Fic: All The Right Moves
Title: All The Right Moves
Pairing(s): Ohno/Aiba, Ohno/Nino, Aiba/Jun
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Nope
Word count: 4,384
Summary: All the right friends in all the right places, so yeah, we're going down. All the right moves and all the right faces, so yeah, we're going down.
Authors' notes: This is abstract, it's weird, and I like it. A lot. For Gati and Cally.
1.
He keeps his head down, rubs his gloved hands together and he glances upward. His breath dances coldly from his lips and he looks down. Two, three, four. He stops and takes a deep breath, raises his hands to his lips, blows warm air on his frozen fingers.
Five more steps and a corner of his mouth lifts. Slightly. The door opens noisily and he winces. He should’ve done something about that. He rolls his eyes.
The building isn’t warmer than outside, but no chill wind attacks him here. He still feels cold, even as blood pumps to his hands. They throb and a thrill jolts down his veins. His footfalls are light, no one hears him, which is a good thing, and he moves as if he has a purpose here. He does.
If it hadn’t been for the fact that he’s been careless and they don’t need to hear him to know that he’s there.
He ducks into a doorway and counts silently to eleven before he crouches down and glances back. He doesn’t raise his eyes much higher before he draws out a gun and shoots noiselessly at the surveillance camera.
“Fuck,” he whispers but doesn’t mean it. Six, seven eight - he counts and then he stands, presses the door open and shoots without really looking. He walks in, surveys the mess - could’ve been better, could definitely have been a lot worse. He shrugs. He’s done here, and he places a letter on the table next to the couch. He doesn’t even feel tempted to read it first.
He straightens up and walks out, calmly, ducking his head.
He helps an old lady pass the street and he smiles warmly when she thanks him. Don’t thank me, he says and means it.
He walks.
Nine, ten, eleven.
2.
You’re late, Ohno wants to say when Aiba finally slinks inside, head bowed and careful steps. The door is clicked shut behind with slow, deliberate motions, gentle hands on the frame. It’s not the first time either, Ohno wants to add to what he almost said before.
However, Aiba’s thin and slender frame looks miserable, body reeking with guilt, and Ohno doesn’t press it, because he knows he doesn’t deserve any better from Aiba. Aiba has a scarf wrapped around his neck, one Ohno doesn’t recognize, and he has no doubt that if he removed that cloth, he’d see that someone had been that close.
I’m sorry, Ohno almost says, but he isn’t, not for this. There are a million other things he should be sorry about, a million others that he is sorry about. At least, Ohno comforts himself somewhat, at least Aiba is happy when he’s away.
But Aiba still returns to Ohno when Ohno opens his arms. Ohno pretends he doesn’t smell an unknown fragrance, ignores the taste of bitter mint in Aiba’s mouth. He pretends to casually undress Aiba, taking the scarf off him by accident, and he doesn’t see marks, but he sees the foundation. He feels Aiba stiffen slightly, but Ohno pretends.
“I missed you,” Ohno eventually says, and it’s the truth, even if it’s only a part of the whole bigger truth looming over their heads. He misses a lot of things, how they used to be. He doesn’t regret anything. He doesn’t blame Aiba.
Aiba nods, can’t quite bring himself to echo it when it clearly rings so hollow for a beautiful truth, and Ohno holds tighter. Aiba’s arms finally wrap around him, and for a split second, Ohno is taken a year back in time and if he closes his eyes, he almost believes it.
But even after they’ve gone to bed, Ohno rises to brush his teeth and rinses, spits out the taste of bitter mint.
I’m sorry.
3.
Sho looks tired, worried, strained around the eyes and tight around the mouth, Aiba decides as he sits down heavily. Someone behind him coughs while he tries to order a café latte, a girl across the café breaks into giggles.
“Masaki,” Sho says and Aiba feels so heavy.
The waitress arrives and asks for their order. Sho orders the strongest coffee they have, mentions something about some slices of coffee, and the waitress smiles. Aiba thinks he might have found it charming at some point. When she turns to him, he smiles and orders by habit.
Sho raises an eyebrow but stays silent. Aiba can’t look at him for too long. “Masaki,” Sho says again, and Aiba feels the bitter sting of tears at the back of his eyelids, burning angrily. He smiles, but it trembles, he can feel it.
The silence is oppressive between them, Aiba feels weighed down with every passing moment, like scales being added without thought to balance. The waitress arrives, grins at Sho and then slides a cup of hot chocolate to Aiba.
The giggling girl across the café bursts into laughter and Aiba keenly feels the irony.
“You should stop it,” Sho says, his voice is hoarse as if he hasn’t used it for days or maybe he has used it too much - it’s abrasive paper, nails against a chalk board in Aiba’s ears. It grates on his already fragile nerves.
Aiba glances up, looks down again, because he just can’t.
“Masaki,” Sho’s voice drops to a whisper. “Stop it.”
Aiba wants to agree, wants to make Sho make everything alright, to restore the order in his chaotic universe, but this time he has to find a way out of the mess he crafted with his own two hands.
“I’m sorry,” Aiba says, but it’s all he can offer. If only.
He clutches the cup of hot chocolate between his hands.
4.
He stays still, counts his heartbeat, waits for the moment it calms enough. He thinks of home, of a warm bed, of a warm embrace, scorching kisses, laughter and peace. He wonders how long it has been since he had any of those in his life.
He has them, he suppose, as he counts silently. One, two, three. He peeks out and snaps back. Too close, he tells his racing heart. So long, and he still thrills. The moment you get used to it is the day you die. Be frightened. Never rely on mistakes.
His right hand slips into his belt, fingers sliding around the teasingly familiar handle, one finger coiled to the ready.
Four, five, six -
Overconfidence gets you killed, a dead voice brushes against his mind, and he almost laughs. Trial and error, he thinks. You can’t go wrong with that. He almost wishes that the owner of the voice still lived, but if it did, he’d be the one dead right now. Seven bullets, and he’d been stone dead cold. Not his most refined work, but it’d been effective.
The warm bed. Eight beats, he counts in silence, longing for the warm arms, soft kisses pressed to his sore muscles, words to soothe his aching heart.
He catches the snort in time. A heart. He hadn’t amused himself so much in ages. He almost forgot.
Something rattles behind him, somewhere, something he knows he’ll see when he looks out from his hiding place. The hatch clicks open - he can’t hear it, but he feels it when he presses. He raises his right hand. Gets to his feet. Rises, slow, crouches. His body aches from battles before this, years of endless fights that weren’t his own. He wonders if he has a side.
He doesn’t blame anyone, only himself. He doesn’t know why he’s sorry, just that he is.
Nine, ten - eleven.
He rises, opens his eyes, go free from his hiding place. I’m sorry, he mouthes.
He pulls the trigger.
5.
Jun thinks that Nino has been eyeing Ohno for a long time now, and he doesn’t know why Nino hasn’t went for it already. Jun knows he shouldn’t be thinking this, but his traitorous heart says otherwise, and it’s difficult to think clearly when your world constantly is on verge of tilting.
“Very funny,” Nino says to that and rolls his eyes. “He’s with Aiba.”
Not for the first time, Jun wonders just exactly what Nino knows - which side he’s on, who he plays for, who the first and best in his heart is. Who does he love the best of them?
Jun doesn’t want to find out.
Does Nino know?
Jun already feels his hands become clammy - he digs his nails into his palms until they leave crescent moon marks, and when he unclenches his fists, they hurt.
Impossible. Nino can’t know, because then Ohno would know, and then… everything wouldn’t be as complicated. Or maybe it’d be even more complicated than it is now, which Jun wouldn’t wish upon anyone, not even himself. But if Ohno knew, there’s just the slightest chance - a snowball’s chance in Hell - that he wouldn’t have to tiptoe anymore.
“You know,” Jun begins, tentatively, but Nino cuts him off, mercilessly.
“No, I don’t know.”
It takes courage, something Jun feels he has been lacking lately, but he stands his ground, courageously meeting Nino’s eyes squarely, even if it hurts. “What if -”
“There’s too many what if’s in this world,” Nino says, and Jun is stricken with how tired Nino sounds. World weary, laden with burdens he shouldn’t have to bear. He sounds like Jun feels.
He doesn’t say anything after that.
“What if the sky was green?”
Jun allows himself to smile. “Then Aiba would be happy.”
And there the calculating look returns, and Jun can’t help it if he lets his gaze fall.
Nino’s voice is softer than his eyes. “Can no less make Aiba-chan happy?”
6.
Ohno frowns.
“Satoshi-kun,” Sho pleads, “He’s not good for you.”
Ohno shakes his head - but he knows, has known it for such a long time. But Ohno is not good for him either, so does it really matter? Ohno thinks it matters, at least to Sho. Ohno wishes he deserves the concern and worry Sho has for him.
“Do you still love him? Even after all this?”
That is a tricky question, after all. He supposes he does, he doesn’t think he can go on and not love him.
Sho almost breaks, Ohno can feel it. “But he’s cheating on you.”
You have no idea, Ohno almost says, the words are ready, right there at the tip of his tongue, but he doesn’t say it, just like he never says the words that truly matter. He can’t remember the last time he said I love you and meant it. He might say it today if he’s not run over by a bus or something before he gets that far.
It must have shown on his face, because Sho looks confused, and Ohno reaches out, lays his hand across Sho’s; light with reassurance, heavy with guilt, and he holds on when Sho flinches.
“You guys,” Sho says, his voice cracking, and Ohno squeezes. “If you could just somehow leave him…”
“But he’s not leaving me,” Ohno then says. “He has all reason to.”
“But he loves you,” and Sho looks more miserable than ever, torn between three, maybe four people. And he doesn’t even know the whole truth. “And you know, Nino would -”
Ohno can’t let him say it; so instead, he cuts it off with a deliberately surprised “Really?”
Sho smiles. It’s tight. “If you… It’s really obvious, too. Maybe you should give it a chance.”
Ohno’s heart breaks from the guilt, and it’s funny - he’d almost forgotten he had one.
7.
“He still doesn’t know,” Nino says when Ohno wakes up. Ohno shakes his head and stretches on the couch.
Nino smiles decisively. “He should know. He has all the clues.”
“He doesn’t,” Ohno replies, but he sounds unhappy.
Nino frowns. Nothing about this is easy. He wonders if everything - years and years and years ago - would have turned out so much different if he’d said yes instead of no, if he’d accepted instead of fleeing as if he’d seen a ghost. If he’d said yes at that time, would Ohno now be sleeping in his bed instead of on his couch?
Ohno turns on the couch, his t-shirt rides up, and Nino reaches out before he can think twice about it. “Be careful,” Nino cautions, fingers as gentle as butterfly wings, but he knows that Ohno only hears it if he wants to. “Don’t be so unhappy.”
“I’m not unhappy,” Ohno says, but his eyes are worried and Nino’s fingers catch in the fabric of the t-shirt.
“Don’t lie,” Nino hisses. “Not to me.”
Ohno sits up, slowly like an awakening giant, and Nino stays. “I’m not lying,” Ohno says and Nino hears the stark and unflinching honesty. “I just wish that things were different.”
Me too, Nino breathes, leaning forward, and their foreheads bump. He kisses Ohno, tentatively, just brushing against the corner of his lips. Today is not the day where Ohno will run away. Ohno kisses back and presses into him as if he hasn’t been warm in decades.
Nino doesn’t want to have to apologize for this, so he doesn’t, but he can’t help but send a quick thought, just a reminder, to those they’re hurting. He wonders if they brought it upon themselves all along; just that they didn’t realize it. But it wasn’t until Aiba, Nino reasons, and he doesn’t feel nearly as bad.
But he still thinks up a quick admission of guilt. Quick, but heartfelt. And he drowns in Ohno’s attention that swallows him whole.
I’m sorry.
8.
He almost can’t breathe from the way the fingers are tightening on his throat, and for a few moments, he swears he can see stars at the back of his eyelids. He gasps for breath and the form above him sneers, triumph flashing in his eyes. A well aimed kick in his attacker’s side sends him flying, and he sits up, air rushing to his deprived lungs.
He scrambles to his feet, regains his bearings in a precious moment of trained equilibrium and he forces himself back into the battle. He anticipates the kick his attacker sends towards his savior, and he prevents it. He reaches for the knife his attacker hadn’t managed to strip him of and he throws with careful aim.
The man lets out a cry of surprise and then a gasp. The knife has punctured a lung, most probably.
His savior gets to his feet, glares at the man who falls to his knees.
“Fuck, I hadn’t thought that they’d hire a bodyguard,” his savior says, then looks at the pool of blood on the floor getting bigger by the second. “Lot of good it did, though.”
He shrugs. “I got him. He’s upstairs. Or rather, his body is upstairs.”
“I saw. Pretty. I almost couldn’t see that it was your doing.”
He bends down to collect the weapons he’d lost during the fight. He checks that everything is in place and as he turns, hands are on his shoulders. He relaxes. Almost.
Work is simple - you get told who’s going to die and you go do your job. That or you bite the dust. Trust your instincts, never underestimate your enemy (and you’ll most probably be positively surprised) and respect the weapons of choice. Every little distraction can and will probably get you killed.
Except.
“Not here, though,” the voice says in his ear. “Come on. He was a bastard. I can’t wait to collect.”
He shrugs and then nods.
He’d never thought he’d enjoy working in pairs.
9.
When Aiba lets himself into Jun’s apartment, it feels like sanctuary being granted from years of hoarse and unheard pleas. He wants to sink into Jun’s arms, into his bed, hide himself under endless mountains of blankets, and hide away from the mess of his life.
Jun lets him chatter, talk about anything, and he doesn’t always listen as well as Ohno does, but Jun is here and he’s present in ways that Ohno never is.
It confuses him, turns his head right around, how it all came to this. He’d never thought - not Jun. But then again, he’d never thought that way about Ohno, either. He’d never imagined he’d be the one to cheat, because only a year ago, he’d thought he’d never want to give Ohno up. He still doesn’t - he’s stuck in a limbo where he wants two different things and he knows he can’t have both.
Not in the long run.
At some point he’ll have to choose, and he can feel the moment of truth approach faster than he wants to admit.
He wants everyone to be happy, and they can’t with the way things are now, where everything he says is calculated, careful, deliberate and planned to the last detail as to not raise suspicion.
Ohno knows, Aiba can feel it, but he doesn’t understand how Ohno does it - welcomes him home with a warm embrace, ignores the obvious signs. Does Ohno love him that much? Does Ohno ignore everything because he’s hoping that Aiba will make up his mind and stay?
Jun soothes his worried frown, kisses his temple, tells him it’s okay, that they’ll figure it out.
He thinks of Ohno’s gentle hands and gentle eyes, gentle soul and gentle heart. He remembers the absent replies, no replies at all, staying up waiting for Ohno to get home, only to fall asleep and wake up alone.
Jun is here.
Aiba doesn’t think it’s much of a difficult choice at all. The difficult things come after the choice has been made.
10.
Sho feels so much older than he actually is.
If only all of them would just grow up and think. He thinks he should probably call in advance, but then he figures that it’s Nino’s day off, so of course he’s home. He needs to talk to Nino, make him do something about everything, make him tell Sho that everything isn’t as chaotic and impossible as it seems.
He also needs to tell Nino discreetly to go for it with Ohno. If Ohno at least had someone to escape with… Then maybe.
He wonders why Aiba has let everything spin out of control, if Jun has completely lost his mind, and he wonders most of all if Ohno will scoot further out of reach when shit hits the fan. Ohno is elusive at best, hard to catch, even harder to keep in place for long enough.
Sho wants to believe that Aiba is insane for starting all of this, but he can’t muster enough courage to do so. Of all people, why Ohno? Why hadn’t Aiba let Ohno go when he had the chance? He stayed.
Sho sighs. He knocks on the door and grins when Nino opens and lets him in. He’s about to say something when he sees two mugs on the table, hears the sound of the shower running; he looks Nino over, and he freezes up. Nino is dry.
“Do you have company?”
Nino shrugs; smirks in that feline way that reveals nothing at all. “I do have other friends, you know.”
Sho doesn’t want to get caught up in Nino’s other friends. He doesn’t know if it’s a boy or a girl Nino is seeing, and he doesn’t want to know. His heart sinks to his stomach, it falls heavy and it rattles as it lands. Maybe he shouldn’t say anything about Ohno at all. Nino has enough to think about already.
“I’ll come back later,” Sho offers as he turns.
Only when he’s outside does he remember that Nino doesn’t drink hot chocolate.
11.
Aiba is home when Ohno lets himself in. Or rather, Aiba is in, because this certainly doesn’t feel like home anymore. He wonders if he even has one. Maybe he has, only he doesn’t want to acknowledge it, not yet.
Aiba is smiling; he looks more sincere and brighter than he has in months and Ohno instinctively knows that this is it. Whatever it is, this is it. He’s not upset, but he’s shocked that his stomach swirls unpleasantly at the realization. He doesn’t show it, only smiles back and swallows whatever words Aiba had been about to say. He kisses harder, presses closer - he’s shocked into feeling again, and Aiba responds.
This.
Electricity cackles between them, and Ohno is merciless. He bends Aiba to his will, steals his breath away, is rougher than he needs to be, but Aiba doesn’t complain, only matches him bite for bite, keens when Ohno grips him tight, wraps his long legs around Ohno and doesn’t notice when Ohno cries out from pain.
Only afterwards does Ohno feel Aiba’s questioning glance, feels the curiously worried fingers on his bruised skin, but it doesn’t matter. Not now.
“How did you - ?”
It’s information that he’s not willing to divulge. He could have - easily, and it might have repaired whatever was broken; it might have destroyed the fragile bond of silver glass left between them. Ohno isn’t sure he’s willing to risk it.
He shrugs and Aiba’s fingers tighten, lines drawing tautly around his mouth with worry.
“It looks pretty bad,” Aiba murmurs, his other hand skimming across purple skin, “are you sure it’s fine?”
Ohno manages a shaky nod and kisses Aiba - and there it is.
The taste of bitter mint is still there. It might never have left.
Never before has a welcome home felt so much like a goodbye.
12.
Aiba is so worried that he thinks he can feel his bones shake and shiver.
“Nino,” he pleads, because he feels like Nino is the only one who cares as much as he does. “Please.”
“It’s none of my business,” Nino returns, but Aiba detects something else than just pure obstinacy. He’s not sure how he missed Nino coming to the defensive when they speak. “If he has bruises all over his body I’d be curious, but a mark across his side? You know Oh-chan, he’s clumsy.”
Which is a blatant lie and Aiba bites his tongue to stay silent. Something is different about Nino.
“Nino,” Aiba says and he can’t help the sorrowful note that creeps into his voice, makes it croak and break. “What’s wrong? What happened to us?”
Nino’s eyes are hardening even as Aiba looks at them and it scares him. “I don’t know what happened to you and Oh-chan, but it’s making him unhappy. So stop it.”
It’s the second time he has been told to just stop, and he knows that he has reached the dead end of his madly blind dash through the mess. He can’t run anymore. Ohno had been gone when he woke up, so he’s sure that he didn’t have to make the choice after all, but that’s not fair. Because Aiba had finally worked up the courage to say it. Ohno had already heard the unsaid words for far longer than Aiba had been willing to admit.
Aiba realizes with a jolt that Ohno could’ve been talking to Nino about it before this. His throat feels parched and he tries to wet his lips. “Do you know where he is?”
“Yes,” Nino says without a trace of hesitance.
He knows that Nino won’t tell him, so it’d be useless to ask. He has other things to ask for. “Will you tell him I’m sorry?”
Something glints in Nino’s eyes, something flitters across his expression. “He understands.”
Behind the closed door Aiba cries for everything that could and should have been.
I’m sorry.
13.
Ohno has only brought the things that truly matters. It’s not a lot, but it’s his. There’s room enough, he thinks as he looks out of the window.
When he closes his eyes, he can still see Aiba’s sleeping face, peacefully trusting and definitely dreaming of longer, black hair, long limbs and bitter mint. Ohno doesn’t blame him. It would have been justice to tell Aiba that everything isn’t his fault, but Ohno isn’t courageous. He’s a coward, he’s a liar and he is really dangerous.
The relief is threatening to choke him up.
This is better, he thinks and moves over, wincing as he does so.
Will we get a happy end, Nino had asked him yesterday as they crowded close in the elevator, stolen kisses undoubtedly recorded on the surveillance camera. Nino had leaned in, had kissed his neck, fingers stealing in under his shirt.
“I don’t know,” Ohno says aloud in the roaring silence, but it seems more and more probable as time the seconds tick by. His feet lead him to the bed without his conscious thought and he sinks gratefully down.
He closes his eyes.
He doesn’t blame Aiba. He doesn’t blame Jun. He’ll miss Sho the most. He loves Nino.
“Old man,” Nino says, so close to his ear that had it been anyone else, they’d been dead now. “Does this count?”
Ohno is tempted to say no, and then he remembers that he needs to say what is important. He opens his mouth, but Nino is faster and Ohno doesn’t get to speak.
“I know,” Nino breathes wetly into his lips. He feels desperate, but it’s not a wistful, longing kind of desperate. He clings to Ohno, forces their bodies together, and Ohno welcomes it. He allows Nino to claw at his skin, scratch at him, mark him in all the ways he’s never been allowed to do before. Nino digs his heels into Ohno’s back as they connect, and they meet in a cry that hurts. Hands on either side of him make it impossible to run. They move together.
“I know,” Nino says again into his ear, panting, moaning and biting. “Just us.”
Ohno forgets how it was to love someone else, because this is the truth.
I’m sorry.
He kisses Nino because he doesn’t have to be sorry any longer.
-1.
“Nino is not answering,” Sho says. “And I haven’t heard anything from Satoshi-kun.”
-2.
“Last assignment,” Nino says and Ohno nods, strapping the third gun to his back. “Kiss for good luck.”
“Not luck,” Ohno says but kisses him for eleven seconds when Nino leans in. “And we’ll go.”
Nino looks so hopeful that Ohno is smitten all over again. “Anywhere?”
Ohno nods. He remembers.
He’s not sorry anymore.
*
Pairing(s): Ohno/Aiba, Ohno/Nino, Aiba/Jun
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Nope
Word count: 4,384
Summary: All the right friends in all the right places, so yeah, we're going down. All the right moves and all the right faces, so yeah, we're going down.
Authors' notes: This is abstract, it's weird, and I like it. A lot. For Gati and Cally.
1.
He keeps his head down, rubs his gloved hands together and he glances upward. His breath dances coldly from his lips and he looks down. Two, three, four. He stops and takes a deep breath, raises his hands to his lips, blows warm air on his frozen fingers.
Five more steps and a corner of his mouth lifts. Slightly. The door opens noisily and he winces. He should’ve done something about that. He rolls his eyes.
The building isn’t warmer than outside, but no chill wind attacks him here. He still feels cold, even as blood pumps to his hands. They throb and a thrill jolts down his veins. His footfalls are light, no one hears him, which is a good thing, and he moves as if he has a purpose here. He does.
If it hadn’t been for the fact that he’s been careless and they don’t need to hear him to know that he’s there.
He ducks into a doorway and counts silently to eleven before he crouches down and glances back. He doesn’t raise his eyes much higher before he draws out a gun and shoots noiselessly at the surveillance camera.
“Fuck,” he whispers but doesn’t mean it. Six, seven eight - he counts and then he stands, presses the door open and shoots without really looking. He walks in, surveys the mess - could’ve been better, could definitely have been a lot worse. He shrugs. He’s done here, and he places a letter on the table next to the couch. He doesn’t even feel tempted to read it first.
He straightens up and walks out, calmly, ducking his head.
He helps an old lady pass the street and he smiles warmly when she thanks him. Don’t thank me, he says and means it.
He walks.
Nine, ten, eleven.
2.
You’re late, Ohno wants to say when Aiba finally slinks inside, head bowed and careful steps. The door is clicked shut behind with slow, deliberate motions, gentle hands on the frame. It’s not the first time either, Ohno wants to add to what he almost said before.
However, Aiba’s thin and slender frame looks miserable, body reeking with guilt, and Ohno doesn’t press it, because he knows he doesn’t deserve any better from Aiba. Aiba has a scarf wrapped around his neck, one Ohno doesn’t recognize, and he has no doubt that if he removed that cloth, he’d see that someone had been that close.
I’m sorry, Ohno almost says, but he isn’t, not for this. There are a million other things he should be sorry about, a million others that he is sorry about. At least, Ohno comforts himself somewhat, at least Aiba is happy when he’s away.
But Aiba still returns to Ohno when Ohno opens his arms. Ohno pretends he doesn’t smell an unknown fragrance, ignores the taste of bitter mint in Aiba’s mouth. He pretends to casually undress Aiba, taking the scarf off him by accident, and he doesn’t see marks, but he sees the foundation. He feels Aiba stiffen slightly, but Ohno pretends.
“I missed you,” Ohno eventually says, and it’s the truth, even if it’s only a part of the whole bigger truth looming over their heads. He misses a lot of things, how they used to be. He doesn’t regret anything. He doesn’t blame Aiba.
Aiba nods, can’t quite bring himself to echo it when it clearly rings so hollow for a beautiful truth, and Ohno holds tighter. Aiba’s arms finally wrap around him, and for a split second, Ohno is taken a year back in time and if he closes his eyes, he almost believes it.
But even after they’ve gone to bed, Ohno rises to brush his teeth and rinses, spits out the taste of bitter mint.
I’m sorry.
3.
Sho looks tired, worried, strained around the eyes and tight around the mouth, Aiba decides as he sits down heavily. Someone behind him coughs while he tries to order a café latte, a girl across the café breaks into giggles.
“Masaki,” Sho says and Aiba feels so heavy.
The waitress arrives and asks for their order. Sho orders the strongest coffee they have, mentions something about some slices of coffee, and the waitress smiles. Aiba thinks he might have found it charming at some point. When she turns to him, he smiles and orders by habit.
Sho raises an eyebrow but stays silent. Aiba can’t look at him for too long. “Masaki,” Sho says again, and Aiba feels the bitter sting of tears at the back of his eyelids, burning angrily. He smiles, but it trembles, he can feel it.
The silence is oppressive between them, Aiba feels weighed down with every passing moment, like scales being added without thought to balance. The waitress arrives, grins at Sho and then slides a cup of hot chocolate to Aiba.
The giggling girl across the café bursts into laughter and Aiba keenly feels the irony.
“You should stop it,” Sho says, his voice is hoarse as if he hasn’t used it for days or maybe he has used it too much - it’s abrasive paper, nails against a chalk board in Aiba’s ears. It grates on his already fragile nerves.
Aiba glances up, looks down again, because he just can’t.
“Masaki,” Sho’s voice drops to a whisper. “Stop it.”
Aiba wants to agree, wants to make Sho make everything alright, to restore the order in his chaotic universe, but this time he has to find a way out of the mess he crafted with his own two hands.
“I’m sorry,” Aiba says, but it’s all he can offer. If only.
He clutches the cup of hot chocolate between his hands.
4.
He stays still, counts his heartbeat, waits for the moment it calms enough. He thinks of home, of a warm bed, of a warm embrace, scorching kisses, laughter and peace. He wonders how long it has been since he had any of those in his life.
He has them, he suppose, as he counts silently. One, two, three. He peeks out and snaps back. Too close, he tells his racing heart. So long, and he still thrills. The moment you get used to it is the day you die. Be frightened. Never rely on mistakes.
His right hand slips into his belt, fingers sliding around the teasingly familiar handle, one finger coiled to the ready.
Four, five, six -
Overconfidence gets you killed, a dead voice brushes against his mind, and he almost laughs. Trial and error, he thinks. You can’t go wrong with that. He almost wishes that the owner of the voice still lived, but if it did, he’d be the one dead right now. Seven bullets, and he’d been stone dead cold. Not his most refined work, but it’d been effective.
The warm bed. Eight beats, he counts in silence, longing for the warm arms, soft kisses pressed to his sore muscles, words to soothe his aching heart.
He catches the snort in time. A heart. He hadn’t amused himself so much in ages. He almost forgot.
Something rattles behind him, somewhere, something he knows he’ll see when he looks out from his hiding place. The hatch clicks open - he can’t hear it, but he feels it when he presses. He raises his right hand. Gets to his feet. Rises, slow, crouches. His body aches from battles before this, years of endless fights that weren’t his own. He wonders if he has a side.
He doesn’t blame anyone, only himself. He doesn’t know why he’s sorry, just that he is.
Nine, ten - eleven.
He rises, opens his eyes, go free from his hiding place. I’m sorry, he mouthes.
He pulls the trigger.
5.
Jun thinks that Nino has been eyeing Ohno for a long time now, and he doesn’t know why Nino hasn’t went for it already. Jun knows he shouldn’t be thinking this, but his traitorous heart says otherwise, and it’s difficult to think clearly when your world constantly is on verge of tilting.
“Very funny,” Nino says to that and rolls his eyes. “He’s with Aiba.”
Not for the first time, Jun wonders just exactly what Nino knows - which side he’s on, who he plays for, who the first and best in his heart is. Who does he love the best of them?
Jun doesn’t want to find out.
Does Nino know?
Jun already feels his hands become clammy - he digs his nails into his palms until they leave crescent moon marks, and when he unclenches his fists, they hurt.
Impossible. Nino can’t know, because then Ohno would know, and then… everything wouldn’t be as complicated. Or maybe it’d be even more complicated than it is now, which Jun wouldn’t wish upon anyone, not even himself. But if Ohno knew, there’s just the slightest chance - a snowball’s chance in Hell - that he wouldn’t have to tiptoe anymore.
“You know,” Jun begins, tentatively, but Nino cuts him off, mercilessly.
“No, I don’t know.”
It takes courage, something Jun feels he has been lacking lately, but he stands his ground, courageously meeting Nino’s eyes squarely, even if it hurts. “What if -”
“There’s too many what if’s in this world,” Nino says, and Jun is stricken with how tired Nino sounds. World weary, laden with burdens he shouldn’t have to bear. He sounds like Jun feels.
He doesn’t say anything after that.
“What if the sky was green?”
Jun allows himself to smile. “Then Aiba would be happy.”
And there the calculating look returns, and Jun can’t help it if he lets his gaze fall.
Nino’s voice is softer than his eyes. “Can no less make Aiba-chan happy?”
6.
Ohno frowns.
“Satoshi-kun,” Sho pleads, “He’s not good for you.”
Ohno shakes his head - but he knows, has known it for such a long time. But Ohno is not good for him either, so does it really matter? Ohno thinks it matters, at least to Sho. Ohno wishes he deserves the concern and worry Sho has for him.
“Do you still love him? Even after all this?”
That is a tricky question, after all. He supposes he does, he doesn’t think he can go on and not love him.
Sho almost breaks, Ohno can feel it. “But he’s cheating on you.”
You have no idea, Ohno almost says, the words are ready, right there at the tip of his tongue, but he doesn’t say it, just like he never says the words that truly matter. He can’t remember the last time he said I love you and meant it. He might say it today if he’s not run over by a bus or something before he gets that far.
It must have shown on his face, because Sho looks confused, and Ohno reaches out, lays his hand across Sho’s; light with reassurance, heavy with guilt, and he holds on when Sho flinches.
“You guys,” Sho says, his voice cracking, and Ohno squeezes. “If you could just somehow leave him…”
“But he’s not leaving me,” Ohno then says. “He has all reason to.”
“But he loves you,” and Sho looks more miserable than ever, torn between three, maybe four people. And he doesn’t even know the whole truth. “And you know, Nino would -”
Ohno can’t let him say it; so instead, he cuts it off with a deliberately surprised “Really?”
Sho smiles. It’s tight. “If you… It’s really obvious, too. Maybe you should give it a chance.”
Ohno’s heart breaks from the guilt, and it’s funny - he’d almost forgotten he had one.
7.
“He still doesn’t know,” Nino says when Ohno wakes up. Ohno shakes his head and stretches on the couch.
Nino smiles decisively. “He should know. He has all the clues.”
“He doesn’t,” Ohno replies, but he sounds unhappy.
Nino frowns. Nothing about this is easy. He wonders if everything - years and years and years ago - would have turned out so much different if he’d said yes instead of no, if he’d accepted instead of fleeing as if he’d seen a ghost. If he’d said yes at that time, would Ohno now be sleeping in his bed instead of on his couch?
Ohno turns on the couch, his t-shirt rides up, and Nino reaches out before he can think twice about it. “Be careful,” Nino cautions, fingers as gentle as butterfly wings, but he knows that Ohno only hears it if he wants to. “Don’t be so unhappy.”
“I’m not unhappy,” Ohno says, but his eyes are worried and Nino’s fingers catch in the fabric of the t-shirt.
“Don’t lie,” Nino hisses. “Not to me.”
Ohno sits up, slowly like an awakening giant, and Nino stays. “I’m not lying,” Ohno says and Nino hears the stark and unflinching honesty. “I just wish that things were different.”
Me too, Nino breathes, leaning forward, and their foreheads bump. He kisses Ohno, tentatively, just brushing against the corner of his lips. Today is not the day where Ohno will run away. Ohno kisses back and presses into him as if he hasn’t been warm in decades.
Nino doesn’t want to have to apologize for this, so he doesn’t, but he can’t help but send a quick thought, just a reminder, to those they’re hurting. He wonders if they brought it upon themselves all along; just that they didn’t realize it. But it wasn’t until Aiba, Nino reasons, and he doesn’t feel nearly as bad.
But he still thinks up a quick admission of guilt. Quick, but heartfelt. And he drowns in Ohno’s attention that swallows him whole.
I’m sorry.
8.
He almost can’t breathe from the way the fingers are tightening on his throat, and for a few moments, he swears he can see stars at the back of his eyelids. He gasps for breath and the form above him sneers, triumph flashing in his eyes. A well aimed kick in his attacker’s side sends him flying, and he sits up, air rushing to his deprived lungs.
He scrambles to his feet, regains his bearings in a precious moment of trained equilibrium and he forces himself back into the battle. He anticipates the kick his attacker sends towards his savior, and he prevents it. He reaches for the knife his attacker hadn’t managed to strip him of and he throws with careful aim.
The man lets out a cry of surprise and then a gasp. The knife has punctured a lung, most probably.
His savior gets to his feet, glares at the man who falls to his knees.
“Fuck, I hadn’t thought that they’d hire a bodyguard,” his savior says, then looks at the pool of blood on the floor getting bigger by the second. “Lot of good it did, though.”
He shrugs. “I got him. He’s upstairs. Or rather, his body is upstairs.”
“I saw. Pretty. I almost couldn’t see that it was your doing.”
He bends down to collect the weapons he’d lost during the fight. He checks that everything is in place and as he turns, hands are on his shoulders. He relaxes. Almost.
Work is simple - you get told who’s going to die and you go do your job. That or you bite the dust. Trust your instincts, never underestimate your enemy (and you’ll most probably be positively surprised) and respect the weapons of choice. Every little distraction can and will probably get you killed.
Except.
“Not here, though,” the voice says in his ear. “Come on. He was a bastard. I can’t wait to collect.”
He shrugs and then nods.
He’d never thought he’d enjoy working in pairs.
9.
When Aiba lets himself into Jun’s apartment, it feels like sanctuary being granted from years of hoarse and unheard pleas. He wants to sink into Jun’s arms, into his bed, hide himself under endless mountains of blankets, and hide away from the mess of his life.
Jun lets him chatter, talk about anything, and he doesn’t always listen as well as Ohno does, but Jun is here and he’s present in ways that Ohno never is.
It confuses him, turns his head right around, how it all came to this. He’d never thought - not Jun. But then again, he’d never thought that way about Ohno, either. He’d never imagined he’d be the one to cheat, because only a year ago, he’d thought he’d never want to give Ohno up. He still doesn’t - he’s stuck in a limbo where he wants two different things and he knows he can’t have both.
Not in the long run.
At some point he’ll have to choose, and he can feel the moment of truth approach faster than he wants to admit.
He wants everyone to be happy, and they can’t with the way things are now, where everything he says is calculated, careful, deliberate and planned to the last detail as to not raise suspicion.
Ohno knows, Aiba can feel it, but he doesn’t understand how Ohno does it - welcomes him home with a warm embrace, ignores the obvious signs. Does Ohno love him that much? Does Ohno ignore everything because he’s hoping that Aiba will make up his mind and stay?
Jun soothes his worried frown, kisses his temple, tells him it’s okay, that they’ll figure it out.
He thinks of Ohno’s gentle hands and gentle eyes, gentle soul and gentle heart. He remembers the absent replies, no replies at all, staying up waiting for Ohno to get home, only to fall asleep and wake up alone.
Jun is here.
Aiba doesn’t think it’s much of a difficult choice at all. The difficult things come after the choice has been made.
10.
Sho feels so much older than he actually is.
If only all of them would just grow up and think. He thinks he should probably call in advance, but then he figures that it’s Nino’s day off, so of course he’s home. He needs to talk to Nino, make him do something about everything, make him tell Sho that everything isn’t as chaotic and impossible as it seems.
He also needs to tell Nino discreetly to go for it with Ohno. If Ohno at least had someone to escape with… Then maybe.
He wonders why Aiba has let everything spin out of control, if Jun has completely lost his mind, and he wonders most of all if Ohno will scoot further out of reach when shit hits the fan. Ohno is elusive at best, hard to catch, even harder to keep in place for long enough.
Sho wants to believe that Aiba is insane for starting all of this, but he can’t muster enough courage to do so. Of all people, why Ohno? Why hadn’t Aiba let Ohno go when he had the chance? He stayed.
Sho sighs. He knocks on the door and grins when Nino opens and lets him in. He’s about to say something when he sees two mugs on the table, hears the sound of the shower running; he looks Nino over, and he freezes up. Nino is dry.
“Do you have company?”
Nino shrugs; smirks in that feline way that reveals nothing at all. “I do have other friends, you know.”
Sho doesn’t want to get caught up in Nino’s other friends. He doesn’t know if it’s a boy or a girl Nino is seeing, and he doesn’t want to know. His heart sinks to his stomach, it falls heavy and it rattles as it lands. Maybe he shouldn’t say anything about Ohno at all. Nino has enough to think about already.
“I’ll come back later,” Sho offers as he turns.
Only when he’s outside does he remember that Nino doesn’t drink hot chocolate.
11.
Aiba is home when Ohno lets himself in. Or rather, Aiba is in, because this certainly doesn’t feel like home anymore. He wonders if he even has one. Maybe he has, only he doesn’t want to acknowledge it, not yet.
Aiba is smiling; he looks more sincere and brighter than he has in months and Ohno instinctively knows that this is it. Whatever it is, this is it. He’s not upset, but he’s shocked that his stomach swirls unpleasantly at the realization. He doesn’t show it, only smiles back and swallows whatever words Aiba had been about to say. He kisses harder, presses closer - he’s shocked into feeling again, and Aiba responds.
This.
Electricity cackles between them, and Ohno is merciless. He bends Aiba to his will, steals his breath away, is rougher than he needs to be, but Aiba doesn’t complain, only matches him bite for bite, keens when Ohno grips him tight, wraps his long legs around Ohno and doesn’t notice when Ohno cries out from pain.
Only afterwards does Ohno feel Aiba’s questioning glance, feels the curiously worried fingers on his bruised skin, but it doesn’t matter. Not now.
“How did you - ?”
It’s information that he’s not willing to divulge. He could have - easily, and it might have repaired whatever was broken; it might have destroyed the fragile bond of silver glass left between them. Ohno isn’t sure he’s willing to risk it.
He shrugs and Aiba’s fingers tighten, lines drawing tautly around his mouth with worry.
“It looks pretty bad,” Aiba murmurs, his other hand skimming across purple skin, “are you sure it’s fine?”
Ohno manages a shaky nod and kisses Aiba - and there it is.
The taste of bitter mint is still there. It might never have left.
Never before has a welcome home felt so much like a goodbye.
12.
Aiba is so worried that he thinks he can feel his bones shake and shiver.
“Nino,” he pleads, because he feels like Nino is the only one who cares as much as he does. “Please.”
“It’s none of my business,” Nino returns, but Aiba detects something else than just pure obstinacy. He’s not sure how he missed Nino coming to the defensive when they speak. “If he has bruises all over his body I’d be curious, but a mark across his side? You know Oh-chan, he’s clumsy.”
Which is a blatant lie and Aiba bites his tongue to stay silent. Something is different about Nino.
“Nino,” Aiba says and he can’t help the sorrowful note that creeps into his voice, makes it croak and break. “What’s wrong? What happened to us?”
Nino’s eyes are hardening even as Aiba looks at them and it scares him. “I don’t know what happened to you and Oh-chan, but it’s making him unhappy. So stop it.”
It’s the second time he has been told to just stop, and he knows that he has reached the dead end of his madly blind dash through the mess. He can’t run anymore. Ohno had been gone when he woke up, so he’s sure that he didn’t have to make the choice after all, but that’s not fair. Because Aiba had finally worked up the courage to say it. Ohno had already heard the unsaid words for far longer than Aiba had been willing to admit.
Aiba realizes with a jolt that Ohno could’ve been talking to Nino about it before this. His throat feels parched and he tries to wet his lips. “Do you know where he is?”
“Yes,” Nino says without a trace of hesitance.
He knows that Nino won’t tell him, so it’d be useless to ask. He has other things to ask for. “Will you tell him I’m sorry?”
Something glints in Nino’s eyes, something flitters across his expression. “He understands.”
Behind the closed door Aiba cries for everything that could and should have been.
I’m sorry.
13.
Ohno has only brought the things that truly matters. It’s not a lot, but it’s his. There’s room enough, he thinks as he looks out of the window.
When he closes his eyes, he can still see Aiba’s sleeping face, peacefully trusting and definitely dreaming of longer, black hair, long limbs and bitter mint. Ohno doesn’t blame him. It would have been justice to tell Aiba that everything isn’t his fault, but Ohno isn’t courageous. He’s a coward, he’s a liar and he is really dangerous.
The relief is threatening to choke him up.
This is better, he thinks and moves over, wincing as he does so.
Will we get a happy end, Nino had asked him yesterday as they crowded close in the elevator, stolen kisses undoubtedly recorded on the surveillance camera. Nino had leaned in, had kissed his neck, fingers stealing in under his shirt.
“I don’t know,” Ohno says aloud in the roaring silence, but it seems more and more probable as time the seconds tick by. His feet lead him to the bed without his conscious thought and he sinks gratefully down.
He closes his eyes.
He doesn’t blame Aiba. He doesn’t blame Jun. He’ll miss Sho the most. He loves Nino.
“Old man,” Nino says, so close to his ear that had it been anyone else, they’d been dead now. “Does this count?”
Ohno is tempted to say no, and then he remembers that he needs to say what is important. He opens his mouth, but Nino is faster and Ohno doesn’t get to speak.
“I know,” Nino breathes wetly into his lips. He feels desperate, but it’s not a wistful, longing kind of desperate. He clings to Ohno, forces their bodies together, and Ohno welcomes it. He allows Nino to claw at his skin, scratch at him, mark him in all the ways he’s never been allowed to do before. Nino digs his heels into Ohno’s back as they connect, and they meet in a cry that hurts. Hands on either side of him make it impossible to run. They move together.
“I know,” Nino says again into his ear, panting, moaning and biting. “Just us.”
Ohno forgets how it was to love someone else, because this is the truth.
I’m sorry.
He kisses Nino because he doesn’t have to be sorry any longer.
-1.
“Nino is not answering,” Sho says. “And I haven’t heard anything from Satoshi-kun.”
-2.
“Last assignment,” Nino says and Ohno nods, strapping the third gun to his back. “Kiss for good luck.”
“Not luck,” Ohno says but kisses him for eleven seconds when Nino leans in. “And we’ll go.”
Nino looks so hopeful that Ohno is smitten all over again. “Anywhere?”
Ohno nods. He remembers.
He’s not sorry anymore.
*