[one-shot][Ohmiya] Illumination
Title: Illumination
Pairing: Ohmiya
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: His voice floats around the sky without ever touching earth, until the sound goes stale and all that’s left are vapid chords to a song no one recognizes.
Notes: Sequel to Restoration... but not technically a sequel. This fic takes place in the middle/at the same time, but in this one, it's from Ohno's POV. There’s NO NEED to read Restoration to understand this (although I hope you do). You don’t need to read them in order, either.
There are no words or hidden sentiments. There isn’t even silence, as the radio crackles to a boring ballad over the soft murmur of the car’s engine, the tires treading a song across the wet asphalt. The rain, wind, and thunder create a melody in unison that Ohno wishes he could capture somehow. He wants to discover a way to take the sounds and confine them into colors and onto a canvas. The rain is drumming against the car, kept in time by the swishing windshield wipers. When thunder or lightning pushes their way into the rhythm, they’re prominent, taking center stage, like how everyone turns their attention to Nino when he plays the guitar. The wind sings through the chaos, sometimes lifting its voice and booming powerfully, and sometimes resonating softly like a whisper. Ohno thinks that maybe Arashi works in the same ways, because the forces of nature are too erratic and different to trace, yet they come together in harmony to form one entity. Ohno sees the rain and flashes of lightning, but all of these things are part of the storm.
Ohno’s not always sure what part he plays in their storm. He thinks that Sho is like the wind, pushing everyone in the right direction. Whether people overlook the wind or acknowledge its power, it keeps the storm going as the shadow leader, or the storm’s caretaker. If the wind stopped blowing, they’d fall to the ground like a kite unable to stay airborne, or they’d be stuck in the middle of the see like a sailboat that relied on the wind to make it back to shore. Without the wind, nothing would ever move forward.
Jun is like the rain, ever changing yet somehow constant. At times, he’s forceful and harsh, while other times he’s a light drizzle. He could be cold and cutting, and his rage could cause devastating floods. But once people understood the rain, they would see that the rain is working hard to water the earth. Without the rain, the world would fall into a drought.
Aiba is like a rainbow. People don’t always see the importance of the rainbow, because it doesn’t seem to be part of the storm, since it comes after. But the rainbow brings people hope, a message of happiness and love. Even if people hate the storm, they can see the beauty in the rainbow, and then come to see that the rainbow was shining with the storm, because of the storm. Without the rainbow, the storm would lose its purpose.
Nino is like the lightning: sharp, piercing, and potent. People tend to fear lightning the most. It hides most of the time, but then strikes suddenly and loudly, and has the power to drill into the ground or spark fires. Lightning could black out an entire city in a mere instant. But lightning was a discharge of electricity. Nino was Arashi’s mood maker, their energy. Without the lightning, the storm wouldn’t hold together.
When he asked this to the others, they said that Ohno was the cloud in their storm. Clouds drift as they please, without even being completely sure as to where they were going. But when they gathered with a purpose, they could color the entire sky.
Ohno didn’t like the idea that he was the one who darkened the world, who could turn a brilliant blue sky into a depressing grey. But then Nino told him that when the sun was too bright and too oppressive, the clouds would provide shelter and peace. Without the clouds, Nino said, there would never be a storm.
Ohno couldn’t understand how he could hold that sort of importance, either. The wind whistles and howls and shakes the leaves, the rain goes drip-drop, the lightning and thunder crackle and boom, and the rainbow brings life to them all, speaking in its colors and brilliance. But the clouds float silently, and when Ohno maps out the musicality of the rain and wind and lightning, anticipating the rainbow as a grand finale, he can’t figure out how the clouds contribute. The clouds are supposed to lead the storm, but they don’t know the notes to the song. An orchestra has no need for a deaf conductor.
(The clouds are singing a solo in a cappella, but the tune is incongruous to the rest of the world, so their voices float around the sky without ever touching earth, until the sound goes stale and all that’s left are vapid chords to a song no one recognizes.)
Ohno shivers. Even with the heater on and jackets shielding their bodies, the air still feels cold.
A flash of lightning darts across the sky, covering the world in brightness for a split second. Nightfall has engulfed the city with darkness, and the heavy rainfall shrouds most of the light from the buildings, the headlights from other cars along the highway, and the streetlights. Nino is leaning forward and squinting his eyes, trying to see clearly. The highway is nearly empty, no one willing to brave the weather. The drive to Nino’s apartment seems longer than usual, but Nino’s probably driving slowly. Ohno doesn’t bother checking.
Light and dark are raging war as they drive past the streetlights and other cars, both fading and returning again in intervals. The headlights to Nino’s car become like ignorant soldiers, trying to take a part in the battle without really knowing how by offering a lit road, but the beams are too dim to confide in. When the lightning comes, Ohno can see everything. It’s a spotlight shining on the stage, creating a new world filled with color and depth and beauty. Under it’s light, Ohno feels as if all of the mysteries are solved, and every uncertainty is replaced with determination. Ohno can see the clouds that harbor the lightning, too. The lightning makes the clouds shine.
To Ohno, Nino is the bright moments between the darkness. When lightning strikes, everything is clear and bursting with radiance, but it’s so bright and dazzling that it blinds Ohno temporarily. Nino turns on the light switch and the breathing stops. And just as he’s regaining his balance and his eyes adjust to the light, it diminishes. Ohno anticipates it, waits for the lightning to ripple across the sky again, but he’s too slow to catch the flashes of light that illuminate his pitch-black world. Sometimes, it feels like he’s searching Nino without actually knowing what he’s looking for.
A new song starts playing and Nino’s humming along to parts of the melody. Lightning flashes again, the shadows dancing along his features before retreating. Dark. Light. Dark. Nino takes a second to glance over at Ohno, and there’s a strange sort of desperation in his eyes that Ohno can’t quite identify.
Almost like Nino is searching for something within Ohno, too.
Ohno isn’t sure if he’s more afraid that Nino will find something abysmal, an off-key note screeching within the song, or that Nino won’t find anything at all. Because to Ohno, Nino is music itself, and Nino’s pulse is a steady drumbeat, or a vibration reverberating from his core in the same way sound pulsates by the strings of his guitar. When Nino sheds light on Ohno’s shadows, he fills out Ohno’s empty sheet music with a composition.
Ohno doesn’t realize they’ve arrived until Nino’s unbuckling his seatbelt, then Ohno’s for him, and slipping out the door. He runs around the side and takes Ohno’s hand. Ohno can’t hear the rain rapping against the ground, and the wind is barely there when Ohno steps outside. He’s not sure when the storm passed. There’s thunder growling in the distance, but the sound is too far away. Once the storm is gone, the world will melt into the dark, the moon unable to provide consolation because the clouds have overcome the sky and the fog has washed the earth in uncertainty.
Only the lightning can electrify Ohno’s colorblind faith, make him see the tints of beauty in the shadows, make him hear the song in the chaotic noise. When his world is lit up, he can decipher which notes to play to resurrect his dead orchestra. Ohno is a little lost whenever the storm first ceases, because it’s too early for the world to shine under the colorful rainbow, but he can’t hear the rain or wind or thunder anymore. All that’s left are the dull grey clouds that defer any hope of finding light.
Nino closes the door behind them and flicks the lock before pushing Ohno against the wall and kissing him, hard and deep. He explores Ohno’s mouth with his tongue, nibbles on his bottom lip, covering his jaw in chaste kisses before guiding him into the bedroom. It’s sudden and catches Ohno off guard, but Nino is speaking within his actions and providing answers to all of Ohno’s questions, even the ones he never remembers asking. Ohno can feel Nino, hear him, and everything feels bright again.
The storm has stopped, and none of the lights are on.
Ohno is too slow to catch a bolt of lightning, but Nino knows this. Ohno isn’t eloquent enough to form the right words, and he’s not sure how to explain his fear that somehow he’ll be left behind, but Nino is always listening. And he’s replying with each kiss, each touch, and each moment of silence, reminding Ohno that he doesn’t need to try catching a transient light. Nino will always be there, shining for him. The lightning makes the clouds shine, but the lightning can’t shine without the clouds.
Nino is blindingly bright even when he’s only a dim flicker, and only Nino can create music out of silence. Nino is a contradiction - but then again, so are they, Ohno thinks. The two of them are so much alike, yet so paradoxical. The clouds and the lightning go perfectly with each other, even though dark storm clouds rob the sky of its color while the lightning illuminates it.
Maybe, Ohno thinks, he’s Nino’s light. Maybe Arashi has always been acting as each other’s lights, because they don’t have the ability to shed light on anything themselves. Ohno understands what Nino is trying to tell him. Without the storm, the clouds, rainbows, gusts of wind, raindrops, and bolts of lightning were all just stumbling in the dark.
None of them could power the world alone.
It wasn’t just Nino, either. The way Aiba chatted and played with Ohno more than usual, the way Sho kept a sturdy hand on his shoulder and a close eye on him during filming, the way Jun stepped in and spoke when Ohno was at a loss for words… they weren’t just helping hands, they were each saying thank you. They were all telling Ohno that they need him, treasure him, and Ohno feels a bit silly for not realizing it sooner. Next time, he’ll definitely find a way to reply.
Because Arashi has always been, and always will be, a symphony they created together. The wind might howl by itself, and the lightning might cackle alone, but unless they were all together, the noise could never form a complete melody. Alone, they were beautiful sounds. Together, they were music.
The five of them are walking down the same path. They will never be able to win a solitary battle against the darkness, but together, their light brightens every single one of their surroundings. Ohno still isn’t sure if he can play the tune the storm created together in perfect pitch, the way the others can, but maybe that isn’t what’s important. They played with different instruments, in different tempos, and with different arrangements.
But they were all playing the same song.
As Ohno’s eyes grow heavy with sleep, he can hear the rain tapping against the window and the thunder rolling closer. But the lullaby that sings him to sleep is the gentle cadence of Nino’s beating heart, the sheets shuffling as Nino wraps the blankets further around them, and the unspoken I love you that Ohno translates from the soft kiss against his forehead.
---
A/N: You weren't supposed to be posted until later, you stubborn attention whore of a fic, you! *shakes finger*
This fic has been demanding all of my time and making me neglect my other fics, but I found the inspiration to finish it when we had a storm a lot like the one described in these fics, with tornado sirens going off and everything (don't worry, it didn't do damage around where I live). Okay, even so, I love this fic. Maybe even more than the first one. It was strangely emotional for me to write. Still, they're very different. My goal was to make this fic Ohno-like and that fic Nino-like, and I have no idea if I succeeded or not, but if you pay attention, you might see how I changed the style to make it fit one or the other.
Now that this one's posted, I can FINALLY focus on my many works-in-progress. Also, I'm pretty much all prepared for college and everything, which means... more time to write? Whenever I say that, something seems to always come up and prove me wrong XD
By the way, this was also the fic I mentioned in the 2nd batch of drabbles, the Nino-centric one, saying the concept in the drabble was inspired by this.
Have a lovely summer, everyone~!
Pairing: Ohmiya
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: His voice floats around the sky without ever touching earth, until the sound goes stale and all that’s left are vapid chords to a song no one recognizes.
Notes: Sequel to Restoration... but not technically a sequel. This fic takes place in the middle/at the same time, but in this one, it's from Ohno's POV. There’s NO NEED to read Restoration to understand this (although I hope you do). You don’t need to read them in order, either.
There are no words or hidden sentiments. There isn’t even silence, as the radio crackles to a boring ballad over the soft murmur of the car’s engine, the tires treading a song across the wet asphalt. The rain, wind, and thunder create a melody in unison that Ohno wishes he could capture somehow. He wants to discover a way to take the sounds and confine them into colors and onto a canvas. The rain is drumming against the car, kept in time by the swishing windshield wipers. When thunder or lightning pushes their way into the rhythm, they’re prominent, taking center stage, like how everyone turns their attention to Nino when he plays the guitar. The wind sings through the chaos, sometimes lifting its voice and booming powerfully, and sometimes resonating softly like a whisper. Ohno thinks that maybe Arashi works in the same ways, because the forces of nature are too erratic and different to trace, yet they come together in harmony to form one entity. Ohno sees the rain and flashes of lightning, but all of these things are part of the storm.
Ohno’s not always sure what part he plays in their storm. He thinks that Sho is like the wind, pushing everyone in the right direction. Whether people overlook the wind or acknowledge its power, it keeps the storm going as the shadow leader, or the storm’s caretaker. If the wind stopped blowing, they’d fall to the ground like a kite unable to stay airborne, or they’d be stuck in the middle of the see like a sailboat that relied on the wind to make it back to shore. Without the wind, nothing would ever move forward.
Jun is like the rain, ever changing yet somehow constant. At times, he’s forceful and harsh, while other times he’s a light drizzle. He could be cold and cutting, and his rage could cause devastating floods. But once people understood the rain, they would see that the rain is working hard to water the earth. Without the rain, the world would fall into a drought.
Aiba is like a rainbow. People don’t always see the importance of the rainbow, because it doesn’t seem to be part of the storm, since it comes after. But the rainbow brings people hope, a message of happiness and love. Even if people hate the storm, they can see the beauty in the rainbow, and then come to see that the rainbow was shining with the storm, because of the storm. Without the rainbow, the storm would lose its purpose.
Nino is like the lightning: sharp, piercing, and potent. People tend to fear lightning the most. It hides most of the time, but then strikes suddenly and loudly, and has the power to drill into the ground or spark fires. Lightning could black out an entire city in a mere instant. But lightning was a discharge of electricity. Nino was Arashi’s mood maker, their energy. Without the lightning, the storm wouldn’t hold together.
When he asked this to the others, they said that Ohno was the cloud in their storm. Clouds drift as they please, without even being completely sure as to where they were going. But when they gathered with a purpose, they could color the entire sky.
Ohno didn’t like the idea that he was the one who darkened the world, who could turn a brilliant blue sky into a depressing grey. But then Nino told him that when the sun was too bright and too oppressive, the clouds would provide shelter and peace. Without the clouds, Nino said, there would never be a storm.
Ohno couldn’t understand how he could hold that sort of importance, either. The wind whistles and howls and shakes the leaves, the rain goes drip-drop, the lightning and thunder crackle and boom, and the rainbow brings life to them all, speaking in its colors and brilliance. But the clouds float silently, and when Ohno maps out the musicality of the rain and wind and lightning, anticipating the rainbow as a grand finale, he can’t figure out how the clouds contribute. The clouds are supposed to lead the storm, but they don’t know the notes to the song. An orchestra has no need for a deaf conductor.
(The clouds are singing a solo in a cappella, but the tune is incongruous to the rest of the world, so their voices float around the sky without ever touching earth, until the sound goes stale and all that’s left are vapid chords to a song no one recognizes.)
Ohno shivers. Even with the heater on and jackets shielding their bodies, the air still feels cold.
A flash of lightning darts across the sky, covering the world in brightness for a split second. Nightfall has engulfed the city with darkness, and the heavy rainfall shrouds most of the light from the buildings, the headlights from other cars along the highway, and the streetlights. Nino is leaning forward and squinting his eyes, trying to see clearly. The highway is nearly empty, no one willing to brave the weather. The drive to Nino’s apartment seems longer than usual, but Nino’s probably driving slowly. Ohno doesn’t bother checking.
Light and dark are raging war as they drive past the streetlights and other cars, both fading and returning again in intervals. The headlights to Nino’s car become like ignorant soldiers, trying to take a part in the battle without really knowing how by offering a lit road, but the beams are too dim to confide in. When the lightning comes, Ohno can see everything. It’s a spotlight shining on the stage, creating a new world filled with color and depth and beauty. Under it’s light, Ohno feels as if all of the mysteries are solved, and every uncertainty is replaced with determination. Ohno can see the clouds that harbor the lightning, too. The lightning makes the clouds shine.
To Ohno, Nino is the bright moments between the darkness. When lightning strikes, everything is clear and bursting with radiance, but it’s so bright and dazzling that it blinds Ohno temporarily. Nino turns on the light switch and the breathing stops. And just as he’s regaining his balance and his eyes adjust to the light, it diminishes. Ohno anticipates it, waits for the lightning to ripple across the sky again, but he’s too slow to catch the flashes of light that illuminate his pitch-black world. Sometimes, it feels like he’s searching Nino without actually knowing what he’s looking for.
A new song starts playing and Nino’s humming along to parts of the melody. Lightning flashes again, the shadows dancing along his features before retreating. Dark. Light. Dark. Nino takes a second to glance over at Ohno, and there’s a strange sort of desperation in his eyes that Ohno can’t quite identify.
Almost like Nino is searching for something within Ohno, too.
Ohno isn’t sure if he’s more afraid that Nino will find something abysmal, an off-key note screeching within the song, or that Nino won’t find anything at all. Because to Ohno, Nino is music itself, and Nino’s pulse is a steady drumbeat, or a vibration reverberating from his core in the same way sound pulsates by the strings of his guitar. When Nino sheds light on Ohno’s shadows, he fills out Ohno’s empty sheet music with a composition.
Ohno doesn’t realize they’ve arrived until Nino’s unbuckling his seatbelt, then Ohno’s for him, and slipping out the door. He runs around the side and takes Ohno’s hand. Ohno can’t hear the rain rapping against the ground, and the wind is barely there when Ohno steps outside. He’s not sure when the storm passed. There’s thunder growling in the distance, but the sound is too far away. Once the storm is gone, the world will melt into the dark, the moon unable to provide consolation because the clouds have overcome the sky and the fog has washed the earth in uncertainty.
Only the lightning can electrify Ohno’s colorblind faith, make him see the tints of beauty in the shadows, make him hear the song in the chaotic noise. When his world is lit up, he can decipher which notes to play to resurrect his dead orchestra. Ohno is a little lost whenever the storm first ceases, because it’s too early for the world to shine under the colorful rainbow, but he can’t hear the rain or wind or thunder anymore. All that’s left are the dull grey clouds that defer any hope of finding light.
Nino closes the door behind them and flicks the lock before pushing Ohno against the wall and kissing him, hard and deep. He explores Ohno’s mouth with his tongue, nibbles on his bottom lip, covering his jaw in chaste kisses before guiding him into the bedroom. It’s sudden and catches Ohno off guard, but Nino is speaking within his actions and providing answers to all of Ohno’s questions, even the ones he never remembers asking. Ohno can feel Nino, hear him, and everything feels bright again.
The storm has stopped, and none of the lights are on.
Ohno is too slow to catch a bolt of lightning, but Nino knows this. Ohno isn’t eloquent enough to form the right words, and he’s not sure how to explain his fear that somehow he’ll be left behind, but Nino is always listening. And he’s replying with each kiss, each touch, and each moment of silence, reminding Ohno that he doesn’t need to try catching a transient light. Nino will always be there, shining for him. The lightning makes the clouds shine, but the lightning can’t shine without the clouds.
Nino is blindingly bright even when he’s only a dim flicker, and only Nino can create music out of silence. Nino is a contradiction - but then again, so are they, Ohno thinks. The two of them are so much alike, yet so paradoxical. The clouds and the lightning go perfectly with each other, even though dark storm clouds rob the sky of its color while the lightning illuminates it.
Maybe, Ohno thinks, he’s Nino’s light. Maybe Arashi has always been acting as each other’s lights, because they don’t have the ability to shed light on anything themselves. Ohno understands what Nino is trying to tell him. Without the storm, the clouds, rainbows, gusts of wind, raindrops, and bolts of lightning were all just stumbling in the dark.
None of them could power the world alone.
It wasn’t just Nino, either. The way Aiba chatted and played with Ohno more than usual, the way Sho kept a sturdy hand on his shoulder and a close eye on him during filming, the way Jun stepped in and spoke when Ohno was at a loss for words… they weren’t just helping hands, they were each saying thank you. They were all telling Ohno that they need him, treasure him, and Ohno feels a bit silly for not realizing it sooner. Next time, he’ll definitely find a way to reply.
Because Arashi has always been, and always will be, a symphony they created together. The wind might howl by itself, and the lightning might cackle alone, but unless they were all together, the noise could never form a complete melody. Alone, they were beautiful sounds. Together, they were music.
The five of them are walking down the same path. They will never be able to win a solitary battle against the darkness, but together, their light brightens every single one of their surroundings. Ohno still isn’t sure if he can play the tune the storm created together in perfect pitch, the way the others can, but maybe that isn’t what’s important. They played with different instruments, in different tempos, and with different arrangements.
But they were all playing the same song.
As Ohno’s eyes grow heavy with sleep, he can hear the rain tapping against the window and the thunder rolling closer. But the lullaby that sings him to sleep is the gentle cadence of Nino’s beating heart, the sheets shuffling as Nino wraps the blankets further around them, and the unspoken I love you that Ohno translates from the soft kiss against his forehead.
---
A/N: You weren't supposed to be posted until later, you stubborn attention whore of a fic, you! *shakes finger*
This fic has been demanding all of my time and making me neglect my other fics, but I found the inspiration to finish it when we had a storm a lot like the one described in these fics, with tornado sirens going off and everything (don't worry, it didn't do damage around where I live). Okay, even so, I love this fic. Maybe even more than the first one. It was strangely emotional for me to write. Still, they're very different. My goal was to make this fic Ohno-like and that fic Nino-like, and I have no idea if I succeeded or not, but if you pay attention, you might see how I changed the style to make it fit one or the other.
Now that this one's posted, I can FINALLY focus on my many works-in-progress. Also, I'm pretty much all prepared for college and everything, which means... more time to write? Whenever I say that, something seems to always come up and prove me wrong XD
By the way, this was also the fic I mentioned in the 2nd batch of drabbles, the Nino-centric one, saying the concept in the drabble was inspired by this.
Have a lovely summer, everyone~!