Somewhere Only We Know [a Ninomiya Kazunari love story] - Chapter 48, part 1
Somewhere Only We Know, Chapter 48, part 1
Pairing: Ninomiya Kazunari/OC
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own anything of Arashi or Johnny's Entertainment. Sorry if I misuse some Japanese phrases.
Summary:
When you've been alone for so long, sometimes you forget that you're lost. But if one day you brush across another hand grappling in the dark - if you dare to take it and hold on tight - you just might find the way out together. Love, in the end, is what saves us all; if you're brave enough you'll find it, and if you're crazy enough it just might stay.
All previous chapters in the master post!
He had not quite prepared for the lump in his throat that came upon hearing her sweet voice again, even over the phone sounding just as excited and nervous as he felt.
“Okaeri nasai, Kawashima-san.”
Yuri’s soft murmur welcoming him home melted the last of his feeble doubts.
“Tadaima.” he chuckled. That word felt good to say. “Ne, Shimada-san… I know it’s early, but… where are you right now?”
“I’m finishing my morning run. Nande?”
“Do - do you want to meet me for a bit?”
Every foreign city Minoru had traveled, he had left a part of himself there. New airplanes, roads, and alleyways led him to fascinating foods and murmurs of language that tickled the ear more like music than words. He would observe and discover and learn, making new friends made with a smile and a gesture of curiosity. The best adventures were those he stumbled upon, lost, to eventually find where he needed to be. Each place held the question of how differently life could be lived, if only he could stay long enough. Usually, as soon as he left he would long to return.
This time however, as the true chill of a changing season finally brushed his tanned skin, Minoru puffed his chest. The sunrise was still a hazy peach unlike any other skies he had stood in front of, and the blazing scarlet leaves tossed in the wind like birds. The organized chaos of the busy streets pulled him back into its familiar rhythm. For reasons old and new, Tokyo was still his home. With alacrity, he leapt onto the bullet train with his luggage and his courage and sped forward towards his treasure. Six months ago he had left his heart here, and he hoped it was still in safe keeping.
Without hesitation, Yuri flew; soon she reached her favorite coffee shop - which, all this time, happened to be his favorite too. As she rounded the street corner she perceived a tall, bronzed figure balanced on some luggage, staring up at the shining skyscrapers in wonder. Anyone else might have been angry with him for his radio silence, but Yuri understood that to forge his path he had needed to immerse himself in his work without ties to the past; she was the same way. He could have been captivated by and chosen to stay in sunny Los Angeles to build himself a new reality, but he had returned. This man had kept his promise.
When Minoru spotted her from the distance he stood, waved, and breathlessly started towards her - as if she were returning to him. The fluttering in Yuri’s stomach and the flush to her cheeks were not just from the exercise. While busy people rushed by on all sides, the pair simply stood there soaking up each other’s presence in amazement, until a quiet, content laugh burst forth between them.
“… You cut your hair.” Yuri lightly, bashfully began.
By habit, Minoru ran a hand through his shortened locks. “I’m turning 30 soon, so I guess I thought it was time for a more responsible look. Nande, is it weird?"
“Long hair suited you before, but you look handsome like this, too.”
“Hountou desu ka?”
“Nn.” Flustered by what she realized she had just admitted, she bit her lip and looked away.
Minoru grinned down at her with a spark in his eye. Funnily, he had a feeling he would be spending his whole life finding new ways to express it, but right now, he could finally let out a little of the truth.
“And you, Shimada-san,” he murmured in response, “You’ve always been the most beautiful to me.”
Yuri blinked. “… Hai?”
“If you didn’t know, well - now you do.”
“Even right now?” she scoffed. “No makeup, messy hair… sweaty…?”
“Even now. Especially now.”
The five-way crosswalk light above turned green and an exodus of suited pedestrians marched through on commute, bumping Yuri out of their way - and Minoru swiftly caught her like a shield. Steadied by his warm hands on her shoulders as they waited for the wave to pass, his simple touch was another promise. Somehow Yuri could not recall ever having felt so inexplicably safe and sure. It terrified her, for she could tell it was going to be a grand adventure.
She beamed upwards in full faith.
“I can’t wait to hear about your trip.”
Polishing smooth the ceramic mugs from behind the counter, the café shop owner smiled to herself as she unobtrusively observed the pair of regulars in the window. After rounds of customers they remained planted in the same spot, chatting away with a flow as natural as soft cream mixing with aromatic coffee.
There were so many things to catch up about - Yuri’s new projects, Minoru’s travels, all he had missed while he was away… his past, her past, all that they hoped for in the future… Where could they start? What was important was that they finally began with easy anticipation, knowing that they now had today, and the next day, and the next.
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Ninomiya Kazunari gaped around at the diverse people milling around, kissing each other on the cheek and snapping pictures of each other’s outlandish outfits for their thousands of Instagram followers. He had never been surrounded by so many artistically, supposedly fashionable insiders in one room before. He had gone with a blazer and jeans but was now wondering if it was too simple, and that maybe he should have listened to all the advice in Mannequin 5 after all. Beside him, Aiba Masaki - semi-disguised but still stylish in thick glasses, a scarf, and leather jacket - perused the show pamphlet.
“How do you know the designer again?” Nino asked.
“Elena is an old family friend.” Aiba replied diffidently.
All the seats were lined to face the middle of the space, where ran a pristinely white long platform like a blank canvas in a museum. At the end awaited a gaggle of photographers, while he recognized famous faces he had met over the years - such as the fashionable comedian Ayabe Junji and model personality Rola - in the privileged front row. Nino wondered why although he had the status to sit there too, why he did not have the freedom to do so even if he had wished. As an idol, why did he have to sit in the darkness until paid to step into the light?
The music began, the room dimmed, and down the illuminated runway marched waifs in chic, eclectic garments that swayed with each step. There seemed to be a theme of cropped trousers that oddly enough reminded him of the styles that Aiba often adopted. He glanced sideways to see his friend immersed in the display. When Nino turned his attention back to the spectacle that he couldn’t quite grasp, he felt his heart leap into his throat. Shoulders straight and head held high, Shimada Yuri glided down the aisle, as radiant and alive as when he had left her there on that music stage months before. Of course, she would never notice him in the crowd. He, on the other hand, soaked in every second he could of her image each time she would reappear in a new ensemble.
Nino had always assumed that he would run into her again - after all, the entertainment industry was a small bubble - eventually, but not quite so soon. He often imagined he would meet her again stronger, bolder, and indifferent. Instead, as soon as the fashion designer took her bow and the applause rose, Nino was pushing his way - ahead of Aiba, through the glamorous horde - to get backstage.
He dodged around the messy aftermath with a pounding heart and numb lips, searching every painted face until he spotted her, and froze in his tracks. Yuri floated amongst a lively cohort who didn’t look like they quite belonged at the fashion show either, and yet they excitedly jabbered together with the designer Elena like best friends. Perhaps that had been the circle that Yuri had once begged him to be a part of. The warm playfulness exuding from their group seemed so inviting to him now.
Like an off-tuned guitar string, Nino’s chest twinged as he saw Yuri grinning as she wielded a giant professional-grade camera and snapped away at some of those friends posing ridiculously for her with the designer’s shiny handbags. He could faintly hear her egging them on - “Yes, hold it there. Fabulous! Bellissima!” The tall man in the group broke out of his silliness and went to stand at her side; his long arm wrapped around her shoulders and they peered at the images together, bursting out in more laughter. Their easy skinship made Nino’s blood boil, but then the unguarded mirth towards this man turned Nino’s heart cold. He knew that subtle dancing look in her eye. After all, it used to belong to him alone.
In his head, he imagined that he would walk right up to Yuri, take her by the hand and claim her as his once more. He would beg for her forgiveness, which she would gladly give. They would resume from the best part, the middle of their story. Or perhaps they would start all over. However, it was clear that Yuri had found her own happiness wherever she found herself, like she always had and always would. So, knowing his part was over, Nino could only muster up the strength to pick up his feet and turn away…
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Now that the adrenaline rush - the culmination of Elena’s inspiration and hard work, outstandingly well-received - was over - at least until the next fashion season - her closest friends were simply there to proudly tell her, with the most authority, a truly job well done.
From the sidelines, Yuri and Minoru observed in admiration the flustered but animated designer surrounded by doting bloggers and curious journalists.
“Elena looks so alive, ne.”
Continually documenting the occasion, Minoru nodded. “She’s been waiting for - working for - this moment for years. I always thought she was brave for that, for quitting her job and diving all into this instead… Why not give your best at doing what you love, y’know?”
“Not everyone is lucky enough to make their living with their passion, as they say.” Yuri murmured wistfully, wondering for herself if she would ever find one calling. Her unpredictable career was the definition of chameleon, always restlessly moving from one project to the next. “… Was it always photography for you?”
The man paused, studying the apparatus he wielded like a third eye. “Mm… Not exactly. I had to go through a lot of bumps to ‘meet’ it. Once I did though, despite all the trouble, I’ve stuck with it even until now. For better or for worse, I guess.”
Although Yuri wished he would elaborate, his silent trailing off the subject told her that he wasn’t ready.
“Ne,” she asked, leaning close, “How do you get those distance shots?”
Minoru placed her warm hands under his own grip and they peered through the screen together under his careful instruction.
In jumped in their friend Taiga the manga illustrator, who teased with a knowing grin, “Ne, Yuri-chan, you must be extra special. No one has ever been allowed to play with Noru’s camera before. That one takes his work very seriously. Normally, he only participates in sophisticated, capital A artsy-fartsy stuff.”
Minoru rolled his eyes in good humor.
“Our little photoshoot?” It was Yuri’s turn to poke some fun. “Ma ma, I myself would consider that high fashion… That was the essence of vogueing if I ever saw.”
From behind, Yuya the botanist - with whom Minoru shared the longest history within their group - butt-in mischievously, “Y’know why Minoru’s so good at posing?”
His smile immediately slipped into a grimace. “Yuya, don’t you dare--”
Taiga snapped his fingers. “Ah sou sou, sore! I almost forgot about that!”
“Omae…!”
“Well,” Yuri mused, “He has to know what he’s talking about to direct models for shoots, deshou?”
“Not exactly. Before that… He used to be a catalogue model in college.”
“EH, usso!”
Minoru cringed at Yuri’s horrified, fascinated delight. That, indeed, had been one of the ‘bumps’ to which he had alluded.
“Now, imagine our sexy Minoru here in the early 2000’s - a shiny mushroom haircut with jeans as wide as hakama, all slouchy and cool, selling the hottest teenage trends.”
“I’m sure there are pictures floating around the Internet somewhere…”
For a split second, as their friends searched their phones, Yuri caught the glare that flashed across the man’s typically unruffled expression. Come to think of it, she had never seen him lose his cool.
Very quickly Minoru regained his cool exterior and stiffly announced, “Alright, alright, I’m out. I’ve got to get back to work.”
“Eh, work? It’s not like Elena’s paying you.”
“The after party is already getting started. I’m going to miss a lot of good shots.”
They protested. “C’mon, just relax and hang out with us.”
“I’ll see you guys over there.”
Taiga and Yuya sighed together as Minoru retreated. “He always does this.”
“What?”
“He hates being reminded about stuff like that - that particular time in his life, back when he wasn’t so successful. He just dodges the subject, or simply runs away.”
Wow, I literally went on my own 6 month hiatus... Unfortunately Photobucket messed up and most of my old images are now showing as hotlinked. Will try to go back and replace what I can.
I had a really tough time figuring out how to introduce some elements, but it should be smooth sailing from here (no lies). Thanks to those who are still keeping up!
And to those who celebrate it, Merry Christmas!