Remix of nicefinalbeam's "Stockholm"
Title: First Base
Rating: PG-13
Group/Pairing: Arashi, Nino/Aiba
Warnings: None
Notes: When I read this drabble, I knew I wanted more of it. Aiba’s and Nino’s junior relationship was super cute, so thank you, nicefinalbeam, for giving me the opportunity to write it! And thank you to my beta, who knows who she is, for her support and of course her beta work!
Link to Original Story: Stockholm
Link to Original Writer: nicefinalbeam @ memorizebyheart
Nino rides the train into Tokyo every day. It takes a while, but he has his Gameboy, so the longer the better. When he gets there he takes lessons and learns how to behave himself in front of a camera, which basically means he has to humiliate himself when someone else tells him to, but he doesn't mind as much as he probably should. He makes some friends-not the kind that he’d hang out with on a day off, but at least ones that he can laugh with during breaks-and more importantly, he makes money. Then he goes home the same way he came, Gameboy on silent while the crowded train sleeps around him.
This is how he meets Aiba. He sees Aiba during dance lessons and backstage at Junior variety shows, of course, and Aiba is full of nervous energy and is serious about absolutely everything. Not as serious as Matsumoto, because Matsumoto is inhuman, like some tiny child robot, making every move perfect and precise and smiling with buck teeth. No, Aiba is more like a fluttery bird, liable to run into things and turn around too fast because he wants so badly to get it right that he gets it wrong instead. Nino feels a little sorry for him.
But that alone wouldn't make them friends, because to Nino, the world at the Jimusho isn't real. It's an after school activity that's over when he gets on the train and rides away, back to his dark, empty house over the windshield-wiper factory. This is his routine until one Thursday when he stands on the platform, waiting for the Sobu line to pull in-the display tells him two more minutes when he hazards a glance up from his Gameboy-and Aiba appears beside him.
"You ride this train too?" says Aiba, hitching his backpack higher onto his shoulders. "I didn't know that!"
Nino glances, but he's busy trying to steer Link through a dungeon without getting boomeranged in the face. Conversation is dangerous. "Unh huh."
Aiba makes a sound in his throat, like this is deeply interesting, and pokes his head over Nino's shoulder, casting the game in shadow. "Whatcha playin'? Oh. You're an RPG person, huh? Like, DragonQuest?"
Honestly, Nino is happy to talk about DragonQuest at any other second of the day, just not right now, please, thank you. He's relieved when the train comes, and he gets a single seat sandwiched between a rotund salaryman and an office lady eyeing her mascara in a tiny hand mirror. Aiba has to find somewhere else to sit, and Nino explores his dungeon in peace.
On Friday, Aiba insists on walking to the station together after their lessons, and Nino doesn't even get a chance to take out his game. They get on the train, and Aiba grabs Nino's elbow and pulls him down into a pair of seats right on the end. "You got off before me yesterday, huh?" says Aiba, swinging his feet and staring at Nino with unusual gravity. "Shin-Koiwa?"
Nino didn't know he had been watching. "What are you, a spy?" He says it with more good humor than he feels. Train time is game time, and he wants to try out a new strategy for the dungeon that he'd thought of during dance practice. His fingers itch for the Gameboy buttons.
Aiba grins shyly. "I live in Chiba. It gets kinda boring on the train, since it's so far."
Oh, Nino thinks. "You should bring a Gameboy, or something."
"I don't have one."
How is that even possible. Nino frowns. "I guess a manga works, too."
Aiba shrugs, unconcerned. "I read them sometimes. But it's nice to have someone to talk to."
Since Nino can't get out of it, he gives in, and spends the next half hour talking to Aiba about baseball. He finds himself not minding as much as he thought he would, because Aiba actually knows a lot about baseball and watches it on TV, so they talk about the recent Giants game and their favorite players, until all of a sudden it's Nino's stop and he realizes he hadn't thought about his game for at least fifteen minutes. He waves goodbye to Aiba and hops off just before the doors close on his bag.
-
On Monday, it's the same. Nino and Aiba practice their backflips for over two hours with their instructor, a buff woman with a severe ponytail, who yells more than she talks. By the time they're done there's sweat down both their backs and Aiba looks like he kind of wants to cry.
"Don’t worry about it," Nino tells him as they walk for the train. They stop briefly at a vending machine so Aiba can buy himself a bottle of tea. "You're better than Sakurai, okay? You're better than a lot of them."
"Yeah?" Aiba says, looking hopeful.
"He fell on his head at least five times more than you did," Nino says, and Aiba punches him.
This time, Aiba doesn't have to drag Nino onto the train. Nino willingly tags along, and when they can't find any seats, they huddle by one of the doors and stare out the window together as the buildings swoosh by.
-
It becomes a habit, and Nino starts to like it. Aiba is surprisingly good company. Once Nino discovers that Aiba will happily watch over his shoulder as he games, they pass a number of train rides that way. Aiba's ridiculous suggestions for overcoming puzzles in the dungeons lack any finesse or strategy, but at least he has new ideas that Nino wouldn't have come up with on his own, so Nino considers it a team effort, especially with how delighted Aiba always is when they get through a room. Eventually, Nino even lets Aiba hold the Gameboy.
-
"You should come over," Aiba says. Nino has brought games for Aiba to play, baseball games for his Super Famicom, which Aiba admitted to owning the day before. Nino finds Aiba a little more human now that he knows he owns at least one game system. "We can play together." He's excited, clutching the games to his chest. Nino's afraid he's going to drop them.
Nino shakes his head. The train doors close and they pull out of Hirai, quickly building speed, so Nino rocks on the balls of his feet to keep his balance. It's his stop next. "I promised my mom I'd help with dinner tonight," he lies, and he doesn't know why.
"How about tomorrow, then?" Aiba says. He's looking at Nino, and Nino doesn't like how shrewd he suddenly seems.
"Can't," Nino says shortly. "Essay due."
Aiba pouts momentarily, then goes back to fondling Nino's games.
Nino waves goodbye when the doors open again and the train conductor announces his stop in a nasal, tired voice. He hops off and doesn't look back at Aiba, but follows the wave of school kids and men in suits down the stairs and out into the street. His bike is parked two blocks away, because the bike park costs money but he doesn't have to pay to lock it to a lamp post.
The night is cooling off, and the street is filled with light from the windows of restaurants. Nino stops at a stall where he knows the shopkeeper and she gives him fifty yen off his fried chicken and smiles at him toothily. "How are lessons, Kazu-kun?"
"I'm working hard," he tells her, like he always does. "Next week we're going to be on TV. You'll watch us, won't you, granny?"
They've already shot it. Nino didn't really care about the cameras, they didn't make him nervous, but he never knew what to say when he was asked about things, so he doesn't know if he'll get a lot of face time. They might edit him out. Still, he had smiled and laughed at himself the way he was supposed to.
"I'll record it," she promises, and gives him an extra piece of chicken.
The lights are out when Nino gets home. He locks up his bike and tromps up the stairs, not bothering with quiet since no one's around to hear him, and lets himself in. The fried chicken is still warm in his hand. He doesn't bother with the lights, but goes straight through the dark living room to his bedroom, where he curls on top of his futon and pulls out his Gameboy.
He's usually dead to the world when he plays, but recently, Aiba's voice has been in his head, like a narrator as he traverses Koholint Island. When Nino chooses the right fork, he imagines Aiba would urge him to go left; while he mows down all the grass with his sword, he can imagine Aiba's breathy voice: "Look, a heart! You found another heart." In a small corner of his mind, he wonders what Aiba is doing right now--if he's at home playing Nino's games. Maybe Aiba's mother has made him dinner, and he and his younger brother are playing baseball against each other for a picturesque family evening.
Nino plays until he falls asleep.
When he wakes up, his covers have been tucked around him, his empty chicken container has been cleaned up, and his mother is asleep on the sofa.
-
They don't have seats today, either. Nino is trying to balance as he plays his game, but the train keeps slowing down suddenly and speeding up again, making him tip and sway like a late-night businessman. He plants his feet as far apart as he can, but the train is crowded.
The train screeches suddenly, and Nino gets thrown right into Aiba, who topples into a tall man with saggy cheeks. Aiba's chest is strong and hard beneath his shirt, and his arm clutches Nino reflexively even as he falls over. "What the hell," Nino says, meaning the train.
"Are you okay?" Aiba holds him up until they've both righted themselves, and Nino grabs a nearby pole for extra stability.
"Kinda." Nino looks in disgust at his Gameboy. He'd walked Link right off a ledge. He switches the game off and shoves it into his jacket pocket, trying to ignore the strange look Aiba is giving him.
Nino stares out the window as they stop at Hirai, watching as people spill out. The train is still crowded, more so than usual. Aiba is silent next to him as the train leaves the station and powers for their next stop, lurching just as unsteadily as before. Landmarks flash by outside: the restaurant with the Sapporo lanterns; the broken hair salon sign; the tiny park that only has a pair of swings. Nino used to play there when he was young. The train starts to slow again.
Suddenly, he can't see. Aiba's hands are over his eyes. "Ah, you've fallen asleep!" he says, which is ridiculous, but being Aiba, Nino is now used to ridiculous. "You'll miss your stop."
Nino breathes in. The train halts, and he hears the doors swish open. He should push Aiba off. He should protest, or something, but he can't think of a reason to, because there's nothing, nobody waiting for him at home. He closes his eyes and listens. The doors shuttle closed again, and they pick up speed.
Aiba lets him go, looking at Nino with a smile that's half a question, but Nino doesn't have an answer. "You're going to feed me, right?" he says instead.
"I hope you like Chinese," is Aiba's answer.
-
Aiba talks endlessly about his family, so Nino mostly knows what to expect, but reality is always different from imagination. Aiba's family's restaurant is smaller than he'd envisioned, and there aren't enough customers to fill the tables, even though it's dinnertime. They pass by the main floor and go behind the counter. Nino sees a baseball mitt at the top of the stairs.
"Mom!" Aiba calls, and walks straight into the kitchen. The smell is delicious, meats and sauces and spices, and when Nino peeks inside he sees the man who must be Aiba's father flipping fried rice at the stove, making it sizzle.
Aiba's mother is gathering up plates and barely looks up, but the instant she does Nino sees where Aiba got his face. They're not twins, but it could be close. She has the same almond eyes and soft nose. "Welcome home," she says, "and get out of the kitchen, you're in my way."
"I brought Nino over," Aiba says, wheeling expertly around her. Nino presses himself flat against the wall as she charges in his direction. "Can we have some dinner?"
"Hello, Nino-kun," says Aiba's mother, and she pauses for an instant to give him a welcoming smile. "Glad to finally meet you. Thank you for putting up with my silly son. You two boys go upstairs, and I'll bring you something in a bit."
"Mabo tofu?" Aiba says, hopeful.
"You get what you get!" she says, and then she's gone into the main room, smiling becomingly as she sets plates down for the customers.
"Come on," says Aiba, wrapping his hand around Nino's wrist and leading him upstairs. He almost trips over the baseball mitt. They head left, into Aiba's room, which he apparently shares with his brother, because there's a screen dividing the room in two and a boy younger than them both is sprawled out on a futon, reading a manga. "Yusuke, get out!" Aiba says, charging forward to bodily force Yusuke into moving.
"Hey," Yusuke complains, shielding himself. "It's my room too!"
"You can read in the living room."
Yusuke has curled himself into a ball, but when Aiba attacks with his feet, his arms dash out and he latches around Aiba's ankle, rolling to send them both tumbling over. Nino watches, bemused. If he did that to his sister, she'd shriek up a storm and hit him with a pillow. Aiba and Yusuke tussle and kick for a while longer until Yusuke gets Aiba in a headlock and Aiba has to give in. Then Yusuke slams the door on them. Aiba pouts mightily in the hall, his hair a mess.
It turns out the game system is in the living room, anyway. Aiba, still ruffled and sulky, sets everything up and sits cross-legged on the floor, leaning against the couch. Nino joins him, trying not to smile.
-
"Oh, oops," Aiba says, his big hands over Nino's eyes again. "You've fallen asleep-"
"Aiba-kun I'm not going to miss my stop." Nino curls his hand around Aiba's wrist, but doesn't pull it away. He doesn't mind when Aiba touches him. Maybe he should. "Last time my mom told me off! I'm not going to get in trouble."
"So call her when we get there! She's not home anyway, right? It'll be okay. "
In truth, his mother's rage isn't really a reason not to go to Aiba's house. There isn't a good reason not to go, but he doesn't want to seem dependent on Aiba's warm family (watching Aiba bicker with Yusuke makes him miss his own sister, who's too busy studying with friends and going on dates to come home anymore).
"Mom says I'm supposed to bring you so I can fatten you up," Aiba says stubbornly. Nino can hear the tires squeal as the brakes kick in, and the train slows. "And it's a Friday! You don't have any homework, you can sleep over!"
"I don't have any clothes," Nino points out. His hand is still around Aiba's wrist.
"You can use mine," Aiba says, "and my shower, and my toothbrush, and-"
"Ew, what," Nino complains. "Who would want to use your germy toothbrush!"
Nino doesn't quite admit it to himself, but the griping is only an excuse, a time killer. The doors are open-in a second, they'll close, and he'll still be on the train, but it won't be his fault he didn't get off.
The announcer warbles Shin-Koiwa, Shin-Koiwa, and Nino whines louder and pretends not to hear.
-
The restaurant is busy when they walk through, busier than before. All the tables are full and there's a short line by the door. Aiba's mother bustles around and barely has time for a hello, but she still smiles at Nino before they head up the stairs.
"Let me dump my stuff in my room," Aiba says, and Nino follows him agreeably. Except that when the door opens, a pot of water clangs down to the floor, narrowly missing Aiba's head and drenching him utterly. Nino, two steps away, gets it on his jeans when the pot bounces off the floor.
They stand there in stunned silence, round-eyed.
"Yes! Got you," Yusuke crows, clapping his hands together and rolling around on his bed like the delight has turned him into a wriggle-worm.
Aiba throws his backpack angrily into the room and slams the door on Yusuke's barking laughter. "Evil," he says stonily, and stomps off to the bathroom to get a towel. It's only as he's drying his hair that he turns and checks to see if Nino's okay. His eyes travel down to Nino's ankles, and he frowns. "I'm sorry. The stupid brat. When I tell Mom what he did, she'll spin his head around."
Nino shakes his head, accepting a fluffy, sheep-printed towel of his own even though his hair is fine. "I think your brother might be related to Satan."
"That would explain it," Aiba says, looking enlightened.
Nino ends up in a pair of Aiba's sweatpants, which works out since he and Aiba are nearly the same size. They're gray, with English writing down the sides that he doesn't bother to read. After Nino calls his mom, after dinner, and after Aiba's mother finishes shouting at Yusuke (she should have been a warrior woman, Nino thinks-the restaurant persona is utterly deceiving), Aiba's mother tucks them into a pair of futons specially spread out in the living room, so they can play video games as long as they want.
"Don't stay up too late," Aiba's mother warns them, and turns out the light.
It's two in the morning before they're drowsy enough to shut off the game. Nino had won most of the time, of course, because it was his game, but Aiba had gotten rather good in the two weeks he'd been borrowing it. When the game goes off, everything goes silent and dark. Nino crawls back into his futon and fluffs his pillow.
"Nino?"
"Mm."
"Do you like being a Junior?"
Nino is quiet for a bit. He's never really thought about it. He likes spending time with Aiba, but that's not the same thing. "I don't know," he finally says. "It's something to do."
"I like it," Aiba says. Nino turns his head and sees Aiba's profile lit up, faintly, by the reflected moonlight through the window. "But I'm not very good at it."
"You're better than you think," Nino says. "You want it. You work hard. That's better than me, I just do what they say."
"You're a natural, though," Aiba says. His covers rustle, and he turns towards Nino. Now it's his ear that's lit up. "You're like… you're like an acrobat. And everybody likes you."
Nino doesn't know what to say to that.
"Nino?"
"Mm?"
This time, Aiba doesn't say anything. Nino can hear his breathing, the slow rise and fall of the covers. A moment passes by, and then Aiba shifts. He does it a second time, and a third, and when his fingers brush against Nino's, Nino realizes that Aiba is drawing closer each time. His breath catches. He should turn over, or move, but his heart has picked up, and it's just the same as when they ride the train: he doesn't not want it to happen.
Another shift, and Aiba's knees bump against Nino's. Aiba's halfway into his futon now, and Nino can feel the humidity of Aiba's breath each time he breathes out. Nino holds very still.
He's still not prepared for it. His heart shoots straight into his ribs when Aiba lunges forward and smushes their noses together. Aiba's lips are tightly puckered, and Nino's are loose and unready, but Aiba tilts his head aside and tries again instantly, and then they're kissing for real. It’s awkward and can't exactly be called good, but Nino is still left breathless at the end.
Aiba pushes his face against Nino's shoulder and breathes in deep. "Sorry," he says. "Wanned ta do that fera long time."
Nino hopes that the way he clutches at Aiba's pajama shirt tells him what he needs to know.
-
"Good!" Nino's mother says through the phone, far too excited. "I'm so glad you and Aiba-kun have made friends. Now your mother can have ladies nights. I think I'll watch a good romance and drink some wine."
"Sure, Mom," Nino says.
"Are you sure you have to come home tomorrow? Maybe Aiba's mother will adopt you."
Nino rolls his eyes. "Bye Mom." He drops the phone back into its cradle and then flops down next to Aiba on the couch. Aiba's in the seventh inning, and as he plays, Nino pushes air-buttons. Aiba doesn't press his buttons at the same time, and he strikes out. "You suck at this," Nino tells him.
"Well I'm good at real baseball," Aiba reminds him. "I don't have to be the best batter on the team so long as I can get to first, and I can always get to first. I run faster than anyone."
"That's because you have giraffe legs," Nino says. "But you aren't going to be running anywhere if you keep striking out."
"At least I don't strike out with the ladies," Aiba says, looking way too proud of himself. Just yesterday he'd gotten a phone call from a classmate, a girl that was pretty cute, he said, if you ignored the way her ears stuck out. She hadn't noticed him until he joined Johnny's, and he'd turned down her offer to study with him, but it had given him a big head.
"But they strike out with you," Nino says, giving him a good nudge with his foot to bring him down to earth. Neither of them have to mention why. Aiba calls it hormones; Nino knows it's something more, because when Aiba turns to grin at him, Nino goes warm all the way down to his toenails.
On the TV, Aiba's player completely misses the computer's fly ball, but they're both too busy to notice, much less care.
Rating: PG-13
Group/Pairing: Arashi, Nino/Aiba
Warnings: None
Notes: When I read this drabble, I knew I wanted more of it. Aiba’s and Nino’s junior relationship was super cute, so thank you, nicefinalbeam, for giving me the opportunity to write it! And thank you to my beta, who knows who she is, for her support and of course her beta work!
Link to Original Story: Stockholm
Link to Original Writer: nicefinalbeam @ memorizebyheart
Nino rides the train into Tokyo every day. It takes a while, but he has his Gameboy, so the longer the better. When he gets there he takes lessons and learns how to behave himself in front of a camera, which basically means he has to humiliate himself when someone else tells him to, but he doesn't mind as much as he probably should. He makes some friends-not the kind that he’d hang out with on a day off, but at least ones that he can laugh with during breaks-and more importantly, he makes money. Then he goes home the same way he came, Gameboy on silent while the crowded train sleeps around him.
This is how he meets Aiba. He sees Aiba during dance lessons and backstage at Junior variety shows, of course, and Aiba is full of nervous energy and is serious about absolutely everything. Not as serious as Matsumoto, because Matsumoto is inhuman, like some tiny child robot, making every move perfect and precise and smiling with buck teeth. No, Aiba is more like a fluttery bird, liable to run into things and turn around too fast because he wants so badly to get it right that he gets it wrong instead. Nino feels a little sorry for him.
But that alone wouldn't make them friends, because to Nino, the world at the Jimusho isn't real. It's an after school activity that's over when he gets on the train and rides away, back to his dark, empty house over the windshield-wiper factory. This is his routine until one Thursday when he stands on the platform, waiting for the Sobu line to pull in-the display tells him two more minutes when he hazards a glance up from his Gameboy-and Aiba appears beside him.
"You ride this train too?" says Aiba, hitching his backpack higher onto his shoulders. "I didn't know that!"
Nino glances, but he's busy trying to steer Link through a dungeon without getting boomeranged in the face. Conversation is dangerous. "Unh huh."
Aiba makes a sound in his throat, like this is deeply interesting, and pokes his head over Nino's shoulder, casting the game in shadow. "Whatcha playin'? Oh. You're an RPG person, huh? Like, DragonQuest?"
Honestly, Nino is happy to talk about DragonQuest at any other second of the day, just not right now, please, thank you. He's relieved when the train comes, and he gets a single seat sandwiched between a rotund salaryman and an office lady eyeing her mascara in a tiny hand mirror. Aiba has to find somewhere else to sit, and Nino explores his dungeon in peace.
On Friday, Aiba insists on walking to the station together after their lessons, and Nino doesn't even get a chance to take out his game. They get on the train, and Aiba grabs Nino's elbow and pulls him down into a pair of seats right on the end. "You got off before me yesterday, huh?" says Aiba, swinging his feet and staring at Nino with unusual gravity. "Shin-Koiwa?"
Nino didn't know he had been watching. "What are you, a spy?" He says it with more good humor than he feels. Train time is game time, and he wants to try out a new strategy for the dungeon that he'd thought of during dance practice. His fingers itch for the Gameboy buttons.
Aiba grins shyly. "I live in Chiba. It gets kinda boring on the train, since it's so far."
Oh, Nino thinks. "You should bring a Gameboy, or something."
"I don't have one."
How is that even possible. Nino frowns. "I guess a manga works, too."
Aiba shrugs, unconcerned. "I read them sometimes. But it's nice to have someone to talk to."
Since Nino can't get out of it, he gives in, and spends the next half hour talking to Aiba about baseball. He finds himself not minding as much as he thought he would, because Aiba actually knows a lot about baseball and watches it on TV, so they talk about the recent Giants game and their favorite players, until all of a sudden it's Nino's stop and he realizes he hadn't thought about his game for at least fifteen minutes. He waves goodbye to Aiba and hops off just before the doors close on his bag.
-
On Monday, it's the same. Nino and Aiba practice their backflips for over two hours with their instructor, a buff woman with a severe ponytail, who yells more than she talks. By the time they're done there's sweat down both their backs and Aiba looks like he kind of wants to cry.
"Don’t worry about it," Nino tells him as they walk for the train. They stop briefly at a vending machine so Aiba can buy himself a bottle of tea. "You're better than Sakurai, okay? You're better than a lot of them."
"Yeah?" Aiba says, looking hopeful.
"He fell on his head at least five times more than you did," Nino says, and Aiba punches him.
This time, Aiba doesn't have to drag Nino onto the train. Nino willingly tags along, and when they can't find any seats, they huddle by one of the doors and stare out the window together as the buildings swoosh by.
-
It becomes a habit, and Nino starts to like it. Aiba is surprisingly good company. Once Nino discovers that Aiba will happily watch over his shoulder as he games, they pass a number of train rides that way. Aiba's ridiculous suggestions for overcoming puzzles in the dungeons lack any finesse or strategy, but at least he has new ideas that Nino wouldn't have come up with on his own, so Nino considers it a team effort, especially with how delighted Aiba always is when they get through a room. Eventually, Nino even lets Aiba hold the Gameboy.
-
"You should come over," Aiba says. Nino has brought games for Aiba to play, baseball games for his Super Famicom, which Aiba admitted to owning the day before. Nino finds Aiba a little more human now that he knows he owns at least one game system. "We can play together." He's excited, clutching the games to his chest. Nino's afraid he's going to drop them.
Nino shakes his head. The train doors close and they pull out of Hirai, quickly building speed, so Nino rocks on the balls of his feet to keep his balance. It's his stop next. "I promised my mom I'd help with dinner tonight," he lies, and he doesn't know why.
"How about tomorrow, then?" Aiba says. He's looking at Nino, and Nino doesn't like how shrewd he suddenly seems.
"Can't," Nino says shortly. "Essay due."
Aiba pouts momentarily, then goes back to fondling Nino's games.
Nino waves goodbye when the doors open again and the train conductor announces his stop in a nasal, tired voice. He hops off and doesn't look back at Aiba, but follows the wave of school kids and men in suits down the stairs and out into the street. His bike is parked two blocks away, because the bike park costs money but he doesn't have to pay to lock it to a lamp post.
The night is cooling off, and the street is filled with light from the windows of restaurants. Nino stops at a stall where he knows the shopkeeper and she gives him fifty yen off his fried chicken and smiles at him toothily. "How are lessons, Kazu-kun?"
"I'm working hard," he tells her, like he always does. "Next week we're going to be on TV. You'll watch us, won't you, granny?"
They've already shot it. Nino didn't really care about the cameras, they didn't make him nervous, but he never knew what to say when he was asked about things, so he doesn't know if he'll get a lot of face time. They might edit him out. Still, he had smiled and laughed at himself the way he was supposed to.
"I'll record it," she promises, and gives him an extra piece of chicken.
The lights are out when Nino gets home. He locks up his bike and tromps up the stairs, not bothering with quiet since no one's around to hear him, and lets himself in. The fried chicken is still warm in his hand. He doesn't bother with the lights, but goes straight through the dark living room to his bedroom, where he curls on top of his futon and pulls out his Gameboy.
He's usually dead to the world when he plays, but recently, Aiba's voice has been in his head, like a narrator as he traverses Koholint Island. When Nino chooses the right fork, he imagines Aiba would urge him to go left; while he mows down all the grass with his sword, he can imagine Aiba's breathy voice: "Look, a heart! You found another heart." In a small corner of his mind, he wonders what Aiba is doing right now--if he's at home playing Nino's games. Maybe Aiba's mother has made him dinner, and he and his younger brother are playing baseball against each other for a picturesque family evening.
Nino plays until he falls asleep.
When he wakes up, his covers have been tucked around him, his empty chicken container has been cleaned up, and his mother is asleep on the sofa.
-
They don't have seats today, either. Nino is trying to balance as he plays his game, but the train keeps slowing down suddenly and speeding up again, making him tip and sway like a late-night businessman. He plants his feet as far apart as he can, but the train is crowded.
The train screeches suddenly, and Nino gets thrown right into Aiba, who topples into a tall man with saggy cheeks. Aiba's chest is strong and hard beneath his shirt, and his arm clutches Nino reflexively even as he falls over. "What the hell," Nino says, meaning the train.
"Are you okay?" Aiba holds him up until they've both righted themselves, and Nino grabs a nearby pole for extra stability.
"Kinda." Nino looks in disgust at his Gameboy. He'd walked Link right off a ledge. He switches the game off and shoves it into his jacket pocket, trying to ignore the strange look Aiba is giving him.
Nino stares out the window as they stop at Hirai, watching as people spill out. The train is still crowded, more so than usual. Aiba is silent next to him as the train leaves the station and powers for their next stop, lurching just as unsteadily as before. Landmarks flash by outside: the restaurant with the Sapporo lanterns; the broken hair salon sign; the tiny park that only has a pair of swings. Nino used to play there when he was young. The train starts to slow again.
Suddenly, he can't see. Aiba's hands are over his eyes. "Ah, you've fallen asleep!" he says, which is ridiculous, but being Aiba, Nino is now used to ridiculous. "You'll miss your stop."
Nino breathes in. The train halts, and he hears the doors swish open. He should push Aiba off. He should protest, or something, but he can't think of a reason to, because there's nothing, nobody waiting for him at home. He closes his eyes and listens. The doors shuttle closed again, and they pick up speed.
Aiba lets him go, looking at Nino with a smile that's half a question, but Nino doesn't have an answer. "You're going to feed me, right?" he says instead.
"I hope you like Chinese," is Aiba's answer.
-
Aiba talks endlessly about his family, so Nino mostly knows what to expect, but reality is always different from imagination. Aiba's family's restaurant is smaller than he'd envisioned, and there aren't enough customers to fill the tables, even though it's dinnertime. They pass by the main floor and go behind the counter. Nino sees a baseball mitt at the top of the stairs.
"Mom!" Aiba calls, and walks straight into the kitchen. The smell is delicious, meats and sauces and spices, and when Nino peeks inside he sees the man who must be Aiba's father flipping fried rice at the stove, making it sizzle.
Aiba's mother is gathering up plates and barely looks up, but the instant she does Nino sees where Aiba got his face. They're not twins, but it could be close. She has the same almond eyes and soft nose. "Welcome home," she says, "and get out of the kitchen, you're in my way."
"I brought Nino over," Aiba says, wheeling expertly around her. Nino presses himself flat against the wall as she charges in his direction. "Can we have some dinner?"
"Hello, Nino-kun," says Aiba's mother, and she pauses for an instant to give him a welcoming smile. "Glad to finally meet you. Thank you for putting up with my silly son. You two boys go upstairs, and I'll bring you something in a bit."
"Mabo tofu?" Aiba says, hopeful.
"You get what you get!" she says, and then she's gone into the main room, smiling becomingly as she sets plates down for the customers.
"Come on," says Aiba, wrapping his hand around Nino's wrist and leading him upstairs. He almost trips over the baseball mitt. They head left, into Aiba's room, which he apparently shares with his brother, because there's a screen dividing the room in two and a boy younger than them both is sprawled out on a futon, reading a manga. "Yusuke, get out!" Aiba says, charging forward to bodily force Yusuke into moving.
"Hey," Yusuke complains, shielding himself. "It's my room too!"
"You can read in the living room."
Yusuke has curled himself into a ball, but when Aiba attacks with his feet, his arms dash out and he latches around Aiba's ankle, rolling to send them both tumbling over. Nino watches, bemused. If he did that to his sister, she'd shriek up a storm and hit him with a pillow. Aiba and Yusuke tussle and kick for a while longer until Yusuke gets Aiba in a headlock and Aiba has to give in. Then Yusuke slams the door on them. Aiba pouts mightily in the hall, his hair a mess.
It turns out the game system is in the living room, anyway. Aiba, still ruffled and sulky, sets everything up and sits cross-legged on the floor, leaning against the couch. Nino joins him, trying not to smile.
-
"Oh, oops," Aiba says, his big hands over Nino's eyes again. "You've fallen asleep-"
"Aiba-kun I'm not going to miss my stop." Nino curls his hand around Aiba's wrist, but doesn't pull it away. He doesn't mind when Aiba touches him. Maybe he should. "Last time my mom told me off! I'm not going to get in trouble."
"So call her when we get there! She's not home anyway, right? It'll be okay. "
In truth, his mother's rage isn't really a reason not to go to Aiba's house. There isn't a good reason not to go, but he doesn't want to seem dependent on Aiba's warm family (watching Aiba bicker with Yusuke makes him miss his own sister, who's too busy studying with friends and going on dates to come home anymore).
"Mom says I'm supposed to bring you so I can fatten you up," Aiba says stubbornly. Nino can hear the tires squeal as the brakes kick in, and the train slows. "And it's a Friday! You don't have any homework, you can sleep over!"
"I don't have any clothes," Nino points out. His hand is still around Aiba's wrist.
"You can use mine," Aiba says, "and my shower, and my toothbrush, and-"
"Ew, what," Nino complains. "Who would want to use your germy toothbrush!"
Nino doesn't quite admit it to himself, but the griping is only an excuse, a time killer. The doors are open-in a second, they'll close, and he'll still be on the train, but it won't be his fault he didn't get off.
The announcer warbles Shin-Koiwa, Shin-Koiwa, and Nino whines louder and pretends not to hear.
-
The restaurant is busy when they walk through, busier than before. All the tables are full and there's a short line by the door. Aiba's mother bustles around and barely has time for a hello, but she still smiles at Nino before they head up the stairs.
"Let me dump my stuff in my room," Aiba says, and Nino follows him agreeably. Except that when the door opens, a pot of water clangs down to the floor, narrowly missing Aiba's head and drenching him utterly. Nino, two steps away, gets it on his jeans when the pot bounces off the floor.
They stand there in stunned silence, round-eyed.
"Yes! Got you," Yusuke crows, clapping his hands together and rolling around on his bed like the delight has turned him into a wriggle-worm.
Aiba throws his backpack angrily into the room and slams the door on Yusuke's barking laughter. "Evil," he says stonily, and stomps off to the bathroom to get a towel. It's only as he's drying his hair that he turns and checks to see if Nino's okay. His eyes travel down to Nino's ankles, and he frowns. "I'm sorry. The stupid brat. When I tell Mom what he did, she'll spin his head around."
Nino shakes his head, accepting a fluffy, sheep-printed towel of his own even though his hair is fine. "I think your brother might be related to Satan."
"That would explain it," Aiba says, looking enlightened.
Nino ends up in a pair of Aiba's sweatpants, which works out since he and Aiba are nearly the same size. They're gray, with English writing down the sides that he doesn't bother to read. After Nino calls his mom, after dinner, and after Aiba's mother finishes shouting at Yusuke (she should have been a warrior woman, Nino thinks-the restaurant persona is utterly deceiving), Aiba's mother tucks them into a pair of futons specially spread out in the living room, so they can play video games as long as they want.
"Don't stay up too late," Aiba's mother warns them, and turns out the light.
It's two in the morning before they're drowsy enough to shut off the game. Nino had won most of the time, of course, because it was his game, but Aiba had gotten rather good in the two weeks he'd been borrowing it. When the game goes off, everything goes silent and dark. Nino crawls back into his futon and fluffs his pillow.
"Nino?"
"Mm."
"Do you like being a Junior?"
Nino is quiet for a bit. He's never really thought about it. He likes spending time with Aiba, but that's not the same thing. "I don't know," he finally says. "It's something to do."
"I like it," Aiba says. Nino turns his head and sees Aiba's profile lit up, faintly, by the reflected moonlight through the window. "But I'm not very good at it."
"You're better than you think," Nino says. "You want it. You work hard. That's better than me, I just do what they say."
"You're a natural, though," Aiba says. His covers rustle, and he turns towards Nino. Now it's his ear that's lit up. "You're like… you're like an acrobat. And everybody likes you."
Nino doesn't know what to say to that.
"Nino?"
"Mm?"
This time, Aiba doesn't say anything. Nino can hear his breathing, the slow rise and fall of the covers. A moment passes by, and then Aiba shifts. He does it a second time, and a third, and when his fingers brush against Nino's, Nino realizes that Aiba is drawing closer each time. His breath catches. He should turn over, or move, but his heart has picked up, and it's just the same as when they ride the train: he doesn't not want it to happen.
Another shift, and Aiba's knees bump against Nino's. Aiba's halfway into his futon now, and Nino can feel the humidity of Aiba's breath each time he breathes out. Nino holds very still.
He's still not prepared for it. His heart shoots straight into his ribs when Aiba lunges forward and smushes their noses together. Aiba's lips are tightly puckered, and Nino's are loose and unready, but Aiba tilts his head aside and tries again instantly, and then they're kissing for real. It’s awkward and can't exactly be called good, but Nino is still left breathless at the end.
Aiba pushes his face against Nino's shoulder and breathes in deep. "Sorry," he says. "Wanned ta do that fera long time."
Nino hopes that the way he clutches at Aiba's pajama shirt tells him what he needs to know.
-
"Good!" Nino's mother says through the phone, far too excited. "I'm so glad you and Aiba-kun have made friends. Now your mother can have ladies nights. I think I'll watch a good romance and drink some wine."
"Sure, Mom," Nino says.
"Are you sure you have to come home tomorrow? Maybe Aiba's mother will adopt you."
Nino rolls his eyes. "Bye Mom." He drops the phone back into its cradle and then flops down next to Aiba on the couch. Aiba's in the seventh inning, and as he plays, Nino pushes air-buttons. Aiba doesn't press his buttons at the same time, and he strikes out. "You suck at this," Nino tells him.
"Well I'm good at real baseball," Aiba reminds him. "I don't have to be the best batter on the team so long as I can get to first, and I can always get to first. I run faster than anyone."
"That's because you have giraffe legs," Nino says. "But you aren't going to be running anywhere if you keep striking out."
"At least I don't strike out with the ladies," Aiba says, looking way too proud of himself. Just yesterday he'd gotten a phone call from a classmate, a girl that was pretty cute, he said, if you ignored the way her ears stuck out. She hadn't noticed him until he joined Johnny's, and he'd turned down her offer to study with him, but it had given him a big head.
"But they strike out with you," Nino says, giving him a good nudge with his foot to bring him down to earth. Neither of them have to mention why. Aiba calls it hormones; Nino knows it's something more, because when Aiba turns to grin at him, Nino goes warm all the way down to his toenails.
On the TV, Aiba's player completely misses the computer's fly ball, but they're both too busy to notice, much less care.