We just can't be honest with each other. (Mao/Ohno interaction)
A few of you have requested some views of relationships. Since they’re not entirely Maotsujun, or even have Jun in them, I didn’t post them on ebisu_midnights . Each friendship storyline does, however, change and develop Mao and Jun’s relationship still. If you’re interested, you could read them here on my journal. I started with Ohno first, but I doubt the rest of the scenes will be nearly this long. <.<
Title: We just can't be honest with each other. (Ohno/Mao interaction)
Author: yoshi09
Genre: Alternative Universe/General/Romance
Rated: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own Mao or Ohno. They're perfectly capable of taking care of themselves... as long as Ohno's mama is there to hold his hand.
Summary: High school AU. Please read the other installments on ebisu_midnights here and here before reading this one.
Small side note that matters for this scene: For this story, I picture Ohno looking exactly like he did during his debut days. So he does have bangs, and he still blows and flicks them out of his face out of habit. Here’s a picture for reference: click
One of Mao’s favorite things to do- although she never said it out loud- was spend time with Satoshi. It wasn’t your conventional type of spending time with friends. In fact, words rarely exchanged when they hung out. If “hanging out” would even be the correct way to term it. They would be in the same room, but doing very different things, each taking a unique comfort in the long silence. Like now.
They were in Mao’s room, a common place for them to spend time together. Ohno was spread out on her open carpeted floor, surrounded by butcher paper, pastels, paints, colored pencils and water color atop carefully laid out newspaper to prevent any accidents from happening on her floor. Mao was sitting cross-legged and reading on her bed, leaning against her window sill where the sun wafted in that “perfect afternoon lighting” that Ohno had first complimented her about so many years ago. Mao had laughed then, said she had nothing to do with it. Ohno replied, seriously, that she was the one who chose the room when she first moved in, so she had everything to do with it. She only smiled, reached to place a gentle hand on the nape of his neck to tilt his face down to her- Mao remembered how naturally his eyes fluttered closed when she pressed her lips softly upon his eyebrow.
With this old middle school memory Mao found herself looking at Ohno, a small smile lifting easily on her lips. He was crouched on a large piece of butcher paper, drafting out a picture with a pencil too light for her to see from her angle. The large paper and his position made him look like a little boy, but his face, so serious and determined as it always was when he was working with his craft, made him look older, mature. His focus was something to admire, he could be right there, on her floor, for hours. Days even, if his mother didn’t call him home for dinner.
Ohno must have felt her stare because he looked up at her, catching her soft look with his own. He smiled, crinkling his dollish face into something more natural, boyish. The sunlight caught in his chocolate eyes, highlighting them momentarily to caramel and Mao found herself putting her book down and moving to the edge of her bed so she could reach over and place her hand against his cheek, brush her thumb lightly over his temple. He closed his eyes, leaned into her touch.
She pulled her hand away, and Ohno opened his eyes, blinking them sleepily like a cat awoken from a good nap. At this mental comparison, Mao giggled, and shook her head lightly. Ohno smiled again at her response, and she withdrew from him to get her book, when Ohno asked, his voice a little gruff from not speaking for so long,
“How come you only do that with me?”
Mao turned to him, book in hand as she sat up straight again, legs dangling off the edge of her bed. It took a moment for Mao to realize what he was referring to. She reached out once more to run her hands through his hair. His bangs fell lightly through her fingers, swept over his forehead. “Because you’re important to me, Toshi,” she said, easily. Everything was easy with Ohno.
She had said this response before and she remembered how big his grin became, and she thought it was both silly and adorable that Ohno could get so happy over anything, everything. So it came to a slight surprise to her when he went on,
“And Aiba-chan? Toma-kun? Nino?” Ohno took a breath, eyes flicking down, then back to her eyes, pressing with a look she wasn’t familiar with, “Sho?”
Mao cocked her head to the side, still running her hand gently through his hair, unsure where this conversation was going, where he was leading her. “They’re all important to me too.”
Ohno looked away again and nodded, understanding. It was only a few seconds that passed when he looked back at her once more, “But you don’t do this with them.”
She laughed, finding Ohno’s uncharacteristic interrogation amusing.
“Why not?” Ohno pressed.
Mao looked into Ohno’s eyes, her laughter fading back to her soft smile that she only seemed to get around him. There was a mature seriousness in them that she wasn’t used to seeing him look at anything with, besides his art. She thought about Aiba, his husky and rough voice reminding her of sunshine and running around the park early morning when no one but him and her would be awake back in elementary school, when they were best friends. She thought about Toma, and how she had a crush on him in first year and how quickly that changed when he hung out with Shun and their group more. She thought about Nino and his cattiness, and then became surprised when she found Nino was the closest thing she could refer to as a best friend in the group. Then she thought about Sho. How aloof he was with girls, but how oddly close they were in comparison. But no, she wouldn’t do the things she did with Ohno with them.
“Hm.” She replied, cocking her head to the other side, “I wonder why that is.” She lifted her hand, pushed some stray hairs from his eyes, as he watched her patiently. “I don’t know,” she replied, knowing it wasn’t a good answer. “I guess it’s because you’re different, Toshi.”
She moved to withdraw her hand, pick up reading where she left off, but he caught her wrist. The movement surprised her, made her look at him again.
“Different?” He repeated.
“Yes,” she said, confused about Ohno’s behavior, “But the whole group is different. Just… you’re… it’s not a bad thing,” she continued, thinking Ohno must’ve been offended by her words, and suddenly worried that she did offend him- Ohno had never been mad at her. “I just, I mean I feel more…” she struggled to find her words, “I feel comfortable around you.”
Mao couldn’t read his expression, and she knew that what he must be seeing on hers was worry, maybe even fear- fear of losing him. “You’re like, you’re like a little brother to me.” She finished lamely.
Something changed on Ohno’s face. He looked down so she couldn’t see. He let go of her wrist.
Mao felt panic welling inside her. “I feel like I need to protect you.”
He looked back at her at that. “Protect me?”
Mao didn’t know how to respond so she just nodded.
He held her with a long gaze. “You don’t need to do that.” he said, softly.
Mao couldn’t handle it anymore; she dropped her gaze, trying to swallow the lump that formed in her throat. Feeling confused about what was going on, trying to backtrack to where she might’ve messed up…
She heard him sit up, walk on his knees to get closer to her. She felt the bed shift weight as he placed a hand at the side of her thigh. His other hand went under her chin, lifted it with his index.
He kissed her.
Mao didn’t remember her eyes closing.
His lips were warm, smooth.
He moved them with a confidence, letting them rest upon her mouth for a moment, before parting her lips with a light slip of his tongue. He didn’t taste like anything, but he was warm- impossibly so. She didn’t feel his hand leave her chin, but knew it did when his fingers ran themselves through the smoothness of her hair, sliding it away from her face.
The weight of the bed shifted again, and Mao vaguely felt her body tipping backward as he crawled onto the bed after her- all this she knew without seeing, his lips still joined with hers, as he moved effortlessly with her.
She felt his hand move from her hair down to the center of her back as she tilted further down onto the bed, so it was a small shock when her head pressed up against her mattress- Ohno was holding most of her weight with his arm as he guided her downward, still kissing her.
She didn’t notice she had cupped his face until the bed shifted again, bending somewhere his knees must have been, on either side of her, and his hands went up to gently hold her wrists- his mouth moving more and more urgently against hers- and he placed her hands above her head, held them there with one hand. Mao didn’t know where he put his other hand but her question was answered when she felt it move against the smooth flatness of her stomach- a layer of clothing the only thing from letting the tips of his fingers brush against her skin. She felt the tips of his hair gently grazing her face as their kiss deepened- and if felt so natural, like they did this before. And just as she was registering what was happening, it was over.
When he pulled away, his eyes were filled with tears, but he was smiling. He was smiling so happily, so genuinely. A tear splashed on her cheek when he blinked. “I’ve wanted to do that,” he said quietly, leaning his forehead so that it just barely touched hers, “For a long, long time.” He kissed her nose, her eyelids, just like she did a few weeks ago, but there was so much weight under his lingering lips- so much more unspoken beneath his quivering warmth. He pulled away, waited for Mao to open her eyes again. To make sure she saw him, and heard him, even though his voice was barely above a whisper.
“Love you.”
He stayed there for a moment, suspended above her, in time, reveling in the moment. Then he chuckled, a sound that sounded so warm, so relieved, and almost disbelieving, like he had been waiting for so long to say that too, and the action was liberating, lifted a weight from him.
He got up off her, wiped his eyes with the back of his forearm. Still smiling.
“I don’t expect a response,” he said, his boyish smile she knew best replacing his previous, teary one. “The kiss was enough,” the grin widened and he corrected himself, “It was more than enough.”
And when he left, gathering all his supplies with him, Mao was still on the bed, exactly as he left her: a turmoil of emotions curling within her stomach, her limbs, knotting her chest.
She lifted her hand to her lips, placed a few fingers against them softly.
An image of Ohno, teary-eyed and smiling burned through her mind. She knew he meant what he said, that he really didn’t expect a response. But it wasn’t that that bothered her.
She rolled to her side, curling away from the rest of the room where so many memories of her and Ohno spent together and shut her eyes. No, it wasn’t his lack of expectation about her feelings that bothered her at all. What bothered her, was that she had no idea what she was feeling.
But she didn’t have to.
Things were always easy with Ohno Satoshi.
Title: We just can't be honest with each other. (Ohno/Mao interaction)
Author: yoshi09
Genre: Alternative Universe/General/Romance
Rated: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own Mao or Ohno. They're perfectly capable of taking care of themselves... as long as Ohno's mama is there to hold his hand.
Summary: High school AU. Please read the other installments on ebisu_midnights here and here before reading this one.
Small side note that matters for this scene: For this story, I picture Ohno looking exactly like he did during his debut days. So he does have bangs, and he still blows and flicks them out of his face out of habit. Here’s a picture for reference: click
One of Mao’s favorite things to do- although she never said it out loud- was spend time with Satoshi. It wasn’t your conventional type of spending time with friends. In fact, words rarely exchanged when they hung out. If “hanging out” would even be the correct way to term it. They would be in the same room, but doing very different things, each taking a unique comfort in the long silence. Like now.
They were in Mao’s room, a common place for them to spend time together. Ohno was spread out on her open carpeted floor, surrounded by butcher paper, pastels, paints, colored pencils and water color atop carefully laid out newspaper to prevent any accidents from happening on her floor. Mao was sitting cross-legged and reading on her bed, leaning against her window sill where the sun wafted in that “perfect afternoon lighting” that Ohno had first complimented her about so many years ago. Mao had laughed then, said she had nothing to do with it. Ohno replied, seriously, that she was the one who chose the room when she first moved in, so she had everything to do with it. She only smiled, reached to place a gentle hand on the nape of his neck to tilt his face down to her- Mao remembered how naturally his eyes fluttered closed when she pressed her lips softly upon his eyebrow.
With this old middle school memory Mao found herself looking at Ohno, a small smile lifting easily on her lips. He was crouched on a large piece of butcher paper, drafting out a picture with a pencil too light for her to see from her angle. The large paper and his position made him look like a little boy, but his face, so serious and determined as it always was when he was working with his craft, made him look older, mature. His focus was something to admire, he could be right there, on her floor, for hours. Days even, if his mother didn’t call him home for dinner.
Ohno must have felt her stare because he looked up at her, catching her soft look with his own. He smiled, crinkling his dollish face into something more natural, boyish. The sunlight caught in his chocolate eyes, highlighting them momentarily to caramel and Mao found herself putting her book down and moving to the edge of her bed so she could reach over and place her hand against his cheek, brush her thumb lightly over his temple. He closed his eyes, leaned into her touch.
She pulled her hand away, and Ohno opened his eyes, blinking them sleepily like a cat awoken from a good nap. At this mental comparison, Mao giggled, and shook her head lightly. Ohno smiled again at her response, and she withdrew from him to get her book, when Ohno asked, his voice a little gruff from not speaking for so long,
“How come you only do that with me?”
Mao turned to him, book in hand as she sat up straight again, legs dangling off the edge of her bed. It took a moment for Mao to realize what he was referring to. She reached out once more to run her hands through his hair. His bangs fell lightly through her fingers, swept over his forehead. “Because you’re important to me, Toshi,” she said, easily. Everything was easy with Ohno.
She had said this response before and she remembered how big his grin became, and she thought it was both silly and adorable that Ohno could get so happy over anything, everything. So it came to a slight surprise to her when he went on,
“And Aiba-chan? Toma-kun? Nino?” Ohno took a breath, eyes flicking down, then back to her eyes, pressing with a look she wasn’t familiar with, “Sho?”
Mao cocked her head to the side, still running her hand gently through his hair, unsure where this conversation was going, where he was leading her. “They’re all important to me too.”
Ohno looked away again and nodded, understanding. It was only a few seconds that passed when he looked back at her once more, “But you don’t do this with them.”
She laughed, finding Ohno’s uncharacteristic interrogation amusing.
“Why not?” Ohno pressed.
Mao looked into Ohno’s eyes, her laughter fading back to her soft smile that she only seemed to get around him. There was a mature seriousness in them that she wasn’t used to seeing him look at anything with, besides his art. She thought about Aiba, his husky and rough voice reminding her of sunshine and running around the park early morning when no one but him and her would be awake back in elementary school, when they were best friends. She thought about Toma, and how she had a crush on him in first year and how quickly that changed when he hung out with Shun and their group more. She thought about Nino and his cattiness, and then became surprised when she found Nino was the closest thing she could refer to as a best friend in the group. Then she thought about Sho. How aloof he was with girls, but how oddly close they were in comparison. But no, she wouldn’t do the things she did with Ohno with them.
“Hm.” She replied, cocking her head to the other side, “I wonder why that is.” She lifted her hand, pushed some stray hairs from his eyes, as he watched her patiently. “I don’t know,” she replied, knowing it wasn’t a good answer. “I guess it’s because you’re different, Toshi.”
She moved to withdraw her hand, pick up reading where she left off, but he caught her wrist. The movement surprised her, made her look at him again.
“Different?” He repeated.
“Yes,” she said, confused about Ohno’s behavior, “But the whole group is different. Just… you’re… it’s not a bad thing,” she continued, thinking Ohno must’ve been offended by her words, and suddenly worried that she did offend him- Ohno had never been mad at her. “I just, I mean I feel more…” she struggled to find her words, “I feel comfortable around you.”
Mao couldn’t read his expression, and she knew that what he must be seeing on hers was worry, maybe even fear- fear of losing him. “You’re like, you’re like a little brother to me.” She finished lamely.
Something changed on Ohno’s face. He looked down so she couldn’t see. He let go of her wrist.
Mao felt panic welling inside her. “I feel like I need to protect you.”
He looked back at her at that. “Protect me?”
Mao didn’t know how to respond so she just nodded.
He held her with a long gaze. “You don’t need to do that.” he said, softly.
Mao couldn’t handle it anymore; she dropped her gaze, trying to swallow the lump that formed in her throat. Feeling confused about what was going on, trying to backtrack to where she might’ve messed up…
She heard him sit up, walk on his knees to get closer to her. She felt the bed shift weight as he placed a hand at the side of her thigh. His other hand went under her chin, lifted it with his index.
He kissed her.
Mao didn’t remember her eyes closing.
His lips were warm, smooth.
He moved them with a confidence, letting them rest upon her mouth for a moment, before parting her lips with a light slip of his tongue. He didn’t taste like anything, but he was warm- impossibly so. She didn’t feel his hand leave her chin, but knew it did when his fingers ran themselves through the smoothness of her hair, sliding it away from her face.
The weight of the bed shifted again, and Mao vaguely felt her body tipping backward as he crawled onto the bed after her- all this she knew without seeing, his lips still joined with hers, as he moved effortlessly with her.
She felt his hand move from her hair down to the center of her back as she tilted further down onto the bed, so it was a small shock when her head pressed up against her mattress- Ohno was holding most of her weight with his arm as he guided her downward, still kissing her.
She didn’t notice she had cupped his face until the bed shifted again, bending somewhere his knees must have been, on either side of her, and his hands went up to gently hold her wrists- his mouth moving more and more urgently against hers- and he placed her hands above her head, held them there with one hand. Mao didn’t know where he put his other hand but her question was answered when she felt it move against the smooth flatness of her stomach- a layer of clothing the only thing from letting the tips of his fingers brush against her skin. She felt the tips of his hair gently grazing her face as their kiss deepened- and if felt so natural, like they did this before. And just as she was registering what was happening, it was over.
When he pulled away, his eyes were filled with tears, but he was smiling. He was smiling so happily, so genuinely. A tear splashed on her cheek when he blinked. “I’ve wanted to do that,” he said quietly, leaning his forehead so that it just barely touched hers, “For a long, long time.” He kissed her nose, her eyelids, just like she did a few weeks ago, but there was so much weight under his lingering lips- so much more unspoken beneath his quivering warmth. He pulled away, waited for Mao to open her eyes again. To make sure she saw him, and heard him, even though his voice was barely above a whisper.
“Love you.”
He stayed there for a moment, suspended above her, in time, reveling in the moment. Then he chuckled, a sound that sounded so warm, so relieved, and almost disbelieving, like he had been waiting for so long to say that too, and the action was liberating, lifted a weight from him.
He got up off her, wiped his eyes with the back of his forearm. Still smiling.
“I don’t expect a response,” he said, his boyish smile she knew best replacing his previous, teary one. “The kiss was enough,” the grin widened and he corrected himself, “It was more than enough.”
And when he left, gathering all his supplies with him, Mao was still on the bed, exactly as he left her: a turmoil of emotions curling within her stomach, her limbs, knotting her chest.
She lifted her hand to her lips, placed a few fingers against them softly.
An image of Ohno, teary-eyed and smiling burned through her mind. She knew he meant what he said, that he really didn’t expect a response. But it wasn’t that that bothered her.
She rolled to her side, curling away from the rest of the room where so many memories of her and Ohno spent together and shut her eyes. No, it wasn’t his lack of expectation about her feelings that bothered her at all. What bothered her, was that she had no idea what she was feeling.
But she didn’t have to.
Things were always easy with Ohno Satoshi.