50 je-prompts: #043. share
rating/genre: PG, AU, fluff, romance
pairing(s): Ohmiya, side Sakumiya and Juntoshi friendship (sorry Aiba!)
words: 2059
summary: Nino is sixteen and busking. Ohno begins his art stall across from him, and that won’t do (also the story in which Nino starts writing love songs).
disclaimer: fiction.
notes: 16/19 y/o romance. Inspired by this gorgeous pic that I just sort of stared at and thought about for a while. I bent down to American English and used Mom because while I can imagine au’s I can’t imagine Ohno or Nino saying Mum lol. Unbetaed, C&C welcome.
I don't do sharing but for you I'll give it all (just not my loose change)
He’s sixteen and not quite yet disillusioned (though he’s getting there, slowly but surely). His mother has verbally disapproved but there’s dirty blond streaks in his already ash-brown hair, and he’s proud of them. It makes him look older. At least eighteen. There’s not much he can do about his face, or height. He wears baggy jeans with artfully created tears and flannel shirts over t-shirts that say things like Welcome to the World of Pixels and I’ll Find the Right Castle the First Time. He is Kazunari Ninomiya; he is a guitarist, a singer, a busker and a high schooler on his summer vacation. He is Nino.
The underground corridors of Shibuya Station are lit with flickering lights that cast a sickly yellow-green over the tiled floor and grimy walls. It’s unhygienic and not particularly inviting, but Nino knows the station like the back of his stubby hand, so he knows that, in exchange for the lack of crisp mountain air and luscious scenery, there will be a thousand commuters passing by every day for him to entrance with his sonorous voice. His leaves his guitar case open, inviting coins to be tossed in.
Nino gives his songs lengthy titles that make him feel intelligent and like a real musician. His latest masterpiece is The Tale of When the Space Aliens Came Down and Ruined Everything, Including Getting to My Save Point. He’s sure this one’s going to be a hit. He hasn’t managed to write about love; he’s an avid believer of writing about one’s experiences, and love hasn’t come around just yet. Right now, love is the feeling he gets when a pre-ordered game comes in and the store worker calls him a day earlier to pick it up. Love is hamburgers. Baseball. Sho-chan. His mother.
⁓
The first day is spent getting his future audience used to him. He slowly strums a few chords and greets the passing officeworkers with a grin that is so wide it almost hurts to be put on. The responses are mediocre, and understandably; if a kid in clothes a size too big for him and badly bleached hair is trying to get cosy with you there is a good chance he's trying to pickpocket you. Nino doesn't mind; the road to stardom is a long and winding one.
The next day, after settling down in his little spot in the underground, Nino plays his guitar and sings good morning. He also sings good afternoon, but that’s only after a lunch break consisting of a piece of melon bread and cartoned milk. When he's ready to leave there's four hundred yen in his guitar case and he is delighted.
Sho comes to visit before and after cram school, backpack slipping off his shoulders and looking like a possible murder weapon with the amount of books stuffed inside. He sticks around to be an audience and claps loyally after each song ends. In exchange for his support, Nino has to endure some unwanted advice. He refuses to believe in Sho’s critique that he is, to quote, “A bit whiny. Like a cat. That’s off-key.”
“It’s my own song, my own key. How can I be off it? Tell me this, Sho-chan, and I won’t have to compose a song for your birthday titled I Hypnotised Him and Made His Heart and Body Somersault.” Nino has perfected threatening Sho harmlessly; it’s too easy when he has a list of phobias written in his diary, practically made for him to snoop through.
⁓
It’s been a week and his daily income has increased to nine hundred and fifty yen. He’s discovered that the faster songs give him a better response so he’s been playing the best and only bubblegum pop song he has, The Magic’s Not Just in the Cards, every half an hour.
He's blessed with being the only busker in his section of Shibuya Station, and has actually become quite territorial over his grimy wall that's a foot away from the stairs leading to the ground level of the station. Nino doesn't fail to notice any changes in his surroundings, whether it be the new food stall with steamed buns, or the concert posters that are swapped out every second day. So it isn't a huge task for Nino to realise that there's a new busker setting up across the corridor from him.
The boy looks around his age, with shoulder-length hair that shines silkily, even in the artificial lighting that washes Nino’s complexion out to a muddy grey. He’s busying himself with setting up his stall; a tartan blanket is laid out to house a variety of sculptures, and a cardboard sign with the words ‘Art: ¥500 each,' roughly written with a calligraphy brush is soon propped up against the wall. The boy adjusts the position of a few sculptures minutely and then leans back, seemingly satisfied. Running his hands (they’re pretty, oh, Nino wishes they were his) through his hair, he catches Nino’s eye. He smiles shyly.
Nino turns away sharply, belting out the chorus of “It’s in my hands, oh, yeah, that’s where my magic starts (repeat)” particularly loudly. There’s something about the art stall boy’s sleepy eyes and toothy grin that has him flustered and hitting the wrong chords. Nino figures it’s the same way puppies and babies look at him and make him actually want to be nice for once. He sneaks a look back at the boy and is slightly disappointed that he’s no longer looking at him, but absorbed in drawing in a large notebook.
Then the crowd starts to gather around the artist and his tartan blanket, and suddenly Nino doesn’t want to be so nice anymore.
⁓
The next day basically consists of Nino glowering as the boy across the corridor has customer after customer (eleven, to be exact) poking around with his ceramics. He plays an unnecessarily aggressive tune he composed the night before, titled You Look Cute But Can You Wii Fit?. A measly four hundred and fifty yen is in his guitar case when it’s time to pack up.
⁓
“What’s your name?” Nino has deliberately skulked around the station to wait until the boy has settled himself and his wares down so that he can sidle up to him threateningly. Or, at least, he tries to be threatening, but it seems natural to sit down next to him and brush knees instead.
“Ohno Satoshi,” the boy says with clear eyes that harbour no envy for any attention the station commuters give Nino instead of him.
“Oh-chan, you are ruining my business and my career. I was down six hundred yen yesterday. Six hundred. What are you going to do about this?” Ohno seems to genuinely think about this. They’re quiet for a while. Just when Nino’s about to get out his phone to play Tetris, Ohno makes an oh sound and nudges his knee.
“Can I make it up to you with melon bread?” Nino grins and nudges back.
“Yes. Yes, you can.”
The convenience store workers ignore the two teenagers as they walk hip-to-hip around the aisles, picking up and examining the stock as if it were precious jewels. One finally makes a decidedly loud cough when Nino starts to exclaim that a discounted packed lunch is “the long lost treasure of the legendary kingdom, Bentopia!” Ohno reprimands him softly for laying human hands on something so precious, and they place it back on the shelf reverently.
At the register, Ohno is fishing coins out of his pocket and counting them steadily on the tabletop. As if thinking aloud, he says, “My mom and I play Wii all the time.”
If Nino looks as red as he feels, Ohno doesn’t mention it.
⁓
“There's a simple solution to this problem, you know.” Nino stands in front of Ohno’s blanket, arms folded purposefully.
“Problem?” Ohno’s question is ignored.
“Let's share the spotlight.” Nino drags his guitar case over to the older boy’s side of the corridor. He plays a quick riff and announces to the swarm of people, “I am Ninomiya Kazunari and I have moved to the other side of the corridor.”
He starts singing a well worn favourite ("No matter how big or small I become/or if I grow ears and a tail/I'll defeat the baddies/and get the bonus too"). Ohno hums along and taps out the beat with the end of his pen. They spend the rest of the afternoon not speaking, just being next to each other.
There’s sixteen hundred yen in his guitar case and Ohno’s sold three sculptures. Nino declares the plan to join forces a success.
⁓
When Sho next visits he finds Nino teaching Ohno the guitar. The bottom half of the body is balanced on the older boy’s crossed knee, and Nino is holding the neck, making different chords for the other to play. They both look up at him, triumphant and satisfied with their combined musical efforts.
It feels like the right thing to do, so he applauds.
⁓
They spend time talking; Ohno’s never played baseball but he can do a somersault without using his hands. He dances when no one’s looking but once someone was and he’ll be going to a special school next year. He can’t spell to save his life. His favourite colours are blue and yellow. He likes curry. He has an older sister too. He’s friends with a kid in his neighbourhood that laughs too loud and too nervously but sometimes has a beautiful smile.
Nino doesn’t play guitar at all that day; he just sits down next to Ohno and asks question after question.
When Nino runs out of things to ask (he’s still absorbing pieces of information, like the fact that his dream is to either be a convenience store worker or a baker in the future), he is asked a question.
“What do you love?”
Nino looks up at the concrete ceiling, fingers massaging his cheeks in deep thought. When he does speak, the words shoot out like bullets, short and blunt.
“Games. My mom. Sho-chan. Baseball. Money. My guitar.” He pauses and looks back down at Ohno, who is gazing at him intently.
“Not yet,” Nino says, slightly apologetic.
“That’s fine,” Ohno replies easily. “Just letting you know I’ve got a head start.”
⁓
He wakes up in his tiny bedroom with all the covers kicked off the bed. There’s a gap in the curtains and the strong summer sun is shouldering its way inside. Nino lies there for a few minutes, limbs spread out and flat on his back. He can hear his sister laughing on the phone with a friend, and the lack of motherly scolding to get up and do something with your life means that his mother is probably at work. There’s sweat gathering at the small of his back. It feels like his entire body is humming a song that he’s heard but he doesn’t know the name of. Nino rolls off his bed and grabs his guitar on the way out.
⁓
Ohno is lounging in his spot in the corridor, eating a rice ball and staring vacantly into the air. When he notices Nino running up to him, he gives him a small wave and murmurs, “Thought you weren’t coming today.”
Nino is panting and leaning on his guitar case for support. He decides to skip the long and oxygen-depriving explanation of, no, he hadn’t predicted he’d be here either but his entire being was singing and that shouldn’t be ignored.
“Oh-chan, I want to write love songs about you and me.”
Ohno keeps eating. In between bites he mumbles something that sounds like, “Knew you’d catch up.” He swallows the last massive mouthful of rice with slight difficulty, and Nino reaches over to pick a grain of rice from his chin.
Finished with his meal, he smiles and kisses him on the cheek, and Nino wants to throw a thousand yen bill in his own guitar case to celebrate. Ohno murmurs in his ear.
“You are definitely off-key.”
⁓
Nino titles his newest song I Knew It Was Love When My Perfect Pitch Boyfriend Tuned My Guitar and Kissed Me Afterwards. He’s sure he will have more loose change than he’ll know what to do with.
( the end )