flaws (part 1)
a couple of months ago, this struck me out of left field, and i promptly messaged darkdropout and asked for her help with it. i was afraid it was similar to something else that had been posted at some point that i'd read but i'd read so much i couldn't even remember. honestly, my drive to write this was at an all-time high and i thought i'd finish it in record time. my nerves got the best of me and i went 5k words in before i fled the country (well i didn't so much flee as i did take a vacation).
i want to finish it. i do. i have my heart in it; i started it at a point when i was very easy to upset, and was going through some personal issues, and i let this fic take me as i tend to do when writing. it seems so silly because the idea feels silly and probably overworked and it's not much but i really, really want this to be part 1 of 2 (i just can't make any promises about whether or not part 2 is going to be completed). so it's not going on ao3 because, like all of my dead!fic posts, i don't know what's going to happen to it. i just know that i'd really, really like to finish it and that i will continue to write it sporadically and cross my fingers that it'll get done.
title: flaws (part 1)
pairing: ohno satoshi/ninomiya kazunari
rating: r for what i'm sure is or will be terrible language at some point
word count: 5206 (for part 1)
disclaimer: this never happened or maybe it did i mean what do i know
warnings: (i should do this way more than i do and i'm sorry) mostly for really stupid amounts of angst interspersed with jarringly happy scenes and also for language and implied sexual content
summary:
Ohno doesn’t want to disturb him, not when Nino’s face is lax with slumber and the harsh line of his mouth has softened. The reality that at some point, he will wake up, and their world is going to split apart at the seams, is sobering. Ohno isn’t ready for that, but he doubts Nino is either. When he places his hand on Nino’s shoulder, the younger man’s eyelids flicker, almost imperceptibly.
It’s time.
“Nino,” Ohno says, somberly, and that’s all that it takes. Nino’s fingers circle his wrist loosely, fingertips fluttering against Ohno’s pulse. The roar of blood in his veins must be thunderous. Nino must feel it; his eyes ease open, questioning. The words form on his lips, and die in his throat.
He comes fully awake, just like that, his gaze locked on the magazine Ohno is holding up in his free hand. The fingers around his wrist close in an iron fist.
The front page headline reads: ARASHI’S OHNO SATOSHI AND NINOMIYA KAZUNARI: CAUGHT! There’s a grainy photograph directly beneath the print. It’s blurry, and it could be argued that it’s not even real, but Ohno knows it’s them. He remembers that night; he pressed Nino into the rear entrance of his apartment building and kissed him like a man dying. He remembers that Nino had told him he loved him, serious dark eyes and not a single hint of a joke.
Ohno’s been staring at it for an hour on their green room table while Nino slept comfortably on the couch beside him, head in his lap. The others are waiting in an office upstairs. Ohno wanted to be the one to tell him- no one else should be there.
Nino breaks up with him before they join the others. Ohno knows it’s coming. He can see it in the way Nino releases him as if burnt; the way Nino’s eyes shutter and his face goes smooth and blank. Ohno doesn’t argue. He just says, “okay.”
They carefully avoid any contact all the way upstairs; in the office during the meeting; afterwards, when they bow low and apologize to the rest of their group and their superiors.
They don’t touch for months.
--
They have all of their firsts with other people, because it takes them over a decade to stop dancing around the issue and face each other properly. Then they have firsts together, which are far more important, according to Nino. He is hopelessly romantic, more so than Ohno had ever come to expect from him, and that is due in large part to Ohno witnessing Nino in previous relationships. That’s how he knows it counts.
Their first kiss- the real one, not the one put on for an audience- is in Nino’s apartment. He’s making all sorts of noise about Ohno ignoring him for his art, but he’s doing so under his breath, like he doesn’t entirely care if Ohno hears him. Ohno (correctly) assumes that this is because he doesn’t.
“I’m drawing Nino as a fish,” Ohno announces, because Nino’s shoulders are hunched over his game controller and he’s stabbing violently at the buttons. His sketchpad is filled with Nino, in margins and in full pages, and Nino’s never once seen them. He drops his controller now, though, and is staring at Ohno in surprise.
“You’re what?”
Ohno turns the sketchpad around, pointing at the yellow fish he’s drawn in the center of the page. It’s in a small bowl, with a television and a game controller, just like the one Nino’s abandoned to the floor. “It’s Nino. As a fish. I’ve caught you, so now I’m going to keep you.”
Nino is looking at him like he’s grown an extra head, a blush high on his cheeks. Then, he’s pushing Ohno back against the couch, falling over his lap, pressing into his space. He seems to move so quickly, and then everything slows down, Nino’s hands curving against his cheeks and Ohno’s fingers curling into his sweatshirt. And Ohno locks away every detail, the way that Nino is so warm against him, the music from his video game, the calluses on his fingers and his trembling thighs pressing into Ohno’s hips. The small space between their mouths, how Nino’s lips are already parted just a little, before they touch Ohno’s. Nino’s bottom lip between his. The flick of his tongue.
Ohno’s always known he’s in love with Nino, but he hasn’t been able to say it yet. He hopes Nino can taste it on his tongue.
--
It’s a media circus for weeks. Their company releases a statement, they each release their own, all of them denying any sort of relationship and claiming the photograph had either been shopped or a case of mistaken identity. Only Arashi and Johnny know the truth. But they lie so much for a while that Ohno doesn’t know what the truth is anymore.
He corners Nino in the parking garage after filming one day. Their group activities had resumed as per usual and so had they- onscreen- to show a united front and prove the article as a lie. Offscreen, though, they are constantly being babysat by the rest of their group, a combination to never be left alone together.
“Ohno-san,” Nino says, the formality thick in his mouth. He’s looking everywhere but at Ohno; searching for an escape route. There is none.
“I want to make this work,” Ohno says, “it’s been almost five years. We’ve worked hard. We deserve this.” He has a good argument. It’s just that Nino has a better one.
“The world doesn’t care if we deserve this,” he spits, finally glaring at Ohno from beneath his fringe. He looks like a caged animal. Ohno doesn’t want to force him but he loves him too much to let him go. When he steps forward, Nino’s mouth opens, working to find the proper, polite words for please get away from me. What comes out is so much worse that Ohno stops in his tracks. “You’re breaking my fucking heart,” Nino nearly shouts, “I’ve never loved anyone in my life the way that I love you and it’s still not enough!”
Ohno wants to hit rewind because he will never survive if he has to hear those words over and over again in the back of his mind for the rest of his life.
“Nino?” Aiba’s voice comes echoing out from a few spots away; he can’t see Ohno from where he’s standing, and Ohno feels so much shame thinking that he’s glad for that. “Nino, are you okay? What’s going on?” His footsteps draw closer and Ohno finally turns away, pulling his cap down over his forehead.
He isn’t fully out of earshot when Aiba asks, surprised, if Nino is crying and Nino says, “Of course I’m not, you moron.” His voice wobbles and rings around Ohno’s ears. Ohno wants to vanish, so he does.
--
It’s a week after their ten year anniversary, a month after Nino kisses him for the first time, and two months after Ohno tells him that he doesn’t want to just be ‘whatever this is’ anymore, when they have sex for the first time. Ohno is honestly shocked it’s taken them so long, with the amount of groping and hands shoved down pants that goes on behind the scenes. He supposes it has a lot to do with not having as much personal time as they used to, with their anniversary activities.
It’s unplanned, but they both know it’s going to happen, especially when Nino steps into Ohno’s apartment after him one dark night after work and helps him out of his jacket with a little more purpose than necessary. He drags his fingertips down the length of Ohno’s arms as he peels away the fabric and Ohno hasn’t even taken his shoes off yet when he turns to face Nino. They’re still standing right in the genkan.
Nino’s gaze jumps to meet his, his throat moving as if he might say something, but Ohno can see it in his eyes. When Ohno backs him up against the door, Nino brings a hand up into his hair, tangles it into the strands at the back of his head, and then they’re kissing. Ohno doesn’t want to rush. He has Nino at the hips, bringing a hand up to clench into his shirt, pulling, tugging, until it they have to break apart for Ohno to free him of it.
It’s easy to kiss Nino, now more than ever, because he’s allowed to and because Nino kisses him back with a ferocity and intensity that Ohno always wants to match. He licks at the corner of Nino’s mouth and Nino lets him in; he bites at Nino’s lip and receives a low growl. Ohno just wants to taste him, all of him. He wants to touch him, burns for him like a meteor entering the atmosphere, has never burned for anything in his entire life but he burns like that for Nino.
Ohno doesn’t remember kicking off his shoes, and he loses his pants somewhere between the genkan and the bedroom. He’s focused on Nino, on getting Nino undressed, on collapsing onto the bed and putting both his hands and mouth to good use in exploration.
When he looks up, Nino is watching him with dark eyes. He doesn’t look embarrassed or shy or uncertain. He says he’s ready, and Ohno is ready too.
--
Ohno’s mother is sick with it, the way that only a mother can be. She’s over every other morning, fussing about whether or not he’s eating, picking up clothing he’s shed on the living room floor, washing his dishes. She cries at the sink when Ohno is out of the room; she thinks he can’t hear her over the running water. She can’t stand how much he’s hurting, like it’s overflowing into her.
She loves him so much, and she loved Nino too.
--
The others find out, not by flaw or by design of just being around them, but because Ohno walks into the green room one day and decides he’s tired of lying to them. He doesn’t ask Nino first, and wonders if he should, but Nino is late and everyone else is there so he says, “Nino and I have been dating for a year.”
Sho drops his coffee, but to his credit, it’s almost empty anyway. “What?”
“A year?” Aiba shouts, jumping over the back of the couch. Ohno thinks he’s angry, but then Aiba is grinning, and he doesn’t know how he could have thought that in the first place. “How did you guys keep it a secret for that long?!”
Jun doesn’t say anything, but a voice at Ohno’s back does. “By not telling anyone,” Nino says, his tone perfectly neutral, but Ohno turns to find that Nino won’t look at him. He’s looking at Jun, though, eyebrows drawn together and a frown resolutely attached to his mouth.
“You’ve been lying to us,” Sho says. Slowly, like he’s tasting the idea and struggling to digest it.
Nino motions to Jun, who is sitting on the couch with a magazine in his lap. He’s staring at it blankly and his hands are shaking. “That’s why,” he says, and everyone turns to look. “Not because of Jun-kun, specifically,” he corrects himself, “but because you’re all afraid. And we were afraid, too.”
“I wasn’t,” Ohno points out, but he’s amazed by how much he wants to kiss Nino right now, because Nino is taking control of a situation that he’s created.
Nino doesn’t even glance at him. “I know,” he says, heart-wrenchingly honest, “but I was.” He doesn’t hesitate; he approaches Jun like he would a frightened animal, slowly but with intent to calm, and crouches in front of him. Sliding the magazine out of Jun’s loose grip finally brings his head up with a jerk, looking young and lost, and Ohno realizes all of the reasons that Nino’s kept them a secret. It’s never been out of shame- it’s always been out of love on both ends of the spectrum.
“It’s been a year, Jun-kun,” Nino soothes, catching Jun’s hand in his own, and why didn’t Ohno see that it would be hardest on them? He thought swallowing it was difficult, hiding it away was a burden, but he knows how he feels about Nino- it’s Jun that doesn’t, and Sho, and Aiba. He feels selfish. “It’s been a year and we’re okay, Leader and I, and Arashi,” Nino continues, “and we love you. Nothing that happens is going to change that.”
Jun nods tightly, just once, still frightened but not angry, and Ohno sits down on the couch next to him and takes his other hand. “I’m sorry,” he says, to the room at large, and punctuates it with a squeeze. Aiba looks excited, but the fear had been in his face too, and in Sho’s. Ohno doesn’t know why he never thought to see it before.
“We love you, too,” Sho says, softly, and then Aiba falls all over them in a dog pile on the couch, unable to contain himself anymore as he asks questions that are not deemed appropriate for work and eliciting shouts and complaints from the bodies beneath him.
Everyone is laughing. That’s how Ohno knows it’s going to be okay.
--
Ohno’s typed up his resignation but it seems Nino has suspected he might do something like this all along.
“Please don’t,” Ohno says, quietly, when Nino follows him from the green room to the office. It’s been three months since they’ve been alone together. They’re not really supposed to be, but after a while, the others must have realized that they’re going to choose to spend their time apart rather than together anyway and that they don’t need to be watched all of the time.
“I can’t let you do this,” Nino’s voice is firm, a whiplash of syllables. “All we have now is Arashi. Don’t you dare take that away from us.”
“This is no better,” Ohno snaps, because he’s at the end of his tether and he can’t stand being in the same room as Nino and not being able to touch him anymore.
Nino knows what he’s thinking. He always has. He reaches out; he clutches at Ohno’s sleeve. And then he releases him to grab the paper from his hands. Ohno turns and Nino tears the resignation in half, then in quarters, then he shreds it as best as his fingers can do, his anger spilling around them like a pot boiling over.
“I can’t live like this,” Ohno says, thinking about the copy he’s got saved on his computer.
“You have to. Because I have to.” Nino’s got his fist closed tight around the shards of Ohno’s career. His other hand lands on Ohno’s shoulder, gripping hard enough to bruise, and his eyes are too bright and his mouth is a solid, unhappy line. “Because we promised them. Both of us.”
Ohno grabs his elbow and pulls him close and kisses him like he’ll never get the chance again; Nino makes a terrible sound that breaks his heart but he doesn’t let go because Nino kisses him back, the same way he’s always done, but with more desperation.
Then it’s over, just like that, Nino wrenching himself away. He doesn’t say anything but he throws the paper pieces of Ohno’s resignation in a trash can on his way back to the green room.
Ohno deletes it off of his computer that night.
--
They’ve been together officially for over a year when they go out to dinner for the first time together. It’s strange, because they actually eat dinner together all of the time, but more often than not when they’re in the comfort of one of their own homes.
Nino is oddly quiet, contemplative, picking at his food. Ohno wants to tell him to just eat it already, but they’re in public and he can really only do that at home. Usually because it ends with Ohno pinning Nino to the floor and shoving food in his mouth.
“Most people don’t have meals in complete silence like this,” Ohno says, after a while, but Nino doesn’t look up for a few minutes and Ohno wonders if he’s mad about something.
“Most people can’t,” Nino replies, eventually, something strange resonating in his tone. He’s not angry. It’s something else. Pleased, Ohno thinks. He’s happy.
When Nino finally meets his gaze, the smile on his face crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Ohno returns it helplessly, unable to do anything but grin back when Nino smiles like that at him, and they eat the rest of their dinner in comfortable quiet.
--
Months and months and months. They’re not normal again but they’re both incredible actors and that’s what it comes down to. The scandal quiets down after its six month, just a whisper in the back of the room, tricking Ohno into thinking it might be safe.
He isn’t supposed to. He knows it before he even steps out of the cab. He pays the driver extra just to keep his mouth shut, unaccustomed to having to buy someone’s silence. But it might be worth it, or rather, he needs it to be worth it, because he’s standing outside of the rear entrance of Nino’s building. Where his world came together. Why his world fell apart.
Ohno reaches out, hands shaking, to ring the buzzer for Nino’s apartment. But there is a different name next to the button. Ohno knows now, why it was such a terrible idea to come here.
Nino has moved.
--
They don’t celebrate anniversaries but Ohno thinks about them in the back of his mind. Nino might too, but he hasn’t said anything, and Ohno doesn’t know how to bring it up or if it’s important. Their second year together falls on a concert day. They’re still high on adrenaline, changing into pajamas in their shared hotel room, loud enough to keep the others awake on the same floor.
Nino is laughing and laughing and laughing and Ohno is dizzy with the sound of it. He doesn’t know what he’s saying, or what his face must look like, but Nino is laughing at him and Ohno keeps doing whatever he’s doing to hear it.
They don’t hear the beep of a keycard sliding in their door, don’t notice until Aiba is stepping into the room and aiming the gun at Ohno’s face. Nino’s laughter vanishes abruptly.
“Aiba-chan,” Ohno begins, imploringly, before Aiba pulls the trigger and soaks Ohno head to toe in water.
“Is that my water gun?!” Nino demands to know, not even a little concerned about Ohno dripping all over their hotel room. “You took that out of my suitcase!” He’s not even wearing his shirt, just his pajama pants, when he darts out of the room after Aiba’s cackling, lanky form.
Ohno starts after them, but he’s barely across the threshold when he gets hit again in the side and turns to find Jun grinning deliriously and holding a matching water gun. “Oi!”
“This is what you idiots get for not going to sleep!” Jun says, just as Nino comes barreling out of Aiba’s room, hugging two guns against his chest. His hair hangs in damp, limp strands across his forehead. Ohno has a feeling that there are more water-weapons floating around than simply guns.
Nino confirms his fear when he tosses one to him, shouting, “They came armed and prepared! Sho-chan has water balloons!”
Ohno doesn’t feel thirty years old. He feels insane and wide awake and like a teenager, chasing his group mates around with a water gun in the middle of a hotel hallway, weaving in and out of their rooms. At some point, Nino’s loyalty to him as a teammate vanishes and he sneaks up behind him and shoves the barrel of his gun down the back of Ohno’s pants and sprays him until his pajamas are more of a heavy hindrance than armor.
He chases Nino back into their room, kicking the door shut behind him. Nino is out of ammo and Ohno’s gun is still half full. The noise from the hallway is muffled by the door, but loud enough to get them all a severe scolding from management tomorrow (the wet walls and carpet probably won’t help their cause).
“Oh-chan,” Nino pleads, his eyes wide and hands up as Ohno backs him toward the bed, “c’mon, we both know you don’t want to do this…”
“Do we?” Ohno asks, voice deep. Nino’s smile comes tripping across his face, bitten at the corners, trying to hold it back. “I’m sorry, Nino,” he says, solemnly, “but I can’t afford any weaknesses.” He brings the gun up dramatically, squinting along the barrel like a sharpshooter, and presses the trigger.
The water shoots in an arc, hitting Nino in the chest and falling in rivulets down the plane of his stomach. He throws a hand up and makes a noise, wailing, “Whyyyy?!” before tumbling theatrically to the bed behind him and laying still, eyes shut, even as Ohno doesn’t ease up on the trigger.
Ohno empties the gun and drops it to the floor, jumping up onto the bed beside Nino. He’s aiming for an Academy Award as he clutches Nino’s hand between his and feigns a sob. “I’m so sorry, Nino,” he pretends to blubber, mesmerized by the way Nino’s mouth twitches, reigning his laughter in, “I never got to tell you that I love you!”
It feels like the world falls away. Nino’s eyes snap open and meet his, the laughter gone out of him, and the weight of Ohno’s words sink in. His smile is frozen on his face.
“Nino,” he begins, seriously, but Nino rears up and pushes him away- no, over, onto his back, climbing on top of him. Nino likes to be in charge of a situation; he feels lost when he isn’t, so Ohno doesn’t say anything, just looks up at him in a mixture of awe and fear because Nino is so lovely when he’s uncertain.
“Freudian slip,” Nino says, his tongue darting across his lips. Ohno doesn’t know what the means. “Was that a joke?” He asks, after a long moment of staring down at Ohno, his arms wound around himself like a protective layer. “Or- I mean, was it all part of the act?”
Ohno tugs one of Nino’s hands away from his body, holding it, the weight and heat of Nino above him a comfort. “It’s never been part of the act,” he confesses, and Nino rewards him for his honesty, bending down over him, against him, to press their mouths together.
Nino breathes words between the slick slide of their lips, quiet enough that Ohno has to strain to hear. “Happy anniversary, Oh-chan.”
--
Ohno goes to Sho’s apartment when he wants to get mindlessly drunk, because he always has, and because Sho knows him better than most people, save for Nino. And Sho lets him in, because Sho always has. Ohno is six beers strong before Sho has realized the gravity of Ohno’s heartbreak.
It starts when Ohno moves too close on the couch. He just wants someone to understand; this is so hard, it’s so hard for him, and Sho is there for him and Sho is so great. So great. Ohno is talking so much, his words tumbling out of his clumsy mouth, but he doesn’t know what he’s saying. He doesn’t even know what he’s doing until his hands are on Sho’s broad shoulders, shoulders that Ohno’s fingers do not recognize, and Sho is looking at him so sadly.
And Sho is such a good friend, Ohno thinks, when he leans in. Because Sho doesn’t shove him away, but he doesn’t kiss him back, and it’s infinitely better than finding himself drunk and sprawled on the floor next to the couch.
“Satoshi-kun,” Sho sighs, when Ohno pulls away. Sho’s face is very blurry. Ohno must be more drunk than he thought, but then he realizes that he’s crying, gut-wrenching sobs that have him trembling under the force of it. Sho wraps him up in his arms and holds him until he’s run dry.
Ohno doesn’t know if Sho ever tells Nino about it, about the kiss and the breakdown, but he must, because Nino watches him with unreadable eyes for hours the next day.
It should have been their fifth anniversary.
--
Nino has met Ohno’s parents before, and vice versa, but it’s different this time. When they shuck their shoes off in the entrance, Ohno’s mother is frowning intently at them in thought. She hasn’t seen them together, not outside of a television, since the beginning of their relationship and Ohno has been keeping it from her for years now.
He feels guilty, of course, but it had taken their group mates time to get used to the idea of them being a couple and Ohno is not sure how his mother is going to react to that. He just knows that it’s time, time to tell her and be honest.
As it turns out, Ohno doesn’t have to do that at all. Nino is being charming with Ohno’s mother, offering to help with setting the table, and she makes both of them do it together. Ohno tries not to blush when Nino winks at him across the tabletop and though Nino’s back is to her, she glances over anyway, a smile hiding in the shadow of her mouth.
Ohno looks away from both of them guiltily. They haven’t even sat down to dinner when his mother asks, “So, how long has it been?”
Nino’s charm only gets him so far, Ohno realizes, when he bursts into a debilitating coughing fit and excuses himself to the bathroom. “How long has what been?” Ohno blinks, playing dumb, but it doesn’t matter. She’s laughing as she hands him a glass of water.
“Please take this to him before he loses an organ in there,” she says, “and tell him to be good to my son.”
“He already is,” Ohno says, “but I’ll tell him.” He kisses her on the cheek because he has the best mother in all of the universe before he knocks on the bathroom door. When Nino opens it, his face is red, and Ohno can’t tell if he’s embarrassed or if it’s from all of the coughing. He lets Ohno in and shuts the door behind him, sipping at the water gratefully.
His eyes flick up to Ohno’s face over the lip of the glass and Ohno is feeling a little overwhelmed; he threads his fingers into Nino’s hair. Nino can take a hint. He lowers the glass and Ohno takes its place, feeling incredibly young for making out in the small space of his mother’s bathroom.
When they exit a few minutes later and join Ohno’s family for dinner, his mother can’t stop smiling.
Until he finally answers, “oh- three years, by the way,” and she throws a dish towel at him.
--
The announcements for Hawaii had come down months ago but the preparations are finally in place. Ohno thinks about it detachedly, sometimes, how their scandal could have ruined their opportunity to go back. Instead, it ruined everything else.
Ohno wishes he could be happier about it. He admits it to Aiba one night, a couple of weeks before they leave, and Aiba looks at him the same way everyone else does: with pity.
“Nino doesn’t want to go, either,” Aiba says, after a very long pause. “We’re not mad at you, you know. None of us are. We just want you to be happy.”
Ohno is out of tears. He hates that he’s resigned himself to living two lives- before Nino and after Nino. “You should be,” he says, eventually, “mad at us, I mean. Just because Nino and I haven’t had a proper conversation in months doesn’t mean I don’t know that he feels that way too. Why do you think we’re doing this?”
Aiba’s hand shoots out, gripping Ohno’s elbow roughly. There is a lightning flash of true irritation on his face before he sighs, heavily. “Do you even know why you’re doing this to yourselves? We never asked you for this. You’re hurting yourselves because you think this is what we want?”
“Because we promised each other we’d protect Arashi,” Ohno tells him, remembering Nino tearing up his resignation, remembering much further before that, when Nino had hooked their pinkies together like teenagers and made him swear.
Withering looks are not Aiba’s specialty but he pulls this one off especially well. “We don’t need protecting,” he says, “we needs our members back.”
--
Though Nino has never said it, Ohno has never questioned his love. They’ve been together long enough that he’d have to be a fool to question it. Nino’s love is different from Ohno’s- quieter, more reserved, but still just as earnest. Ohno confesses to him day in and day out, until Nino is blushing from head to toe, but Nino will leave him new paints on his kitchen counter without saying a word.
It’s all love. It’s just being said in different ways.
So Ohno is, quite frankly, surprised, when Nino asks him one day, “does it bother you?”
They’re standing behind Nino’s building, sharing a cigarette, the smoke rising between them. “Does what?” Ohno wonders, frowning as Nino tweaks the cigarette from his lips.
“That I’ve never said it.”
Ohno doesn’t have to continue his line of questioning; he knows what Nino is talking about. His frown deepens. “Should it?” He says, seriously, making an anguished face when Nino drops the cigarette between their feet and stubs it out. Better that way, anyway.
Nino doesn’t answer and Ohno thinks that’s probably it, so he pokes a hand into Nino’s pocket to retrieve his keys. It’s cold, a sharp wind dragging its claws through Ohno’s thin jacket. He wants to go inside. He’s just fitting the key into the lock when Nino’s hand closes around his.
“Oh-chan,” he says, a half-sigh, half-laugh huffing out of his mouth. His breath comes out in white puffs, like his words are being written into the air. “I’m trying to confess, you know. I could use a little attention.”
“Is that what you were trying to do?” Ohno asks, mildly, but his heart is thumping a staccato beat in his chest. He turns, meeting Nino’s eyes, giving him every ounce of attention that he has.
Nino looks embarrassed by it, but he’s not one to be swayed. “You’re stupid,” he tells him, “and I’m totally in love with you.” Somehow, it’s better than Ohno could have hoped for. His fingers find the sleeve of Nino’s coat; he tugs him forward, and Nino comes willingly, allows Ohno to lean him against the back door, kisses him back hungrily when Ohno brings their mouths together.
Ohno doesn’t hear the shutter click of a camera, because he’s never thought to listen for one.