distress signal [arashi rps]
Title: Distress Signal
Author: waxrose
Rating: PG
Length ~7,400 words
Pairing(s) Ohno/Nino
Summary: "True heroism is remarkably sober, very undramatic. It is not the urge to surpass all others at whatever cost, but the urge to serve others at whatever cost." (Arthur Ashe)
Notes: Written for dramaticsurgeon for the help_haiti fic auction. I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am about how late this fic is, and thank you for being so incredibly patient and generous towards a good cause. ♥ Also, many thanks to the amazing aeslis for looking this over on such short notice!
Ohno wouldn't exactly call himself a perceptive person; others would notice what he might miss completely. Maybe it was simply that they now usually saw each other once or twice a week rather than nearly every day that it was easier to notice the changes in Nino recently. Physically, he was paler, skinnier. Other than that -
"I think they call that a mental breakdown," Jun says, not unkindly. He's perched on the stool beside Ohno, watching Ohno smooth foundation over his face while he waits for the makeup artist to finish with Aiba.
The makeup room isn’t really a good place to talk about personal issues, but there’s no staff in the corner they're sitting in. The makeup staff know better than to bother Jun before his first cup of coffee, which is why Nino, Sho and Aiba usually get their makeup done first.
"It’s strange," Ohno says. He peers closer at the mirror, trying to even out his skin tone on one cheek. The makeup is slimy and cold against his skin and it smells sharp and chemical. He dislikes it, but he'd rather do it himself. He's quicker. "It’s not like him."
"He’s under a lot of stress," Jun says. "Well, we all are, but Nino -" he shrugs. "Nino will be better once his drama filming ends."
"It might get cancelled," Ohno says quietly.
Jun's lips are a thin line as he rolls an eyeliner pencil around the counter. Ohno knows that Jun feels somewhat guilty even if it wasn’t his fault that Nino’s drama’s ratings had fallen like a rock after the first two episodes, while the ratings for his own were rising. "They’re more than halfway through. They might cut down the number of episodes, but they won’t cancel it."
Cancelled or not, it wasn’t a good situation. In Ohno's opinion, it was almost more painful to watch Nino struggling through nearly another month of poisonous entertainment magazine commentaries and mounting pressure to pull off a minor ratings miracle.
"Matsujun!" Aiba jogged up from the opposite end of the room, loose cardigan flapping against his sides inelegantly as he ran. "Do you still have that cream you lent me yesterday - that one that smells like peaches?" He shows them his hands - his knuckles are nearly frosted white, one splitting open and bleeding slightly.
Jun clicks his tongue disapprovingly, digging into his bag. "You should be more careful with your skin during the winter," he says, poking through the pockets, "If you don't moisturize properly, that's what happens." He finally pulls out a small plastic jar with a mint green lid and hands it to Aiba.
Aiba shrugs, twisting off the lid. "I don't think about it much."
"Hm." Jun props his head on his hand again, frowning. "You should - hey, be careful with that!" he scolds, as Aiba smears a large glop of cream over his palms. "You don't need that much."
Aiba's eyes widen guiltily. "Is it expensive?" he asks, looking down at his hands as if he's wondering if he can scrape some back into the jar.
Jun sighs. "Your hands are going to be all slippery."
"We can share!" Aiba grabs one of Jun's hands mischievously in his own, rubbing his cream-greasy hands against Jun's fingers. Jun tolerates this for a good minute before shaking Aiba off, and Ohno laughs. "Now you're properly moisturized, too."
"Moron." Jun rubs the residue of Aiba's 'gift' into his hands properly as Aiba floats off to find their manager. Ohno discards his used makeup sponge, tidying up the table.
Jun pulls out his phone and starts tapping out a message. "That shop is on my way home, so I can stop if we get off early tonight," he says absently, almost under his breath.
"Hmm?" Jun glances at him, startled. Ohno realizes that Jun had been talking to himself.
Jun tucks his phone back into his pocket. "I thought I should get Aiba his own jar of that cream," he says off-handedly. "So he won't keep borrowing mine."
"That's nice," Ohno says, and it is. Jun is such a thoughtful guy.
Jun rolls his eyes. "Just watch," he says, "That idiot will be walking around smelling his own hands all day."
As if on cue, Sho slouches into the dressing room, hat askew and rubbing at his chin. "Aiba just high-fived me in the face," he says. He sniffs at his fingers. "And I think his hands smelled like yogurt."
"Matsumoto-kun," their manager says as he sticks his head into the dressing room. "You're up first."
"Aren't we doing the group talk first?" Jun asked, straightening out his jacket as he stood up from the stool where had been perched.
"Nino's going to be late," Sho says mildly. The frown creasing his forehead told Ohno that Sho found that weird, too, even if he wasn't going to ask questions.
"We'll be calling you next, Ohno-kun, so please be ready." Their manager leaves with Jun in tow, who wags his fingers mockingly in front of Sho's face as he passes by him. Sho wrinkles his nose and drops down on the stool that Jun had just vacated with a sigh.
"Anything bad happen?" Ohno asks, and it's a testament to how well they know each other that Sho knows that he's talking about Nino.
"I don't think so. Just something personal," Sho says. "He's not usually late, is he? I texted him after I heard from the manager, but he hasn't gotten back to me."
"Huh." Ohno thumbs his own phone in his pocket, the rounded edges smooth against his fingers. He and Nino don't text each other all that often. Usually it's just nonsense. He tries to compose a text in his head. You're late!, maybe, with stern faces and fireworks. Or maybe I'm waiting for you~, with sly, plush heart marks and smacking lips.
"I can pet your nipples if you're feeling lonely." Sho says, straight-faced.
+
It's nearing lunch time when Nino finally stumbles into their break room, with a baseball cap squashing his morning bed-head. He looks tired, but he always looks tired these days.
There's only so much they can get accomplished with four of them there; just one less person, but it makes a world of difference. They've already been on stand-by for nearly an hour now. No one minds all that much; in fact, it's hardly unusual. When your job consists mostly of other people telling you what to do, you spend a lot of time waiting.
To anyone on the outside, it would seem as if none of them acknowledge Nino as he slumps down onto an empty couch near the far wall, digging through his bag. They might not notice the way Aiba catches Ohno's eyes, frowning a littlem or how Sho is throwing calculated glances over the top of his laptop at Nino. The curve of Nino's posture, the slump of his shoulders, the dip of his thoughtful frown are those unwritten cues that years and experience have taught them all mean that he wants to be left alone.
The catch is, and what even less people understand, is that when it comes to Nino, these rules don't apply to Ohno.
For a second, Nino looks annoyed when Ohno slips onto the couch next to him, sitting close enough that their sides are pressed together, warm and solid. Then he smiles, the brim of his cap still hiding most of his face. "Leader."
"Did you eat?" Ohno asks.
Nino's mouth twists. He seems to waver between lying politely and telling the truth. "Not yet."
"I have some melon bread in my bag," Aiba offers from behind them. He's hovering between the couch and the desk where he had been reading a magazine, hands unconsciously fluttering in space. "Do you want it? I can grab it right now."
Nino clicks his tongue, and the dull light finally leaves his eyes as he hangs over the back of the sofa to talk with Aiba. "That depends. Did you sit on it again?"
"Nino!" Aiba says dismissively, as he hands over the mysteriously flat bread, the gooey filling leaking out of one side to squish against the crinkled plastic wrapping. "Of course I didn't."
Nino isn't going to say if anything's wrong. Ohno knows that. And he - he can't ask him. He's no good at that kind of thing.
What Ohno can do is sit here and let Nino absentmindedly touch his knee as he eats Aiba's melon bread in delicate bites, licking out all the filling from the edges in a way that's kind of entrancing and disgusting all at once.
"Have a bite, Leader," Nino says, breaking him out of his reverie, and Ohno blinks, opening his mouth automatically as Nino gently shoves a good third of the bun into his mouth.
"We'll start taping in about 15 minutes," one of the staff members reminds them, ducking in and out of the room, arms full of paper.
Ohno chews on the melon bread and wonders what it would be like to just be part of the staff. It's kind of uncomfortable, watching other people rush around and fuss with your hair and skin and make something as simple as entering a room a big production. If it wasn't for Arashi, Ohno doesn't know if he'd be able to stand being Ohno Satoshi, Idol. But he's okay with being Arashi's Ohno Satoshi.
What Ohno likes absolutely best about Arashi is that when the cameras start rolling and the count is given, nothing really changes.
During the day's shoot, Nino nudges him to tell him to stop picking your nose in a low voice, his smile a sly, silent laugh. Ohno just makes a face at him and deliberately touches Nino's thigh so he can see Nino's concentration break as he tries to control a smirk of mixed amusement and disgust.
This is their life, and Ohno wouldn't want it any other way.
+
Under hellish heat and crushing force for a few billion years, graphite can turn into diamonds. It isn’t that different for an idol, Sho had once said, back when the combined force of university studies and his demands as a member of Arashi had given him permanent bags under his eyes for weeks on end at times. If people go through challenging times, if they bear up under pressure, they will shine more brightly than anyone else.
Or they’ll jump in front of a train, Nino had remarked wryly.
Collapsing under pressure is never a viable option. There were times in the past when Ohno would come home in the dead of night and collapse on the couch in his room with a tiredness that ached right into his bones, into his mind and heart. Sometimes he had no idea what made him peel himself back off the couch just a few short hours later, feet heavy and clumsy.
But once he got to work and he saw Jun, tiny and morning-surly, Sho, who had obviously tumbled straight from one of his all-night family restaurant study sessions into the practice room, Aiba’s soft yawns and Nino’s tired, watchful eyes, he knew that he couldn’t lose to them. They all worked hard, they all put their hearts into what they did, and none of them would be the first to say that they couldn’t take anymore.
And that’s what Ohno doesn't understand. He's seen Nino withstand all-night filming sessions and grueling rehearsals. He’s seen him suffer on through the same schedule with an infection that should have kept him hospitalized. He’s watched him struggle through the humiliation and hurt of scandals and backlash for the perceived mistake of falling in love.
Nino is strong. He doesn't have Sho’s kind of strength: a persistent, stubborn alertness. He doesn't have the warm, invincible sparkle that makes Aiba shine from within, or Jun’s brisk, rolling professionalism. Nino endures things with a steady matter-of-factness.
Nino likes to play up the role of the spoiled idol who lives off his looks for the magazines, tongue-in-cheek. He says it's simply his job; that he follows directions, he does the work given to him. He seems to live to perplex all those interviewers who, after ten years, still can't pin down whether he's completely apathetic and heartlessly cynical, or the most earnest, sensitive young man they have ever met.
In hindsight, the drama was a risky move. An original script by a new director, a cast of mostly unknowns. Rumour had it that they had gambled a significant portion of their budget on getting Nino to play the lead - a psychic who falls in love with a girl whose mind he can’t read.
Nino is the best actor that Ohno knows. He doesn’t pretend like acting was any great art or that he had any particular skill at it, but he could slip into another person’s skin the way that most people slipped on clothes. He has an emotional intensity that can shake you to the core, just by holding your gaze.
The problems had started early - the lead actress getting entangled in a drug scandal just as the second episode aired, a sponsor withdrawing funding. Nino was doing his best, and it was frustrating to watch the tabloids slip in sly remarks about how one of the generation’s most promising actors seemed to have lost his appeal.
The day that the sixth episode scrapes in only a 6.5% viewer rating in a prime evening slot is the same day that Ohno walks into the bathroom just off from their rehearsal room to find Nino dry-heaving into the bathroom sink. His coughs echo and rattle around the whitewashed walls and Ohno stands silently in the doorway for a second, frozen and unsure.
"Nino?" Ohno says, hesitating.
Nino looks up at the mirror, catching Ohno’s gaze in reflection. His face is pale and his bangs stick wetly to his forehead, but his features seem to shift instantly, so that Ohno catches only a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes before Nino looks composed, just tired. "Oh-chan."
"Are you all right?" It’s almost perfunctory - of course Nino isn't all right, any more than he wants Ohno to ask. It occurs to Ohno that asking this is almost a way of forcing a positive response out of a person.
"Don’t look so scared," Nino says, sounding exasperated. He turns, leaning back against the sink and crossing his arms across his chest. "That carbonara, you know - it just didn’t sit well with me. Going to have to talk to Sho about his choice of dinners."
Nino smiles wryly, but it’s weak. Ohno feels somewhat at a loss. Sho would probably push Nino until he could get a satisfactory emotional response. Aiba would try to hug him and have a man-to-man talk in the middle of the bathroom. Jun would probably accept Nino’s excuse and continue to watch him closely, to support him silently.
But Ohno’s never been good at anything but simply letting people be. It’s probably not the best quality for a leader to have, but then again, he never asked anyone to make him a leader.
"You have the rest of my spaghetti," Ohno offers. "If you’re still hungry."
Nino examines him carefully from under his eyelashes, his mouth twitching into an ironic smile. "Thanks, Oh-chan."
It’s so frustrating that this is all he’s capable of, somehow. It’s almost like Nino is determined to make him feel better, and the lump of guilt grows heavier in Ohno’s stomach as Nino absentmindedly picks his way through Ohno's leftover pasta, scraping the cold, gluey white sauce off of the clumped-up strands.
+
"You’re his co-worker, not his therapist." Jun says. "You can’t solve all his problems, and he wouldn’t want you to. It isn’t your place, or ours."
"We try to take of each other as best as we can, don’t we?" Aiba stares down at his beer glass, thumbs absently stroking the contours of the smooth glass. "Because we love him."
Aiba always makes their relationship sound so decided, so clear and easy. He really, honestly loves them all and it’s simple to him. It’s simple to Ohno, too - they’re easy people to love, and he can’t imagine his life without them. They occupy a strange balance between friends and colleagues and family and it’s only times like now that Ohno realizes how undefined the boundaries of their relationship actually are.
"Sometimes love means not interfering," Jun says firmly.
Aiba snorts. "And promoting his drama during your own drama’s promotion stints isn’t interfering?"
"That’s different." Ohno knows that Jun got reprimanded for spending most of his promotion time talking about Nino and his drama and how much he’s enjoying it. It’s the first time in a long time that Jun has rebelled so deliberately, and probably the first time it wasn’t out of undue malice. "I’m not going to sit down with him and try to talk about his feelings."
"It isn’t just the drama," Ohno says suddenly, and the other two stop arguing to look at him. "It can’t be just that. Nino’s stronger than that."
Aiba looks at him in askance. "What else could it be?"
Jun shrugs, signaling for another beer. "He could have a girlfriend. Maybe it's just relationship issues."
"He wouldn't miss work for that," Aiba points out. "That's not very Nino-y."
"All we can do is wait," Jun says. "If it's important, or if it concerns us, he'll tell us. Right, Leader?"
Ohno traces a drop of condensation on his beer bottle with a finger. "Right," he says hesitantly. It was usually better to just agree with Jun once his mind was set.
"There you are, then," Jun says to Aiba, as if Ohno's agreement had settled the matter.
+
"Oh," Aiba says later, during the taxi ride home. Ohno lived closer to Aiba than Jun, and it was always best to take him home so that he didn't end up sleeping on some stranger's doorstep. "Leader, look at this."
Aiba stares intently at the screen of his cell phone, which is about two inches from his face and is going practically cross-eyed with the effort of reading the message on the screen. "That's weird. I think Nino's phone rejected my text."
[ Re: 6211-6119xx9
Error; invalid number. Please re-send using a valid mobile number or mail address.
N-INOCHN DOYUNSP BEST GO!!!1! I HOPe oyu feel better...]
"Maybe he changed his number," Ohno says. "We can ask him tomorrow. Didn't Jun say it was better to not say anything?"
"Jun says these things," Aiba says, "But you just wait. He's going to show up tomorrow with pasta salad and a foot massager for Nino. And then he's going to interrogate every manager and staff member to within an inch of their life for any hint of what might be bothering him."
Ohno laughs. "Jun's like that."
"He's a big, plush stuffed panda bear," Aiba agrees. "But don't tell him I said that. I've got that shirtless photoshoot next week and I don't need any new bruises."
+
The next week is a little easier. The drama gains a little ground, and while it’s not stellar, an upward trend is something to be happy about. Nino starts seeing a chiropractor about his back again. His smile is a little warmer, his posture straighter, and the air around him seems to flow a little more strongly.
Sho is visibly relieved.
"You see," he tells Ohno confidently, as they wait in the green room for VS filming to begin. "He's going to be just fine."
"Mmm," Ohno agrees, fixated on his ramen. It's that moment before digging in that he loves best, with the noodles glistening in the oil-slick broth and the steam that feels spicy and wet against his face as he peels back the bowl cover.
Aiba pokes his head into the room, looking unusually tense. "They just called a meeting - you'd better come right now."
"What for?" Sho asked.
Aiba fidgets. "I don't know. Nino just came in with a couple of police following him. Our manager told me to come and get you two."
"Police?" Sho says incredulously, Ohno echoing him through a mouthful of ramen.
"Just hurry up, okay?" Aiba says urgently, "And Leader - Leader, maybe you'd better leave your lunch here."
"They're almost positive it's a prank," Nino is saying dismissively as Aiba leads Ohno and Sho into the meeting room. There really are policemen, Ohno thinks to himself, just two of them in plainclothes seated beside Nino at the wide table in the center of the room. Jun and their manager are seated across from them. "Seriously, who would really want to kill me?"
"I'll kill you," Jun says fervently. "How could you not tell us?"
"Kill?" says Aiba, his voice rising.
Nino's expression flickers briefly as he notices the three of them inside the room, before regaining his calm. "It's just a stupid prank," he says softly. "You don't have to worry."
"We need to take all precautions, Ninomiya-san," one of the detectives, the taller bald one, says. "Especially since the nature of the threats has escalated."
"Just how many threats have there been?" Sho demands. He whirls to face their manager. "You knew about this, didn't you?"
Their manager sighs. "It's in everyone's best interest that these things are kept quiet. Until now, it just seemed like a few strange e-mails. I advised Nino-kun to change his e-mail and phone once they became a persistent problem."
"Which is to say," Jun says, his tone uneven, "That this guy has been getting death threats by e-mail for weeks and you didn't even -"
"Nino," Aiba says. He sounds so scared that Ohno can't blame Nino for not being able to meet his eyes.
"We did everything we could," their manager says mildly. He's known them too long, Ohno reflects. He knows that Jun's anger isn't really directed at him. Jun loves Nino, just like he loves Arashi: fiercely and protectively.
"I told him not to say anything," Nino says sharply. "It didn't seem like anything serious. It isn't serious," he corrects himself. "Just someone playing around."
"Don't be an idiot," Jun says, "Do you seriously think that someone who goes to the extent of sliding death threats under your apartment door doesn't want to hurt you?"
"How did they know your address?" Sho asks, his voice shaking with barely controlled anger. Or fear. He's scared, Ohno thinks to himself, surprised. And no wonder. The whole situation feels completely unreal. It makes Ohno want to laugh, to look around for the hidden camera, for the telltale slip of paper between Nino's fingers that will tell him that this is just a joke.
"That's why we're here," the other detectives interjects. "We've been trying to track the origin of the threats - we're fairly positive that this morning's note is connected to the e-mail threats - but it may take awhile. In the meantime, we wanted to reassure you that Ninomiya-san will be well-protected, and all steps will be taken to keep this from the media and the public."
"Well, you obviously can't go home," Jun says, and Ohno can see the wheels already spinning in his head. Jun turns to their manager. "Has a hotel been arranged? Is his apartment being guarded against break-ins?"
Ohno can see Nino grimace. Nino hates hotels, has always hated hotels. Ohno isn't too fond of them, either - they always feel cold and impersonal, and they smell antiseptic and empty.
"Nino can stay at my place," Ohno offers suddenly. The words are out of his mouth almost as immediately as they enter his mind. He considers retracting them for a second, until he sees just the faintest snap of awareness in Nino's eyes. "It's just for awhile, right? Until they catch this guy."
When Nino only glances at him sidelong, wordless and skeptical, Ohno repeats himself. "Stay with me. No one will know where you are. You'll be safe."
"I can't. It would be too much trouble, wouldn't it?" Nino's inquiry is just as token as Ohno's initial offer. He's already hooked into the idea. Ohno can see the white clench of his fingers, his hope in the way he shifts closer to Ohno in his chair, only slivers of space between them.
"I don't mind at all," Ohno says.
Their manager clears his throat. "We'll see," he says, which they all know is code for if upper management approves.
"No," Ohno says, and his stubbornness surprises even him. He's aware of everyone in the room staring at him, but he doesn't care. "He's coming home with me."
The other members are practically gawking at him and their manager is blinking, apparently at a loss for words. Ohno can't remember ever talking back like this before, even when he got lectured for being sunburnt.
It's worth it, for the thrill that races through his veins when Nino smiles at him, genuinely warm and grateful.
"By the way," one of the detectives says conversationally to Jun, amidst the heavy silence. "My wife is a huge fan."
+
The meeting delays filming for a good two hours, and in the end, it isn't until late into the night that the company van drops them off at Ohno's place.
It feels strange to have Nino in the hallways of his own home, his sharp eyes taking in the clunky sameness of the furniture, socks scuffing against the polished wooden floors.
Nino smiles wryly at the fishing gear piled in the corners of the hallways as they walk towards Ohno's bedroom.
"Your place is great," Nino says, as Ohno opens the door to his bedroom. "Really nice."
Ohno is confused. "It's kind of messy."
"Well, yeah." Nino's laugh is awkward. It rings strangely in the narrow confines of the hallway. He's nervous, Ohno realizes. And about what?
Ohno had called to tell his mother about the situation, in case she had been planning to drop by like she normally did at the end of the week. He could tell his mom had been to his place. It smells clean and sweet, newly-vacuumed, and his bed has clean sheets.
There's a blanket folded over the edge of the couch near his bed and Ohno picks it up, gesturing for Nino to put his bag near the door. "You can take the bed. I usually sleep on the couch, anyway."
"Do you mind if I take a shower?" Nino asks. He seems duller around the edges at night, Ohno notices, somewhat softer and less sharp than usual. They've both been awake for nearly twenty hours now, though. It's not that surprising.
"Oh," Ohno says, "Yeah."
"Yeah," Nino echoes, mocking Ohno's dull tone. He sounds more like his old self, and they grin sheepishly at each other.
Ohno sits cross-legged on the couch in his bedroom while Nino showers, flipping absentmindedly through late-night shows on the television. He's almost half-asleep when Nino slouches back into the room, rubbing at his head with a towel.
"Do you need pajamas?" Ohno asks, as Nino slides his boxers back on. He's seen Nino undress more times than he can count, but he seems even paler and skinnier under the soft lights of Ohno's bedroom.
Nino shrugs. "I can just sleep in these."
"You'll freeze," Ohno says, and he means it. He still hasn't figured out how the air conditioner control works, and has until this point contented himself with an extra blanket instead. He fumbles through his dresser drawers, and tosses a pair of striped pajama pants an old t-shirt, softened with wear, at Nino. The two of them are nearly exactly the same height, although Ohno is a little stockier, so the oversized shirt drapes over Nino's thin shoulders.
"Sleep well," Ohno says. He flicks the television off, the screen sucking in the colour and sound instantly, leaving the room eerily quiet.
Nino shuffles around, awkwardly touching the corners of the pillows piled at the head of Ohno's bed. "Is this really okay?"
"Of course it is," Ohno says. "I almost never sleep on the bed."
Nino sits down experimentally, the mattress barely dipping under his weight. "You ought to," he says appreciatively, crawling quickly under the sheets. He looks about ten years old, tucked in under the sheets, a pillow squashed behind his head, his still-wet hair sticking out in all directions. "Good night."
"Good night," Ohno says, before flicking out the light.
Ohno's never had problems with falling asleep before, and especially not in his own room. But sleep comes slowly to him now, folded in the soft quiet of the room and the stirring of Nino's breaths. The ceiling of his room is alive with roving dark shadows, spiraling in lacy black shapes across the white, wide expanse.
"Leader," he hears Nino mumble a few moments later, the faint sound jolting him into awareness so sharply that he hadn't even realized that he had been drifting off. "Thank you."
Ohno doesn't reply, staying quiet and still in the cool darkness of the room. Nino probably wouldn't have said anything if he hadn't thought Ohno was asleep, after all.
+
When Ohno wakes up abruptly about two hours later, he realizes that the soft weight pinning him down is actually Nino.
If he were in a drama, Ohno might wake up in the middle of the night with his nose buried in Nino's soft hair, blinking slowly as it tickled him out of a deep sleep, only to realize that his arms and legs are entwined with Nino's, that they fell towards each other in sleep and became mysteriously tangled in one another like fireflies seeking out lantern lights after dusk.
In reality, one of Ohno's legs is numb beneath the weight of Nino's legs and he feels sweaty everywhere they touch. Also, Nino is awake, and that makes it more creepy than romantic, because Nino's stare is rather unnerving. The idea that Nino has clearly been awake for awhile and didn't bother to move at all - that Nino actually climbed onto the couch with him and willingly tucked himself up against Ohno - is even more unsettling.
"Heavy," Ohno breathes out, voice cracked with sleep, and it's a slow process of limbs thrashing about sleepily, shifts and adjustments before Nino acquiesces to move back. Ohno turns around to face the back of the couch and he can feel his own heartbeat thud when Nino persistently cuddles up against him again, pressed against Ohno's back.
"Do you ever feel," Nino says, hesitantly, his fingers smooth against the curve of Ohno’s ear, touch almost too light to register, "like you just might fall apart completely?"
It sounds melodramatic, like one of those questions that can only be asked in the dark, with someone’s skin pressing against your own. Another dangerous intimacy, opening up your heart.
Nino is spooned up against Ohno’s back, his bony knees and sharp angles tucked into a sleepy, pliant curve. They fit well together, like this. It isn’t something that Ohno had really considered before.
"I don’t know," Ohno says. His own voice sounds thick, like he’s just on the edge of a yawn. He isn’t sure he really understands what Nino means, but he knows that Nino is looking more for reassurance than answers. That’s good, because Ohno has no answers for him.
Nino’s hand curls over Ohno’s chest, fingertips warm above his beating heart. Ohno waits for Nino’s reply, but nothing comes but the ragged whistle of Nino’s breaths evening out in sleep, his forehead resting in the crook between Ohno’s neck and shoulder.
"I want some control back over my life," Nino whispers, and his voice is dark and scratchy against Ohno's ears. His words fall heavy into Ohno's heart. "If I don't, I just -"
Ohno catches Nino's hand in his, bringing it up to his chest. They're both so tired, maybe they both aren't thinking clearly. Nino's hands are warm in his own, his fingers so small and stumpy. He has no words for Nino, no words that mean anything real or aren't completely embarrassing for them both.
Touching, that's familiar between them. Every area of contact has meaning, it comforts, it soothes, and it's a consequential pattern of who they are. It's okay to touch Nino likes this. It's good for them both.
"Go to sleep," Ohno says softly.
Nino falls silent, and Ohno waits, staring at the fabric of the couch and feeling Nino's breaths slow and even out, his own eyelids growing heavier and heavier.
"I'll protect you," Ohno says quietly, barely above the sound of Nino's breaths. "I won't let you get hurt."
The words sound unnatural and cheesy, like it's a bad line from a drama script and the director is about to criticize his delivery. Nino lets loose a whistling snore and Ohno almost laughs out loud. Matsujun was probably right. It's not Ohno's place to interfere. It was probably a bad idea - but to Ohno, it was just so unavoidable.
Like this, just like this - his fingers tangled up in Nino's and his own heart tangled up in Nino's problems.
+
The company's response to Nino's "situation", as it is being officially referred to, is waiting for them outside of Ohno's apartment building after a frenzied early-morning scramble to be on time for their ride to work.
There is simply no time for awkwardness about waking up with Nino's knobbly knees digging into his thighs, or how Nino's shoulder is wet with Ohno's drool and for that, Ohno is grateful.
"Oh, look," Nino says, as they exit the side door of Ohno's apartment complex, and Ohno can't tell if he's being flippant or sardonic. They're both still out of breath from their race for the elevator (their regular morning driver, who was assigned after Aiba's near run-in with a fire truck, is crotchety, usually early and doesn't appreciate being kept waiting). "Bodyguards."
The two men standing importantly near the nondescript white van parked in the front drive of the building appear to be just that, right down to the sunglasses and muscles.
"Mr. Ninomiya," one of them says politely, holding open the van door.
A small sardonic smile twists Nino's lips and Ohno winces. Nino doesn’t like being handled any more than the rest of them do. Having two men follow your every move all day only takes away whatever shreds of privacy they had. It was also likely very expensive and even if management didn't see it as a burden, Ohno knows that in Nino's shoes, he would feel guilty.
The ride to work is awkward, the two bodyguards sitting across from them. Even in the dim light of the interior they are still, Ohno observes, wearing their sunglasses.
"Have you ever been shot?" Nino asks conversationally, breaking the silence.
The two bodyguards exchange glances. "No," one admits, while the other shakes his head. "But I almost got stabbed with a pen, once. Some overexcited fan at an autograph signing."
"Oh," Ohno says.
"Sounds dangerous," Nino says.
The rest of the ride consists of the bodyguard's many stories of the dangers and trials of working crowd control at concerts and fanclub events. Nino prompts them along with questions and remarks and Ohno listens, trying his best not to doze off. It amazes Ohno how Nino can just loosen people up like that, even when he's uncomfortable - or is it to hide his own discomfort?
Whatever the case, by the time they reach the studio, Nino's attentiveness and interested questions have ensured that both bodyguards would dive in front of him to take a bullet without a moment's thought.
+
"So," Sho says, as he and Ohno wait in line in the TBS cafeteria with Aiba. "How was your sleepover with Nino?"
Ohno considers this. "Pretty normal," he decides, "aside from a few heavy-breather phone calls."
"Oh, sorry," Aiba says. "You didn't enjoy them? I'll try harder next time."
"Satoshi," Sho continues determinedly, sounding pained. "He's okay, right?"
"Nino?" Ohno thinks about Nino, warm body curled tightly again his, a fine coil of frustration and fear. "I don't think he's going to jump off a building or anything. They're going to catch this guy soon."
"If they don't, Nino can stay with me," Aiba announces. "I'll take good care of him."
Sho flicks Aiba in the arm gently. "I'm sure Nino doesn't want to play musical couches. We have to keep some image of personal boundaries going on in this band."
Aiba is unfazed. "We used to have sleepovers all the time. I wear his underwear. I've probably seen him naked more often than any girl he's ever dated."
"He has a very professional relationship with my ass," Ohno adds, handing Sho a plastic tray.
Sho sighs, but he's smiling. "Take care of him, but don't get too involved, okay? He's got enough people hovering over him. You know Nino…he likes to keep people at a distance sometimes."
"Of course," Ohno says.
Nino has never, ever distanced himself from Ohno. Or rather - he has never stopped Ohno from breaching that distance.
+
While Ohno is enjoying his breakfast in the TBS cafeteria, a small, non-descript red car grinds slowly up the road outside a filming set on the edge of the waterfront. The car stops, and the engine dies, but the driver doesn't move from the car.
The set is furiously busy, crew members rushing back and forth, actors waiting patiently, slung in baggy black ponchos against the chilly morning wind. The sky above is threatening to rain, filled with stringy, mean grey clouds.
The driver watches calmly, eyes locked on one short man, playing with the overlarge sleeves of his black poncho, standing on the edge of the filming set. He's talking with a taller, business-like man in sunglasses beside him while another man in sunglasses watches the small crowd of eager fans nearby the set carefully.
The short man says something to one of the men in sunglasses and begins to walk towards a small, crumbling building set near the edge of the waterfront. The men in sunglasses watch him leave, but they don't follow.
The driver grasps the door handle, fingers fumbling as he pushes open the car door. He's been waiting for this.
He walks towards Ninomiya.
+
Ohno finds Nino slumped on a couch in their break room; he's lucky, he arrived before the others did and Nino is alone, even his bodyguards are gone. Though that, Ohno supposes, is only as expected. His manager's text had arrived in the middle of the stageplay briefing, and Ohno had stared at the screen, fingers tapping the shiny plastic of the phone impatiently, no longer interested in the contents of the meeting.
"Nino," Ohno says, uncertain of how to begin.
"It was just some young guy," Nino says, his face buried in his hands. His voice sounds normal, even flat. "Some second-string actor who got bumped from a part when the drama made me an offer. Can't blame him for being angry, really. I wouldn't like losing a job to some useless pretty idol puppet who gets parachuted in a role."
Ohno wonders if he should touch him. Nino's all curled up, like a hedgehog with his spikes poking outward for protection. "You're a good actor," he says, feeling inadequate.
"That's bullshit," Nino says, and his voice sounds thicker, but his posture uncurls a little. Ohno takes a deep breath and reaches out tentatively, fingers stroking Nino's flyaway black curls. "He's probably going to go to jail."
It was difficult to read any emotion in Nino's tone. "He might have hurt you."
Nino makes a face. "He didn't even have a knife."
Ohno tangles his fingers in Nino's hair, considers. "If he did, I would have kicked it out of his hand," he promises, miming a karate kick with one leg. It's not as impressive sitting down, but Nino laughs and that was the point anyway.
"My hero," Nino says fondly, between chuckles, and he snuggles closer into Ohno.
"Do I get a kiss?" Ohno asks, scrunching up his cheeks, puckering his lips. Nino laughs, leans in dramatically.
They both pause at the same time, grins frozen. The room is almost eerily quiet, and neither of them seem to know what the next move is.
Nino laughs, high-pitched and embarrassed. Nervous. "Let's quit, okay?"
Ohno nods, keeping his smile fixed in place. It's harder without an audience; so much more confusing about exactly who the joke is intended for. His mind flashes back to Nino draped over him in sleep, the heat of his limbs, his sleepy-dark eyes. Ohno suppresses a shiver. "At least you can go home now, right?'
"Yeah. Well, I guess so. I didn't think about that."
"That's good." Ohno says, like the words are automatic, safe. "That's really good."
Nino stretches. "Filming got cancelled for the morning. I'm supposed to report to the police station later to give a statement. There were some reporters covering the location shoot this morning, too."
"They won't make too much fuss about it, though," Ohno says hopefully.
Nino laughs wryly. "I don't really care what they do."
There's a long silence. Ohno plays with the frayed hem of his denim jacket. The room is silent save for the steady hum of the air conditioner. None of the other members have come into the room yet, even though they're supposed to be on stand-by in less than ten minutes. It occurs to Ohno that they might be giving them some space, some time alone.
"Nino," he says suddenly, and then almost loses his nerve when Nino turns to him, gaze intent. "Do you want to come home with me again?"
Nino's expression is guarded. "Why?"
"I don't know," Ohno confesses. "I just…you can if you want." It's your choice, he wants to say. He won't push Nino, he won't expect anything from Nino that he doesn't want. But none of that makes any sense out loud.
"Okay," Nino says, snapping Ohno back out of his thoughts. "Okay. But you'd better feed me properly."
"And tuck you into bed?" Ohno asks.
"Do you plan on sleeping on the couch again?" Nino asks, and his tone is only half-teasing.
"Will I be there alone in the morning?" If Nino can tease around the edges of the real questions, the uncomfortable ones, then so can Ohno.
"This isn't weird, is it?" Nino asks, gesturing between them. "We're weird."
"Does it matter?"
"It should," Nino says, "Maybe." He pauses, his fingers nudging against Ohno's. "I don't really care, though."
Ohno's heart swells. "I'll make you hamburger for dinner."
"Do you even know how to cook hamburger?" Nino wants to know. "I'm sorry, but I've only ever seen you cook fried rice."
"I make great hamburgers," Ohno promises, making a mental note to call his mom later for a recipe.
"Well then," Nino says, and his voice is so bright and full that Ohno knows that everything is good, everything is all right. "Guess I'll just have to come over."
FIN
bonus epilogue thingamajig
"You guys," Aiba whispers, "This is so cute."
"I really don't want to watch this anymore," Jun says. "Two more minutes and they're probably going to start sucking face."
"Should we go in?" Sho asks. He's got his hand braced on Jun's shoulders, peeking over Aiba's head through the crack of the open door into the green room.
"Isn't falling in love with your bandmate romantic?" Aiba wonders. "Forbidden something-or-other. It sounds like a drama."
"A really bad drama." Jun interjects. "Or maybe a bad porno."
"Gross," Sho says. "I do not want hear 'Nino', 'Leader' and 'porn' in the same sentence."
"Who said it?" Jun says. "Your mind just went there."
"So, if I fell in love with you, Jun-kun," Aiba continues, on his own separate conversation, "would you be considerate of my feelings? Would you get all awkward and secretly squishy?"
"I think I'm going to start using locked changing rooms," Jun mutters.
"I'm going to make a 'No Sex in the Green Room' sign," Sho says grimly.
"Oh! You can probably borrow Tokio's," Aiba says.
+
cross-posted to kotobayori
Author: waxrose
Rating: PG
Length ~7,400 words
Pairing(s) Ohno/Nino
Summary: "True heroism is remarkably sober, very undramatic. It is not the urge to surpass all others at whatever cost, but the urge to serve others at whatever cost." (Arthur Ashe)
Notes: Written for dramaticsurgeon for the help_haiti fic auction. I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am about how late this fic is, and thank you for being so incredibly patient and generous towards a good cause. ♥ Also, many thanks to the amazing aeslis for looking this over on such short notice!
Ohno wouldn't exactly call himself a perceptive person; others would notice what he might miss completely. Maybe it was simply that they now usually saw each other once or twice a week rather than nearly every day that it was easier to notice the changes in Nino recently. Physically, he was paler, skinnier. Other than that -
"I think they call that a mental breakdown," Jun says, not unkindly. He's perched on the stool beside Ohno, watching Ohno smooth foundation over his face while he waits for the makeup artist to finish with Aiba.
The makeup room isn’t really a good place to talk about personal issues, but there’s no staff in the corner they're sitting in. The makeup staff know better than to bother Jun before his first cup of coffee, which is why Nino, Sho and Aiba usually get their makeup done first.
"It’s strange," Ohno says. He peers closer at the mirror, trying to even out his skin tone on one cheek. The makeup is slimy and cold against his skin and it smells sharp and chemical. He dislikes it, but he'd rather do it himself. He's quicker. "It’s not like him."
"He’s under a lot of stress," Jun says. "Well, we all are, but Nino -" he shrugs. "Nino will be better once his drama filming ends."
"It might get cancelled," Ohno says quietly.
Jun's lips are a thin line as he rolls an eyeliner pencil around the counter. Ohno knows that Jun feels somewhat guilty even if it wasn’t his fault that Nino’s drama’s ratings had fallen like a rock after the first two episodes, while the ratings for his own were rising. "They’re more than halfway through. They might cut down the number of episodes, but they won’t cancel it."
Cancelled or not, it wasn’t a good situation. In Ohno's opinion, it was almost more painful to watch Nino struggling through nearly another month of poisonous entertainment magazine commentaries and mounting pressure to pull off a minor ratings miracle.
"Matsujun!" Aiba jogged up from the opposite end of the room, loose cardigan flapping against his sides inelegantly as he ran. "Do you still have that cream you lent me yesterday - that one that smells like peaches?" He shows them his hands - his knuckles are nearly frosted white, one splitting open and bleeding slightly.
Jun clicks his tongue disapprovingly, digging into his bag. "You should be more careful with your skin during the winter," he says, poking through the pockets, "If you don't moisturize properly, that's what happens." He finally pulls out a small plastic jar with a mint green lid and hands it to Aiba.
Aiba shrugs, twisting off the lid. "I don't think about it much."
"Hm." Jun props his head on his hand again, frowning. "You should - hey, be careful with that!" he scolds, as Aiba smears a large glop of cream over his palms. "You don't need that much."
Aiba's eyes widen guiltily. "Is it expensive?" he asks, looking down at his hands as if he's wondering if he can scrape some back into the jar.
Jun sighs. "Your hands are going to be all slippery."
"We can share!" Aiba grabs one of Jun's hands mischievously in his own, rubbing his cream-greasy hands against Jun's fingers. Jun tolerates this for a good minute before shaking Aiba off, and Ohno laughs. "Now you're properly moisturized, too."
"Moron." Jun rubs the residue of Aiba's 'gift' into his hands properly as Aiba floats off to find their manager. Ohno discards his used makeup sponge, tidying up the table.
Jun pulls out his phone and starts tapping out a message. "That shop is on my way home, so I can stop if we get off early tonight," he says absently, almost under his breath.
"Hmm?" Jun glances at him, startled. Ohno realizes that Jun had been talking to himself.
Jun tucks his phone back into his pocket. "I thought I should get Aiba his own jar of that cream," he says off-handedly. "So he won't keep borrowing mine."
"That's nice," Ohno says, and it is. Jun is such a thoughtful guy.
Jun rolls his eyes. "Just watch," he says, "That idiot will be walking around smelling his own hands all day."
As if on cue, Sho slouches into the dressing room, hat askew and rubbing at his chin. "Aiba just high-fived me in the face," he says. He sniffs at his fingers. "And I think his hands smelled like yogurt."
"Matsumoto-kun," their manager says as he sticks his head into the dressing room. "You're up first."
"Aren't we doing the group talk first?" Jun asked, straightening out his jacket as he stood up from the stool where had been perched.
"Nino's going to be late," Sho says mildly. The frown creasing his forehead told Ohno that Sho found that weird, too, even if he wasn't going to ask questions.
"We'll be calling you next, Ohno-kun, so please be ready." Their manager leaves with Jun in tow, who wags his fingers mockingly in front of Sho's face as he passes by him. Sho wrinkles his nose and drops down on the stool that Jun had just vacated with a sigh.
"Anything bad happen?" Ohno asks, and it's a testament to how well they know each other that Sho knows that he's talking about Nino.
"I don't think so. Just something personal," Sho says. "He's not usually late, is he? I texted him after I heard from the manager, but he hasn't gotten back to me."
"Huh." Ohno thumbs his own phone in his pocket, the rounded edges smooth against his fingers. He and Nino don't text each other all that often. Usually it's just nonsense. He tries to compose a text in his head. You're late!, maybe, with stern faces and fireworks. Or maybe I'm waiting for you~, with sly, plush heart marks and smacking lips.
"I can pet your nipples if you're feeling lonely." Sho says, straight-faced.
+
It's nearing lunch time when Nino finally stumbles into their break room, with a baseball cap squashing his morning bed-head. He looks tired, but he always looks tired these days.
There's only so much they can get accomplished with four of them there; just one less person, but it makes a world of difference. They've already been on stand-by for nearly an hour now. No one minds all that much; in fact, it's hardly unusual. When your job consists mostly of other people telling you what to do, you spend a lot of time waiting.
To anyone on the outside, it would seem as if none of them acknowledge Nino as he slumps down onto an empty couch near the far wall, digging through his bag. They might not notice the way Aiba catches Ohno's eyes, frowning a littlem or how Sho is throwing calculated glances over the top of his laptop at Nino. The curve of Nino's posture, the slump of his shoulders, the dip of his thoughtful frown are those unwritten cues that years and experience have taught them all mean that he wants to be left alone.
The catch is, and what even less people understand, is that when it comes to Nino, these rules don't apply to Ohno.
For a second, Nino looks annoyed when Ohno slips onto the couch next to him, sitting close enough that their sides are pressed together, warm and solid. Then he smiles, the brim of his cap still hiding most of his face. "Leader."
"Did you eat?" Ohno asks.
Nino's mouth twists. He seems to waver between lying politely and telling the truth. "Not yet."
"I have some melon bread in my bag," Aiba offers from behind them. He's hovering between the couch and the desk where he had been reading a magazine, hands unconsciously fluttering in space. "Do you want it? I can grab it right now."
Nino clicks his tongue, and the dull light finally leaves his eyes as he hangs over the back of the sofa to talk with Aiba. "That depends. Did you sit on it again?"
"Nino!" Aiba says dismissively, as he hands over the mysteriously flat bread, the gooey filling leaking out of one side to squish against the crinkled plastic wrapping. "Of course I didn't."
Nino isn't going to say if anything's wrong. Ohno knows that. And he - he can't ask him. He's no good at that kind of thing.
What Ohno can do is sit here and let Nino absentmindedly touch his knee as he eats Aiba's melon bread in delicate bites, licking out all the filling from the edges in a way that's kind of entrancing and disgusting all at once.
"Have a bite, Leader," Nino says, breaking him out of his reverie, and Ohno blinks, opening his mouth automatically as Nino gently shoves a good third of the bun into his mouth.
"We'll start taping in about 15 minutes," one of the staff members reminds them, ducking in and out of the room, arms full of paper.
Ohno chews on the melon bread and wonders what it would be like to just be part of the staff. It's kind of uncomfortable, watching other people rush around and fuss with your hair and skin and make something as simple as entering a room a big production. If it wasn't for Arashi, Ohno doesn't know if he'd be able to stand being Ohno Satoshi, Idol. But he's okay with being Arashi's Ohno Satoshi.
What Ohno likes absolutely best about Arashi is that when the cameras start rolling and the count is given, nothing really changes.
During the day's shoot, Nino nudges him to tell him to stop picking your nose in a low voice, his smile a sly, silent laugh. Ohno just makes a face at him and deliberately touches Nino's thigh so he can see Nino's concentration break as he tries to control a smirk of mixed amusement and disgust.
This is their life, and Ohno wouldn't want it any other way.
+
Under hellish heat and crushing force for a few billion years, graphite can turn into diamonds. It isn’t that different for an idol, Sho had once said, back when the combined force of university studies and his demands as a member of Arashi had given him permanent bags under his eyes for weeks on end at times. If people go through challenging times, if they bear up under pressure, they will shine more brightly than anyone else.
Or they’ll jump in front of a train, Nino had remarked wryly.
Collapsing under pressure is never a viable option. There were times in the past when Ohno would come home in the dead of night and collapse on the couch in his room with a tiredness that ached right into his bones, into his mind and heart. Sometimes he had no idea what made him peel himself back off the couch just a few short hours later, feet heavy and clumsy.
But once he got to work and he saw Jun, tiny and morning-surly, Sho, who had obviously tumbled straight from one of his all-night family restaurant study sessions into the practice room, Aiba’s soft yawns and Nino’s tired, watchful eyes, he knew that he couldn’t lose to them. They all worked hard, they all put their hearts into what they did, and none of them would be the first to say that they couldn’t take anymore.
And that’s what Ohno doesn't understand. He's seen Nino withstand all-night filming sessions and grueling rehearsals. He’s seen him suffer on through the same schedule with an infection that should have kept him hospitalized. He’s watched him struggle through the humiliation and hurt of scandals and backlash for the perceived mistake of falling in love.
Nino is strong. He doesn't have Sho’s kind of strength: a persistent, stubborn alertness. He doesn't have the warm, invincible sparkle that makes Aiba shine from within, or Jun’s brisk, rolling professionalism. Nino endures things with a steady matter-of-factness.
Nino likes to play up the role of the spoiled idol who lives off his looks for the magazines, tongue-in-cheek. He says it's simply his job; that he follows directions, he does the work given to him. He seems to live to perplex all those interviewers who, after ten years, still can't pin down whether he's completely apathetic and heartlessly cynical, or the most earnest, sensitive young man they have ever met.
In hindsight, the drama was a risky move. An original script by a new director, a cast of mostly unknowns. Rumour had it that they had gambled a significant portion of their budget on getting Nino to play the lead - a psychic who falls in love with a girl whose mind he can’t read.
Nino is the best actor that Ohno knows. He doesn’t pretend like acting was any great art or that he had any particular skill at it, but he could slip into another person’s skin the way that most people slipped on clothes. He has an emotional intensity that can shake you to the core, just by holding your gaze.
The problems had started early - the lead actress getting entangled in a drug scandal just as the second episode aired, a sponsor withdrawing funding. Nino was doing his best, and it was frustrating to watch the tabloids slip in sly remarks about how one of the generation’s most promising actors seemed to have lost his appeal.
The day that the sixth episode scrapes in only a 6.5% viewer rating in a prime evening slot is the same day that Ohno walks into the bathroom just off from their rehearsal room to find Nino dry-heaving into the bathroom sink. His coughs echo and rattle around the whitewashed walls and Ohno stands silently in the doorway for a second, frozen and unsure.
"Nino?" Ohno says, hesitating.
Nino looks up at the mirror, catching Ohno’s gaze in reflection. His face is pale and his bangs stick wetly to his forehead, but his features seem to shift instantly, so that Ohno catches only a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes before Nino looks composed, just tired. "Oh-chan."
"Are you all right?" It’s almost perfunctory - of course Nino isn't all right, any more than he wants Ohno to ask. It occurs to Ohno that asking this is almost a way of forcing a positive response out of a person.
"Don’t look so scared," Nino says, sounding exasperated. He turns, leaning back against the sink and crossing his arms across his chest. "That carbonara, you know - it just didn’t sit well with me. Going to have to talk to Sho about his choice of dinners."
Nino smiles wryly, but it’s weak. Ohno feels somewhat at a loss. Sho would probably push Nino until he could get a satisfactory emotional response. Aiba would try to hug him and have a man-to-man talk in the middle of the bathroom. Jun would probably accept Nino’s excuse and continue to watch him closely, to support him silently.
But Ohno’s never been good at anything but simply letting people be. It’s probably not the best quality for a leader to have, but then again, he never asked anyone to make him a leader.
"You have the rest of my spaghetti," Ohno offers. "If you’re still hungry."
Nino examines him carefully from under his eyelashes, his mouth twitching into an ironic smile. "Thanks, Oh-chan."
It’s so frustrating that this is all he’s capable of, somehow. It’s almost like Nino is determined to make him feel better, and the lump of guilt grows heavier in Ohno’s stomach as Nino absentmindedly picks his way through Ohno's leftover pasta, scraping the cold, gluey white sauce off of the clumped-up strands.
+
"You’re his co-worker, not his therapist." Jun says. "You can’t solve all his problems, and he wouldn’t want you to. It isn’t your place, or ours."
"We try to take of each other as best as we can, don’t we?" Aiba stares down at his beer glass, thumbs absently stroking the contours of the smooth glass. "Because we love him."
Aiba always makes their relationship sound so decided, so clear and easy. He really, honestly loves them all and it’s simple to him. It’s simple to Ohno, too - they’re easy people to love, and he can’t imagine his life without them. They occupy a strange balance between friends and colleagues and family and it’s only times like now that Ohno realizes how undefined the boundaries of their relationship actually are.
"Sometimes love means not interfering," Jun says firmly.
Aiba snorts. "And promoting his drama during your own drama’s promotion stints isn’t interfering?"
"That’s different." Ohno knows that Jun got reprimanded for spending most of his promotion time talking about Nino and his drama and how much he’s enjoying it. It’s the first time in a long time that Jun has rebelled so deliberately, and probably the first time it wasn’t out of undue malice. "I’m not going to sit down with him and try to talk about his feelings."
"It isn’t just the drama," Ohno says suddenly, and the other two stop arguing to look at him. "It can’t be just that. Nino’s stronger than that."
Aiba looks at him in askance. "What else could it be?"
Jun shrugs, signaling for another beer. "He could have a girlfriend. Maybe it's just relationship issues."
"He wouldn't miss work for that," Aiba points out. "That's not very Nino-y."
"All we can do is wait," Jun says. "If it's important, or if it concerns us, he'll tell us. Right, Leader?"
Ohno traces a drop of condensation on his beer bottle with a finger. "Right," he says hesitantly. It was usually better to just agree with Jun once his mind was set.
"There you are, then," Jun says to Aiba, as if Ohno's agreement had settled the matter.
+
"Oh," Aiba says later, during the taxi ride home. Ohno lived closer to Aiba than Jun, and it was always best to take him home so that he didn't end up sleeping on some stranger's doorstep. "Leader, look at this."
Aiba stares intently at the screen of his cell phone, which is about two inches from his face and is going practically cross-eyed with the effort of reading the message on the screen. "That's weird. I think Nino's phone rejected my text."
[ Re: 6211-6119xx9
Error; invalid number. Please re-send using a valid mobile number or mail address.
N-INOCHN DOYUNSP BEST GO!!!1! I HOPe oyu feel better...]
"Maybe he changed his number," Ohno says. "We can ask him tomorrow. Didn't Jun say it was better to not say anything?"
"Jun says these things," Aiba says, "But you just wait. He's going to show up tomorrow with pasta salad and a foot massager for Nino. And then he's going to interrogate every manager and staff member to within an inch of their life for any hint of what might be bothering him."
Ohno laughs. "Jun's like that."
"He's a big, plush stuffed panda bear," Aiba agrees. "But don't tell him I said that. I've got that shirtless photoshoot next week and I don't need any new bruises."
+
The next week is a little easier. The drama gains a little ground, and while it’s not stellar, an upward trend is something to be happy about. Nino starts seeing a chiropractor about his back again. His smile is a little warmer, his posture straighter, and the air around him seems to flow a little more strongly.
Sho is visibly relieved.
"You see," he tells Ohno confidently, as they wait in the green room for VS filming to begin. "He's going to be just fine."
"Mmm," Ohno agrees, fixated on his ramen. It's that moment before digging in that he loves best, with the noodles glistening in the oil-slick broth and the steam that feels spicy and wet against his face as he peels back the bowl cover.
Aiba pokes his head into the room, looking unusually tense. "They just called a meeting - you'd better come right now."
"What for?" Sho asked.
Aiba fidgets. "I don't know. Nino just came in with a couple of police following him. Our manager told me to come and get you two."
"Police?" Sho says incredulously, Ohno echoing him through a mouthful of ramen.
"Just hurry up, okay?" Aiba says urgently, "And Leader - Leader, maybe you'd better leave your lunch here."
"They're almost positive it's a prank," Nino is saying dismissively as Aiba leads Ohno and Sho into the meeting room. There really are policemen, Ohno thinks to himself, just two of them in plainclothes seated beside Nino at the wide table in the center of the room. Jun and their manager are seated across from them. "Seriously, who would really want to kill me?"
"I'll kill you," Jun says fervently. "How could you not tell us?"
"Kill?" says Aiba, his voice rising.
Nino's expression flickers briefly as he notices the three of them inside the room, before regaining his calm. "It's just a stupid prank," he says softly. "You don't have to worry."
"We need to take all precautions, Ninomiya-san," one of the detectives, the taller bald one, says. "Especially since the nature of the threats has escalated."
"Just how many threats have there been?" Sho demands. He whirls to face their manager. "You knew about this, didn't you?"
Their manager sighs. "It's in everyone's best interest that these things are kept quiet. Until now, it just seemed like a few strange e-mails. I advised Nino-kun to change his e-mail and phone once they became a persistent problem."
"Which is to say," Jun says, his tone uneven, "That this guy has been getting death threats by e-mail for weeks and you didn't even -"
"Nino," Aiba says. He sounds so scared that Ohno can't blame Nino for not being able to meet his eyes.
"We did everything we could," their manager says mildly. He's known them too long, Ohno reflects. He knows that Jun's anger isn't really directed at him. Jun loves Nino, just like he loves Arashi: fiercely and protectively.
"I told him not to say anything," Nino says sharply. "It didn't seem like anything serious. It isn't serious," he corrects himself. "Just someone playing around."
"Don't be an idiot," Jun says, "Do you seriously think that someone who goes to the extent of sliding death threats under your apartment door doesn't want to hurt you?"
"How did they know your address?" Sho asks, his voice shaking with barely controlled anger. Or fear. He's scared, Ohno thinks to himself, surprised. And no wonder. The whole situation feels completely unreal. It makes Ohno want to laugh, to look around for the hidden camera, for the telltale slip of paper between Nino's fingers that will tell him that this is just a joke.
"That's why we're here," the other detectives interjects. "We've been trying to track the origin of the threats - we're fairly positive that this morning's note is connected to the e-mail threats - but it may take awhile. In the meantime, we wanted to reassure you that Ninomiya-san will be well-protected, and all steps will be taken to keep this from the media and the public."
"Well, you obviously can't go home," Jun says, and Ohno can see the wheels already spinning in his head. Jun turns to their manager. "Has a hotel been arranged? Is his apartment being guarded against break-ins?"
Ohno can see Nino grimace. Nino hates hotels, has always hated hotels. Ohno isn't too fond of them, either - they always feel cold and impersonal, and they smell antiseptic and empty.
"Nino can stay at my place," Ohno offers suddenly. The words are out of his mouth almost as immediately as they enter his mind. He considers retracting them for a second, until he sees just the faintest snap of awareness in Nino's eyes. "It's just for awhile, right? Until they catch this guy."
When Nino only glances at him sidelong, wordless and skeptical, Ohno repeats himself. "Stay with me. No one will know where you are. You'll be safe."
"I can't. It would be too much trouble, wouldn't it?" Nino's inquiry is just as token as Ohno's initial offer. He's already hooked into the idea. Ohno can see the white clench of his fingers, his hope in the way he shifts closer to Ohno in his chair, only slivers of space between them.
"I don't mind at all," Ohno says.
Their manager clears his throat. "We'll see," he says, which they all know is code for if upper management approves.
"No," Ohno says, and his stubbornness surprises even him. He's aware of everyone in the room staring at him, but he doesn't care. "He's coming home with me."
The other members are practically gawking at him and their manager is blinking, apparently at a loss for words. Ohno can't remember ever talking back like this before, even when he got lectured for being sunburnt.
It's worth it, for the thrill that races through his veins when Nino smiles at him, genuinely warm and grateful.
"By the way," one of the detectives says conversationally to Jun, amidst the heavy silence. "My wife is a huge fan."
+
The meeting delays filming for a good two hours, and in the end, it isn't until late into the night that the company van drops them off at Ohno's place.
It feels strange to have Nino in the hallways of his own home, his sharp eyes taking in the clunky sameness of the furniture, socks scuffing against the polished wooden floors.
Nino smiles wryly at the fishing gear piled in the corners of the hallways as they walk towards Ohno's bedroom.
"Your place is great," Nino says, as Ohno opens the door to his bedroom. "Really nice."
Ohno is confused. "It's kind of messy."
"Well, yeah." Nino's laugh is awkward. It rings strangely in the narrow confines of the hallway. He's nervous, Ohno realizes. And about what?
Ohno had called to tell his mother about the situation, in case she had been planning to drop by like she normally did at the end of the week. He could tell his mom had been to his place. It smells clean and sweet, newly-vacuumed, and his bed has clean sheets.
There's a blanket folded over the edge of the couch near his bed and Ohno picks it up, gesturing for Nino to put his bag near the door. "You can take the bed. I usually sleep on the couch, anyway."
"Do you mind if I take a shower?" Nino asks. He seems duller around the edges at night, Ohno notices, somewhat softer and less sharp than usual. They've both been awake for nearly twenty hours now, though. It's not that surprising.
"Oh," Ohno says, "Yeah."
"Yeah," Nino echoes, mocking Ohno's dull tone. He sounds more like his old self, and they grin sheepishly at each other.
Ohno sits cross-legged on the couch in his bedroom while Nino showers, flipping absentmindedly through late-night shows on the television. He's almost half-asleep when Nino slouches back into the room, rubbing at his head with a towel.
"Do you need pajamas?" Ohno asks, as Nino slides his boxers back on. He's seen Nino undress more times than he can count, but he seems even paler and skinnier under the soft lights of Ohno's bedroom.
Nino shrugs. "I can just sleep in these."
"You'll freeze," Ohno says, and he means it. He still hasn't figured out how the air conditioner control works, and has until this point contented himself with an extra blanket instead. He fumbles through his dresser drawers, and tosses a pair of striped pajama pants an old t-shirt, softened with wear, at Nino. The two of them are nearly exactly the same height, although Ohno is a little stockier, so the oversized shirt drapes over Nino's thin shoulders.
"Sleep well," Ohno says. He flicks the television off, the screen sucking in the colour and sound instantly, leaving the room eerily quiet.
Nino shuffles around, awkwardly touching the corners of the pillows piled at the head of Ohno's bed. "Is this really okay?"
"Of course it is," Ohno says. "I almost never sleep on the bed."
Nino sits down experimentally, the mattress barely dipping under his weight. "You ought to," he says appreciatively, crawling quickly under the sheets. He looks about ten years old, tucked in under the sheets, a pillow squashed behind his head, his still-wet hair sticking out in all directions. "Good night."
"Good night," Ohno says, before flicking out the light.
Ohno's never had problems with falling asleep before, and especially not in his own room. But sleep comes slowly to him now, folded in the soft quiet of the room and the stirring of Nino's breaths. The ceiling of his room is alive with roving dark shadows, spiraling in lacy black shapes across the white, wide expanse.
"Leader," he hears Nino mumble a few moments later, the faint sound jolting him into awareness so sharply that he hadn't even realized that he had been drifting off. "Thank you."
Ohno doesn't reply, staying quiet and still in the cool darkness of the room. Nino probably wouldn't have said anything if he hadn't thought Ohno was asleep, after all.
+
When Ohno wakes up abruptly about two hours later, he realizes that the soft weight pinning him down is actually Nino.
If he were in a drama, Ohno might wake up in the middle of the night with his nose buried in Nino's soft hair, blinking slowly as it tickled him out of a deep sleep, only to realize that his arms and legs are entwined with Nino's, that they fell towards each other in sleep and became mysteriously tangled in one another like fireflies seeking out lantern lights after dusk.
In reality, one of Ohno's legs is numb beneath the weight of Nino's legs and he feels sweaty everywhere they touch. Also, Nino is awake, and that makes it more creepy than romantic, because Nino's stare is rather unnerving. The idea that Nino has clearly been awake for awhile and didn't bother to move at all - that Nino actually climbed onto the couch with him and willingly tucked himself up against Ohno - is even more unsettling.
"Heavy," Ohno breathes out, voice cracked with sleep, and it's a slow process of limbs thrashing about sleepily, shifts and adjustments before Nino acquiesces to move back. Ohno turns around to face the back of the couch and he can feel his own heartbeat thud when Nino persistently cuddles up against him again, pressed against Ohno's back.
"Do you ever feel," Nino says, hesitantly, his fingers smooth against the curve of Ohno’s ear, touch almost too light to register, "like you just might fall apart completely?"
It sounds melodramatic, like one of those questions that can only be asked in the dark, with someone’s skin pressing against your own. Another dangerous intimacy, opening up your heart.
Nino is spooned up against Ohno’s back, his bony knees and sharp angles tucked into a sleepy, pliant curve. They fit well together, like this. It isn’t something that Ohno had really considered before.
"I don’t know," Ohno says. His own voice sounds thick, like he’s just on the edge of a yawn. He isn’t sure he really understands what Nino means, but he knows that Nino is looking more for reassurance than answers. That’s good, because Ohno has no answers for him.
Nino’s hand curls over Ohno’s chest, fingertips warm above his beating heart. Ohno waits for Nino’s reply, but nothing comes but the ragged whistle of Nino’s breaths evening out in sleep, his forehead resting in the crook between Ohno’s neck and shoulder.
"I want some control back over my life," Nino whispers, and his voice is dark and scratchy against Ohno's ears. His words fall heavy into Ohno's heart. "If I don't, I just -"
Ohno catches Nino's hand in his, bringing it up to his chest. They're both so tired, maybe they both aren't thinking clearly. Nino's hands are warm in his own, his fingers so small and stumpy. He has no words for Nino, no words that mean anything real or aren't completely embarrassing for them both.
Touching, that's familiar between them. Every area of contact has meaning, it comforts, it soothes, and it's a consequential pattern of who they are. It's okay to touch Nino likes this. It's good for them both.
"Go to sleep," Ohno says softly.
Nino falls silent, and Ohno waits, staring at the fabric of the couch and feeling Nino's breaths slow and even out, his own eyelids growing heavier and heavier.
"I'll protect you," Ohno says quietly, barely above the sound of Nino's breaths. "I won't let you get hurt."
The words sound unnatural and cheesy, like it's a bad line from a drama script and the director is about to criticize his delivery. Nino lets loose a whistling snore and Ohno almost laughs out loud. Matsujun was probably right. It's not Ohno's place to interfere. It was probably a bad idea - but to Ohno, it was just so unavoidable.
Like this, just like this - his fingers tangled up in Nino's and his own heart tangled up in Nino's problems.
+
The company's response to Nino's "situation", as it is being officially referred to, is waiting for them outside of Ohno's apartment building after a frenzied early-morning scramble to be on time for their ride to work.
There is simply no time for awkwardness about waking up with Nino's knobbly knees digging into his thighs, or how Nino's shoulder is wet with Ohno's drool and for that, Ohno is grateful.
"Oh, look," Nino says, as they exit the side door of Ohno's apartment complex, and Ohno can't tell if he's being flippant or sardonic. They're both still out of breath from their race for the elevator (their regular morning driver, who was assigned after Aiba's near run-in with a fire truck, is crotchety, usually early and doesn't appreciate being kept waiting). "Bodyguards."
The two men standing importantly near the nondescript white van parked in the front drive of the building appear to be just that, right down to the sunglasses and muscles.
"Mr. Ninomiya," one of them says politely, holding open the van door.
A small sardonic smile twists Nino's lips and Ohno winces. Nino doesn’t like being handled any more than the rest of them do. Having two men follow your every move all day only takes away whatever shreds of privacy they had. It was also likely very expensive and even if management didn't see it as a burden, Ohno knows that in Nino's shoes, he would feel guilty.
The ride to work is awkward, the two bodyguards sitting across from them. Even in the dim light of the interior they are still, Ohno observes, wearing their sunglasses.
"Have you ever been shot?" Nino asks conversationally, breaking the silence.
The two bodyguards exchange glances. "No," one admits, while the other shakes his head. "But I almost got stabbed with a pen, once. Some overexcited fan at an autograph signing."
"Oh," Ohno says.
"Sounds dangerous," Nino says.
The rest of the ride consists of the bodyguard's many stories of the dangers and trials of working crowd control at concerts and fanclub events. Nino prompts them along with questions and remarks and Ohno listens, trying his best not to doze off. It amazes Ohno how Nino can just loosen people up like that, even when he's uncomfortable - or is it to hide his own discomfort?
Whatever the case, by the time they reach the studio, Nino's attentiveness and interested questions have ensured that both bodyguards would dive in front of him to take a bullet without a moment's thought.
+
"So," Sho says, as he and Ohno wait in line in the TBS cafeteria with Aiba. "How was your sleepover with Nino?"
Ohno considers this. "Pretty normal," he decides, "aside from a few heavy-breather phone calls."
"Oh, sorry," Aiba says. "You didn't enjoy them? I'll try harder next time."
"Satoshi," Sho continues determinedly, sounding pained. "He's okay, right?"
"Nino?" Ohno thinks about Nino, warm body curled tightly again his, a fine coil of frustration and fear. "I don't think he's going to jump off a building or anything. They're going to catch this guy soon."
"If they don't, Nino can stay with me," Aiba announces. "I'll take good care of him."
Sho flicks Aiba in the arm gently. "I'm sure Nino doesn't want to play musical couches. We have to keep some image of personal boundaries going on in this band."
Aiba is unfazed. "We used to have sleepovers all the time. I wear his underwear. I've probably seen him naked more often than any girl he's ever dated."
"He has a very professional relationship with my ass," Ohno adds, handing Sho a plastic tray.
Sho sighs, but he's smiling. "Take care of him, but don't get too involved, okay? He's got enough people hovering over him. You know Nino…he likes to keep people at a distance sometimes."
"Of course," Ohno says.
Nino has never, ever distanced himself from Ohno. Or rather - he has never stopped Ohno from breaching that distance.
+
While Ohno is enjoying his breakfast in the TBS cafeteria, a small, non-descript red car grinds slowly up the road outside a filming set on the edge of the waterfront. The car stops, and the engine dies, but the driver doesn't move from the car.
The set is furiously busy, crew members rushing back and forth, actors waiting patiently, slung in baggy black ponchos against the chilly morning wind. The sky above is threatening to rain, filled with stringy, mean grey clouds.
The driver watches calmly, eyes locked on one short man, playing with the overlarge sleeves of his black poncho, standing on the edge of the filming set. He's talking with a taller, business-like man in sunglasses beside him while another man in sunglasses watches the small crowd of eager fans nearby the set carefully.
The short man says something to one of the men in sunglasses and begins to walk towards a small, crumbling building set near the edge of the waterfront. The men in sunglasses watch him leave, but they don't follow.
The driver grasps the door handle, fingers fumbling as he pushes open the car door. He's been waiting for this.
He walks towards Ninomiya.
+
Ohno finds Nino slumped on a couch in their break room; he's lucky, he arrived before the others did and Nino is alone, even his bodyguards are gone. Though that, Ohno supposes, is only as expected. His manager's text had arrived in the middle of the stageplay briefing, and Ohno had stared at the screen, fingers tapping the shiny plastic of the phone impatiently, no longer interested in the contents of the meeting.
"Nino," Ohno says, uncertain of how to begin.
"It was just some young guy," Nino says, his face buried in his hands. His voice sounds normal, even flat. "Some second-string actor who got bumped from a part when the drama made me an offer. Can't blame him for being angry, really. I wouldn't like losing a job to some useless pretty idol puppet who gets parachuted in a role."
Ohno wonders if he should touch him. Nino's all curled up, like a hedgehog with his spikes poking outward for protection. "You're a good actor," he says, feeling inadequate.
"That's bullshit," Nino says, and his voice sounds thicker, but his posture uncurls a little. Ohno takes a deep breath and reaches out tentatively, fingers stroking Nino's flyaway black curls. "He's probably going to go to jail."
It was difficult to read any emotion in Nino's tone. "He might have hurt you."
Nino makes a face. "He didn't even have a knife."
Ohno tangles his fingers in Nino's hair, considers. "If he did, I would have kicked it out of his hand," he promises, miming a karate kick with one leg. It's not as impressive sitting down, but Nino laughs and that was the point anyway.
"My hero," Nino says fondly, between chuckles, and he snuggles closer into Ohno.
"Do I get a kiss?" Ohno asks, scrunching up his cheeks, puckering his lips. Nino laughs, leans in dramatically.
They both pause at the same time, grins frozen. The room is almost eerily quiet, and neither of them seem to know what the next move is.
Nino laughs, high-pitched and embarrassed. Nervous. "Let's quit, okay?"
Ohno nods, keeping his smile fixed in place. It's harder without an audience; so much more confusing about exactly who the joke is intended for. His mind flashes back to Nino draped over him in sleep, the heat of his limbs, his sleepy-dark eyes. Ohno suppresses a shiver. "At least you can go home now, right?'
"Yeah. Well, I guess so. I didn't think about that."
"That's good." Ohno says, like the words are automatic, safe. "That's really good."
Nino stretches. "Filming got cancelled for the morning. I'm supposed to report to the police station later to give a statement. There were some reporters covering the location shoot this morning, too."
"They won't make too much fuss about it, though," Ohno says hopefully.
Nino laughs wryly. "I don't really care what they do."
There's a long silence. Ohno plays with the frayed hem of his denim jacket. The room is silent save for the steady hum of the air conditioner. None of the other members have come into the room yet, even though they're supposed to be on stand-by in less than ten minutes. It occurs to Ohno that they might be giving them some space, some time alone.
"Nino," he says suddenly, and then almost loses his nerve when Nino turns to him, gaze intent. "Do you want to come home with me again?"
Nino's expression is guarded. "Why?"
"I don't know," Ohno confesses. "I just…you can if you want." It's your choice, he wants to say. He won't push Nino, he won't expect anything from Nino that he doesn't want. But none of that makes any sense out loud.
"Okay," Nino says, snapping Ohno back out of his thoughts. "Okay. But you'd better feed me properly."
"And tuck you into bed?" Ohno asks.
"Do you plan on sleeping on the couch again?" Nino asks, and his tone is only half-teasing.
"Will I be there alone in the morning?" If Nino can tease around the edges of the real questions, the uncomfortable ones, then so can Ohno.
"This isn't weird, is it?" Nino asks, gesturing between them. "We're weird."
"Does it matter?"
"It should," Nino says, "Maybe." He pauses, his fingers nudging against Ohno's. "I don't really care, though."
Ohno's heart swells. "I'll make you hamburger for dinner."
"Do you even know how to cook hamburger?" Nino wants to know. "I'm sorry, but I've only ever seen you cook fried rice."
"I make great hamburgers," Ohno promises, making a mental note to call his mom later for a recipe.
"Well then," Nino says, and his voice is so bright and full that Ohno knows that everything is good, everything is all right. "Guess I'll just have to come over."
FIN
bonus epilogue thingamajig
"You guys," Aiba whispers, "This is so cute."
"I really don't want to watch this anymore," Jun says. "Two more minutes and they're probably going to start sucking face."
"Should we go in?" Sho asks. He's got his hand braced on Jun's shoulders, peeking over Aiba's head through the crack of the open door into the green room.
"Isn't falling in love with your bandmate romantic?" Aiba wonders. "Forbidden something-or-other. It sounds like a drama."
"A really bad drama." Jun interjects. "Or maybe a bad porno."
"Gross," Sho says. "I do not want hear 'Nino', 'Leader' and 'porn' in the same sentence."
"Who said it?" Jun says. "Your mind just went there."
"So, if I fell in love with you, Jun-kun," Aiba continues, on his own separate conversation, "would you be considerate of my feelings? Would you get all awkward and secretly squishy?"
"I think I'm going to start using locked changing rooms," Jun mutters.
"I'm going to make a 'No Sex in the Green Room' sign," Sho says grimly.
"Oh! You can probably borrow Tokio's," Aiba says.
+
cross-posted to kotobayori