[one-shot] Arashi; From Morning to the Black of Night
Fandom: Arashi
Title: From Morning to the Black of Night
Pairing: Ohno Satoshi x Ninomiya Kazunari
Genre: AU, romance, fluff/sap, (a little) angst
Rating: PG
Summary: Even if the world fell apart right now, Ohno would be happy.
Notes: Title taken from Sixpence None the Richer’s Melody of you. I would have liked to use it for a songfic (perhaps I will, eventually), but I’m too busy lately D: I have a couple of nice ideas for longer Ohmiya fics, even a multi-chaptered one… but even though I’ve been working on them since long ago I still have to rethink/rewrite some parts of the plot and I wouldn’t have made it in time for Riida’s birthday. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this :) And, above all, HAPPY 31ST BIRTHDAY, OH-CHAN! ♥
Notes (2): This is also dedicated to my dear wifey, anafase, whose birthday is on Monday. Even though we don’t speak to each other that much lately, I still love you, and I miss you very much. Happy birthday ^^
And, like always, thanks to cry1baby for being my beta ;)
As the day starts for most people, it ends for Ohno.
The factory closes a bit earlier than usual, at 5.30 am, after the delivery trucks leave. Ohno’s quite tired, but this is still his favorite part of the day, going back home in the middle of the night.
The path to the train station is covered with fallen leaves, a bit wet from the rain that was falling at midnight when he came. Ohno likes to observe their colors, softly lit by the streetlights on the sides of the road. There’s brown, red, orange, yellow, a bit of green here and there, and he wishes he could use them to paint the huge, dark canvas of the sky -to frame the few stars that can be seen from under the thick layer of smoke coming out of the buildings behind him.
He lifts his head and looks ahead at the small group of people rushing in the cold. He’s only wearing his usual pair of jeans and the worn-out coat he uses in winter, but his body is already used to these low temperatures. Besides, there’s still a long way home, so he’ll warm up anyway.
Some of his workmates wave at him before going into the station. He takes a hand out of his pocket and waves back before taking the usual path across the rice fields, parallel to the railroad tracks. Soon, the distant voices and the whistle of the trains leaving are replaced with the sound of his own footsteps and the naked tree branches rustling.
Compared to the noise inside the factory, this is silence for Ohno’s ears. Being one of the few regular workers there, for almost a year already, he’s learned to appreciate the peace of going outside after six hours doing the same thing, over and over, and watching the world in its sleep. Rather than being used to his job -even though he does like putting those little pieces together and see their transformation at the end of the chain-, he’s gotten used to making his way under the moonlight, through these fields, the trees and the wild bushes.
Frozen gusts of wind cut his face and slip under his clothes, keeping him more awake than he usually is during the rest of the day. He just adjusts the collar of his coat, crosses his arms over his chest, and walks on.
The sky has become a lighter shade of grey the moment Ohno reaches the first building of the city. His feet are numb, but he can go on, at least until the nearest subway station. He’s got his weekly wage today, so he can afford to take it, if only for two or three stops.
He sits down in front of a smartly dressed businessman; he wears a suit and a trench coat, and his shoes are the cleanest, shiniest ones Ohno has seen for a while. He stares absentmindedly at them while his body adjusts to the warmth inside the train. He’s getting drowsy, so his eyelids droop and his head nods; he opens his eyes to find today’s date written on the corner of a newspaper the man is reading.
Saturday, November 26. His birthday.
The memory of Nino hiding something under his blankets when he went to kiss him before leaving last night comes to his mind, and he can’t help but smile fondly.
A lot of people get off at the same stop and Ohno follows them towards the exit. He notices some staring at his clothes and messy hair, but he doesn’t really mind; he could never be like them anyway. He doesn’t want to, unless it took Nino and him out of their current situation. But, since they can’t be sure about that, he prefers to live the best way inside his possibilities.
He’s been thinking of buying some medicine for Nino -now that he’s realized why he insisted so much on going to pick up those cans last week despite his cough, he feels bad-, but the drugstore isn’t open yet. He makes a mental note to come back later for some, whatever he needs, and goes up the street until he finds their small shack-like house next to a riverbank.
“Oh, morning,” Nino greets him, sitting on their single futon.
There’s a fine steam and a faint scent of miso floating in the air. Ohno takes his shoes off and hurries to close the window Nino has left ajar, clicking his tongue.
“It’s very cold outside.”
Nino nods and walks towards their small table. He lifts pours some soup from a pot into a bowl, which he puts next to another one filled with rice (the one they keep for special occasions). After Ohno changes clothes, they both sit to eat.
They don’t speak much; Nino contemplates Ohno silently while he gulps down his food, and Ohno is too busy enjoying the taste. Nino might not be the greatest cook on earth, but Ohno would rather have his miso soup than anything else. Because it doesn’t only taste of miso, tofu and onion -it tastes of home, of care, of love. And that’s enough to turn it into a delicacy.
It’s just what Ohno needs. Once he’s finished, he lies down on the floor. He breathes deeply and closes his eyes, starting a bit when Nino places something on his stomach. It’s a little rectangular box. He sits back up and, after sharing a little smirk with him, opens it. There’s a set of paint tubes inside; some colors are missing, but Ohno is very pleased to find the yellows and reds he needs to paint those leaves he saw earlier.
It’s the best birthday present ever. Nino understands, even though he’s never said anything, and that makes him tear up.
“Thank you,” he says, but it seems Nino has already got it from his face.
They both lean forward at the same time, and their lips brush lightly. Nino places his hand on Ohno’s upper arm and kisses him tenderly. Ohno pulls him into an embrace and rests his chin on his shoulder, allowing his eyes to close. After a while, Nino’s arms are around his body too, his hands running up and down his back, a silent lullaby to his senses.
They lean on each other, exchanging warmth, getting lost, until Ohno is almost asleep and Nino drags him into the futon, carefully lying next to him and pulling up the covers.
“Happy birthday, Satoshi,” he whispers, soft breath against Ohno’s forehead.
Ohno grabs his wrist and pulls him closer, nuzzling into the hollow of his neck. Nino takes his hand and entwines their fingers, feeling the calluses on Ohno’s palm. He presses his lips against his temple and runs his free hand through his hair.
Just a second before he drifts into sleep, Ohno half opens his eyes. He sees the first rays of sun filtering through little holes in the paper panels of the window, like a myriad of blinking stars.
Their night comes, late for others, but always early enough for them.
It may get darker while they sleep, and the sun may not be shining when they wake up. It may even rain harder than yesterday, and more holes may appear on the roof, drops getting them wet and shivering with cold. They may have to leave one of these days. Things may be much worse. They may be lucky, or maybe not.
Nino coughs twice. Ohno pats his back gently.
But, no matter what, there are things that will never change, things that won’t lose to anything, things that will be left untouched.
Even if the world fell apart right now, Ohno would be happy. He knows Nino would, too.
As long as they have this, nothing else will be necessary.
Thanks for reading~
Title: From Morning to the Black of Night
Pairing: Ohno Satoshi x Ninomiya Kazunari
Genre: AU, romance, fluff/sap, (a little) angst
Rating: PG
Summary: Even if the world fell apart right now, Ohno would be happy.
Notes: Title taken from Sixpence None the Richer’s Melody of you. I would have liked to use it for a songfic (perhaps I will, eventually), but I’m too busy lately D: I have a couple of nice ideas for longer Ohmiya fics, even a multi-chaptered one… but even though I’ve been working on them since long ago I still have to rethink/rewrite some parts of the plot and I wouldn’t have made it in time for Riida’s birthday. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this :) And, above all, HAPPY 31ST BIRTHDAY, OH-CHAN! ♥
Notes (2): This is also dedicated to my dear wifey, anafase, whose birthday is on Monday. Even though we don’t speak to each other that much lately, I still love you, and I miss you very much. Happy birthday ^^
And, like always, thanks to cry1baby for being my beta ;)
As the day starts for most people, it ends for Ohno.
The factory closes a bit earlier than usual, at 5.30 am, after the delivery trucks leave. Ohno’s quite tired, but this is still his favorite part of the day, going back home in the middle of the night.
The path to the train station is covered with fallen leaves, a bit wet from the rain that was falling at midnight when he came. Ohno likes to observe their colors, softly lit by the streetlights on the sides of the road. There’s brown, red, orange, yellow, a bit of green here and there, and he wishes he could use them to paint the huge, dark canvas of the sky -to frame the few stars that can be seen from under the thick layer of smoke coming out of the buildings behind him.
He lifts his head and looks ahead at the small group of people rushing in the cold. He’s only wearing his usual pair of jeans and the worn-out coat he uses in winter, but his body is already used to these low temperatures. Besides, there’s still a long way home, so he’ll warm up anyway.
Some of his workmates wave at him before going into the station. He takes a hand out of his pocket and waves back before taking the usual path across the rice fields, parallel to the railroad tracks. Soon, the distant voices and the whistle of the trains leaving are replaced with the sound of his own footsteps and the naked tree branches rustling.
Compared to the noise inside the factory, this is silence for Ohno’s ears. Being one of the few regular workers there, for almost a year already, he’s learned to appreciate the peace of going outside after six hours doing the same thing, over and over, and watching the world in its sleep. Rather than being used to his job -even though he does like putting those little pieces together and see their transformation at the end of the chain-, he’s gotten used to making his way under the moonlight, through these fields, the trees and the wild bushes.
Frozen gusts of wind cut his face and slip under his clothes, keeping him more awake than he usually is during the rest of the day. He just adjusts the collar of his coat, crosses his arms over his chest, and walks on.
The sky has become a lighter shade of grey the moment Ohno reaches the first building of the city. His feet are numb, but he can go on, at least until the nearest subway station. He’s got his weekly wage today, so he can afford to take it, if only for two or three stops.
He sits down in front of a smartly dressed businessman; he wears a suit and a trench coat, and his shoes are the cleanest, shiniest ones Ohno has seen for a while. He stares absentmindedly at them while his body adjusts to the warmth inside the train. He’s getting drowsy, so his eyelids droop and his head nods; he opens his eyes to find today’s date written on the corner of a newspaper the man is reading.
Saturday, November 26. His birthday.
The memory of Nino hiding something under his blankets when he went to kiss him before leaving last night comes to his mind, and he can’t help but smile fondly.
A lot of people get off at the same stop and Ohno follows them towards the exit. He notices some staring at his clothes and messy hair, but he doesn’t really mind; he could never be like them anyway. He doesn’t want to, unless it took Nino and him out of their current situation. But, since they can’t be sure about that, he prefers to live the best way inside his possibilities.
He’s been thinking of buying some medicine for Nino -now that he’s realized why he insisted so much on going to pick up those cans last week despite his cough, he feels bad-, but the drugstore isn’t open yet. He makes a mental note to come back later for some, whatever he needs, and goes up the street until he finds their small shack-like house next to a riverbank.
“Oh, morning,” Nino greets him, sitting on their single futon.
There’s a fine steam and a faint scent of miso floating in the air. Ohno takes his shoes off and hurries to close the window Nino has left ajar, clicking his tongue.
“It’s very cold outside.”
Nino nods and walks towards their small table. He lifts pours some soup from a pot into a bowl, which he puts next to another one filled with rice (the one they keep for special occasions). After Ohno changes clothes, they both sit to eat.
They don’t speak much; Nino contemplates Ohno silently while he gulps down his food, and Ohno is too busy enjoying the taste. Nino might not be the greatest cook on earth, but Ohno would rather have his miso soup than anything else. Because it doesn’t only taste of miso, tofu and onion -it tastes of home, of care, of love. And that’s enough to turn it into a delicacy.
It’s just what Ohno needs. Once he’s finished, he lies down on the floor. He breathes deeply and closes his eyes, starting a bit when Nino places something on his stomach. It’s a little rectangular box. He sits back up and, after sharing a little smirk with him, opens it. There’s a set of paint tubes inside; some colors are missing, but Ohno is very pleased to find the yellows and reds he needs to paint those leaves he saw earlier.
It’s the best birthday present ever. Nino understands, even though he’s never said anything, and that makes him tear up.
“Thank you,” he says, but it seems Nino has already got it from his face.
They both lean forward at the same time, and their lips brush lightly. Nino places his hand on Ohno’s upper arm and kisses him tenderly. Ohno pulls him into an embrace and rests his chin on his shoulder, allowing his eyes to close. After a while, Nino’s arms are around his body too, his hands running up and down his back, a silent lullaby to his senses.
They lean on each other, exchanging warmth, getting lost, until Ohno is almost asleep and Nino drags him into the futon, carefully lying next to him and pulling up the covers.
“Happy birthday, Satoshi,” he whispers, soft breath against Ohno’s forehead.
Ohno grabs his wrist and pulls him closer, nuzzling into the hollow of his neck. Nino takes his hand and entwines their fingers, feeling the calluses on Ohno’s palm. He presses his lips against his temple and runs his free hand through his hair.
Just a second before he drifts into sleep, Ohno half opens his eyes. He sees the first rays of sun filtering through little holes in the paper panels of the window, like a myriad of blinking stars.
Their night comes, late for others, but always early enough for them.
It may get darker while they sleep, and the sun may not be shining when they wake up. It may even rain harder than yesterday, and more holes may appear on the roof, drops getting them wet and shivering with cold. They may have to leave one of these days. Things may be much worse. They may be lucky, or maybe not.
Nino coughs twice. Ohno pats his back gently.
But, no matter what, there are things that will never change, things that won’t lose to anything, things that will be left untouched.
Even if the world fell apart right now, Ohno would be happy. He knows Nino would, too.
As long as they have this, nothing else will be necessary.
Thanks for reading~