[one-shot][Ohmiya] Restoration
Title: Restoration
Pairing: Ohmiya
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I don’t even own my wallet, because apparently Johnny owns that, too.
Notes: This story… pretty much wrote itself. You could say I went Ohno-style and just wrote with the flow. Everything came out unexpectedly and differently than I’d planned, but I’m happy with the way it turned out. For the April challenge at Kotoba Yori.
Noun: dialog
Verb: reevaluated
Adjective: incendiary
Interjection: Adieu
Adverb: instantaneously - this one was the hardest, believe it or not.
Rain came down in torrents, raging in merciless intervals. For a while, there’d be a downpour filled with cackling skies and whisks of wind. Then, for a few moments, it’d soften into a drizzle, drumming across the asphalt, plopping against the too-small umbrella. The gusts fired the rain into their faces, rendering the jackets and umbrellas useless. They were two bodies, huddled against each other in an attempt to provide solace for the cold, sharing one umbrella.
Nino squirmed, wrinkling his nose as his clothes squished from the movement, rather than shuffled. In the distance, a tiny light faded into the fog as the sun bid adieu. Usually, the sunset would glaze the horizon hues of purple and navy and gold, but the clouds swallowed the sky into a monochrome world. Even the noisy streets of Tokyo hustling a few stories below, hectic and never resting, were muted by the howls, crashes, and roars.
The balcony directly above the one they were standing on, as well as the cheap parasol trembling in Nino’s hands, supplied no shelter. At any instant, he could slip back through the door, into the studio, back to work. Although he was pretty sure that he would punch the next person who decided that disaster-level tempests were absolutely hilarious because, you know, they were Arashi. Those people apparently held no sympathy for Nino, who had been leaning idly against the freezing metal railing, fumbling with his ineffective umbrella, soaked down to his socks and underwear, the air filled with remnants of winter despite the seasons already having shifted into spring. Nino thought that perhaps this situation should be reevaluated, because even if going inside meant listening to corny Arashi jokes and continuing filming for the show when he was starting to get sick of the guest (the main source of the Arashi-storm cracks), at least the studio was dry and warm. Typically, people preferred being dry and warm to wet and so damn cold.
But Ohno Satoshi was hardly a normal person. In fact, Ohno was very, very odd. The other members certainly didn’t understand him most of the time, but the random musings and strange habits of the taciturn man were something they accepted as Ohno being Ohno. And they all cared for Ohno, much deeper and more profoundly than the oldest was probably aware.
Which was the reason why, when Ohno gently tugged on Nino’s sleeve after the director announced a break from filming, Nino didn’t hesitate to join Ohno on the balcony, facing whatever abuse the weather attacked him with. He knew Ohno was cold, too - he wasn’t shivering, but he pressed up close to Nino, seeking out heat - futile, since both were drenched and equally chilled. Only, Ohno was the one to approach Nino this time. Nino couldn’t say no.
Almost always it was Nino who made the first move: leaning on Ohno’s shoulder, brushing up against him, invading all personal space until the lines dividing them blurred into one entity. It was the same with actions and words; Ohno always reacted. He rarely spoke up first and hardly ever initiated the touches. But today, it was Ohno who sought Nino out, clinging to him like a lifeline in this relentless storm. Since Ohno didn’t talk much and Nino tended to speak sarcastically, the two of them communicated in ways other than through dialog. Aiba once tried to run an experiment on the workings of Ohmiya telepathy, and secretly, Nino hoped he would discover something, because even they didn’t know how it worked. It just did.
And Nino could understand the syntax of words behind the way Ohno gripped the slick railing too tightly, his knuckles pale, and the way Ohno had dragged him away in slight desperation. They were silent whispers of I need you. Ohno never needed to ask twice. The rain and wind and cold weren’t so bad. Not with Ohno.
Because Ohno wasn’t the only one who needed this, these short instants of just being together. Neither of them wanted to go back inside, because when they did, they would be flooded with filming, schedules, and obligations. Nino wasn’t sure what Ohno was upset about, but Ohno just needed a chance to breathe. Nino knew because he needed the same thing. Nino needed Ohno. It scared Nino, how desperately he needed Ohno.
Somewhere between holding hands casually backstage and performing over-the-top skits as a duo in the name of fan service, Nino realized that he loved Ohno differently than he loved the rest. It was frightening because while attempting to suppress the excess emotion, Nino found out that once you had a taste, you could never go back.
Poison can kill you in frighteningly small doses.
Ohno cut so deep into him, straight past his defenses and into his core. When Nino tried to lick the wounds clean, the poison spread until it was as if Ohno himself ran within his blood. There were no fireworks or singing birds, no sudden alignment of the pieces into a picture of a happy ending… only the realization that the toxins had spread straight into his heart, and no antidote could cure him now. It wasn’t a spark, or something he could brush off casually anymore - it was an incendiary love, setting all resolve aflame.
And then, years ago, when every ounce of determination to keep silent finally burned into ashes, Nino confessed. Ohno stuttered out strings of incomprehensible words as he tried to formulate a response, and Nino just walked away, showing off a bravado to hide how severely Ohno’s rejection hurt. A few days later, Ohno came up to him and held his hand with a small smile, biting his lip nervously. Nino understood then, that not saying anything and not having anything to say didn’t necessarily mean the same thing. So Nino devoted himself - and he’s sure Ohno has, too - to the education of their unspoken languages. Nino is now an expert in Ohno’s dialect.
Their first kiss was clumsy. Both of them were hesitant, confused, and unsure, and ended up clashing unskillfully. Nino knew how severe his need for Ohno was, how intensely he wanted him, but fear conquered his desire. But then, Ohno shyly suggested that this just meant they needed to practice more. Nino agreed, and is now also an expert on Ohno’s mouth.
Sex for the first time was even worse. They fumbled around without being completely sure as to what they should be doing. Nino went too quickly, both of them felt more pain than pleasure, and it was all over before they could figure anything out. That time, it was Nino who somehow found the courage to say that practice makes perfect. Nino is now an expert on Ohno’s body, his movements, and his moans as well.
So when Aiba’s research proved inconclusive and he asked straightforwardly how they did “that mind-reading thing,” Nino insisted that it was because Nino was an expert on everything about Ohno. Satisfied with the answer, Aiba made him a badge that read Ohno Carnivore, and one for Ohno with Nino Carnivore on it. Sho pulled Aiba aside, lecturing him on the difference between Connoisseur and Carnivore. Jun grimaced and grumbled about how they were a disgrace to fashion and all that is wonderful and good (along with the comment that they were all being totally disgusting), and Ohno laughed, saying it worked because he would indeed like to eat Nino. They’re tacky, but Nino pinned it on and wore it for the rest of the day anyway, if for nothing else than to goad Jun and their managers… and, of course, because he wanted to prove his title to Ohno later that night.
Nino peered at the man beside him, wrapping his empty hand around Ohno’s waist while clutching the umbrella above them in the other. “We need to go back in soon.” Nino wasn’t whispering, but the sound of the rain drowned out his voice. Ohno slowly drifted his gaze to Nino. “We’ll catch a cold if we stay out here too long.”
They both knew that if they wanted to avoid getting sick, it was a little too late. Nino’s toes were already numb, his shoulders were hunched (more than usual), and his lower lip was trembling. But they had to return eventually. Their break had most likely ended a while ago, and the staff and their band mates were probably looking for them.
Ohno nodded and hummed a nonchalant response, but made no effort to move. Neither did Nino, not because he wanted to stay with Ohno - they would be together during filming for the rest of the day - but because of the half-lidded, tired eyes that Ohno used to stare at him. Ohno always wore a blank expression, but this time, it wasn’t the normal unfocused, sleepy gaze. They were sharp, attentive, and piercing… but empty.
As if he was broken.
Nino dropped the umbrella and enveloped Ohno in both arms, squeezing tightly. He knew what was wrong now (he was, after all, both an Ohno Carnivore and an Ohno Connoisseur). It was the same look after a particularly busy week, as well as the look Ohno gave him after hearing Nino’s confession. It meant that Ohno wanted Nino, needed to be with Nino, but he wasn’t really sure if he could be. They were the times Ohno doubted, hesitated, wondering if loving Nino was really okay. Or, he was stupidly suspecting that Nino or Nino’s love for him would dissipate, like how the strongest storm eventually ceases, leaving behind drops dripping from the leaves of trees and dark-tinted pavement colored by moisture as a memory. Ohno simply needed some reassurance.
The door flung open, a voice barking out their names. Nino loosened his grip around Ohno, not entirely letting go, and glanced over at Sho, who rolled his eyes knowingly. “We’ve been looking for you for almost half an hour now. You better get in here and dried off, because Jun is pissed off, wearing some of the bulkiest rings he owns, and I’m not going to stop him when he smacks you both for holding everyone up.”
“Don’t worry, Mommy,” Nino grinned, slipping his fingers into Ohno’s and interlocking them. “I’ll tell him we were doing dirty things - in great detail - and traumatize him until he’s too busy using his hands to block his ears.”
Nino picked up the umbrella he dropped and leaned it against the wall inside before latching back onto Ohno. They dried off hastily with towels Sho provided before running off to wardrobe to change into dry clothes. When Nino smiled at Ohno, Ohno smiled back, free from the earlier anxious expression. When they went onto the set, Nino held Ohno’s hand again, and didn’t let go through most of the filming.
After work, Nino yanked Ohno to his apartment and drowned him in a kiss the second they shut the door.
The rain had stopped a few minutes before they arrived. Nino wanted to make sure Ohno didn’t forget that the end of the day, the end of the rain, would never mean the end of the two of them. Nino wasn’t going to disappear instantaneously. After all, they were Arashi, just as they’d heard all day from the same quips they’ve heard a million times before. Even if the storm stopped, it would rain again eventually. Even if they separated, they would reunite sooner or later.
When they curled up together in bed, they were entwined in ways that should have been suffocating, yet somehow made breathing so much easier instead. Nino watched Ohno sleep, his lips slightly parted, releasing hot puffs of breath as his chest inflated and deflated. Nino snuggled closer beside Ohno, who grunted and embraced Nino in his sleep, like a child hugging a stuffed animal. It was starting to rain again, and Nino could hear the soft pattering against the window - barely there, but still present. And somehow, the recurrence of the rainfall and the faint smile Ohno gave as he mumbled into his dreams (and into Nino’s body, causing him to shiver) assured Nino that Ohno understood. Ohno knew the way they worked, the way Arashi worked, and maybe he only wanted someone to remind him, or to reassure him that he was right.
They were dependent on one another. Arashi depended on one another. They were two batteries out of five fitted into the same remote, and things simply didn’t work when one was missing. Aiba, Jun, and Sho had their individual talents and endeavors, such as a variety show regular, an actor, and a newscaster. Nino could strum and form melodies on his guitar, could prove his worth in Hollywood, and could perform jaw-dropping magic tricks with the flick of his wrist. Ohno sung with the most beautiful voice, danced with the sharpest moves of the group, and could create figures and drawings that none of them could have even formed within their imaginations.
But none of them could power the world alone.
In the morning, dew hung from the blades of grass and leaves of trees, painting a perfect image of spring, as if the destructive forces of the storm had restored life into the world overnight.
---
um... first fanfic! So be honest and tell me what you think. And by honest, I mean I'm giving out virtual Ohno-shaped cookies to people who contribute to my ego. Yum yum.
Pairing: Ohmiya
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I don’t even own my wallet, because apparently Johnny owns that, too.
Notes: This story… pretty much wrote itself. You could say I went Ohno-style and just wrote with the flow. Everything came out unexpectedly and differently than I’d planned, but I’m happy with the way it turned out. For the April challenge at Kotoba Yori.
Noun: dialog
Verb: reevaluated
Adjective: incendiary
Interjection: Adieu
Adverb: instantaneously - this one was the hardest, believe it or not.
Rain came down in torrents, raging in merciless intervals. For a while, there’d be a downpour filled with cackling skies and whisks of wind. Then, for a few moments, it’d soften into a drizzle, drumming across the asphalt, plopping against the too-small umbrella. The gusts fired the rain into their faces, rendering the jackets and umbrellas useless. They were two bodies, huddled against each other in an attempt to provide solace for the cold, sharing one umbrella.
Nino squirmed, wrinkling his nose as his clothes squished from the movement, rather than shuffled. In the distance, a tiny light faded into the fog as the sun bid adieu. Usually, the sunset would glaze the horizon hues of purple and navy and gold, but the clouds swallowed the sky into a monochrome world. Even the noisy streets of Tokyo hustling a few stories below, hectic and never resting, were muted by the howls, crashes, and roars.
The balcony directly above the one they were standing on, as well as the cheap parasol trembling in Nino’s hands, supplied no shelter. At any instant, he could slip back through the door, into the studio, back to work. Although he was pretty sure that he would punch the next person who decided that disaster-level tempests were absolutely hilarious because, you know, they were Arashi. Those people apparently held no sympathy for Nino, who had been leaning idly against the freezing metal railing, fumbling with his ineffective umbrella, soaked down to his socks and underwear, the air filled with remnants of winter despite the seasons already having shifted into spring. Nino thought that perhaps this situation should be reevaluated, because even if going inside meant listening to corny Arashi jokes and continuing filming for the show when he was starting to get sick of the guest (the main source of the Arashi-storm cracks), at least the studio was dry and warm. Typically, people preferred being dry and warm to wet and so damn cold.
But Ohno Satoshi was hardly a normal person. In fact, Ohno was very, very odd. The other members certainly didn’t understand him most of the time, but the random musings and strange habits of the taciturn man were something they accepted as Ohno being Ohno. And they all cared for Ohno, much deeper and more profoundly than the oldest was probably aware.
Which was the reason why, when Ohno gently tugged on Nino’s sleeve after the director announced a break from filming, Nino didn’t hesitate to join Ohno on the balcony, facing whatever abuse the weather attacked him with. He knew Ohno was cold, too - he wasn’t shivering, but he pressed up close to Nino, seeking out heat - futile, since both were drenched and equally chilled. Only, Ohno was the one to approach Nino this time. Nino couldn’t say no.
Almost always it was Nino who made the first move: leaning on Ohno’s shoulder, brushing up against him, invading all personal space until the lines dividing them blurred into one entity. It was the same with actions and words; Ohno always reacted. He rarely spoke up first and hardly ever initiated the touches. But today, it was Ohno who sought Nino out, clinging to him like a lifeline in this relentless storm. Since Ohno didn’t talk much and Nino tended to speak sarcastically, the two of them communicated in ways other than through dialog. Aiba once tried to run an experiment on the workings of Ohmiya telepathy, and secretly, Nino hoped he would discover something, because even they didn’t know how it worked. It just did.
And Nino could understand the syntax of words behind the way Ohno gripped the slick railing too tightly, his knuckles pale, and the way Ohno had dragged him away in slight desperation. They were silent whispers of I need you. Ohno never needed to ask twice. The rain and wind and cold weren’t so bad. Not with Ohno.
Because Ohno wasn’t the only one who needed this, these short instants of just being together. Neither of them wanted to go back inside, because when they did, they would be flooded with filming, schedules, and obligations. Nino wasn’t sure what Ohno was upset about, but Ohno just needed a chance to breathe. Nino knew because he needed the same thing. Nino needed Ohno. It scared Nino, how desperately he needed Ohno.
Somewhere between holding hands casually backstage and performing over-the-top skits as a duo in the name of fan service, Nino realized that he loved Ohno differently than he loved the rest. It was frightening because while attempting to suppress the excess emotion, Nino found out that once you had a taste, you could never go back.
Poison can kill you in frighteningly small doses.
Ohno cut so deep into him, straight past his defenses and into his core. When Nino tried to lick the wounds clean, the poison spread until it was as if Ohno himself ran within his blood. There were no fireworks or singing birds, no sudden alignment of the pieces into a picture of a happy ending… only the realization that the toxins had spread straight into his heart, and no antidote could cure him now. It wasn’t a spark, or something he could brush off casually anymore - it was an incendiary love, setting all resolve aflame.
And then, years ago, when every ounce of determination to keep silent finally burned into ashes, Nino confessed. Ohno stuttered out strings of incomprehensible words as he tried to formulate a response, and Nino just walked away, showing off a bravado to hide how severely Ohno’s rejection hurt. A few days later, Ohno came up to him and held his hand with a small smile, biting his lip nervously. Nino understood then, that not saying anything and not having anything to say didn’t necessarily mean the same thing. So Nino devoted himself - and he’s sure Ohno has, too - to the education of their unspoken languages. Nino is now an expert in Ohno’s dialect.
Their first kiss was clumsy. Both of them were hesitant, confused, and unsure, and ended up clashing unskillfully. Nino knew how severe his need for Ohno was, how intensely he wanted him, but fear conquered his desire. But then, Ohno shyly suggested that this just meant they needed to practice more. Nino agreed, and is now also an expert on Ohno’s mouth.
Sex for the first time was even worse. They fumbled around without being completely sure as to what they should be doing. Nino went too quickly, both of them felt more pain than pleasure, and it was all over before they could figure anything out. That time, it was Nino who somehow found the courage to say that practice makes perfect. Nino is now an expert on Ohno’s body, his movements, and his moans as well.
So when Aiba’s research proved inconclusive and he asked straightforwardly how they did “that mind-reading thing,” Nino insisted that it was because Nino was an expert on everything about Ohno. Satisfied with the answer, Aiba made him a badge that read Ohno Carnivore, and one for Ohno with Nino Carnivore on it. Sho pulled Aiba aside, lecturing him on the difference between Connoisseur and Carnivore. Jun grimaced and grumbled about how they were a disgrace to fashion and all that is wonderful and good (along with the comment that they were all being totally disgusting), and Ohno laughed, saying it worked because he would indeed like to eat Nino. They’re tacky, but Nino pinned it on and wore it for the rest of the day anyway, if for nothing else than to goad Jun and their managers… and, of course, because he wanted to prove his title to Ohno later that night.
Nino peered at the man beside him, wrapping his empty hand around Ohno’s waist while clutching the umbrella above them in the other. “We need to go back in soon.” Nino wasn’t whispering, but the sound of the rain drowned out his voice. Ohno slowly drifted his gaze to Nino. “We’ll catch a cold if we stay out here too long.”
They both knew that if they wanted to avoid getting sick, it was a little too late. Nino’s toes were already numb, his shoulders were hunched (more than usual), and his lower lip was trembling. But they had to return eventually. Their break had most likely ended a while ago, and the staff and their band mates were probably looking for them.
Ohno nodded and hummed a nonchalant response, but made no effort to move. Neither did Nino, not because he wanted to stay with Ohno - they would be together during filming for the rest of the day - but because of the half-lidded, tired eyes that Ohno used to stare at him. Ohno always wore a blank expression, but this time, it wasn’t the normal unfocused, sleepy gaze. They were sharp, attentive, and piercing… but empty.
As if he was broken.
Nino dropped the umbrella and enveloped Ohno in both arms, squeezing tightly. He knew what was wrong now (he was, after all, both an Ohno Carnivore and an Ohno Connoisseur). It was the same look after a particularly busy week, as well as the look Ohno gave him after hearing Nino’s confession. It meant that Ohno wanted Nino, needed to be with Nino, but he wasn’t really sure if he could be. They were the times Ohno doubted, hesitated, wondering if loving Nino was really okay. Or, he was stupidly suspecting that Nino or Nino’s love for him would dissipate, like how the strongest storm eventually ceases, leaving behind drops dripping from the leaves of trees and dark-tinted pavement colored by moisture as a memory. Ohno simply needed some reassurance.
The door flung open, a voice barking out their names. Nino loosened his grip around Ohno, not entirely letting go, and glanced over at Sho, who rolled his eyes knowingly. “We’ve been looking for you for almost half an hour now. You better get in here and dried off, because Jun is pissed off, wearing some of the bulkiest rings he owns, and I’m not going to stop him when he smacks you both for holding everyone up.”
“Don’t worry, Mommy,” Nino grinned, slipping his fingers into Ohno’s and interlocking them. “I’ll tell him we were doing dirty things - in great detail - and traumatize him until he’s too busy using his hands to block his ears.”
Nino picked up the umbrella he dropped and leaned it against the wall inside before latching back onto Ohno. They dried off hastily with towels Sho provided before running off to wardrobe to change into dry clothes. When Nino smiled at Ohno, Ohno smiled back, free from the earlier anxious expression. When they went onto the set, Nino held Ohno’s hand again, and didn’t let go through most of the filming.
After work, Nino yanked Ohno to his apartment and drowned him in a kiss the second they shut the door.
The rain had stopped a few minutes before they arrived. Nino wanted to make sure Ohno didn’t forget that the end of the day, the end of the rain, would never mean the end of the two of them. Nino wasn’t going to disappear instantaneously. After all, they were Arashi, just as they’d heard all day from the same quips they’ve heard a million times before. Even if the storm stopped, it would rain again eventually. Even if they separated, they would reunite sooner or later.
When they curled up together in bed, they were entwined in ways that should have been suffocating, yet somehow made breathing so much easier instead. Nino watched Ohno sleep, his lips slightly parted, releasing hot puffs of breath as his chest inflated and deflated. Nino snuggled closer beside Ohno, who grunted and embraced Nino in his sleep, like a child hugging a stuffed animal. It was starting to rain again, and Nino could hear the soft pattering against the window - barely there, but still present. And somehow, the recurrence of the rainfall and the faint smile Ohno gave as he mumbled into his dreams (and into Nino’s body, causing him to shiver) assured Nino that Ohno understood. Ohno knew the way they worked, the way Arashi worked, and maybe he only wanted someone to remind him, or to reassure him that he was right.
They were dependent on one another. Arashi depended on one another. They were two batteries out of five fitted into the same remote, and things simply didn’t work when one was missing. Aiba, Jun, and Sho had their individual talents and endeavors, such as a variety show regular, an actor, and a newscaster. Nino could strum and form melodies on his guitar, could prove his worth in Hollywood, and could perform jaw-dropping magic tricks with the flick of his wrist. Ohno sung with the most beautiful voice, danced with the sharpest moves of the group, and could create figures and drawings that none of them could have even formed within their imaginations.
But none of them could power the world alone.
In the morning, dew hung from the blades of grass and leaves of trees, painting a perfect image of spring, as if the destructive forces of the storm had restored life into the world overnight.
---
um... first fanfic! So be honest and tell me what you think. And by honest, I mean I'm giving out virtual Ohno-shaped cookies to people who contribute to my ego. Yum yum.