are from another planet. That's probably how I got you pregnant," Nino says. "And, hey. That means laser guns."
By the time Nino goes to bed, his mind is filled with lasers and their new alien language, which includes seven words for 'sex'. He leaves his socks on the floor in a silent show of defiance that no one sees and pulls his pillow close, not quite glad that it doesn't smell as much like her as it used to.
+
Things keep shifting slowly over the next few weeks. Ohno comes to sit next to Nino, instead of Nino sitting next to him first. He finds his way into Nino's space in small ways, like tugging at Nino's sleeve, or bumping into him accidentally-on-purpose.
Nino notices it each time, but says nothing, because he likes having Ohno's attention on him. He feels like a flower in the sun, and it's easy to ignore the shadows when Ohno casts light on him.
So the next time Ohno decides they're going to hang out together, Nino gives in without a fuss. Mostly.
"We're going clubbing!" Ohno declares, more excited than Nino thinks he should be.
"Um," says Nino, who is run down from two days of filming and really just wants to sit down. "How about drinking? I have work tomorrow, remember."
"And I have fishing," Ohno says.
"But you wake up for that voluntarily," Nino points out.
Nino wins in the end, but Ohno doesn't seem too disappointed. He gets to choose the bar, anyway, since he's the one paying, and when the van drops them off he keeps his hand on Nino's elbow the entire way down the sidewalk. Nino stays close to his side, both of them keeping their heads down and their cap-brims low.
The door to the bar is five steps away when it swings open and a group of guys tumbles right out, smelling of hard liquor and a long night. They crash right into Nino, and even though he plants his sneaker against the sidewalk he ends up scrambling for balance as the world tilts abstractly.
Ohno's arms catch him, hard coils around his ribs as Nino's weight shoves them both into the wall, Ohno's grunt of surprise something that Nino feels more than hears.
"Ohhh, sorry, sorry," says one man, his tie as loose as his body. He waves, and so do the rest, a collective mind of grinning drunkenness that's already walking away, letting their voices fill the air and echo off the buildings.
"Are you okay?" Ohno murmurs, his breath warm against Nino's frozen ears.
Nino tries to catch his breath. Ohno's arms are snug, holding him up, and he watches seriously as he waits for Nino to regain himself, one corner of his mouth tilted down. For a minute, Nino doesn't want to move. His heart is beating fast, and he realizes he's clutching Ohno's shoulders. How safe he feels surprises him.
"Yeah," he manages finally. "Can't expect drunkards to look where they're going, can you?"
Nino lets go, not waiting for his heart to stop rabbiting, because somehow Ohno's presence is prolonging it. He pushes into the bar, leaving Ohno to follow him.
It's after they walk in that Nino finally realizes that he's been here before. He knows the yellow-lit bar and the squeaky stools, the menu written with fancy chalk strokes, and even the bartender, though he's wearing a different polo shirt tonight. The memory hits him hard and fast, and Nino flashes backwards to a month ago:
There's liveliness, but it's a different kind than Nino sees within Johnny's. He's used to this too, though: the older crowd and the way they laugh, the way they talk about business and horse races instead of just girls and bra straps. Katsumi-san is well into his drink, tilting sideways, sweat standing out on his brow. But Nino's seen him do this before, and knows he's more sharp-minded than anyone would suspect.
"Nino," he says, draping an arm around Nino's shoulders.
Nino has just finished a trick, and they're still talking about it across the table, guessing where he must have concealed that third card. He won't tell, of course, but he likes to hear their theories. He's glowing inside from making an impression, but tries to keep his modesty.
"I know how to do it," Katsumi says off-handedly.
"You do not," Nino says. Katsumi-san tells him this after every trick.
"I won't spoil it for anyone else, don't worry," he says, waving a hand magnanimously. Nino smiles to himself. Katsumi's thumb presses against Nino's neck, and Nino imagines this might be what it feels like to have a father. "Tell me what's going on with you. Your schedule's too busy these days. You've become the untouchable idol. I can't even reserve time," he teases.
"That's not true," Nino says, despite the fact that it actually is. "I can always make time for you."
"Is that so?" Katsumi says, smiling in a way that says he knows Nino is lying, but is going to let him do it. "Making time for a geezer like me, eh." He claps Nino on the back, more strongly than he probably intended. Nino subtly grabs at the table to keep himself upright. "You should be hanging out with those kids your age, or with your girlfriend. Though she seems the busy type, too."
Nino doesn't know what to say to that. He would be hanging out with Masami, if he could. And it's true that they're both busy, but they've always been that way.
Katsumi eyes him shrewdly. "Something on your mind?"
Nino shuffles his cards in his lap. Katsumi lets him get his thoughts together, sitting by silently. "She won't sleep with me," Nino admits. Everyone's talking around them, engaged in their own worlds of conversation. Surely no one is listening. "I'm not sure if I should be trying or not. When I do, she closes up. But it's important, right?" He looks up at Katsumi, searching for the wisdom he's not sure he has himself. "I think it is."
Katsumi nods heavily, drawing his arms over his chest. "It is. Sex is a form of trust." Nino isn't surprised that he's as serious as if he were sober. "I take it this has gone on since the article."
"We've talked," Nino says, sorting his cards automatically, looking through them instead of at them. "She says that she's okay, and she wants to try." But that's not what her actions say, Nino thinks.
"Then all you can do is give her time," Katsumi says.
Ohno startles Nino out of his reverie with a push at his back, his fingers finding the spot just over Nino's belt, touching lightly. "Nino, someone's coming."
Nino, disoriented, nearly steps on Ohno's foot in his haste to stop being a road block. He's shaken, his heart squeezing tight in his chest.
Ohno doesn't waste words asking him if he's okay. He takes Nino's wrist and leads him through the scattered tables to a booth in the corner, and when Nino finally looks up he sees the knowledge written across Ohno's face. Nino feels guilty, like somehow he's let Ohno down.
"Let's get really drunk," Nino says, and flags down a waiter.
The burn of each shot going down his throat feels good, and it's not long before he returns Masami to the treasure box in the back of his mind. He focuses on Ohno, who is real, who is sitting across from him wearing his stupid sideways cap and the down vest his mom gave him three years ago. "You're a good friend," Nino says, kicking him under the table. "I know what it is that you're doing."
"Do you?" Ohno kicks back, the smirk on his face inching upwards. "You're smarter than me then."
"I don't buy that," Nino says cheerfully. "I've known you for ten--nine--shit, really? Ten years?" He rubs his face. It feels numb. "Ohno Satoshi may have convinced the world that he's without guile, but I know better!" He jabs a finger in Ohno's direction in emphasis. "You're the devil!"
Ohno has grabbed his finger, which Nino finds doubly impressive given that he's starting to lose his coordination. Ohno could always hold his liquor better, though. "The devil?" he laughs. "Just what does the devil do?"
"Mean and dastardly things," Nino says.
"How does this fit in with being a good friend?"
"It doesn't," Nino says. "That's separate. I know you brought me here to get my mind off things. You've been doing it for the last week."
Ohno ducks his head, and Nino recognizes it as another flash of shyness. "I'm not that good a friend," he says.
"I know you're a good fisher, but you don't have to fish for compliments," Nino says, poking a hole into the moment before he can feel awkward about it. He's not used to Ohno being shy because of him, and it seems to be happening with progressive frequency lately. The best thing he can do for both of their sakes is to ignore it.
Ohno makes a face, peeling off his vest with a wave-like roll of his shoulders. He's flushed pink with alcohol, so Nino can only imagine what his own face must look like. "I wish I were fishing," Ohno says, nose still scrunched. "You wouldn't come with me, would you?"
"Aren't you going on a boat?" Nino is almost tempted. He's feeling reckless, like he could do anything and get away with it. It doesn't really matter anymore; his future with Masami has blown away with the last leaves of autumn, and nothing is certain but for Arashi and Ohno's love of fishing.
"Oh yeah," Ohno says, like he's honestly forgotten. He smiles his least idol-like smile. "Well, maybe next time."
"I'll go," Nino says. "Invite me anywhere, I'll go."
Ohno studies him across the table. For a moment Nino feels pinned, like Ohno sees beneath his rosy drunkenness and right into the cracks of his heart. But, he thinks, he doesn't mind, if it's Ohno, and he stares right back to show how serious he is. "Yeah?" Ohno finally says. "You'd go clubbing with me?"
Nino laughs over a hiccup. He doesn't know why it's so funny, and that makes him laugh more. "Yes," he says, smacking the table. Ohno's shot glasses jump and clink against each other. "I promise."
They stay half the night, making clumsy towers out of their beer coasters and talking about nothing at all, which is Nino's favorite topic. Ohno leaves him at the taxi stand, waving goodbye before nearly falling into his own taxi. Nino has to be up in four hours, and he's sure to be in for it for having a hangover, but it was worth it, he thinks, melting back into his seat. Ohno has been something like magic, a bigger, better, more beautiful trick than Nino can do on his own. In his presence, Nino is another person, a better person. He's not quite happy, but when he's with Ohno, he feels like he might be.
+
Of course he still thinks about Masami. She sneaks into his thoughts when he least expects her, like a cat ambushing a canary.
Nino hates the memories as much as he loves them. Each one is an open wound, and yet so precious he can't seem to let go. The missing toothbrush reminds him of the mornings they managed to catch each other, and her hurried, minty kisses before she kissed him goodbye. His shoes don't fill his shoe rack, and all the empty space just brings back those times it had been overflowing, and she'd still manage to come home once a month with a new pair. He's kept all the presents she's given him out on his shelves, and each one tells a story, even though he looks away.
In those moments, all he can think is that he fucked up, and he wishes he could have made it right.
+
They don't have time to go clubbing for the next month, but that's nothing new. Ohno doesn't even have time for fishing, and his tan slowly creeps back to a respectable shade that the makeup girls don't take issue with anymore. But both of them remember the promise, and Nino intends to keep it.
Winter hits its hardest stretch, and with it comes the unpredictable snow, flurries that stick to the rooftops but not to the streets, to Nino's eyelashes but not his shoes. And of course it's on a cold day like this that they have to film Mote Arashi, Dame Arashi. Backstage, Nino luxuriates in the well-heated, closed-windowed greenroom, his fingers flipping over each other as he slips cards around his deck one-handed. He's getting closer to perfect.
"How many hours do you spend doing that?" Aiba asks from where he's sprawled on his tummy, pillow pulled to his chest. He's reading a manga he borrowed from Sho earlier.
"As many as I need," Nino says. "Do you wanna see a trick?"
"I know all your tricks," Aiba giggles, turning the page. "Or is that something new?"
Ohno is next to Nino, and Nino had thought he was sleeping, but he pushes up the brim of his cap to look over at Nino curiously. "New trick?"
"No," Nino admits. "It'd be a repeat performance. A masterful one, however. You don't know what you're missing." He keeps flipping cards, memorizing as many as he can, even when Ohno leans into his space.
"Show me?" he says.
"You have to be surprised at the end," Nino insists.
"Okay."
Aiba pretends he isn't watching as Nino cuts the deck and makes Ohno take a card. It's a harder trick, but one that gives him immense satisfaction. When he takes the proper card from Ohno's shirt pocket, Ohno looks so dazzled that Nino can't not grin. "Masterful, wasn't it?"
"How do you do that?" Ohno says, looking as impressed as a child despite having seen this trick before.
"It's all in the fingers," Nino informs him, and Aiba snorts into his manga. On impulse, Nino leans forward, holding out an imaginary microphone in Aiba's direction. "Sir, were you witness to the greatness of Ninomiya the Magician just now?"
Aiba lets his manga fall closed. His eyes sparkle with good humor, and the brattiness that he doesn't let his fans see, as he answers, "Was he supposed to be amazing? All I saw was a trick by a second-rate magician."
Nino nearly tosses his cards at Aiba. "Let's see you do it."
"I thought it was amazing!" Ohno says, sitting up petulantly straight. His eyes are still impressively round.
Nino wheels on him, fake microphone held up so high he almost whacks Ohno in the mouth. "Taka! You love me, don't you?"
Ohno's whole countenance shifts, like Taka is taking him over from the inside. "Of course. Yuji is my whole world," he says worshipfully.
"And that was an amazing magic trick, admit it!"
Ohno nods decisively over Aiba's uncontained giggles. "Amazing."
"And you would call him Yuji the Great, Yuji the Impressive, Yuji the Sublime?"
"Yuji the Sexpot," Ohno returns, fluttering his lashes and clasping his hands together in a fair imitation of a shojo heroine.
"I don't think I should be watching this," Aiba says, hiding his eyes with his hands.
"And what are your thoughts on world peace?" Nino goes on, as Aiba peeks through his fingers.
Ohno still has hearts in his eyes. "If Aiba-kun snuggled all the fuzzy bunnies of the world, there would be no more war, because the earth would explode with happiness."
"Hey!" Nino says, and whacks him on the head. "This is supposed to be about me!"
"This is good!" Aiba says, picking himself up before he falls off the sofa. "Is this your skit for the concert?"
Nino stops. He looks at Ohno, and Ohno looks back at him, frozen in his girly pose. "Interviews?" says Nino, turning the idea over in his mind.
"Martian interviews?" Ohno echoes.
"I wonder," Nino says, rubbing his chin.
"Arashi-sama on in fifteen minutes!" calls the staff from the hall, striding past their door with a purposeful gait.
Aiba stands. "I think you should do it. It's bound to be more interesting than the Dame Arashi interviews, anyway. Man these things make me so nervous!" His nose scrunches unhappily.
Nino almost feels bad for him when he gets dunked, but mostly he's just glad it's not him.
+
It becomes a game, because Nino knows a good idea when he hears it. He asks Ohno inane questions at the drop of a hat, though it's the most fun when they manage to make Sho snort up his drink, so they do it extra when he's around. Aiba tries to submit questions for review, and Jun just smiles when he thinks no one can see. They're in character so often that Nino almost forgets what Ohno is like when he's not being a ham.
"If Taka had a rabbit, what color would it be?" Nino asks one day during a photoshoot. The staff is rearranging pillows and adding cherry blossoms even though it's still two months till spring. Nino often feels like his world exists one step ahead of everyone else's.
"Blue," Ohno says immediately in his whiny Taka voice. "And I would name it Poko. It's a cute name, isn't it?"
"Earth appears to lack a blue specimen," Yuji-Nino says, and Taka folds over in dismay. "Don't look so glum! We could always dye one."
("It doesn't work," Aiba tells them later in solemn confidence. "You can dye poodle ears, but bunnies squirm so much you dye yourself more than you dye them.")
Then, during lunch break two days later, it's something else again: "What's the most inappropriate sound you can make?" Yuji-Nino asks, crawling over the couch to get at Ohno, who is cracking his chopsticks apart.
"This can wait till after we eat, can't it?" Sho says hopefully, mouth already full of rice. There are grains stuck to his lower lip, and Nino takes a moment to poke at them, trying to push them in to be properly eaten. Sho takes it with the grace and patience of a man who's worked with Nino for many long years.
"My farts aren't very loud," Taka-Ohno muses, chopsticks already secondary to the conversation.
Jun roots around in his lunch and comes up with a pickle. "Believe me, we know," he says, wry. "We can still smell them."
"They smell great," Taka-Ohno says, and after a pause, sniffs the air and smiles benignly. "See?"
+
Nino doesn't see Ohno more than twice a week, but during the interim Ohno calls him, making Nino giggle excessively into his pillow. Nino doesn't even care that he's up after all the late shows have gone from being amusing to infomercials, or that he'll have bags under his eyes in the morning. (Jun has a salve that makes things better.)
And then one night it's Nino that calls Ohno. It's starting to feel like a habit, hearing Ohno breathe over the phone.
When Ohno picks up, his voice is thick with sleep, like warm honey in Nino's ear. "Kazu?"
"Sorry," Nino whispers. "You can go back to sleep."
"No," Ohno says, and Nino can hear him grunt and stretch, and the rustle of things as he moves around. "I'm awake."
For a moment, Nino says nothing. Just having the phone to his ear is enough to chase away the darkness.
"Nino?" Ohno says, more alert than before. "Ah. Yuji?"
"Hm?"
"Did you do any Earth exploring today?" Taka-Ohno says, though he can't quite get the voice on right.
Nino smiles. "I did. Humans make no sense at all."
"I know," Ohno agrees. "Their erogenous zones are all messed up. They don't even have antennae!"
"Where are your erogenous zones?" Nino asks. He pulls his blankets up to his chin and wiggles, trying not to let the cold air in. He refuses to turn on the heater when down works perfectly well.
"Aside from the antennae? My fourth nipple, of course," Ohno answers. "You?" He's solemn, and for a moment sounds more like Ohno than Taka.
"The backs of my knees," Nino says, steering clear of anything resembling accuracy. Surely Ohno doesn't really want to know. "All ten of them."
"Oh yes," Ohno says, with feeling, like he knows just what Nino means. And then: "Shall I lick them for you?"
For a moment Nino doesn't know what to say at all. Somewhere along the way this conversation went from the normal type of surreal to really freaking surreal, and there's a dangerous flutter in his belly that he didn't think Ohno could give him. "I might let you," he says carefully. "Do you have a nice tongue?"
"Of course I do," Ohno says demurely. Does he even know what he's saying? Nino can't tell.
"I don't know," Nino says with a healthy dose of put-on skepticism. He feels like he needs to veer wildly away, make up some excuse and go to bed, but at the same time he doesn't want to hang up. "If it's not good, I don't want it."
"For Yuji I'll make it special," Ohno insists. He sounds so serious that Nino's heart does a double-thump, and his hand tightens on his phone.
"You'd better," he says.
Ohno laughs, and the tension around Nino eases, just a little. But when they get off the phone, he stares at the ceiling, listening to his pulse, trying to convince himself that there was nothing strange going on then, nothing at all.
+
"Have you figured out what you're doing yet?"
Nino looks up from the gory death in his manga, honestly puzzled as to when Jun managed to get so close. He's still got his sunglasses on, and his hair is sticking out under his hat. He takes the seat next to Nino and pulls a bunch of papers from his bag, all business with his expectant look.
"Doing?" Nino says.
"The skit," Jun clarifies, already scribbling a note onto his paper. He looks harried, like he's only half there, the other half of him already mapping out what he has to do after this.
"Is the martian idea okay?" Nino asks. Jun's seen enough of them to be sick of it by now.
"So you are doing that," Jun says, already twitching a smile. "You're not farting on each other, are you?"
"Once was enough," Nino says firmly.
"Once was too much," Jun mutters, but makes another note. Nino tells him the rest, and Jun writes aliens inspect earth, personal revelation, which Nino figures is pretty accurate. "Well," he says, finally sliding off his sunglasses, "it seems like you're having fun with it, at least. If you guys have fun, so will the fans. Do you need any props?"
"Laser guns." Nino already has plans for them, most of which include shooting Ohno as spectacularly as possible, with many fake deaths.
"…Right," Jun says, but writes it down anyway. Then he eyes Nino. "You two are getting along particularly well lately," he says.
"He's been a good friend," Nino says evasively.
Jun nods with a considering look, chin propped on the back of his hand, lips pursed. "Mhm." He raises a brow. "He hasn't gotten involved when any of the rest of us went through a breakup, you know. Not that I wouldn't call him a good friend." He straightens up, gathering his papers together with fastidious neatness. "Just a thought."
"You think too much," Nino says, flipping through his manga and trying to find his place again in a not-so-subtle hint. He can't deny being intrigued, but it's not something he's ready to talk to Jun about.
"Maybe," Jun agrees amiably, and leaves Nino in peace.
+
Nino gets to fulfill his promise to Ohno almost three months after he makes it. They go clubbing in Shibuya, to the Gas Panic, where Nino has been once but Ohno used to visit regularly when they were juniors. It's the opposite of fancy: a hole in the ground with brick walls and picture frames purposely askew, the lighting so frantically colored that Nino feels like he's wearing kaleidoscope glasses. The dance floor is too crowded to dance, so people sway and bump hips instead, and every girl is wearing a short skirt.
"What?" Nino can't even hear himself scream to Ohno.
Ohno mimes drinking from a glass, and points exaggeratedly past the swell of bodies to where the bar must be. Nino shrugs, grabs the back of Ohno's shirt, and follows.
His eyes wander as they go. There's plenty of eye candy, and it's not just the short skirts. There are girls showing cleavage, which Nino never minds seeing, and he even catches sight of a belly piercing or two.
There aren't any stools free at the bar, but Ohno shoves his way through, shedding people left and right in his determination to get a drink. One girl, her hair straight and long enough to cover her breasts, stumbles over her heels, and Nino steps up to catch her elbow. She blinks at him, bambi-like, and he mouths the word 'Sorry' and gives his best Myojo-grin. Her smile is so abruptly infectous he knows she's drunk already, and then she wobbles right out of his grip and back to her group of friends, none the worse for wear.
When Ohno comes back, he has two tequila shots, and Nino has to laugh even though it's swallowed up by the music. They touch glasses and down them at the same time.
Over the next hour, Ohno stays close, getting them more drinks at regular intervals. Nino explores, pushing through the dancers and trying not to throw off their center of gravity, even though his own is starting to grow precarious. There are plenty of nooks and crannies, all of them filled with girls kissing boys and boys kissing girls and even, in one place, girls kissing girls, which makes Nino stop in appreciation. He turns to see if Ohno has noticed, too, only to discover he's lost him.
He retraces his steps, or tries, but Ohno's not near the bar nor on the edge of the dance floor. Nino frowns. If he's going to dance, he needs more alcohol in him.
He feels a touch on his arm, then, but when he turns it's not Ohno, it's a girl. She's wrapped up in red light, and her lashes are long and definitely fake (Nino may be a guy, but he's industry, he can tell). She leans towards him like she wants something, and gives him a fantastic view down her shirt. All thoughts of Ohno go right out of his mind. Her mouth shapes words carefully so he can read her lips over the swell of sound that's beating against their bones: "Are you alone?"
Nino nods.
She smiles, her hand coming to perch on his shoulder like a small creature. He slides his arm around her waist just to make sure he's reading all the signs right, but he needn't have worried: she moves right into him, so close her breasts push against his ribs. Nino doesn't waste time. He threads their fingers together and takes her back the way he came, where the lights are dimmer and nobody will bother them. There's no place to sit, though, so Nino just pushes the girl up against the wall. She tastes like berries with alcohol underneath when he kisses her, and her teeth are uneven, tilty towards the left, when he slips his tongue between her lips.
He pushes into her, feeling his own body tighten with surprising speed. It's been too long since he's had an outlet, and even just the way she drags her hands up his back makes him feel too hot. She doesn't stop his hands from wandering anywhere, just kisses him and kisses him, and he takes advantage, rubbing his hand up between her breasts. He wonders what kind of bra she's wearing, and if it unhooks in the front or the back. And are her nipples rosy pink or apricot or brassy dark? Are they hard right now?
Her leg slides in between his, and their bodies work together in a dance that doesn't match the beat of the music. Her hair is a mess, now, her hair-salon curls caught on the wall, but she seems to care more about the way he's touching her than what she looks like, and that's a plus in Nino's book. She'd be great in bed, he thinks.
He could take her up the street to Dogenzaka, to his favorite love hotel. It would be easy. He could tumble her onto the bed and slide her underwear down her legs and rock his fingers into her. He wonders if she's loud. He can't tell yet, but he wants to find out, and that's what decides him. When he propositions her, mouth against her ear, she nods.
It takes Nino a moment to figure out where the door is. He pulls her behind him, trying to maneuver his way around human roadblocks. But before he makes it there, Ohno materializes on his left, catching Nino's wrist faster than he can blink. Ohno's eyebrows are pulled together in displeasure, and a flash of guilt rocks Nino from his chest down to his toes.
Ohno's grip is surprisingly strong. "Come on," he says, and drags Nino forward before Nino knows what's happening. Nino loses his grip on the girl's hand, and when he looks over his shoulder the crowd has already swallowed her up. Guilt flips over to anger, bubbling in his chest.
"Hey!" Nino shouts, trying to get Ohno's attention. "Hey, wait!" But if Ohno hears him, he doesn't wait. He steamrolls past people and pulls Nino right up the stairs, only pausing when Nino trips on the third step.
Outside, Nino feels like he's just walked out of a jungle and into a ghost town. There's no one, only trash that's been trampled into the pavement under the eerie yellow streetlights.
"What the hell?" Nino says, jerking his arm out of Ohno's grasp. "What was that for? You fucking cockblocked me!"
"What about you?" Each word is a steel spike, and Nino takes an involuntary step back. He's has never seen Ohno so riled up before. "I know you. You're going to hate yourself again in the morning, you always do."
"Shut up," Nino says, drawing his arms over his chest. All his blood is in his ears.
"I can't watch you do it," Ohno says. His jaw is tight, his pulse jumping in his neck. "I won't."
"Why?" Nino says, his mouth asking before his brain can tell him it's a bad idea.
It's almost like he's looking at a lion, not Ohno. "Because I want to be with you."
It shocks through Nino like electricity, and he reels, his hands digging harder into his arms. Silence opens up between them, and all the background noises of the city are sharp in Nino's ears.
Ohno sighs. When Nino sneaks a look at him, his anger is bleeding away, a sense of hopelessness moving in to take its place. It makes Nino feel worse. He knows what a broken heart feels like. "I'm sorry," he says, staring at his shoes.
"There are times when saying 'I'm sorry' helps," Ohno says, patting himself down. "I'm not sure this is one of them." He finds and lights a cigarette, and the smell of it makes Nino want one, too. But he doesn't ask.
"I don't know what to do, then," he admits, trying to swallow his own disappointment in himself.
Ohno squints at him, weighing his thoughts before he speaks. "You'll figure it out," he says. "I know you."
"You said that," Nino says. "Sounds like you know me too well."
Ohno shrugs. "In Taka's world, there's only Yuji. So he pays attention," he says. The smoke around him curls into the crisp night air. "Here." He's holding out another cigarette, unlit. "Take it."
In that moment, on the dirty, empty sidewalk with graffiti at their backs and the dull thud of music that sounds a world away, Nino believes him. His fingers slide against Ohno's as he reaches to take the cigarette, and all his emotions open like a supernova inside him, too many to count, impossible to unravel: hope, fear, self-loathing, and the ache of love that blankets everything. He feels like he's going to break.
But for the first time, Nino sees something to be gained by changing. He doesn't know if he can do it, and that scares him the most of all. But Ohno is the most important person in his life--more important than Masami, because for Ohno, Nino is willing to try.
"I think," Nino says, "I need some time."
Ohno nods, and hands him the lighter. When Nino steps closer to him, their shadows overlap under the streetlights.
+
The day that's the real beginning of the beginning in Nino's mind is in spring, after all the cherry blossoms have fallen and the weather seems to be thinking about giving them fluffy clouds instead of rainy ones. It's Nino's first day off in three weeks, and he sleeps right through until eleven. He does his laundry with his eyes half open, eats a cup-o-noodle for lunch, and takes so long in the bathtub that even his palms are pruned.
When he's done, he calls Ohno.
Ohno hasn't called him since they went clubbing. He's been giving Nino space, just like Nino asked for. He's still there on set, sometimes standing so close their knuckles brush and listening when Nino tells him about all the unimportant things, like last night's dinner, his missing car key, and how tired, tired, tired he is. Ohno listens and makes him laugh with inappropriately timed comments. But when it's time to go home Ohno goes one way and Nino goes the other, knowing they won't meet again until the next time work brings them together.
Nino has spent this time thinking. Thinking about Ohno, about Masami, and most of all about himself.
"Hey," Nino says when Ohno picks up. "You got time?"
Ohno comes straight from work. He walks into the apartment just like he would on any other day, when it wouldn't mean anything at all, and holds up an unmarked plastic bag. "I got us some bread."
Nino is sure he's being obviously awkward, but Ohno doesn't seem to notice. "You get two points for thoughtfulness," he says. "Now come inside, already."
Ohno follows him around the corner, avoiding the groove Nino has worn into the couch when he sits down. Nino doesn't sit next to him. He sits on one end, and creeps his toes Ohno's way, testing distances that didn't exist before. His brain is cluttered; he's been thinking all day of what to say, but he doesn't know where to start.
"Melon bread," Ohno says, passing it to Nino.
It's the one thing Nino is guaranteed to eat, even when he's not really hungry. He nibbles at it, plastic wrapper crinkling in his hands, and tries to get ahold of his thoughts.
Ohno saves him by speaking first (and Nino gives him five more points for that). "What did Yuji do today?"
"Is this going to be another interview?" Nino says around a mouthful of bread.
Ohno thinks about that, and then shrugs. "Would that make it easier?" He's already halfway through a roll peppered with dry fruit, and he has crumbs in the corner of his mouth.
Nino looks at his toes, pale against Ohno's jeans. He really isn't hungry, but he's starting to wish he had some tea. "Probably, yeah. Right now everything in my head feels like a traffic jam. I've thought a lot, but… it's circles, and lots of dead ends."
Ohno hums and swallows hard, licking away the crumbs. "Okay. Taka will ask, then."
Nino almost smiles. Using their other names is a relief; it makes it seem more distant, like he's looking in from the outside.
"Did you kiss Meisa-chan?"
"You want to start there?" Nino rubs at his face with his hands, pulling at his cheeks. He takes it back: this isn't easier at all. "I didn't. It wasn't her." He swallows down the discomfort that's starting to squirm in his belly. "But it wasn't Masami either. It was me, though. And another girl."
Nino kind of wishes Ohno would look a little more surprised.
"Why did you do it?"
Nino frowns. He puts his bread on the coffee table, still mostly uneaten. "Because I could. That's the simple answer. That's the answer without any excuses, anyway." He hugs himself. "…I guess I haven't really grown up, yet. I mean… when a girl is there, and she wants you, isn't that a high? For me it is."
Ohno doesn't say anything. Nino's toes are still pressed against his thigh, but Nino pulls them away, tucking them them under himself.
"I know it's wrong," Nino says, quieter. "I want to change."
"Why?" There's an intensity in Ohno. Nino has to look away.
"Don't you know?"
"I can make a guess, but I want to hear it from you."
Nino shakes his head slowly. "Lots of reasons," he says. His nerves are worse than jellyfish in his stomach. He shifts around, trying to ease the ache that's starting up in his back. "But mostly because I want to be with you."
"You're doing it for me?" Ohno says, looking unhappy.
"For me," Nino corrects him, quick and insistent. "This is what I want." He tries to smile. "Figuring that out was the easy part."
Ohno's brow relaxes, but he's still watching Nino as if he's looking for something. "What if I say no?" he says.
Nino's stomach swoops and drops. "What would I do, you mean?" His fingers weave together, and come back apart. He can't keep them still. The room seems to warm, even with the windows open. "I thought about that too. Honestly… I know I can't depend on you. I know it has to be me. But I'd be lying if I said I could do it, because I don't know. Even if…" He tilts his head in Ohno's direction, but avoids his eyes. "Even if you say yes, I don't know. No matter how much I want to it won't be easy."
Silence settles. Ohno reaches out his hand, and his fingers curl around Nino's wrist, pulling until he can fit their hands together palm to palm. Nino presses his lips together, watching as their fingers mesh, and tries not to read too far into it. "But." There's pressure inside him, pushing and pushing against the inside of his ribs, filling him with a conviction that overshadows all the rest. "I'm determined. I want you to know that." He says it with all the honesty he has.
Ohno's hand squeezes. "I do now."
He's there, right next to Nino, pulling Nino into his arms, and Nino doesn't fight. The geometry is awkward, but Ohno holds him carefully, like he's cradling Nino's heart instead of his body, and little by little the tension ebbs from Nino's body. He breathes, smelling laundry detergent and the faint hint of Ohno's favorite cigarettes.
"Yuji?" Ohno says, his voice muffled by Nino's hair.
"Yeah?"
"You really want to be with me?"
Nino's hand settles over Ohno's chest and imagines he can feel Ohno's heart beating, each emotion that fills it an ember that glows too bright to ignore. "Yeah. If you'll let me."
Ohno's touch drifts down his arm, giving Nino goosebumps. "I've been waiting."
The world doesn't stop, and there are no fireworks in Nino's chest, but he can feel his blood flowing. His heart is full of promises he intends to keep. "There's just one thing," he says, and Ohno shifts, like a question.
Nino feels himself smile. "You'll have to call me Nino."
+
Nino sees Masami on TV when he takes the time to watch it. She's not in many commercials, but the ones she's in play often enough and on every channel. She looks different, radiating with confidence, her cheeks filled out and her smile real. She's changed. Watching from so far away, Nino wishes her happiness.
Nino has changed too, in both big ways and small. He will never be perfect, but he likes the direction he's headed in.
His phone rings: it's Ohno. "Hello, Nino?"
Nino turns off the TV.
Poll Team What-If
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Nino/Masami, Ohmiya
Summary: It's time to grow up.
Prompt: You've Been Friday'd! (please go have your eyes examined)
Notes: All the love in the world to the amazing, amazing J, who held my hand through this. (And man did I cling. Hard.) To R, for all her input, and to Y, my first beta on this long journey.
After four years, the beginning of the end is on a Friday.
Nino isn't prepared for it. None of them ever are. They get phone calls in the nebulous hours of the morning from their managers with battle tactics: "Don't acknowledge anything, smile for the camera like nothing's happening. We'll take care of it."
This time is no different, but this time, Nino has no idea where the rumor is coming from. "What?" he croaks into the phone, rubbing at his eyes and trying to focus on his clock. What time is it? His toes are cold; he pulls them back under the covers with a shiver. Autumn has crept into the nights.
"Friday has gotten some pictures of you and Kuroki Meisa kissing," his manager says, and Nino can hear the censure in his voice.
Nino can't wrap his head around this. "…What?" He thinks he'd remember kissing her, really. A girl like that? "Pictures?"
"I don't know what you're going to tell Masami-chan, but you'd better think of something good. In the meantime, smile for the cameras, Ninomiya-kun."
Nino doesn't go back to sleep after they hang up. His bed feels empty, and his mind is racing, trying to remember. He feels his way through his apartment without turning on the lights, fingers dragging against the wallpaper on his way to the kitchen. Coffee. He can't think without coffee.
And he can't think with coffee, either, because ten minutes later when he's sitting there with a mug of it cupped between his hands, he still can't make sense of anything at all. The silence around him is broken by the wet sound of each heavy sip. He still hasn't turned on the lights.
What is he going to tell Masami if he can't even remember himself?
+
It takes three months, four days, and nine hours. (The phone call that morning is permanently branded into Nino's mind; he will never forget the time it woke him). They don't have many arguments, and he's seen her sulk, but he's never seen her like this: she is sad, but distant as if across an ocean formed by all her doubts. He doesn't have a boat to cross it. He feels like they're standing on their own islands, even in the intimacy of this, their own living room.
Only it's not theirs now, it's just his. The bag in her hands is small, but it has her toothbrush, her loofah, her stuffed bear that he's never once laughed at. "If you find anything else of mine, will you send it to me?" she says. She speaks carefully, trying to sound friendly, like the sadness isn't there.
He hates these games of pretend. He's been smiling fake smiles for three months, and this one hurts the most. "Yeah, of course. I know your number."
Masami bites her lip, looking anywhere but his face. "I'm really sorry."
"It's fine," he says. "You tried."
He remembers everything about her in that moment: the curl of her shoulders; the brush of her hair against her chin; the fit of her dress, one of his favorites that always made him want to slide a hand around her waist to pull her closer.
It's a moment he could write a song about.
"Goodbye," she says.
Nino shuts the door after her, and stands there until he hears the click of her heels fade away.
+
He goes back to work and doesn't bother to smile in the green room because it's the one time he doesn't have to. The other members do a good job of pretending they're not hovering, but Nino's not stupid. He appreciates it, though, so he doesn't say anything when Jun keeps handing him things he wants before he even asks, or when Sho starts rubbing his shoulders between takes. Aiba leaves him alone, but he says inane things that make Sho-chan laugh within hearing distance, and Nino knows it's partially for his sake, even if that's just the way Aiba is.
Ohno doesn't do anything, but Nino can tell he's hovering just like the others. Nino can feel his eyes. They land on him every time Nino's not looking, weighted with consideration. But when Nino turns his head, Ohno is staring off into the distance again.
So Nino decides to sit on him. "Hey, stalker," he says as his butt slides right off Ohno's thigh. He leaves his knee strewn across Ohno's lap, though.
"You noticed?" Ohno says, his chin tilting down towards Nino, the sharp point of his nose accentuated by the angle.
Nino confirms with a hum, letting his weight slouch against Ohno's small frame. It's not that Ohno is solid, or even all that reliable, but in that moment, Nino can feel the strength of Ohno's mysterious healing presence. It seeps into him with Ohno's body warmth through Nino's off-season jacket. He can feel Ohno's ribcage rise against him, strong with breath, and lets the rhythm fill his mind, chasing away all other thought.
They don't move again until it's time for Ohno's solo shoot. Nino doesn't make a fuss, he just slips away, filling his own seat properly. But Ohno pauses above him. The studio lights, bright against the ceiling, make his face cool with shadows. "I think I'll be done after this. I'll stick around. We can go to dinner."
Nino can't actually remember a time when Ohno has been the one to instigate a date, which makes it even harder to turn him down. "That's okay," he says, still, because he knows he is the worst sort of company right now, and all he wants is to hide in his cave and be annoyingly pitiful.
"We'll do something," Ohno says more insistently. Nino looks up sharply, surprised, but Ohno has turned away, and Nino doesn't have the will to call out after him.
And true to his word, when Nino shuffles his way around all the wires and rigging and staff members standing around with nothing to do, his part done, Ohno is there in the green room, hunched over a fishing magazine. Nino stares at him for a second, feeling uncharitable. He wants to be alone. Why would Ohno choose now to defy him? And worse, he hasn't even noticed Nino come in.
"I told you not to wait," Nino says, picking up his bag with a sigh. It hangs heavy on his shoulder, pulling at his posture.
"Oh, Nino," Ohno says. "Done already?"
"You really shouldn't have," Nino insists, shoving his hands into his pockets. He knows how he must look right now: like a sullen little boy. But he doesn't care, either. His heart is sore and his patience has run thin, and he knows Ohno won't blame him for that.
"Where are we going?" Ohno says.
"Nowhere," Nino retorts. He's starting to feel like a cat with his fur up.
"Your place is fine."
Nino stops. Ohno's voice doesn't even have a hint of steel, and there's nothing defiant in the way he stands or the soft fold of his eyelids. He's denying reality and creating his own with such certainty that he's not even bothering to fight. It's bemusing; something in Nino's chest flutters and squeezes, and the irritation seeps out of him like water down a drain. He doesn't have the energy to deny the inevitable.
"I promise to be a pain in the ass," he says. His fatigue is catching up with him, dulling his words. "And forget about being entertained."
Ohno must hear it too, because he takes Nino's hand. "That's fine."
+
So Ohno follows Nino home like a puppy. Now that Nino's come to terms with that fact, he can't even find it in himself to be bothered. Ohno is just there, a presence that fills the gap like a shadow as he lets them both into his apartment. Nino throws his keys on the shoe cabinet and nearly trips up the single step. He could just go to sleep right now, that would be nice.
But shadow though Ohno may be, Nino can't quite forget he's there, and he can't manage to make himself be a bad host on purpose, no matter how much he wants to be. He trudges into the kitchen without preamble, aiming for the fridge.
"Sit down," he orders, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees that Ohno does.
Masami wouldn't do that, he thinks, and without warning the thorns in his heart prick deeper. He grimaces, bottle-opener still poised against the lip of the beer in his hand. It's freezing cold, not even sweating condensation yet. But he can't see it: what he sees, in one sharp flash, is a morning two months ago.
She is already dressed for work, slim in dark pants, legs crossed at the ankle as she leans against their counter with her coffee held in both dainty hands. "Your hair is sticking up," she remarks, making eyes at him over the edge of her cup. "Hardly fitting for an idol."
"You should sit down," he says, his voice light to keep with her teasing. He can still feel the what-ifs lurking around the corners of their pleasant conversation, but the normalcy of this moment is a gift.
"Why?" she says, primly. She seems to sparkle. "I have a good vantage point right here." Her fingers wiggle, probably in imitation of what his hair looks like.
He really only means for her to be careful of spilling on herself, but in the end, it doesn't matter anyway. He leans in beside her, nose in the steam of his own coffee. Mornings like this are precious. They stand, companionable in their silence, until she sets down her empty mug and seems to shake herself. "Already time to go," she says, her lips pulled into a pleasing pout.
But when Nino leans in to kiss it, she steps out of range after the first soft brush of promise. All at once, the world between them is put out of place again, their tenuous balance broken. When she smiles at him, it's awkward and apologetic. She stands just out of reach, already half-turned away. "See you later," she says, stepping too quickly for the door.
Nino slams his hand down on the counter, and startles when the bottle in his hand makes a sharp thunk against the tile. He'd forgotten he was holding it.
He can hear Ohno stand up behind him, but he doesn't turn around. There are no footsteps--Ohno steps too lightly--but Ohno appears at his side all the same, and gently extracts the beer from Nino's grasp. The cap hisses off the top when Ohno opens it, and a volcano of bubbles froths from the mouth, running down the sides and over Ohno's hands. "Ah! … Ah, ah, what do I--"
"The sink!" Nino says, and pushes him bodily till Ohno's arms are suspended over his pitiful little sink. Ohno looks so dumbfounded, frozen there, staring at the bubbles still popping over his skin, that Nino can't help cracking a smile. "Idiot, what did you think was going to happen? I just shook the thing."
"But," Ohno says, and then, "well…"
"You weren't thinking," Nino fills in for him, and turns on the tap.
Ohno's eyes scrunch in helpless amusement at his own folly.
Nino helps him clean up, fussing more than he normally would. It helps to chase away the memory, and it's only later that he starts to wonder if that hadn't been Ohno's intention from the start.
+
The beginning of the new beginning is on a wintery Saturday morning in the conference room, but Nino never realizes, and so he doesn't think of it as such.
"We've flown, we've dunked ourselves in water, we've exploded into the air. What's left?" Jun says, tapping his pen against the table.
"Are you out of juice?" Sho says, clearly laughing on the inside.
Nino listens, huddling deeper into his jacket. He rarely contributes anything to these conversations, and doesn't have anything to say now, but he likes listening to them toss ideas around.
"Doesn't anyone like the giant chessboard idea?" Aiba says.
"If you were serious, I'd hit you," Jun says, tossing his pen away and rubbing at his face. He looks frustrated, but Nino knows it's because he's wrapped up in possibilities and is trying to organize his imagination.
"Or the paper airplane," Aiba goes on, trying not to smile, which just makes his grin bigger. He ducks with astute timing when Jun swipes at him, rings glittering in the light.
"How would you even make that fly?" Sho says. "Or do I want to know?"
"Um," Aiba says. "I've always been a fan of balloon power!"
"Could we do an Ohmiya SK skit?" Ohno speaks up. All four heads swivel his way. It's the first time Ohno has said anything since he walked in the door, looking more like a sleepy animal than a boyband member.
"Leader's awake!" Aiba chirps, leaning towards him. "Good morning."
"Good morning," Ohno replies easily.
Jun frowns, and scratches at the stubble on his chin as he looks over his setlist. "A skit, huh."
"What kind?" Nino says.
Ohno gives him a rueful look, unusually shy. "I don't know. I'm sure we could think of something. It's just been a while."
"Well, you guys conference about it, then, I can't make shit up for you. But we can put it here," Jun says, and scrawls Ohmiya SK in after the first MC, decision made.
+
Nino and Ohno aren't like Jun: the don't need set conference times to decide things. The are the S in Spontaneous and the K in… well, something else.
Which means they start spending a lot more time together in the break rooms and off-set, getting into character and trying to figure stuff out. Nino welcomes it, because it takes his mind off all the lurking negativity that he still hasn't been able to shake.
"We could walk like this," Ohno says, puffing out his chest and sticking out his jaw.
"What are you supposed to be?" Sho says from his seat on the couch.
Ohno stumps towards him, nearly tripping over Sho's ankle, which is stuck out under the coffee table. "Yuji's failed experiment," he says, adopting a bad accent.
Sho bursts out laughing as Nino does a flying leap onto Ohno's back. It's wild and off-center and he almost knocks Ohno flat on his face, but after a windmilling moment, Ohno is galloping around with Nino stuck on like a koala calling out, "Run, Taka, run!" They fall into a pile right next to Sho, kicking him in the shoulder by accident, and don't get anymore work done even though they do have a great wrestling match.
+
Ohno calls the next night at ten, right when Nino gets in his front door and is trying to maneuver his shoes off. "Yeah?" he says, his phone pulsing neon lights in the still-dark apartment.
"Did you think of anything today?" Ohno says. Nino hasn't seen him, and won't see him again face-to-face until next week, when they film VS Arashi and he has to wear something newly ridiculous (he is constantly amazed by the stylist's imagination, but isn't sure why it only pertains to him).
"No, not unless new costumes is an idea. It's not really, though."
"You don't like being silver?" Ohno says. "I could trade you. You could be red and gold for a change."
"The 'S' will stand for 'sexy' for once," Nino says, sliding into his couch with a long sigh.
"I thought we were both sexy," Ohno says, sounding boyishly lost and mournful in the way that only Leader can.
Nino pulls off his socks, letting them both fall to the floor. (Masami wouldn't have liked that: "That's what the hamper is for," she would have reminded him, and tickled him until he put them away.)
Ohno breathes on the other end of the line. There's silence until he speaks again: "Nino?"
"Yeah?" Nino says, still staring at his socks. The shadows make them look dirtier than they are. "Oh. Sorry." He turns his face up, and turns on the TV, leaving it on mute. "Did you have any ideas, or anything?"
"Aliens," Ohno says immediately. "Taka and Yuji can land in a spaceship."
"They are from another planet. That's probably how I got you pregnant," Nino says. "And, hey. That means laser guns."
By the time Nino goes to bed, his mind is filled with lasers and their new alien language, which includes seven words for 'sex'. He leaves his socks on the floor in a silent show of defiance that no one sees and pulls his pillow close, not quite glad that it doesn't smell as much like her as it used to.
+
Things keep shifting slowly over the next few weeks. Ohno comes to sit next to Nino, instead of Nino sitting next to him first. He finds his way into Nino's space in small ways, like tugging at Nino's sleeve, or bumping into him accidentally-on-purpose.
Nino notices it each time, but says nothing, because he likes having Ohno's attention on him. He feels like a flower in the sun, and it's easy to ignore the shadows when Ohno casts light on him.
So the next time Ohno decides they're going to hang out together, Nino gives in without a fuss. Mostly.
"We're going clubbing!" Ohno declares, more excited than Nino thinks he should be.
"Um," says Nino, who is run down from two days of filming and really just wants to sit down. "How about drinking? I have work tomorrow, remember."
"And I have fishing," Ohno says.
"But you wake up for that voluntarily," Nino points out.
Nino wins in the end, but Ohno doesn't seem too disappointed. He gets to choose the bar, anyway, since he's the one paying, and when the van drops them off he keeps his hand on Nino's elbow the entire way down the sidewalk. Nino stays close to his side, both of them keeping their heads down and their cap-brims low.
The door to the bar is five steps away when it swings open and a group of guys tumbles right out, smelling of hard liquor and a long night. They crash right into Nino, and even though he plants his sneaker against the sidewalk he ends up scrambling for balance as the world tilts abstractly.
Ohno's arms catch him, hard coils around his ribs as Nino's weight shoves them both into the wall, Ohno's grunt of surprise something that Nino feels more than hears.
"Ohhh, sorry, sorry," says one man, his tie as loose as his body. He waves, and so do the rest, a collective mind of grinning drunkenness that's already walking away, letting their voices fill the air and echo off the buildings.
"Are you okay?" Ohno murmurs, his breath warm against Nino's frozen ears.
Nino tries to catch his breath. Ohno's arms are snug, holding him up, and he watches seriously as he waits for Nino to regain himself, one corner of his mouth tilted down. For a minute, Nino doesn't want to move. His heart is beating fast, and he realizes he's clutching Ohno's shoulders. How safe he feels surprises him.
"Yeah," he manages finally. "Can't expect drunkards to look where they're going, can you?"
Nino lets go, not waiting for his heart to stop rabbiting, because somehow Ohno's presence is prolonging it. He pushes into the bar, leaving Ohno to follow him.
It's after they walk in that Nino finally realizes that he's been here before. He knows the yellow-lit bar and the squeaky stools, the menu written with fancy chalk strokes, and even the bartender, though he's wearing a different polo shirt tonight. The memory hits him hard and fast, and Nino flashes backwards to a month ago:
There's liveliness, but it's a different kind than Nino sees within Johnny's. He's used to this too, though: the older crowd and the way they laugh, the way they talk about business and horse races instead of just girls and bra straps. Katsumi-san is well into his drink, tilting sideways, sweat standing out on his brow. But Nino's seen him do this before, and knows he's more sharp-minded than anyone would suspect.
"Nino," he says, draping an arm around Nino's shoulders.
Nino has just finished a trick, and they're still talking about it across the table, guessing where he must have concealed that third card. He won't tell, of course, but he likes to hear their theories. He's glowing inside from making an impression, but tries to keep his modesty.
"I know how to do it," Katsumi says off-handedly.
"You do not," Nino says. Katsumi-san tells him this after every trick.
"I won't spoil it for anyone else, don't worry," he says, waving a hand magnanimously. Nino smiles to himself. Katsumi's thumb presses against Nino's neck, and Nino imagines this might be what it feels like to have a father. "Tell me what's going on with you. Your schedule's too busy these days. You've become the untouchable idol. I can't even reserve time," he teases.
"That's not true," Nino says, despite the fact that it actually is. "I can always make time for you."
"Is that so?" Katsumi says, smiling in a way that says he knows Nino is lying, but is going to let him do it. "Making time for a geezer like me, eh." He claps Nino on the back, more strongly than he probably intended. Nino subtly grabs at the table to keep himself upright. "You should be hanging out with those kids your age, or with your girlfriend. Though she seems the busy type, too."
Nino doesn't know what to say to that. He would be hanging out with Masami, if he could. And it's true that they're both busy, but they've always been that way.
Katsumi eyes him shrewdly. "Something on your mind?"
Nino shuffles his cards in his lap. Katsumi lets him get his thoughts together, sitting by silently. "She won't sleep with me," Nino admits. Everyone's talking around them, engaged in their own worlds of conversation. Surely no one is listening. "I'm not sure if I should be trying or not. When I do, she closes up. But it's important, right?" He looks up at Katsumi, searching for the wisdom he's not sure he has himself. "I think it is."
Katsumi nods heavily, drawing his arms over his chest. "It is. Sex is a form of trust." Nino isn't surprised that he's as serious as if he were sober. "I take it this has gone on since the article."
"We've talked," Nino says, sorting his cards automatically, looking through them instead of at them. "She says that she's okay, and she wants to try." But that's not what her actions say, Nino thinks.
"Then all you can do is give her time," Katsumi says.
Ohno startles Nino out of his reverie with a push at his back, his fingers finding the spot just over Nino's belt, touching lightly. "Nino, someone's coming."
Nino, disoriented, nearly steps on Ohno's foot in his haste to stop being a road block. He's shaken, his heart squeezing tight in his chest.
Ohno doesn't waste words asking him if he's okay. He takes Nino's wrist and leads him through the scattered tables to a booth in the corner, and when Nino finally looks up he sees the knowledge written across Ohno's face. Nino feels guilty, like somehow he's let Ohno down.
"Let's get really drunk," Nino says, and flags down a waiter.
The burn of each shot going down his throat feels good, and it's not long before he returns Masami to the treasure box in the back of his mind. He focuses on Ohno, who is real, who is sitting across from him wearing his stupid sideways cap and the down vest his mom gave him three years ago. "You're a good friend," Nino says, kicking him under the table. "I know what it is that you're doing."
"Do you?" Ohno kicks back, the smirk on his face inching upwards. "You're smarter than me then."
"I don't buy that," Nino says cheerfully. "I've known you for ten--nine--shit, really? Ten years?" He rubs his face. It feels numb. "Ohno Satoshi may have convinced the world that he's without guile, but I know better!" He jabs a finger in Ohno's direction in emphasis. "You're the devil!"
Ohno has grabbed his finger, which Nino finds doubly impressive given that he's starting to lose his coordination. Ohno could always hold his liquor better, though. "The devil?" he laughs. "Just what does the devil do?"
"Mean and dastardly things," Nino says.
"How does this fit in with being a good friend?"
"It doesn't," Nino says. "That's separate. I know you brought me here to get my mind off things. You've been doing it for the last week."
Ohno ducks his head, and Nino recognizes it as another flash of shyness. "I'm not that good a friend," he says.
"I know you're a good fisher, but you don't have to fish for compliments," Nino says, poking a hole into the moment before he can feel awkward about it. He's not used to Ohno being shy because of him, and it seems to be happening with progressive frequency lately. The best thing he can do for both of their sakes is to ignore it.
Ohno makes a face, peeling off his vest with a wave-like roll of his shoulders. He's flushed pink with alcohol, so Nino can only imagine what his own face must look like. "I wish I were fishing," Ohno says, nose still scrunched. "You wouldn't come with me, would you?"
"Aren't you going on a boat?" Nino is almost tempted. He's feeling reckless, like he could do anything and get away with it. It doesn't really matter anymore; his future with Masami has blown away with the last leaves of autumn, and nothing is certain but for Arashi and Ohno's love of fishing.
"Oh yeah," Ohno says, like he's honestly forgotten. He smiles his least idol-like smile. "Well, maybe next time."
"I'll go," Nino says. "Invite me anywhere, I'll go."
Ohno studies him across the table. For a moment Nino feels pinned, like Ohno sees beneath his rosy drunkenness and right into the cracks of his heart. But, he thinks, he doesn't mind, if it's Ohno, and he stares right back to show how serious he is. "Yeah?" Ohno finally says. "You'd go clubbing with me?"
Nino laughs over a hiccup. He doesn't know why it's so funny, and that makes him laugh more. "Yes," he says, smacking the table. Ohno's shot glasses jump and clink against each other. "I promise."
They stay half the night, making clumsy towers out of their beer coasters and talking about nothing at all, which is Nino's favorite topic. Ohno leaves him at the taxi stand, waving goodbye before nearly falling into his own taxi. Nino has to be up in four hours, and he's sure to be in for it for having a hangover, but it was worth it, he thinks, melting back into his seat. Ohno has been something like magic, a bigger, better, more beautiful trick than Nino can do on his own. In his presence, Nino is another person, a better person. He's not quite happy, but when he's with Ohno, he feels like he might be.
+
Of course he still thinks about Masami. She sneaks into his thoughts when he least expects her, like a cat ambushing a canary.
Nino hates the memories as much as he loves them. Each one is an open wound, and yet so precious he can't seem to let go. The missing toothbrush reminds him of the mornings they managed to catch each other, and her hurried, minty kisses before she kissed him goodbye. His shoes don't fill his shoe rack, and all the empty space just brings back those times it had been overflowing, and she'd still manage to come home once a month with a new pair. He's kept all the presents she's given him out on his shelves, and each one tells a story, even though he looks away.
In those moments, all he can think is that he fucked up, and he wishes he could have made it right.
+
They don't have time to go clubbing for the next month, but that's nothing new. Ohno doesn't even have time for fishing, and his tan slowly creeps back to a respectable shade that the makeup girls don't take issue with anymore. But both of them remember the promise, and Nino intends to keep it.
Winter hits its hardest stretch, and with it comes the unpredictable snow, flurries that stick to the rooftops but not to the streets, to Nino's eyelashes but not his shoes. And of course it's on a cold day like this that they have to film Mote Arashi, Dame Arashi. Backstage, Nino luxuriates in the well-heated, closed-windowed greenroom, his fingers flipping over each other as he slips cards around his deck one-handed. He's getting closer to perfect.
"How many hours do you spend doing that?" Aiba asks from where he's sprawled on his tummy, pillow pulled to his chest. He's reading a manga he borrowed from Sho earlier.
"As many as I need," Nino says. "Do you wanna see a trick?"
"I know all your tricks," Aiba giggles, turning the page. "Or is that something new?"
Ohno is next to Nino, and Nino had thought he was sleeping, but he pushes up the brim of his cap to look over at Nino curiously. "New trick?"
"No," Nino admits. "It'd be a repeat performance. A masterful one, however. You don't know what you're missing." He keeps flipping cards, memorizing as many as he can, even when Ohno leans into his space.
"Show me?" he says.
"You have to be surprised at the end," Nino insists.
"Okay."
Aiba pretends he isn't watching as Nino cuts the deck and makes Ohno take a card. It's a harder trick, but one that gives him immense satisfaction. When he takes the proper card from Ohno's shirt pocket, Ohno looks so dazzled that Nino can't not grin. "Masterful, wasn't it?"
"How do you do that?" Ohno says, looking as impressed as a child despite having seen this trick before.
"It's all in the fingers," Nino informs him, and Aiba snorts into his manga. On impulse, Nino leans forward, holding out an imaginary microphone in Aiba's direction. "Sir, were you witness to the greatness of Ninomiya the Magician just now?"
Aiba lets his manga fall closed. His eyes sparkle with good humor, and the brattiness that he doesn't let his fans see, as he answers, "Was he supposed to be amazing? All I saw was a trick by a second-rate magician."
Nino nearly tosses his cards at Aiba. "Let's see you do it."
"I thought it was amazing!" Ohno says, sitting up petulantly straight. His eyes are still impressively round.
Nino wheels on him, fake microphone held up so high he almost whacks Ohno in the mouth. "Taka! You love me, don't you?"
Ohno's whole countenance shifts, like Taka is taking him over from the inside. "Of course. Yuji is my whole world," he says worshipfully.
"And that was an amazing magic trick, admit it!"
Ohno nods decisively over Aiba's uncontained giggles. "Amazing."
"And you would call him Yuji the Great, Yuji the Impressive, Yuji the Sublime?"
"Yuji the Sexpot," Ohno returns, fluttering his lashes and clasping his hands together in a fair imitation of a shojo heroine.
"I don't think I should be watching this," Aiba says, hiding his eyes with his hands.
"And what are your thoughts on world peace?" Nino goes on, as Aiba peeks through his fingers.
Ohno still has hearts in his eyes. "If Aiba-kun snuggled all the fuzzy bunnies of the world, there would be no more war, because the earth would explode with happiness."
"Hey!" Nino says, and whacks him on the head. "This is supposed to be about me!"
"This is good!" Aiba says, picking himself up before he falls off the sofa. "Is this your skit for the concert?"
Nino stops. He looks at Ohno, and Ohno looks back at him, frozen in his girly pose. "Interviews?" says Nino, turning the idea over in his mind.
"Martian interviews?" Ohno echoes.
"I wonder," Nino says, rubbing his chin.
"Arashi-sama on in fifteen minutes!" calls the staff from the hall, striding past their door with a purposeful gait.
Aiba stands. "I think you should do it. It's bound to be more interesting than the Dame Arashi interviews, anyway. Man these things make me so nervous!" His nose scrunches unhappily.
Nino almost feels bad for him when he gets dunked, but mostly he's just glad it's not him.
+
It becomes a game, because Nino knows a good idea when he hears it. He asks Ohno inane questions at the drop of a hat, though it's the most fun when they manage to make Sho snort up his drink, so they do it extra when he's around. Aiba tries to submit questions for review, and Jun just smiles when he thinks no one can see. They're in character so often that Nino almost forgets what Ohno is like when he's not being a ham.
"If Taka had a rabbit, what color would it be?" Nino asks one day during a photoshoot. The staff is rearranging pillows and adding cherry blossoms even though it's still two months till spring. Nino often feels like his world exists one step ahead of everyone else's.
"Blue," Ohno says immediately in his whiny Taka voice. "And I would name it Poko. It's a cute name, isn't it?"
"Earth appears to lack a blue specimen," Yuji-Nino says, and Taka folds over in dismay. "Don't look so glum! We could always dye one."
("It doesn't work," Aiba tells them later in solemn confidence. "You can dye poodle ears, but bunnies squirm so much you dye yourself more than you dye them.")
Then, during lunch break two days later, it's something else again: "What's the most inappropriate sound you can make?" Yuji-Nino asks, crawling over the couch to get at Ohno, who is cracking his chopsticks apart.
"This can wait till after we eat, can't it?" Sho says hopefully, mouth already full of rice. There are grains stuck to his lower lip, and Nino takes a moment to poke at them, trying to push them in to be properly eaten. Sho takes it with the grace and patience of a man who's worked with Nino for many long years.
"My farts aren't very loud," Taka-Ohno muses, chopsticks already secondary to the conversation.
Jun roots around in his lunch and comes up with a pickle. "Believe me, we know," he says, wry. "We can still smell them."
"They smell great," Taka-Ohno says, and after a pause, sniffs the air and smiles benignly. "See?"
+
Nino doesn't see Ohno more than twice a week, but during the interim Ohno calls him, making Nino giggle excessively into his pillow. Nino doesn't even care that he's up after all the late shows have gone from being amusing to infomercials, or that he'll have bags under his eyes in the morning. (Jun has a salve that makes things better.)
And then one night it's Nino that calls Ohno. It's starting to feel like a habit, hearing Ohno breathe over the phone.
When Ohno picks up, his voice is thick with sleep, like warm honey in Nino's ear. "Kazu?"
"Sorry," Nino whispers. "You can go back to sleep."
"No," Ohno says, and Nino can hear him grunt and stretch, and the rustle of things as he moves around. "I'm awake."
For a moment, Nino says nothing. Just having the phone to his ear is enough to chase away the darkness.
"Nino?" Ohno says, more alert than before. "Ah. Yuji?"
"Hm?"
"Did you do any Earth exploring today?" Taka-Ohno says, though he can't quite get the voice on right.
Nino smiles. "I did. Humans make no sense at all."
"I know," Ohno agrees. "Their erogenous zones are all messed up. They don't even have antennae!"
"Where are your erogenous zones?" Nino asks. He pulls his blankets up to his chin and wiggles, trying not to let the cold air in. He refuses to turn on the heater when down works perfectly well.
"Aside from the antennae? My fourth nipple, of course," Ohno answers. "You?" He's solemn, and for a moment sounds more like Ohno than Taka.
"The backs of my knees," Nino says, steering clear of anything resembling accuracy. Surely Ohno doesn't really want to know. "All ten of them."
"Oh yes," Ohno says, with feeling, like he knows just what Nino means. And then: "Shall I lick them for you?"
For a moment Nino doesn't know what to say at all. Somewhere along the way this conversation went from the normal type of surreal to really freaking surreal, and there's a dangerous flutter in his belly that he didn't think Ohno could give him. "I might let you," he says carefully. "Do you have a nice tongue?"
"Of course I do," Ohno says demurely. Does he even know what he's saying? Nino can't tell.
"I don't know," Nino says with a healthy dose of put-on skepticism. He feels like he needs to veer wildly away, make up some excuse and go to bed, but at the same time he doesn't want to hang up. "If it's not good, I don't want it."
"For Yuji I'll make it special," Ohno insists. He sounds so serious that Nino's heart does a double-thump, and his hand tightens on his phone.
"You'd better," he says.
Ohno laughs, and the tension around Nino eases, just a little. But when they get off the phone, he stares at the ceiling, listening to his pulse, trying to convince himself that there was nothing strange going on then, nothing at all.
+
"Have you figured out what you're doing yet?"
Nino looks up from the gory death in his manga, honestly puzzled as to when Jun managed to get so close. He's still got his sunglasses on, and his hair is sticking out under his hat. He takes the seat next to Nino and pulls a bunch of papers from his bag, all business with his expectant look.
"Doing?" Nino says.
"The skit," Jun clarifies, already scribbling a note onto his paper. He looks harried, like he's only half there, the other half of him already mapping out what he has to do after this.
"Is the martian idea okay?" Nino asks. Jun's seen enough of them to be sick of it by now.
"So you are doing that," Jun says, already twitching a smile. "You're not farting on each other, are you?"
"Once was enough," Nino says firmly.
"Once was too much," Jun mutters, but makes another note. Nino tells him the rest, and Jun writes aliens inspect earth, personal revelation, which Nino figures is pretty accurate. "Well," he says, finally sliding off his sunglasses, "it seems like you're having fun with it, at least. If you guys have fun, so will the fans. Do you need any props?"
"Laser guns." Nino already has plans for them, most of which include shooting Ohno as spectacularly as possible, with many fake deaths.
"…Right," Jun says, but writes it down anyway. Then he eyes Nino. "You two are getting along particularly well lately," he says.
"He's been a good friend," Nino says evasively.
Jun nods with a considering look, chin propped on the back of his hand, lips pursed. "Mhm." He raises a brow. "He hasn't gotten involved when any of the rest of us went through a breakup, you know. Not that I wouldn't call him a good friend." He straightens up, gathering his papers together with fastidious neatness. "Just a thought."
"You think too much," Nino says, flipping through his manga and trying to find his place again in a not-so-subtle hint. He can't deny being intrigued, but it's not something he's ready to talk to Jun about.
"Maybe," Jun agrees amiably, and leaves Nino in peace.
+
Nino gets to fulfill his promise to Ohno almost three months after he makes it. They go clubbing in Shibuya, to the Gas Panic, where Nino has been once but Ohno used to visit regularly when they were juniors. It's the opposite of fancy: a hole in the ground with brick walls and picture frames purposely askew, the lighting so frantically colored that Nino feels like he's wearing kaleidoscope glasses. The dance floor is too crowded to dance, so people sway and bump hips instead, and every girl is wearing a short skirt.
"What?" Nino can't even hear himself scream to Ohno.
Ohno mimes drinking from a glass, and points exaggeratedly past the swell of bodies to where the bar must be. Nino shrugs, grabs the back of Ohno's shirt, and follows.
His eyes wander as they go. There's plenty of eye candy, and it's not just the short skirts. There are girls showing cleavage, which Nino never minds seeing, and he even catches sight of a belly piercing or two.
There aren't any stools free at the bar, but Ohno shoves his way through, shedding people left and right in his determination to get a drink. One girl, her hair straight and long enough to cover her breasts, stumbles over her heels, and Nino steps up to catch her elbow. She blinks at him, bambi-like, and he mouths the word 'Sorry' and gives his best Myojo-grin. Her smile is so abruptly infectous he knows she's drunk already, and then she wobbles right out of his grip and back to her group of friends, none the worse for wear.
When Ohno comes back, he has two tequila shots, and Nino has to laugh even though it's swallowed up by the music. They touch glasses and down them at the same time.
Over the next hour, Ohno stays close, getting them more drinks at regular intervals. Nino explores, pushing through the dancers and trying not to throw off their center of gravity, even though his own is starting to grow precarious. There are plenty of nooks and crannies, all of them filled with girls kissing boys and boys kissing girls and even, in one place, girls kissing girls, which makes Nino stop in appreciation. He turns to see if Ohno has noticed, too, only to discover he's lost him.
He retraces his steps, or tries, but Ohno's not near the bar nor on the edge of the dance floor. Nino frowns. If he's going to dance, he needs more alcohol in him.
He feels a touch on his arm, then, but when he turns it's not Ohno, it's a girl. She's wrapped up in red light, and her lashes are long and definitely fake (Nino may be a guy, but he's industry, he can tell). She leans towards him like she wants something, and gives him a fantastic view down her shirt. All thoughts of Ohno go right out of his mind. Her mouth shapes words carefully so he can read her lips over the swell of sound that's beating against their bones: "Are you alone?"
Nino nods.
She smiles, her hand coming to perch on his shoulder like a small creature. He slides his arm around her waist just to make sure he's reading all the signs right, but he needn't have worried: she moves right into him, so close her breasts push against his ribs. Nino doesn't waste time. He threads their fingers together and takes her back the way he came, where the lights are dimmer and nobody will bother them. There's no place to sit, though, so Nino just pushes the girl up against the wall. She tastes like berries with alcohol underneath when he kisses her, and her teeth are uneven, tilty towards the left, when he slips his tongue between her lips.
He pushes into her, feeling his own body tighten with surprising speed. It's been too long since he's had an outlet, and even just the way she drags her hands up his back makes him feel too hot. She doesn't stop his hands from wandering anywhere, just kisses him and kisses him, and he takes advantage, rubbing his hand up between her breasts. He wonders what kind of bra she's wearing, and if it unhooks in the front or the back. And are her nipples rosy pink or apricot or brassy dark? Are they hard right now?
Her leg slides in between his, and their bodies work together in a dance that doesn't match the beat of the music. Her hair is a mess, now, her hair-salon curls caught on the wall, but she seems to care more about the way he's touching her than what she looks like, and that's a plus in Nino's book. She'd be great in bed, he thinks.
He could take her up the street to Dogenzaka, to his favorite love hotel. It would be easy. He could tumble her onto the bed and slide her underwear down her legs and rock his fingers into her. He wonders if she's loud. He can't tell yet, but he wants to find out, and that's what decides him. When he propositions her, mouth against her ear, she nods.
It takes Nino a moment to figure out where the door is. He pulls her behind him, trying to maneuver his way around human roadblocks. But before he makes it there, Ohno materializes on his left, catching Nino's wrist faster than he can blink. Ohno's eyebrows are pulled together in displeasure, and a flash of guilt rocks Nino from his chest down to his toes.
Ohno's grip is surprisingly strong. "Come on," he says, and drags Nino forward before Nino knows what's happening. Nino loses his grip on the girl's hand, and when he looks over his shoulder the crowd has already swallowed her up. Guilt flips over to anger, bubbling in his chest.
"Hey!" Nino shouts, trying to get Ohno's attention. "Hey, wait!" But if Ohno hears him, he doesn't wait. He steamrolls past people and pulls Nino right up the stairs, only pausing when Nino trips on the third step.
Outside, Nino feels like he's just walked out of a jungle and into a ghost town. There's no one, only trash that's been trampled into the pavement under the eerie yellow streetlights.
"What the hell?" Nino says, jerking his arm out of Ohno's grasp. "What was that for? You fucking cockblocked me!"
"What about you?" Each word is a steel spike, and Nino takes an involuntary step back. He's has never seen Ohno so riled up before. "I know you. You're going to hate yourself again in the morning, you always do."
"Shut up," Nino says, drawing his arms over his chest. All his blood is in his ears.
"I can't watch you do it," Ohno says. His jaw is tight, his pulse jumping in his neck. "I won't."
"Why?" Nino says, his mouth asking before his brain can tell him it's a bad idea.
It's almost like he's looking at a lion, not Ohno. "Because I want to be with you."
It shocks through Nino like electricity, and he reels, his hands digging harder into his arms. Silence opens up between them, and all the background noises of the city are sharp in Nino's ears.
Ohno sighs. When Nino sneaks a look at him, his anger is bleeding away, a sense of hopelessness moving in to take its place. It makes Nino feel worse. He knows what a broken heart feels like. "I'm sorry," he says, staring at his shoes.
"There are times when saying 'I'm sorry' helps," Ohno says, patting himself down. "I'm not sure this is one of them." He finds and lights a cigarette, and the smell of it makes Nino want one, too. But he doesn't ask.
"I don't know what to do, then," he admits, trying to swallow his own disappointment in himself.
Ohno squints at him, weighing his thoughts before he speaks. "You'll figure it out," he says. "I know you."
"You said that," Nino says. "Sounds like you know me too well."
Ohno shrugs. "In Taka's world, there's only Yuji. So he pays attention," he says. The smoke around him curls into the crisp night air. "Here." He's holding out another cigarette, unlit. "Take it."
In that moment, on the dirty, empty sidewalk with graffiti at their backs and the dull thud of music that sounds a world away, Nino believes him. His fingers slide against Ohno's as he reaches to take the cigarette, and all his emotions open like a supernova inside him, too many to count, impossible to unravel: hope, fear, self-loathing, and the ache of love that blankets everything. He feels like he's going to break.
But for the first time, Nino sees something to be gained by changing. He doesn't know if he can do it, and that scares him the most of all. But Ohno is the most important person in his life--more important than Masami, because for Ohno, Nino is willing to try.
"I think," Nino says, "I need some time."
Ohno nods, and hands him the lighter. When Nino steps closer to him, their shadows overlap under the streetlights.
+
The day that's the real beginning of the beginning in Nino's mind is in spring, after all the cherry blossoms have fallen and the weather seems to be thinking about giving them fluffy clouds instead of rainy ones. It's Nino's first day off in three weeks, and he sleeps right through until eleven. He does his laundry with his eyes half open, eats a cup-o-noodle for lunch, and takes so long in the bathtub that even his palms are pruned.
When he's done, he calls Ohno.
Ohno hasn't called him since they went clubbing. He's been giving Nino space, just like Nino asked for. He's still there on set, sometimes standing so close their knuckles brush and listening when Nino tells him about all the unimportant things, like last night's dinner, his missing car key, and how tired, tired, tired he is. Ohno listens and makes him laugh with inappropriately timed comments. But when it's time to go home Ohno goes one way and Nino goes the other, knowing they won't meet again until the next time work brings them together.
Nino has spent this time thinking. Thinking about Ohno, about Masami, and most of all about himself.
"Hey," Nino says when Ohno picks up. "You got time?"
Ohno comes straight from work. He walks into the apartment just like he would on any other day, when it wouldn't mean anything at all, and holds up an unmarked plastic bag. "I got us some bread."
Nino is sure he's being obviously awkward, but Ohno doesn't seem to notice. "You get two points for thoughtfulness," he says. "Now come inside, already."
Ohno follows him around the corner, avoiding the groove Nino has worn into the couch when he sits down. Nino doesn't sit next to him. He sits on one end, and creeps his toes Ohno's way, testing distances that didn't exist before. His brain is cluttered; he's been thinking all day of what to say, but he doesn't know where to start.
"Melon bread," Ohno says, passing it to Nino.
It's the one thing Nino is guaranteed to eat, even when he's not really hungry. He nibbles at it, plastic wrapper crinkling in his hands, and tries to get ahold of his thoughts.
Ohno saves him by speaking first (and Nino gives him five more points for that). "What did Yuji do today?"
"Is this going to be another interview?" Nino says around a mouthful of bread.
Ohno thinks about that, and then shrugs. "Would that make it easier?" He's already halfway through a roll peppered with dry fruit, and he has crumbs in the corner of his mouth.
Nino looks at his toes, pale against Ohno's jeans. He really isn't hungry, but he's starting to wish he had some tea. "Probably, yeah. Right now everything in my head feels like a traffic jam. I've thought a lot, but… it's circles, and lots of dead ends."
Ohno hums and swallows hard, licking away the crumbs. "Okay. Taka will ask, then."
Nino almost smiles. Using their other names is a relief; it makes it seem more distant, like he's looking in from the outside.
"Did you kiss Meisa-chan?"
"You want to start there?" Nino rubs at his face with his hands, pulling at his cheeks. He takes it back: this isn't easier at all. "I didn't. It wasn't her." He swallows down the discomfort that's starting to squirm in his belly. "But it wasn't Masami either. It was me, though. And another girl."
Nino kind of wishes Ohno would look a little more surprised.
"Why did you do it?"
Nino frowns. He puts his bread on the coffee table, still mostly uneaten. "Because I could. That's the simple answer. That's the answer without any excuses, anyway." He hugs himself. "…I guess I haven't really grown up, yet. I mean… when a girl is there, and she wants you, isn't that a high? For me it is."
Ohno doesn't say anything. Nino's toes are still pressed against his thigh, but Nino pulls them away, tucking them them under himself.
"I know it's wrong," Nino says, quieter. "I want to change."
"Why?" There's an intensity in Ohno. Nino has to look away.
"Don't you know?"
"I can make a guess, but I want to hear it from you."
Nino shakes his head slowly. "Lots of reasons," he says. His nerves are worse than jellyfish in his stomach. He shifts around, trying to ease the ache that's starting up in his back. "But mostly because I want to be with you."
"You're doing it for me?" Ohno says, looking unhappy.
"For me," Nino corrects him, quick and insistent. "This is what I want." He tries to smile. "Figuring that out was the easy part."
Ohno's brow relaxes, but he's still watching Nino as if he's looking for something. "What if I say no?" he says.
Nino's stomach swoops and drops. "What would I do, you mean?" His fingers weave together, and come back apart. He can't keep them still. The room seems to warm, even with the windows open. "I thought about that too. Honestly… I know I can't depend on you. I know it has to be me. But I'd be lying if I said I could do it, because I don't know. Even if…" He tilts his head in Ohno's direction, but avoids his eyes. "Even if you say yes, I don't know. No matter how much I want to it won't be easy."
Silence settles. Ohno reaches out his hand, and his fingers curl around Nino's wrist, pulling until he can fit their hands together palm to palm. Nino presses his lips together, watching as their fingers mesh, and tries not to read too far into it. "But." There's pressure inside him, pushing and pushing against the inside of his ribs, filling him with a conviction that overshadows all the rest. "I'm determined. I want you to know that." He says it with all the honesty he has.
Ohno's hand squeezes. "I do now."
He's there, right next to Nino, pulling Nino into his arms, and Nino doesn't fight. The geometry is awkward, but Ohno holds him carefully, like he's cradling Nino's heart instead of his body, and little by little the tension ebbs from Nino's body. He breathes, smelling laundry detergent and the faint hint of Ohno's favorite cigarettes.
"Yuji?" Ohno says, his voice muffled by Nino's hair.
"Yeah?"
"You really want to be with me?"
Nino's hand settles over Ohno's chest and imagines he can feel Ohno's heart beating, each emotion that fills it an ember that glows too bright to ignore. "Yeah. If you'll let me."
Ohno's touch drifts down his arm, giving Nino goosebumps. "I've been waiting."
The world doesn't stop, and there are no fireworks in Nino's chest, but he can feel his blood flowing. His heart is full of promises he intends to keep. "There's just one thing," he says, and Ohno shifts, like a question.
Nino feels himself smile. "You'll have to call me Nino."
+
Nino sees Masami on TV when he takes the time to watch it. She's not in many commercials, but the ones she's in play often enough and on every channel. She looks different, radiating with confidence, her cheeks filled out and her smile real. She's changed. Watching from so far away, Nino wishes her happiness.
Nino has changed too, in both big ways and small. He will never be perfect, but he likes the direction he's headed in.
His phone rings: it's Ohno. "Hello, Nino?"
Nino turns off the TV.
Poll Team What-If