title: all the little details
pairing: ninomiya kazunari/sakurai sho
rating: pg-13, i think. as far as language goes, this is one of my more mild fics.
word count: 6,965
disclaimer: this is purely a work of fiction. i don't own! i just play with them
author note: this is a big thing for me. not only is it a long sakumiya piece, it's also A/U! so much fun to write though, despite how long it took, and everyone gets some sort of cameo. also: very rnk, the meteor/ufo scene. i hadn't even thought about that until afterwards. the premise of this, and the title, is shamelessly taken from
this incredibly talented young lady. she's wonderful (i suggest her cover of hey ya, for anyone interested. love itttt!)
summary:
Sakurai Sho stands in the forefront of a class of expectant-looking teenagers. Foolishly, he attempts to picture them all in their underwear to make himself less nervous. All it does is make him stare at the floor instead, counting the tiles childishly.
“We have a new student today,” the teacher announces, laying a comforting hand on Sho’s shoulder. It makes him jump and glance up, around, back at the floor. “This is Sakurai Sho- why don’t you tell us a little about yourself?”
This is the part Sho hates the most and now he’s thinking about everyone in their underwear and hoping that he doesn’t include himself this time around and he stutters through a few recited, near-incomprehensible sentences before the teacher nods approvingly and allows him to flee to the safety of his desk. It’s near the back corner of the classroom, next to a window, and he’s abruptly grateful for the fact that his parents raised him to pay attention in class and not daydream because the scenery is perfect daydream material. It’s a forest of trees, golden-lit by the sun, and casting long shadows across the campus. If he could draw, he would sketch it out in the margins of his notebook, but his drawings are nothing to behold, and anyway, he’d rather be outside studying with his head in the shade and his legs in the sun-
Shit. He’s already daydreaming. About studying, yes, but daydreaming nonetheless.
Sho shakes his head, pinches his eyes shut, and opens again. There. Time to focus. Pay attention, Sakurai, he commands himself, and barely flinches when a foot swings out of nowhere and crashes into the leg of his desk.
“What kind of shampoo do you use?” The boy next to him leans over as he pulls his foot back under his own desk, eyebrows drawn together thoughtfully, longish locks of hair messy like he’d just rolled out of bed. His shirt is crinkled, something that annoys Sho to a degree that is completely humiliating and makes him want to press out the wrinkles, but his eyes are bright, shifting shades of deep brown that glint wickedly and he has the most adorable moles dotting his chin and cheeks. And, well, he’s sort of- sort of-
No. No, that train of thought needs to crash and burn against the nearest brick wall.
“What?” Sho stares at him, finding his voice with a crease in his forehead, and the boy rolls his eyes and repeats the question. “Um,” he says eventually, sounding for all of the world like an utterly unintelligible human being, “I don’t know? Something with cherries, I think.”
The boy nods like this is the best answer he could imagine and returns to his notebook.
Sho thinks, this kid is really, really messed up and scoots his chair a few inches in the opposite direction.
--
School is school is school is…things are the same at this one as they had been at the last one, Sho is forced to admit. He’s terrible at making friends, and he spends his lunches alone, but the boy that sits next to him- Nino, Sho learns, is his nickname- hasn’t said another word to him since the shampoo question. Every now and then, Sho will feel Nino’s eyes slide to him, but when Sho chances a glance to his right, Nino is slumped in his seat with his gaze locked on the ceiling or the front board (or, more often than not, eyes shut tight).
Three days after the initial strangeness of his classmate, he’s having his lunch at a table by himself where no one dares to speak to him, when Nino actually drops into the seat across from him.
Sho raises his head, very slowly, like prey trapped by a predator, and stares at the other boy. There is a tense silence for a few minutes.
“What time do you get up in the morning?” Nino asks.
Sho is so caught off-guard for a moment that he’s speaking before it actually sinks in that wow, this kid, he’s so weird- “Around five, probably,” he says, then his mouth slams shut with an audible click. A deep flush heats his cheeks, down past the collar of his shirt, and he scowls down at the table.
Nino’s nose scrunches up and he whips his notebook out, seemingly out of thin air, and scribbles something down in it. The warmth in Sho’s face immediately bleeds out into cold as he pales noticeably. “Thanks,” Nino says, and starts to get up.
“Did you write that down?” Sho chokes out, dropping his chopsticks. He doesn’t feel very well.
Tilting his head curiously, Nino holds his notebook out. “Care to find out?” A smirk falls into place along the line of his mouth.
Sho thinks yes of course I want to know and shakes his head. “Never mind,” he mumbles, and Nino is gone before he’s even finished his sentence.
Appetite lost, Sho dejectedly disposes of the remainder of his lunch, and sighs, “What the hell is with that guy, anyway?”
--
The timing between questions grows shorter and shorter. Sho isn’t sure how it starts, but after that, Nino is inviting himself to sit with Sho at lunch and he asks at least one odd question per day during that time: What’s your favorite food? Do you wear socks in the house, or house slippers, or both? What do you have for breakfast?
If it’s a friendship that they’re striking up, Sho certainly doesn’t understand it, but he can’t complain too much. He doesn’t have anyone else, in any case, and Nino is fairly kind. For the most part, he just asks Sho weirdly random information about himself, but he’s snarky in a charming way. Sho had responded to What do you have for breakfast? with a frown and I don’t eat breakfast and Nino had rolled his eyes at him once again.
“Stupid,” he had said, “No wonder it looks like there’s nothing to you.”
But Nino is tinier than Sho could ever hope to be, with gangly, thin limbs and a pretty but narrow face. When he smiles, really smiles, his gums show from top to bottom and Sho can’t help but think that it’s kind of cute, really.
And Nino is surprisingly popular; he seems to know everyone in the school, or at the very least, the entirety of their class. He doesn’t dwell much on it, Sho can see- the only time Sho asked how many people Nino knew, Nino had muttered It’s not the amount of people you know that counts. Sho hadn’t had anything to say about that.
They’re sitting outside on the grass to eat today, because the sun is lighting up the world around their feet and Nino sprawls on his back with his arms splayed over his head. “Favorite season?”
“Summer,” Sho says, because he still doesn’t get this game but Nino is good enough company that he doesn’t mind playing it. “I like the heat, and fireworks, things like that.”
“You do seem the type of person to enjoy that sort of thing,” Nino agrees, but then he adds, “Not that I would know what type of person you are. But you give off that sort of vibe. And you’d look good in a yukata. I mean, you have the shoulders for it. All slopey and ridiculous.” It’s a strange thing to say, but bluntly honest, a feature of Nino’s that Sho is still adjusting to.
“I don’t know if I should thank you for that or be offended,” Sho confesses, “Do you always have a habit of mixing compliments in with insults?”
Nino shrugs, the best that he can with his shoulder blades digging into the cool grass beneath his back. “I didn’t hear an insult in there,” he retorts, hiding an evil grin in the refuge of his palm, “What part of it was insulting?”
Sho opens his mouth, to object, to point out my shoulders are not ridiculous, thank you or something that makes sense. The comment doesn’t come, though, and he’s left with his mouth hanging open idiotically until Nino sits up and reaches over; he places a pointer finger under Sho’s chin and pushes his jaw closed again.
“That’s what I thought,” Nino says, and the smile that comes next isn’t full of insolence like the previous one- it’s all bright, white teeth and pink gum, purely genuine.
With that smile, Sho finds it very difficult to scold him, but he still thinks brat very quietly in that secret place in the back of his skull. The same place that soon amends, cute brat.
--
“Where do you live?”
Sho isn’t certain if he’d been expecting that question. And definitely not in the middle of class, while everyone is listening to their teacher (or sleeping, but Sho doesn’t count them anyway) and writing furiously. “You want to know that right now?” Sho hisses through the corner of his lips.
Nino glances around, like he had no idea that there are currently other people in the room, surrounding them. “Should I pass you a note instead?” He wonders, but in more of an undertone this time.
“No- Nino-” Sho exhales through his nose, frustrated. He rips a scrap of paper from his notebook and scribbles his address on it before shoving it towards Nino. “You’re not going to just- you know, show up at random or something, are you?”
Shoving the paper into his bag, Nino makes a noise of noncommittal that causes Sho to close his eyes and wish he could take the last five minutes of his life back, or exert some form of control over the direction it’s taking. That idea is hopeless now, with Nino looking far too pleased with himself, and Sho shifting uncomfortably around in his hard chair.
Later that day, it’s like nothing is any different, with Nino’s What’s your favorite number? Favorite color? Favorite song? and Sho assumes that the Where do you live? is just like any of the others- one more in the line of interrogation.
--
The next morning, when Sho’s alarm goes off at five, he tiredly forces himself through his morning routine. As he leaves for school, he catches sight of a note poking out of his mailbox. It says See you at school, Sho-chan :D! in Nino’s cheerful chicken scratch.
Sho tries to remember that this sort of thing should be creepy, then he gives up.
--
Nino sneaks notes into his mailbox every morning for the next month. Sho keeps them all. It’s rather silly, in the way that it should be anything but, yet Sho can’t help himself. It’s something that a stalker would do, or a crazy person, or someone with boundary issues. To Sho, it’s all part of Nino’s mysterious charm.
The questions never cease. Sho finds himself looking forward to lunch, to messages passed to him under his desk (you shouldn’t do that during class! His brain insists, but he doesn’t have the heart to stop it either). What Sho is not expecting is for Nino to bring another boy over one day, sit him down at the their lunch spot, and say, “This is Ohno Satoshi.”
Ohno is weird. Admittedly, Nino isn’t exactly normal, but how they meet is something that Sho is never clear on- Ohno is older than them, and this is the first time Sho has ever heard Nino mention his name. Ohno just looks around at them with a blank smile and sleepy, half-lidded eyes. He doesn’t talk much, an odd comment here and there between all of Nino’s banter, but Nino quickly develops a habit of dropping a hand on him because of that, because he doesn’t assign himself any limits. Whether he reaches over to brush their fingers together, or presses a hand at Ohno’s waist, he finds an excuse to touch.
Sho hates it. He’s never hated anyone in his life, never known anyone long enough to hate them, but for one horrible, terrifying split second, he hates Ohno Satoshi.
--
Nino doesn’t stop asking Sho questions, but he might as well. He spends an equal amount of time with both Sho and Ohno, most often when they’re all together, and he doesn’t ask Ohno anything but he has made a new hobby out of groping his ass. Sho doesn’t know what he’s getting at anymore. And how Nino thinks up all of these questions, well, that’s just beyond him entirely.
One day, he doesn’t show up for school, and Sho spends an awkward lunch hour alone with Ohno instead. At first, there is only silence between them, and then Sho thinks this is just ridiculous because what does he have to be so angry at Ohno about anyway? It’s not like there is a reason behind it, not one that he understands.
So he says, “I wonder where Nino is today.”
Ohno says, “He kinda likes you, you know.”
Sho doesn’t get it.
Ohno continues, “That’s why he always asks you stuff. I think.”
“Your ineloquence might be an issue for our conversations,” Sho points out, tiredly, because now he’s wondering what Nino is doing and what the hell Ohno is even talking about.
“Maybe you should ask him stuff too,” Ohno says, almost like he might be ignoring Sho, but he looks more alert than he has for the past week. “Like about his parents. He talks a lot but he doesn’t always know what to say so he just sort of- goes off.”
“Yeah,” Sho mutters, and feels like shit because if that’s what Nino has been doing all this time, waiting for Sho to ask him some god damn questions, then Sho has kept him in the dark for a while. “Wait,” he says, “What about his parents?”
“They fight a lot,” Ohno informs him, like it should bother him but he hasn’t figured out why yet, “Nino’s dad is a dick.”
“Why did he tell you that?” Sho asks. He hates that it comes out like an accusation, but something is coiling painfully in the pit of his stomach and he thinks his heart is beating too anxiously for this discussion. He battles against it, holds onto the desire to find out the truth about Nino.
Ohno blinks at him slowly. “He didn’t have anyone else to tell. He wants to find out so much about you that he doesn’t want to tell anyone else about him. It just all came out because he couldn’t keep it in. Haven’t you ever felt like that?”
I do right now, Sho wants to say, but he doesn’t.
--
Ohno has Nino’s address. It annoys Sho for about five minutes before he uses it to his advantage, and Ohno doesn’t think twice about giving Sho directions. Sho wonders if he’s overstepping a line; except then he recalls the month of notes shoved into his mailbox and decides Probably not.
It isn’t that far of a walk from his own house, which explains why it’s so simple for Nino to drop by at any time he wishes (even though he’s never shown an interest in coming inside). The house is a little run-down, smaller than Sho had expected, but he doesn’t even know what he’d expected in the first place or why he had any expectations at all.
When he rings the bell, the door opens almost immediately to a kind face with a warm smile and Nino’s eyes. That mix, that perfect balance between laughter and mischief. Nino’s mother is a small, pale woman with the tiniest hint of silver in her hair and a big voice, and once Sho introduces himself, she ushers him right into the house.
“Kazu is upstairs,” she says, motioning absently up the stairway, “He wasn’t feeling very well this morning, I’m sure he would appreciate the company. First door on your left, and I’ll bring up some tea in a bit!” She vanishes down the hallway, leaving Sho a bit windswept.
But he makes his way upstairs, and taps his knuckles lightly on Nino’s bedroom door to receive a grunt in response. “I don’t have a clue as to what that could translate into,” he states loudly, to be heard through the door, “But it didn’t sound all too welcoming.”
The silence that follows makes Sho question whether or not he should have even come. Then Nino’s stuffy voice splits the quiet. “You have hands, and I’m sure you know how to work a doorknob,” he says, snidely.
Sho pushes the door open, still hesitant, but Nino is sitting at a crowded computer desk with his hair sticking out in random directions and a pair of glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. His nose, which is ruby red at the tip, is obviously congested judging by the way he’s sucking in heavy, snotty breaths. “You’ve got a cold?” Sho is only stating the obvious so that he doesn’t think something hysterical like oh god that’s unfair that’s illegally adorable.
“Haven’t I told you lately that you’re a genius?” Nino mutters, voice thick with sarcasm (amongst other things).
His room suits him. There are video games littered around the TV in a tangle of wires and gaming controllers, and magazines piled high in a corner, and it may seem cluttered to the naked eye but it’s actually organized in Nino’s own messy way. Every inch of it whispers Nino’s name, smells of him, and Sho has never felt more out of place. Everything here belongs to Nino except for him.
Sho shakes his head. Enough. That’s enough of that.
“What have you been doing today?” Sho doesn’t know why he’s even asking, other than to buy his mind some time to move in another course. Nino isn’t looking at him, head bent close to the monitor of his laptop.
He thumbs his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Googling you,” he replies, clearly forgetting his previous attitude.
Sho stares at him in blank confusion.
Nino doesn’t offer anything else.
Sho drops down onto Nino’s bed, pressing his fingertips into the navy bedspread, and says, “I haven’t been anywhere in… googling range.”
A spluttering sound escapes Nino’s mouth and he covers it hastily with his hand. “That’s not- yeah, you know what? We’ll go with that,” he clears his throat, “You’re right. My apologies.”
Sho must have missed the punch line in this joke.
--
Ohno has art club, and it leaves Sho and Nino to themselves for an afternoon in which Sho invites him over because fair is fair, after all. His parents aren’t home, another small blessing, because they work late and he would be in trouble if he happened to have a friend over before he’s finished his schoolwork.
Sho’s room is a disaster. It looks like a hurricane has swept through and destroyed all remnants of possible humanity. He didn’t have time to clean it, but Nino doesn’t appear to mind, eyes lighting up above his wide grin when he steps foot inside. “Ah, this-”
Sho doesn’t understand why he’s so happy. “It doesn’t look liveable,” he says, embarrassed, trying to stuff papers under his bed with his foot.
“That’s what makes it so great,” Nino laughs, and his fingers find their way around Sho’s wrist. It’s nothing, Nino has touched him before, but less since he met Ohno so Sho feels something swell in his chest and he doesn’t mind the chaos of his room all so much, suddenly. “It’s so- it’s not what I’d picture from you whatsoever. You, Sho-chan, you are interesting.”
Sho couldn’t disagree more, but he doesn’t say so out loud.
Nino doesn’t let go, his small fingers tracing down the squared side of Sho’s thumb. “What are you afraid of?” He asks, the familiarity of the questions like a relief watering down the shock in Sho’s blood.
Sho’s head spits You, you, you, you being a dream but instead, he answers, “Heights. The darkness. All sorts of things.”
That’s when Nino drops his hand, and he snorts ineloquently. “What a wimp,” he says.
But it’s true, so Sho can’t really fault him for it.
--
They’re studying.
It’s a new phenomenon, Sho managing to rope Nino into opening a book, but now that he has, Sho has lost his attention entirely. Nino’s face is practically stuffed between the pages, his sharp eyes flitting from line to line in quiet fascination. He’s biting his bottom lip in concentration. Sho can’t resist pressing a finger to the corner of his mouth.
“This was your idea,” Nino reminds him, vaguely, and snaps his teeth threateningly at the imposing finger. His gaze doesn’t leave the page. Sho admires his focus.
“I’ve just never seen you be so silent,” Sho says, “I was checking for signs of life.” When he pinches at Nino’s cheek, Nino brings a hand up to snatch at Sho’s, capturing it in his own forcefully. “Ow! Be careful,” Sho grumbles, as Nino’s hold on him tightens minutely.
“Do you like me?” Nino asks, abruptly, and Sho stares at him like he’s grown an extra head, and Nino doesn’t look up from his reading.
“You ask a lot of questions,” Sho says, after a while, not quite certain how to even begin approaching an answer to that when he doesn’t have a proper grasp on it himself. It’s not like him to go around blurting out responses to questions if he isn’t positive about them, because if he’s wrong, then everything goes to hell all at once and he’s stuck there looking like a fool. It wouldn’t be the first time, especially not when it comes to Nino, but that doesn’t mean he can’t put his utmost ability into attempting to avoid the embarrassment.
Nino shrugs; flips the page with the gentle swipe of his free hand. “I notice that not once have you asked me why, or told me to stop. So it can’t bother you too much.” He glances up, and something crosses his face, too quickly for Sho to comprehend, but it might be a lightning flash of true irritation. He returns to his reading. Then: “I think you like me. Kind of a lot.”
“How do you know I like you as much as you think I do?” Sho teases, to cover the nervous shake in his voice, as Nino slides his thumb across the back of Sho’s hand.
“Because you’re letting me hold your hand,” Nino retorts, absently, and squeezes.
“You grabbed it without warning!” Sho points out, defensive, but he doesn’t let go because Nino’s small hand is warm and pliant in his and he thinks Maybe you’re a little right.
“You’re too noisy,” Nino says, and fifteen minutes later, once both of their hands have fallen asleep, he shoves Sho out of his chair and laughs when he lands on his ass.
--
Sho doesn’t ask why, two days later, Nino is sulking in their corner of the classroom. It isn’t because he doesn’t want to know. It’s because Nino won’t look at him, won’t speak to him, and when Sho says his name, he receives only a glare. When they head off for lunch, Nino hurries out of their classroom and off down a side hallway before Sho can catch him.
It leaves Sho kind of dejected and livid. There’s a void in his chest that frustrates him, and it’s been storming outside since he woke up, as if the world is against him and only wants to keep him locked indoors and away from Nino. The only person that he runs into during lunch is Ohno, who is possibly less helpful than Nino simply by being himself. He shrugs when Sho grills him for Nino’s whereabouts, and eventually, puts his head down on the table and promptly falls asleep ten seconds later.
Sho considers putting together a search party. It’s suitably melodramatic and would perhaps occupy his time more successfully.
There’s a tap on his shoulder and he turns around, hopefully, and almost falls out of his seat. But it isn’t Nino, just another boy from their class- Jun, Sho thinks, maybe that’s his name. He’s eyeing Sho a little warily after Sho’s flailing attempts at righting himself, but he says, “Are you looking for Ninomiya? I think I just saw him heading for the roof…”
Jun ends up punching Sho in the arm with one of his clunky rings when Sho thanks him by hugging him too hard to let him breathe. Sho is probably lucky to only be walking away with a small bruise.
In the end, it pays off. He grabs his umbrella and heads for the roof, and when he opens the door, there’s a crash of thunder in the distance and the rain is coming down hard enough to sting when it meets skin. Nino is leaning against the wall beside the door, but he doesn’t look surprised to see Sho there too.
Sho shuffles close enough to fit both of them under the protection of the umbrella. “You’re mad at me,” he says, flatly, but he doesn’t really believe that, and he wants to find out what is going on.
Nino doesn’t look at him. He watches blue veins of lightning slice a path through the thick, grey clouds, and Sho watches him, notes the rings under his eyes and the strain at the corner of his mouth. “Do you always think everything is all about you?” Nino says, but it lacks the usual bite; his tone is just a touch too tired to be cruel. “My dad left. That’s all.”
“‘That’s all’?” Sho repeats in awe, but Nino cuts him off before the shock morphs into anger, changes into hurt, hurt for Nino and for his broken family.
“It’ll be better now, Sho-chan,” Nino assures him, and gives him a look that shoots hotly to the pit of Sho’s stomach. He’s soaked through, his sopping clothes outlining every inch of his skinny limbs and Sho wants to hug him and maybe hold on to him for as long as Nino will let him. He doesn’t. “It’s going to be bad. But then it’ll be better.”
Sho hates that Nino keeps him in the dark, makes himself a mystery. He’s beginning to realize that even when he asks about these things, Nino snaps at him, covers himself with a mask. But he can’t quite hold it against him. “You know,” he mutters, miserably, “when it’s bad, you can talk-”
“I know,” Nino says.
Sho steadies the umbrella above Nino’s head and bites viciously at his frown.
“Why are you out here, anyway?” asks Nino, through teeth that have begun to chatter relentlessly, and he hides his fingers in his sleeves. Sho has already seen the way they’re balled into fists and tingeing a vivid blue, trembling in the icy rain.
“You’re out here,” says Sho.
Nino throws him a scathing glance, but sidles further beneath the cover of the umbrella anyway. His bangs are plastered to his forehead. “Nice observation, genius. But that wasn’t an answer.”
Sho is quiet for a long time, contemplating. Then he mutters, “Actually, I think it was a pretty good answer,” and instead imagines different methods of suicide due to critical levels of embarrassment.
After a while, Nino touches his hand with frozen fingers and Sho’s brain comes apart when he finally cracks a smile.
--
“Do you believe in UFOs?” is what Nino asks as a volleyball is fired directly at Sho’s face. He turns tail and runs in the opposite direction, ignoring the shouts of his classmates. Physical education is a class he’s never understood. He isn’t much of a mover, and he’s not very coordinated; most of his time is spent cowering on the sidelines and flinching if anything or anyone gets too close.
“Can’t you ask at a more convenient time?!” Sho yelps in exasperation, ducking down and covering his head, “I’m trying not to die!”
Nino hops over and knocks the flying ball of death and destruction back over the net with a simple smack of his hand. Once it’s safe- or what Sho could call safe for the moment- Nino says, “How can you be so melodramatic? It’s made of foam. Do I hear a yes or a no?”
Sho wonders how Nino can possibly have such a one-track mind at a time like this. He dodges out of the way of the ball when it comes shooting back towards their side of the court. If he screams like a girl, Nino is too busy protecting him to mock him, at least. “I don’t know!” He wails, hovering near the edge of the court, “I’ve never thought about UFOs.”
Nino considers this, eyebrows tugged close together in thought, and eventually says, “there’s this kid. He lives in my neighborhood, and we go UFO-gazing together sometimes. Wanna come?”
“Did you just say UFO-gazing?” Sho demands to know. The volleyball hits his face with a force he has never known before, sending him sprawling to the ground. Nino picks it up to put it back into play. Sho’s left cheek flares a bright shade of scarlet in a perfect circle. His ears are ringing.
Nino helps him to his feet, deliberately dusting him off in areas that are making Sho uncomfortable, and he laughs, “I’m glad to know you aren’t deaf. Though you might be now. How many fingers am I holding up?” He waves his hands obnoxiously in front of Sho’s straining eyes with an evil cackle.
“Too many. I’ll go with you,” Sho says, and Nino’s cackling ends abruptly when Sho uses him as a shield against the ball whizzing back in their direction.
--
This kid from Nino’s neighborhood, as it turns out, is an over-energetic boy named Aiba who is taller than Nino but equally as gangly. He smiles non-stop and bounces around excitedly when Nino introduces Sho to him. “It’s going to be so much fun!” seems to be his phrase of the evening, as he repeats it until Sho wants to press his hands over his ears.
“He takes some time to get used to,” Nino informs Sho, tiredly, as if he still hasn’t entirely adjusted to keeping up with Aiba’s level of movement.
“I’d noticed,” Sho replies, as they walk to a nearby playground around dusk. Aiba is skipping ahead of them, bounding straight to the swings, and jumping all over the seats. Sho no longer wants to sit on those from the moment Aiba’s shoes leave dirt footprints on them.
Nino pushes him down onto one anyway. He grimaces, but otherwise silently mourns over the seat of his jeans. “He’ll calm down soon. Once he expends all of his energy,” Nino reassures him, pulling on the chains of the swing. When he lets go, Sho kicks his legs to give himself momentum. There is a drop in his abdomen when gravity relents on his body, and a kick in his chest when he flies backwards to feel Nino’s hands on his back. He tries to ignore the way that the warmth of Nino’s body behind him makes him a little bit too dizzy to be normal.
Aiba is hopping up on the see-saw and running from one end to the other, shouting nonsense at them, and every now and then Nino yells Idiot! in response, but Sho doesn’t say much. He’s content like this, letting Nino push him on the swing, as long as he doesn’t push too high (the first time he did, Sho screamed and Nino laughed hysterically). Darkness sets in soon enough though, and they desert the swings in favor of the dewy clearing of grass where there are no overhanging tree limbs.
“So, what do you usually…do? While you wait for the UFOs?” Sho inquires, making himself comfortable in the grass.
“Talk,” Nino says, “or rather, I sleep. He talks. A lot.”
Sho pretends not to notice when Nino lays down too close to him, close enough to curl against him if the breeze picks up. Nino’s hand inconspicuously brushes through the grass, bumps into Sho’s, moves away. Stays close enough for Sho to feel the heat of Nino’s skin. It almost seems like an accident, the two of them laying there in the grass, close enough to breathe in each other’s spaces, except Nino’s gaze lingers too long where their hands rest together. Until Aiba really does wear himself out and he flops down unceremoniously over Nino’s legs.
Nino growls and kicks at him until he rolls off, and the tension breaks like waves against the shore.
Sho lets Aiba and Nino do the talking while they keep their eyes on the blackened sky, and he listens to their banter and ponders how he fits in here with the two of them. Somehow, when his attention is too focused on the actual UFO-watching, Aiba manages to pass out completely. Sho doesn’t know when it became so quiet around their clearing, but there is nothing, not even the wind in the nearby trees or cars down the street next to the playground.
“Are you bored?” Nino whispers, like a secret.
Sho makes a noise; it’s meant to be a not really, but I still don’t understand the point of this and Nino understands. Sho can’t grasp how, but he does.
Nino moves like a shadow, more silence in the already silent night; Sho doesn’t stop him when Nino straddles his waist. For a moment, he wishes he could. “Want to know something?” Nino asks.
“Yes,” says Sho. Tell me anything. Make me understand.
“I didn’t tell Aiba-chan, but he’s going to miss something really big tonight. We’re actually going to see something really, really cool and he’s asleep now.” Nino is smiling, the all-gum smile. Sho has never fully trusted anyone in his life, not the way he trusts Nino right now.
Sho sees it, then, past Nino’s shoulder. Something bright slashes across the sky, vibrantly colored, then drops back into the darkness. It’s almost immediately followed by more shining paths of light, sparking up the dark sky over their heads. Nino tips his head back to watch with a grin.
“There’s a meteor shower tonight,” Sho says, in awe, which is obvious and Nino snorts at him for it. “Shouldn’t we wake him up? It’s beautiful.”
“But they’re not UFOs,” Nino replies, jerking a thumb at Aiba’s sleeping form across from them; he’s snoring slightly. “He wants to see some UFOs.”
“This won’t last very long, won’t he be angry?”
Nino gives him a long look, his attention diverted from the pretty scene in the sky. “Oh-chan told me that he told you that he thinks that I like you. Kind of.”
It takes Sho some time to decipher the sentence, and when he does, his ears grow hot and fuzzy and he ignores Nino’s eyes to watch the meteors firing off in shades of yellow and orange. Nino is telling him something very important here. His heart is beating too fast. His palms are sweating. If there is any time for a confession, it would be right now, but he doesn’t know what he has to confess. He feels much younger than seventeen; doesn’t quite understand if being in love is just like growing up, or if growing up is just like being in love. “Ah,” he says.
He knows it’s the wrong response, but it spews out of his mouth anyway, and then Nino is rolling off of him and kicking Aiba awake with feigned-gleeful shouts of Look at all of the UFOs, Aiba-chan!
Sakurai Sho has never felt like more of a let-down in his entire life.
--
“How long have you been standing on my front porch?”
Sho doesn’t know; he shrugs, and succeeds in not staring at his toes, but he can’t quite meet Nino’s eyes either. “I was waiting for you to let me in,” he says.
“It doesn’t work that way,” Nino snips, pulling the door back a mere few inches, “you have to knock. Or ring the bell. Or scream and jump up and down, or throw yourself into traffic, or…something that will get someone’s attention. You can’t just stand on the front porch all day and hope someone will come and get you.”
Sho thinks Nino might really mean You can’t always be waiting for me while I’m busy waiting for you but he’s being too formal and polite to actually use such words. Well, sort of. Sho asks, “Can I come in?” and is nearly surprised to see Nino nod; relieved when he backs into the hallway to open the door fully.
Nino doesn’t say anything as he takes the stairs two at a time, like he does everything- faster than Sho. He shuts his bedroom door behind them, to prevent his sister from eavesdropping, or maybe so that Sho won’t realize that Nino’s mother isn’t home because she’s busy working a second job since Nino’s father left them with nothing.
It makes Sho sick to realize it anyway.
“So,” Nino says, almost to distract both of them, “What’s this all about? You want to study or something? Because I’ll have you know, I was trying to level up, and I don’t have time for that.”
“You said,” Sho says, “that I never ask why you ask me so many questions.” Nino’s face goes very smooth, almost as if detaching himself from this conversation. “I don’t, because it doesn’t bother me to answer them. But it doesn’t mean I don’t wonder why. Will you tell me, if I ask?”
Nino digs through his bag for the notebook that he carries around; Sho doesn’t recall seeing him write in it since the first week they met. He flips it open, thumbs through a few pages, and announces, “Sakurai Sho. Seventeen years old. Uses cherry-scented shampoo. Wakes up at five, loves pasta, favorite color is red, favorite season is summer- can I just skip to the end? There’s a lot written here.”
Sho sits down on Nino’s bed, hard, head reeling. He mutters, “That’s fine,” and tries to recover from the dumbstruck expression on his face.
Nino turns a page, squints at it, and reads, “Not too sure about the UFOs, but definitely enjoys meteor showers. Also, can’t take a hint.” He slams the notebook shut again and tosses it down onto the bed beside Sho’s prone form. “I just wanted to know you,” he says, “from day one. Down to every little detail, especially the things that no one else ever thinks to ask about.”
“If you were anyone else, that’d be creepy,” Sho chokes out, his voice weak.
“It’s creepy either way,” Nino confirms, a wry note in his tone, but his defensively crossed arms betray him. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t write in it as much after the first few weeks. Then, I started memorizing things instead.”
“Can I try this again?” Sho doesn’t really know what he’s asking for, burying his face in his hands. What he knows is that his mouth hadn’t been able to keep up with what he knew in his heart and instead of doing this properly, under the shimmering lights of the meteor shower with Nino’s warm body covering his, he’d bludgeoned the entire scene and currently has to start from scratch. He’s awestruck that Nino is even giving him the time of day now, to fix this.
Nino pushes his arms out of the way, and when Sho sits up straight, Nino climbs over his lap and lets his legs fall on either side of Sho’s hips. “Only if you promise not to mess it up this time.”
“I definitely won’t mess it up this time,” Sho promises, but he doesn’t sound certain, mostly because he doesn’t trust himself.
But Nino seems to, on the other hand; he presses his palms to Sho’s cheeks, guides his head back. Murmurs softly, mouth close to Sho’s, “Just so you know, I do like you,” and oxygen is too tight in Sho’s chest.
“I want to know everything about you too,” Sho breathes, fingertips tentative on Nino’s hips, unaware of what touches the phrase I like you allows. But Nino doesn’t tell him to stop; on the contrary, he makes a pleased noise in his throat that he looks like he’d never intended to make.
“Ask and you shall receive,” Nino says, and kisses him. Chaste, almost nothing, at first, but then Nino drags his teeth over Sho’s lower lip in demand and sends fire singing down his spine in bursts and waves. Sho has never kissed anyone before, except for once when he was six and she had been the one doing most of the kissing, so the few moments of hesitation are perfectly understandable, he thinks. Except Nino isn’t patient enough for that, and his tiny, sneaky hands find their way under Sho’s shirt in a flash and maybe their techniques aren’t perfect but Sho doesn’t mind, just returns the kiss with vigor, and lips and tongue and teeth that clash.
Nino pulls away, breathing a little more roughly, eyes too bright, and Sho touches his wrist at the pulse point to feel the way his heart is racing. “How many moles do you have on your body?” Sho asks, because he’s got a lot of catching up to do if he’s to learn as much about Nino as Nino has learned about him.
Nino offers him a truly impish grin, the one that lifts the corners of his lips to impossible angles, and his eyes spark. Then he says, “Want to find out for yourself?”
Sho nods frantically, and starts counting.