Hello Goodbye
Title: Hello Goodbye
Author: Bo
Pairing(s): Aimiya
Rating: PG
Genre: I seem to be physically unable to write anything other than fluff. There is a bit of angsty Aiba, though.
Word count: 1,709
Disclaimer(s): Don’t own Arashi. Title of the fic belongs to the solo "Hello Goodbye" by Aiba Masaki in Dream "A" live, J Storm.
Summary: Aiba is tired of sweet hellos and goodbyes that come too soon. Sometimes he just wants to be sad.
Notes: Look, no Jun! XD I'm happy about this one, I really am, because it is scientifically impossible not to feel happy when you're writing about the big gangly ball of bubbling love that is Aiba Masaki.
Aiba always became romantically involved with a girl in more or less the same way. His partners were good friends who'd lent him money when he forgot to bring his wallet to school, cute girls who made him laugh. As days went by the particular girl would begin to sit closer and closer to him until their fingertips touched, or her head would gently rest against his shoulder, or she would tilt her head up and pout, and Aiba knew he has to lower his. He loved love like that: simple and sweet, filled with twilight walks through the park, quick pecks on the cheek, her arm through the crook of his as they squeezed under one umbrella in the rain.
Aiba's relationships always ended in the same way, too. When he became a Junior, dating became more complicated, but that didn't stop it from happening. After the debut, however, his work schedule pretty much rendered love life impossible. (He privately thought the agency made sure to keep them occupied just for that reason.) But his partners always left him in the end, for a reason that had nothing to do with work.
"I'm not on your mind, Masaki-chan," she'd say, with tears in her eyes, like he wasn't hurting, too. "You're looking at me and talking to me, but I always feel like it's not me you're looking at. You're the most important thing to me, but I'm not the most important thing to you, and I can't stand to just have a corner of your heart. I'm sorry."
Or something like that. Usually, by the second sentence Aiba would be lost because of all the I's and me's. Shouldn't a relationship be about us and we stuff? And how could something as old-fashioned as "I can't stand to just have a corner of your heart" hurt so much?
The pattern never changed. He would find someone he liked, grow to love them, but they would always say goodbye, because he wasn't good enough, no matte rwhat he did -- or didn't do.
One such day, Aiba realized a person could have too much of goodbyes.
"Don't drip on my floor" was all Nino said when he stepped aside to let Aiba through the doorway of his apartment. Aiba obediently turned into the bathroom, and was confronted with his immediate reflection in the mirror above the sink. He looked like he had just climbed out of a swimming pool, except he would never take a dive with his clothes still on. Not usually, anyway.
He lifted his wet bangs and brushed them to the side, trying to remember if it had rained when he came. His weary mind searched but no memory turned up; not even those about how he had come. All he could recall was Nanami complaining that he wasn't thinking about her, and there was that familiar pain in his chest that drummed against his heart, and he decided he had had enough of this, of everyone else telling him what he should be thinking about, so he drew up the hardest smile that he'd ever had to fake, and replied that he never thought about anything else, either, so he wasn't really being unfair, was he? And his (former)girlfriend had slapped him so hard he almost fell over, but the pain wasn't in his face, it was spreading all around his chest, making it hard to breathe --
"Aiba-chan," said Nino's voice somewhere outside the door, "you turn the water on for a shower."
For a moment Aiba stood blinking at the direction of that familiar sardonic tone, feeling a strange sense of emptiness because the pain was gone, just like that. Then, his train of thought broken and no other thoughts coming to take its place, Aiba shrugged and dutifully turned the faucet.
When he finished, there was a towel and clean clothes waiting for him on the counter. He wasn't surprised to find that the shirt was his -- half his wardrobe was at Nino's place, because he lived closest to Aiba and alone, so whenever they worked too late or got really drunk at a party Aiba would crash on Nino's couch. (He always went out and bought breakfast the next morning to express his thanks, but Nino soon discovered that Aiba had a habit of grabbing whatever he felt like eating on the spot, so after eating shrimp onigiri with natto and strawberry ice cream one morning, Nino graciously offered to prepare breakfast from then on, as long as Aiba paid.)
Barefooted, Aiba padded softly into the living room and found Nino where he usually was during ninety-seven percent of his days off: sitting cross-legged in front of the TV, his small frame hunched over a control pad, thumbs flying over the keys, eyes intent on the game in front of him. Aiba sat down behind him, scooting forward so his legs were on either side of the other man. He had always loved how, when Nino was absorbed in a game like this, he could rest his chin on the crook of Nino's neck and sort of tuck the smaller man inside his arms and legs. He'd be able to watch Nino's game over his shoulder and not be obligated to talk or think. He had done this ever since they were young, and at first Nino had objected because it distracted him, but as Aiba grew and Nino stayed small, the taller man became the perfect cushion to rest against while Nino beheaded goblins with various giant weapons.
This time it wasn't goblins but lightning-inducing dragons in a dungeon (underwater? Games were getting too complicated nowadays.) Aiba watched Nino play until the other man squirmed a litttle and said, "Your hair."
Aiba rubbed his cheek against Nino's face, intentionally trailing his semi-wet hair against his neck. The slighter man wriggled some more and attempted to crawl away on his knees while still clutching his control pad, keeping his eyes fixed on the TV screen. Aiba grinned and threw himself on top of Nino, easily forcing him to lie on his back on the floor while Aiba burrowed against Nino's chest, making the smaller man look away from the game and laugh.
"Masaki! I'm trying to play!"
"So am I," Aiba's voice was muffled because his face was pressed against Nino's shirt. He took a deep breath of the generic lavender scent of the other man's fabric softener, and vaguely realized that it was what his own clothes often smelled like.
He heard Nino groan as the 'Game Over' music played from the TV. Nino sighed and knocked Aiba's head gently with his control pad. "Alright. You have my attention. What happened?"
Aiba grunted, not really in the mood to explain things when he was feeling so peaceful surrounded by the smell of lavender and the warmth of Nino's belly.
Nino sighed again and his hand came to rest on Aiba's head. "Is it Nanami? It's probably Nanami."
"Mmmm."
"Did you fight?"
"Hmm-mmm-hm."
"Did she finally realize that you have the IQ of a plate and dumped you for the hot 7-11 guy near her house?"
Aiba opened his mouth wide and bit into Nino's stomach, hard enough to make him yelp.
"Alright, alright! No need to get aggressive; now your drool's all over my shirt."
"'M hotter than the 7-11 guy."
"Might be true, but he knows how to give exact change."
"Why do they always say that?" Aiba said suddenly, looking up at Nino. "That they're not on my mind? That I'm only giving them a -- a corner of my heart?"
"Of course they're not on your mind," Nino said matter-of-factly as he turned his face to the TV, pressing buttons on his controller to start a new game. "You don't have anything on your mind."
Aiba let go of the smaller man and sat up, staring at the cracks on the wooden floor. "I just don't get it. I liked her. I liked everyone. But they never think I do."
He drew his legs up to his chest and buried his face between his knees as murkiness rose within him. He hadn't felt this bitter in a long time, and to be fair it wasn't all just Nanami. It was like all the little unpleasant things he had habitually kept at bay over the past several months came crashing back with the tide of Nanami's trembling words, her tearstained face when she slammed the door. Happiness was wonderful and he tried to stay cheerful because everyone else seemed to worry so much about needless little things that always sorted themselves out in time, but sometimes people, him included, just have to be sad for an hour or two and cry. It felt marvelous now, in a masochistic way, to be able to completely succumb to the melancholy, and Aiba didn't have to worry about feeling self-conscious because this was Nino next to him and Nino always knew how to handle Aiba better than Aiba knew how to handle himself.
Aiba sniffed a little and felt the heaviness around his heart solidify. "I can't do anything right, can I?"
There was a moment of silence, during which Aiba almost believed Nino had once again been absorbed into his video game, but then a hand found his head, swatted at it so Aiba looked up, and Nino settled into the space between Aiba's knees and arms like he was made to fit there.
"You're Aiba-chan," Nino said, turning his eyes toward his game. "There's nothing right or wrong about that. Now stop distracting me and start thinking about what we're going to have for dinner."
--
It happened slowly, so slowly that Aiba wasn't sure anything was happening at all, but soon he wasn't afraid to feel sad anymore. He even decided that a good cry once in while was healthy for him, and when things got too bad and he had to break down, Nino was there, and he'd sit on Aiba and throw death threats at the TV while Aiba held onto him, sometimes crying and sometimes not, but always knowing that before Nino finished this game, everything will be all right again.