[one-shot] Displacement Theory
Title: Displacement Theory
Pairings: Sho/Ohno (Yama pair)
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Me no own, so you no sue.
Word Count: 6,042
Summary: Calculating the distance between “you” and “me” - the answer’s a perpetual state of in-betweens.
Notes: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO OUR FAVORITE RAPPER FAIL!MAN NEWSCASTER DORK!
This has unexpectedly become a fic very, very dear to me. Writing it has been quite the experience… and I hope that you can experience a little of the same thing after reading it. Dedicated to all of the amazing people on my flist who, despite being so far away from me, have become very close to my heart. I love you guys ♥
i. add
Sho almost quits the jimusho one day. He was so ready, so sure. Nino came, too; they were going to leave together. Then, they would separate as Nino went off to America to learn about directing and Sho continued his higher education. Sho would graduate, take on a steady job, meet a nice girl, get married, have a family, and eventually retire when his children had grown and his workplace could manage without him. Maybe he’d take a trip to India or something then with his wife, and they would tour the Taj Mahal and eat the exotic foods as they cuddled up together on a hotel balcony at night and go stargazing. He’d die after seeing his great-grandchildren, knowing he’d left some sort of legacy behind.
Wasn’t that the plan? Well, maybe not that exactly, but roughly, shouldn’t that be his life?
Yet he is there (as is Nino) with the wind harsh against his skin, grainy like saltwater, and the waves whipping across the ship’s hull. Nino is crouched in a corner, his face different shades of green. Jun’s eyes bulge with excitement and hope. Ohno sits clutching his knees, looking like he’ll start crying at any moment. Aiba fidgets and squirms, unsure of what else to do with himself.
How did he get here again?
He recites lines for interviews, makes poses as cameras flash, and his thoughts blur until he’s not even sure he can feel anything anymore. The cruiser yields to the ocean and wind, and at every moment he is unsteady on his feet, thrown off balance by the tides. He can’t find his footing.
He still can’t find it after coming back on land.
And it’s a relief, to be honest, when it’s Ohno’s hand being held up and waved around as the winner and not his; when they look at Ohno and call out Leader instead of Sho. After all, why should Sho have been the leader? It’s not like he wanted this. This “Arashi” shouldn’t be his responsibility.
Then again, it was never Ohno’s responsibility, either. Hell, Ohno was probably more against the suddenly formed group than Sho.
Sho feels guilty for a short time, but the blame doesn’t really belong to anyone. They were all just swept up by fallible circumstances that they couldn’t control. It was just some sort of miscalculation.
(That’s what he’s been telling himself, at least, to remedy the knots in his chest because he knows he has dreams and a bright future and he knows that this isn’t it.)
Sho has been able to ride the momentum of the sudden debut up to now, but with their first tour about to come to an end, Sho is getting tired of it. Johnny gave them schedules, songs to sing and words to say… everything but a second to breathe again, a chance to pause and think and ask himself if he really wants this and what should he do about it. But here, backstage, moments before the concert’s commencement, he found that chance to take everything into consideration. It hurts to do so, and Sho can’t figure out why.
If he goes to Keio as planned, he will obtain stability and reassurance - a fallback for when their short-lived fame ends. Idols are ephemeral; they’re a fad of the masses that are thrown out like garbage once the public tires of them. Sho will admit that singing, dancing, rapping, and hanging out with the others is fun enough, but reasonably it’s not something that Sho can entrust his future to.
That’s all. It’s simple, really. It isn’t even worth a second thought.
Sho slips into the seat next to Ohno in the dressing room, getting a tiny nod of acknowledgment from the spacey boy in return. Jun is there as well, but on the opposite site of the room, having a discussion with one of the stylists.
“What are they doing?” Sho asks, before remembering that this is Ohno he’s talking to, and he would have an easier time having a conversation with a brick wall.
But surprisingly, Ohno doesn’t just give an offhand shrug. “Matsujun is making suggestions,” he says quietly. “About costumes and stuff. And asking questions. I think… he really wants this.”
Sho looks up to see Jun holding up a particularly sparkly pink shirt and winces. “He… really wants it, huh? I guess we’ve had worse, though. I can’t believe some of the costumes they made us wear as juniors.”
“Huh?” Ohno blinks. “Oh, that’s not what I meant. This. He wants… us.”
Ohno usually makes as much sense as someone speaking in a foreign language, but Sho is startled because he looks back to the youngest and actually knows what Ohno is saying. Jun carries the same eagerness as when they debuted, and all of the same uncertainties. Sho, Ohno, and Nino all had dreams outside of Johnny’s Entertainment, but what about Jun and Aiba?
Sho already knew that debuting was Jun’s dream - Arashi was Jun’s dream - but Ohno’s vague words twist the thought until it winds into his stomach and disrupts all of Sho’s logic. Because Sho has viewed Arashi as just that, a storm, and has been focusing on the way he’s been tossed to and fro like a boat in a typhoon, and how he’s wet and tired and sick of being knocked around. He’s been searching for ways to get back to land, and he never realized quite what that meant to the people who want to stay on the ship and find a way to sail through the storm.
Abandoning ship means abandoning the people on board.
“But do you want it?” Sho whispers, because something in Ohno’s eyes tells him that Ohno has come to this conclusion as well.
The world around them grows busier: hairdressers and make-up arrive and dig around, setting up their supplies. Managers and staff members flit around mentioning schedules and technical jargon. Outside, the halls are bustling as the crew prepares for the final show of their very first concert (it’s like a last chance at a first impression, Sho thinks, and pushes away his conscience’s refutation that it’s something different, more like a beginning than an end).
Within the increasing volume around them, Ohno’s voice is a soft constancy, and Sho fears it will fade amidst the clamor. But Ohno is there, steady and unchanging (the beams from a lighthouse that flicker through the obese storm clouds; the man they’ve nominated as their leader and captain despite him being just as lost, who can somehow navigate these ambiguous waters and bring them toward the light).
“I don’t really know… I’m not unhappy, but I don’t think I belong here.” Ohno licks his lips and pinches his nose as their manager pops in and tells them it’s time for rehearsal. Sho realizes that this might be the most he’s heard Ohno talk since meeting him, and somehow it feels significant. “But then again, maybe the place you belong isn’t something you find, but something you make.”
Ohno shuffles out nonchalantly, as if nothing he said held importance, and in that moment, Sho decides that maybe there’s a reason Ohno is the leader. Maybe he’s their calm within the storm.
Is Arashi a job?
Jun follows Ohno out, suppressing a toothy grin from bottled-up enthusiasm. He wants this, Sho repeats in his head. He really wants this.
Suddenly, the idea doesn’t seem so bad.
ii. subtract
Sho almost pointed out the way something seemed off, but it was mostly some sort of instinct, not something he could actually see, so he remains silent. Besides, it was Aiba. Nothing was ever wrong with Aiba; Aiba was the one who made things right.
Until he collapsed.
Sho wishes he could forget that feeling of dread, those open possibilities of turns for the worse. Sho already knew - and he’s sure the others knew as well - that they could lose Arashi at any given moment, but those fragile days became Sho’s first confrontation of exactly how much he had to lose.
But Aiba has always been too strong to let something like that bring him down. In time, he recovered, and Arashi’s time began ticking forward at a normal pace again. It’s been two years now, a journey neither short nor long, ugly nor beautiful - but it’s one that Sho is thankful for. He’s thankful for every second.
As always, it’s Aiba’s presence that tells Sho things are the way they should be with Arashi. It’s Aiba who takes their shaky dream and gives it a shape: for Arashi to become number one.
Sho is fatigued, but it’s not from staying awake for nearly two days straight, from running back and forth from different venues, or from the camera’s constant eye on them, giving no mercy for them to slow down. He’s tired because of the strain of held-back tears and the oppressing guilt on his back, from the bruises he’s inflicting on his own heart by wondering over and over how the group known for being so close could have been so myopic over such precious and important things.
We didn’t even notice.
“Notice what?” Ohno asks weakly from behind him even though Sho doesn’t remember speaking, profound bags under his eyes. He stretches his hands into the air, revealing a patch of toned muscle hidden beneath yellow fabric. Something strange swells up in Sho’s own stomach, mixing in with his contradicting emotions and last morsel of adrenaline. It’s something frighteningly unfamiliar but he’s too tired to ignore it or fight it or even give a damn.
“He’s struggled with those feelings for two years and we didn’t even suspect anything was wrong.”
Ohno freezes with his arms still over his head and pouts, furrowing his eyebrows. It’s sort of adorable, but Sho doesn’t think he even has the energy to laugh. Ohno’s expression softens again before he even has a chance to try. “Sho-kun, we couldn’t have-”
For once, Sho doesn’t want to hear what Ohno has to say. “Yes, we could have. We could have but we didn’t. You heard what Aiba said in his letter, didn’t you? He was probably expecting us to kick him out or something. He thought he was useless, like he was being a burden to us.”
“Did you think that?”
Ohno’s question slammed right through his chest and punched into his heart. “Of course I didn’t. That’s why-”
“You both have less than a minute to get back onstage!” someone interrupts before running off, probably to find the other members.
Sho stands and starts to walk away, but Ohno catches his wrist. “You wouldn’t ever think of Aiba-chan as a burden,” Ohno continues, suddenly completely awake and alert. “None of us would dare. How are we supposed to notice Aiba-chan’s feelings when he’s smiling all the time, and the thought is something absolutely ridiculous that would never even cross our minds?”
Sho opens his mouth to respond, but Ohno drags him back to the stage to continue the live broadcast. Aiba greets them again with his sunny smile and playful giggle, and right before the cameras switch back to them Sho can hear Aiba sigh happily, “Isn’t Arashi the best?”
After trying to keep himself under control after twenty-four tear-inducing hours, everything threatens to overflow and spill. Sho tries to match Aiba’s smile instead, grinning so wide it hurts his jaw and laughing so hard he loses his breath, because all of the chaos within him has acuminated into understanding.
(But no, Sho corrects himself, it’s the opposite: all sagacity has lost to chaos, and Sho is confused at how the world seems to make more sense in the realms outside of logic.)
Sho steals a glance to Ohno and feels an urge to find enlightenment on every little thing that makes Ohno tick. He wants to know all of the secrets of Ohno’s world, all of the dull enigmas and ordinary beauties.
iii. divide
Sho almost confesses to Ohno, but he doesn’t.
Whenever he is with Ohno, it feels as if he’s in a place he’s not permitted to be, so he takes a step back. And in turn, the gap between them becomes a gulf so far apart that Sho’s not sure he can hear Ohno’s actual voice anymore, because all he can hear are the echoes.
The distance is tangible, as if they’re connected by an invisible line and Sho is straining to the extent he fears it may snap, and he’ll be cut off from Ohno completely. It’s an unbearable tug-of-war with conflicting emotions. Sho is reaching out with open arms and an open heart, but Ohno is always too far away to touch.
But then, a new distance shakes him, and he has arms stretched out in opposing directions but is still unable to grasp anything. This time, though, it’s okay. Sho remembers those days when Nino dreamt of going to America for directing, and while maybe the dream has changed, he knows that Nino deserves this. Sho had his chance to pursue something outside of Arashi with Keio, and maybe this is Nino’s opportunity to do the same. Starring in a Hollywood movie was nothing short of a monumental feat. The other four have had to make due during Nino’s absence, but Nino is worth it.
Still, that doesn’t stop his world from aching as if disjointed, and while he certainly doesn’t think that Nino leaving is a mistake, his body feels worn down for some reason, and he knows that something important has been overlooked, or overshadowed.
And while all of the members suffer from it, it’s Ohno who sits with his hands clenched as they’re folded over his lap. His eyes are concentrated on the ground as if eventually Nino will rise from there, because to Ohno, Hollywood is as distant as an unknown underground city: a place majestic and miraculous that Ohno has never seen or touched, and never will be able to no matter much dirt he garners under his nails trying to dig it up.
Seeing Ohno in such a state is what enlightens Sho to his own feelings. They’ve both been stretching their arms out to touch the ethereal; trying to trespass into territory they aren’t permitted to go. But the most painful thing is that while Sho is extending his arms toward Ohno, Ohno isn’t reaching for Sho. Maybe Nino is the one he loves, Sho thinks one day. He almost wishes he’d feel bitter about it, because he only feels sad.
Ohno is in flight so high above him, soaring to heights that Sho is unable to go (or is at least too much of a coward to try). Because Ohno flies with talent and kindness and all of those hidden treasures, while Sho can only create a poor duplicate.
Waxen wings will never be strong enough to withstand the sun.
But Ohno’s eyes aren’t set on Sho; they’re gazing beyond him, to something farther off, probably to something greater. Still, Sho can’t shake off the feeling that maybe Ohno isn’t sure what he’s searching for in the first place, like he’s waiting for a train without being sure of where he’s going.
Sho sits beside Ohno after the day’s work is done and the last of filming is completed (completed, but not whole - one member is missing, after all) and all has gone quiet. The couch in the green room is rather uncomfortable, somehow saggy from use and stiff at the same time, and Sho uses it as an excuse to wrap an arm around the older man and snuggle up beside him, even though the conditions of the sofa really has nothing to do with what the proper proximity apart is or isn’t. Ohno heaves a sigh and rests his head against Sho’s shoulder, giggling wearily and teasing him about how his head might slide off because of the slope.
Sho supposes that this would be the time to tell himself that his only wish is for Ohno to be happy, but he can’t. He wants Ohno to be happy with him. He doesn’t want to see Ohno content with someone else. It’s horrible and selfish and he knows that, damnit, but if he knew a way to change his heart he wouldn’t have this problem in the first place.
“Nino should be home next week,” Sho mutters, squeezing him closer, possessive over what isn’t his. He spoke thoughtlessly. He didn’t want to bring Nino up at all.
Ohno hums an affirmative, tracing circles on Sho’s knee with his finger, his nail scratching his jeans lightly. Sho can feel his face flushing. Neither of them say anything further, so Sho closes his eyes and pretends that the physical contact isn’t some unconscious act and that Ohno’s touch is speaking to him, as if the circles he’s making are actually hearts.
“He’ll be back, right?” Ohno says into Sho’s arm, muffling the sound.
“I just said that. Next week.” Sho wishes Ohno would just drop it. No, that’s not it… Sho wishes that Ohno would, for only a few precious minutes, focus on Sho and nothing else.
But Ohno sits up, shaking his head. The ministrations on Sho’s knee halt, and the loss screams at him like a bad itch. “No, I mean, do you think he… that he’ll be back?”
Sho frowns. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. My manager mentioned earlier that they just had to wrap a few things up, and if all goes well, he will arrive in Japan in about a week. He should be perfectly able to participate in all of our activities upon his return. Is that what you mean? Sure, Satoshi-kun, he might be a bit jet lagged, but that doesn’t mean he can’t film with us.”
“No, I… Nevermind.” Ohno dips his head, biting his lip as if disappointed… but in whom? Sho? Nino? Himself? Sho can’t understand why Ohno is acting like Nino is going to run off and become a Hollywood star and-
Sho tenses, swallowing hard. “Are you asking… if Nino wants to come back to us? If he really will?”
As Ohno nods slowly, Sho’s mind begins to whirr with an entirely new train of thought. What is Nino reaching out for? Has something bigger than Arashi, something like Hollywood, been in his vision this entire time? If he returns to them and stays, will he forever be staring off into the distance, regretting the way he touched the unreachable and then let it go?
“I want Nino to do whatever makes him happy,” Ohno admits, “but I really love Arashi, and Arashi won’t be Arashi without Nino. I don’t want him or Arashi to go away. Is that selfish of me?”
Maybe, Sho thinks. But not any more selfish than the blip on your radar that wants to become your destination - your home - even though you deserve so much more.
Or it could be that Ohno’s destination is Arashi. Perhaps…
So Sho says, “Maybe, but… but I think we all feel the same. Matsujun and Aiba-chan definitely would never want Nino to leave. Everyone is selfish in some way, but thinking of yourself isn’t a bad thing, right? I don’t know how Nino feels, or what it is he wants, but he cares for Arashi, too. If Arashi means as much to Nino as it does to us, and I believe it does, Nino isn’t going to leave.”
Sho isn’t entirely sure about what he’s saying, but Ohno finds meaning in his gibberish. He smiles, leans back onto Sho and slips his arms around Sho’s waist, pushing his face into Sho’s chest. Sho’s a little mortified because Ohno can probably hear his accelerated heartbeat and probably noticed the slight gasp Sho forgot to hold back. But Ohno is there, so close to him and so real, close enough for Sho to breathe in the smells of clay and faded cologne and a little sweat.
Sho shuts his eyes again; the shorter man’s fingers are at work once more, trailing lightly along his back, and this time he doesn’t need to pretend: Ohno’s touch is speaking, telling him thank you over and over.
Sho wants to believe that one day it will be saying I love you instead.
iv. multiply
Sho almost does a backflip. A real backflip, with no one there to push his legs over his head. Only, it’s while falling off the stage during rehearsals, and even though it starts out as a flip when he falls backwards and manages to turn around in the air, he kind of ends up crashing into the ground gracelessly before he can go full circle and land on his feet, and he sort of fractures his thumb in the process. But technicalities aside, he almost does one.
Hah. They make fun of him for being afraid of heights, and then he falls off the stage. Why isn’t he surprised?
It’s not a major injury. After a few weeks, with the help of some painkillers and that Sai Baba-like guy, the fracture is almost completely healed. Even during concerts, the pain isn’t too intense, and the other members are constantly making sure that Sho is taken care of.
So it’s probably at least somewhat Sho’s fault that Ohno comes so close to hitting rock bottom, almost like Sho grabbed onto him and dragged him down with him, still as greedy as always. But it happens slowly, and everyone is too busy applauding Ohno for his first leading role or preparing for concerts and new singles and helping Sho carry his bags around because of that stupid thumb to notice that Ohno has slipped. Eventually they realize Ohno’s shoulders are sagging from fatigue, that there are dark circles under his eyes, and that his body has become thinner and frailer, but by then the scandal gets out, and it’s too late to catch him. They can only watch Ohno fall and pray he doesn’t break, that they’ll have the strength to pull him back onto his feet again.
Because, as always, Ohno’s eyes are on some outlying wonder, only now… Ohno is beginning to strive for it. He’s moving toward it, away from them (away from Sho), and in the process making it the only thing that exists in his universe - and probably without even realizing he’s doing it. He’s drifting off, focused so intently on a lighthouse beyond an unconquerable tempest that it’s become all he sees. He can’t see the other members anymore. He can’t see their concern. He can’t see Sho, struggling in impossible winds but unable to follow. Ohno’s even become blind to himself and his own condition. In the process of chasing a light, the world around him has grown dark.
(Ohno is still Sho’s lighthouse. He has been since the beginning. If Ohno loses himself, will Sho ever see the light again?)
But even though it’s so painful to watch, and even though it’s obvious that this is not the way things should be, Sho can’t object entirely. The others try so hard to help Ohno with work or by bringing food in for him and forcing him to eat, anything they possibly can, but Ohno only accepts the acts of kindness out of politeness. Ohno has made a decision to stand alone. Ohno fell, and he broke. But not in the way most people think - it’s the brokenness of realizing that your feet are in ball and chain, dragging you back down into the place you want to break free of and keeping you away from the place you want to go.
Ohno is putting himself back together, and they can’t help him do that because only Ohno knows where the pieces fit. They can’t speak his soliloquy. It’s heartbreaking on both sides, but Sho understands: for those crossing the vast spaces between them and their treasure, it’s a fall that’s a necessity.
Sho has faith in Ohno, but not enough. Sho believes that Ohno will be able to repair himself, but not with all of his heart. Sho is confident that Ohno will reach that faraway light no matter how broken he becomes, but not that he will take Sho with him.
For all Sho knows, it’s not as dramatic as he makes it out to be, and soon everything will be in a state of peace again. But the bottom line is that Ohno isn’t himself anymore, and that much is more than enough to concern him.
The four of them have been doing all they can to keep Ohno from falling away from them, even though Ohno continues to say he’s fine, that it’s only until the drama is finished. That might be true, but Sho isn’t patient enough to wait and find out if Ohno would return or not. Arashi needs their leader. Sho needs Satoshi.
When they arrive at the next hotel for the next string of concerts, Sho manages to convince Ohno that his teeth grinding has gotten better, really, and that they should share a room this time. The others return to their own rooms; they can tell (they can always tell) that it’s not a time for late-night banter or for reviewing concert footage together seriously. Sho is reaching out again for the one he has never been able to touch, hoping that this time Ohno will reach out to Sho as well.
Ohno shrugs his jacket off and drops it aimlessly on the floor, heading straight for the bed. Sho stops him before he can crawl under the covers. “Please, Satoshi,” he whispers, suddenly struck with desperation. “Please, no more of this. No more. Eat meals three times a day, get enough sleep, don’t go fishing when you’re so fucking tired you can barely stand-”
“I’m trying to go to sleep now,” Ohno points out, squirming in an attempt to get his arm out of Sho’s grip. Sho hadn’t noticed he’d begun squeezing it. “You’re the one who’s not letting me.”
Little by little, the distance between them was increasing, and Sho can’t take it anymore. He can’t let Ohno slip away and disappear.
Sho kisses him. He runs his tongue across Ohno’s lips, tasting the leftover lip balm, sucking on the bottom one a bit insistently. But it only lasts a few seconds; he stops himself, backing away but avoiding eye contact. Ohno is still far, far away, even when Sho is holding him so close.
Ohno runs and Sho doesn’t blame him. The hotel door shuts with a thud behind him, and Sho is left with the humming of the air conditioner, the lights still off and the curtains drawn. The room is Sho’s world, isolated and small and not where Ohno wants to be. Sho wishes he could dash to the wide world beyond his walls, but it feels like Ohno is sprinting too fast, and Sho can’t get far enough away from his own place to catch up. The world is moving around him while he’s at a standstill, strapped down by a ball and chain. Sho fell (in love) and broke (his heart), and (unlike Ohno) he doesn’t know how to puzzle the fragments back together.
The distance never decreases; it simply spreads out in all directions until Sho is even far away from himself.
Ohno probably just went next door to stay the night with someone else. He’s only a room away now.
But Sho can feel it. The distance is expanding.
v. calculate
Sho almost brings up the kiss, but every time he tries, he pictures Ohno running away again, his back growing further and further away until he’s just a speck on the horizon, and then eventually blending into it until Sho can’t see him at all. Sho can’t bear the thought of the space between them increasing, so he hesitates and decides to keep the peace. He almost breaks it; almost, but not quite.
They are still Arashi, and Arashi is still the best of friends, just as they have been for the past ten years. Their anniversary is almost like proof of that, as if it’s their bond that’s being celebrated, not their career. After ten long years of happiness and hardships, they’ve reached their dream of becoming on top. With all of their accomplishments, from the sell-out concerts to their million-seller album, and into the beginning of their eleventh year, they all love each other, and that hasn’t changed. Ohno and Sho still love each other, and that hasn’t changed - it’s just that Sho loves Ohno in a different way than Ohno loves him. Sho doesn’t feel awkward when he throws an arm around the shorter member’s shoulder, or when they’re talking together casually when they’re alone. Their friendship is strong. It’s not that kind of distance.
It’s the distance of not even being able to believe in the whole-hearted illusions he’s created, those pretty ideas full of kisses and embraces and eternities, and then striving for that imaginary world anyway. It’s how Sho is happy yet never satisfied with the way things are, and not even being sure he wants to be, like he’s depending on some fictitious beauty to understand him and act as a painkiller.
The distance of human nature.
“What is?” Ohno inquires from behind him, causing Sho to jump out of his seat, clutching his chest. “The ‘distance of human nature…’ sounds like some documentary.”
Sho calms himself down, scooting over to give Ohno room on the couch. Ohno sits squashed up next to him anyway. “Well… the way we create distance between each other without realizing it, even when we’re trying to bridge the gaps. When we see something out of reach, we want it more than anything, and when we try to obtain it, we accidentally end up pushing it away.”
Ohno purses his lips and nods. “Sho-kun has sure been thinking about deep stuff, haven’t you?”
Sho laughs, ruffling Ohno’s hair. “Must be old age. I’ll be twenty-eight tomorrow, you know.”
“That’s funny. I’m twenty-nine now, and that deep-thinking stage still hasn’t hit me.” Ohno grins, but it fades upon studying Sho’s expression, and he asks him what’s wrong. Is Sho really that easy to read?
“I’m just tired,” Sho sighs. “Tired of reaching for the unreachable, even though I know I’ll never stop wanting it. I just… it almost feels like life is rolling by me while I’m stuck in a perpetual state of in-betweens. I feel like I’m in my own solitary little world sometimes, and it’s a place where my voice only echoes and not a single outsider can hear me, but I can’t stop screaming.”
Tired because human nature seems to dictate that the treasures we already have and the rewards we gain after fighting all become burdens once they’re in our hands. Tired of turning everything in my life into a burden just because I want and love what I can’t have. Tired because reality is cruel, but all of the escape routes only lead to emptiness.
(Because Ohno is too far off now, and Sho can’t even ask for it. Even his words can’t travel there; they would just fly off without ever arriving.)
But Sho doesn’t divulge that; he watches Ohno furrow his eyebrows, trying to make sense of what Sho said. “This isn’t about Arashi, is it?”
“No,” Sho assures him, shaking his head. He stands up to leave, even though he doesn’t really have anywhere to get to. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”
“Why did you kiss me?”
The blood drains from Sho’s face. Ohno remains seated, looking up at him with patient but wide eyes. Why is he suddenly bringing it up after half a year of pretending it never happened? How could he have known that it was him Sho was referring to?
Sho can’t think of a single beautiful lie that could cover it up. The only thing in his mind is the truth. So, after a moment of hesitation, Sho throws his emotions into that gorge between them rather than hiding them, the way he’s been hiding since the beginning. He might have a lot to lose, but he has so, so much he wants to gain.
“Because I wanted to kiss you,” Sho admits. “Because I wanted to bridge the gap. Because I’m in love you, but it feels like you’re in a place my love doesn’t reach.”
Ohno is quietly contemplating, staring at his hands and taking deep breaths. After a few silent moments he stands, meeting Sho’s gaze. “You know,” he says softly, “if you feel like you’re screaming and your voice is just echoing back to you, maybe that’s not a bad thing. Maybe, for once, you’ll hear yourself.”
Sho opens his mouth to reply, but there are lips gliding over lips, fingers curled in his hair and around his nape, and eyelashes fluttering against his cheek. Ohno is hesitant and unsure but he’s there, right there, right there in a place Sho can reach him.
Sho pulls Ohno closer, parting Ohno’s lips with his tongue and moving his hands to Ohno’s hips, rubbing his thumbs along the bones there. He explores the contours of Ohno’s mouth, memorizes the tastes until they both run out of air. They part, but they don’t separate.
Or maybe, it means you should stop screaming and try listening instead, Sho imagines Ohno continuing breathlessly as if it’s some justification; like something needs to be undone. But they aren’t polished and gleaming with all of the things they are - they’re rough and imperfect but abound with things they could be, because they’re polar ends to the same earth with so much territory between them to explore. Ohno is reaching out as if waving a magic wand around, transforming the space between them that Sho’s cursed at for so long into an opportunity to create memories. He accidentally lets this thought slip to Ohno. Ohno punches his arm and calls him a sap.
Sho laughs as he kisses him again; light pecks all across his face, grinning like an idiot as Ohno blushes from the attention. He is listening now as Ohno shyly whispers into his ear the words that Sho has been aching for this entire time: “Happy birthday. I love you, Sho-kun.”
How long, he wonders, has Ohno been saying it? How long has he been waiting for Sho to hear it? On that day he ran, did he wait outside the door for Sho to chase after him? All of those times he painted imaginary pictures with his finger on Sho’s arm or knee, have they been hearts all along? Has Sho actually been trying to touch, not trying to hold, and in the process always keeping Ohno an arm’s distance away?
But there is no distance now. There is Sho desperately crashing his lips against Ohno’s, pushing him back until he collapses on the couch. There’s Sho climbing on top of him and kissing along his jaw line, sucking on his neck, nibbling on his ear. There are Ohno’s little moans and shivers as Sho strips off their shirts and teases a nipple, rolling his tongue across the roof of Ohno’s mouth. There's skin against skin and dirty words and pure intensity. There’s heat and passion and sweat, and there’s Ohno crying out Sho’s name as they climax. It’s a song that reverberates throughout his mind, proof that their worlds have made contact.
No, there is certainly no distance now.
They stay that way, panting and tangled in one another, and Sho understands. Is Sho soaring now, or has Ohno’s feet touched the earth? It doesn’t matter; the scenery is beautiful no matter where they go. This is not the destination, and neither is Sho - Ohno is still looking towards somewhere far off, a place not yet seen or touched.
Ohno’s hands run along his spine, fingers dancing across his hips, up to his shoulders and neck. They’re mapping out that distant world, Sho thinks. Without me, he can never find or reach it. I’m his map to that far off place.
That place they can go together.
---
A/N: (aka quick pimpage:) want a drabble? Read the end of this post to find out more!
This fic started with the line "almost, but not quite." That was even the title. It started with an idea of Sho living a logical, structured life, and Ohno being the thing that breaks it; Sho being fascinated with Ohno but unable to understand him. And as I wrote, it changed into this - "Displacement Theory". As for what that means, I'll leave it up to you. Writing this brought me to tears... and maybe even self-discovery. Whether you are moved as deeply as I am from this fic or it's just another fanfiction to you, I hope it's shown you a glimpse of a world that seems distant, but is perhaps much closer than we think.
Pairings: Sho/Ohno (Yama pair)
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Me no own, so you no sue.
Word Count: 6,042
Summary: Calculating the distance between “you” and “me” - the answer’s a perpetual state of in-betweens.
Notes: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO OUR FAVORITE RAPPER FAIL!MAN NEWSCASTER DORK!
This has unexpectedly become a fic very, very dear to me. Writing it has been quite the experience… and I hope that you can experience a little of the same thing after reading it. Dedicated to all of the amazing people on my flist who, despite being so far away from me, have become very close to my heart. I love you guys ♥
i. add
Sho almost quits the jimusho one day. He was so ready, so sure. Nino came, too; they were going to leave together. Then, they would separate as Nino went off to America to learn about directing and Sho continued his higher education. Sho would graduate, take on a steady job, meet a nice girl, get married, have a family, and eventually retire when his children had grown and his workplace could manage without him. Maybe he’d take a trip to India or something then with his wife, and they would tour the Taj Mahal and eat the exotic foods as they cuddled up together on a hotel balcony at night and go stargazing. He’d die after seeing his great-grandchildren, knowing he’d left some sort of legacy behind.
Wasn’t that the plan? Well, maybe not that exactly, but roughly, shouldn’t that be his life?
Yet he is there (as is Nino) with the wind harsh against his skin, grainy like saltwater, and the waves whipping across the ship’s hull. Nino is crouched in a corner, his face different shades of green. Jun’s eyes bulge with excitement and hope. Ohno sits clutching his knees, looking like he’ll start crying at any moment. Aiba fidgets and squirms, unsure of what else to do with himself.
How did he get here again?
He recites lines for interviews, makes poses as cameras flash, and his thoughts blur until he’s not even sure he can feel anything anymore. The cruiser yields to the ocean and wind, and at every moment he is unsteady on his feet, thrown off balance by the tides. He can’t find his footing.
He still can’t find it after coming back on land.
And it’s a relief, to be honest, when it’s Ohno’s hand being held up and waved around as the winner and not his; when they look at Ohno and call out Leader instead of Sho. After all, why should Sho have been the leader? It’s not like he wanted this. This “Arashi” shouldn’t be his responsibility.
Then again, it was never Ohno’s responsibility, either. Hell, Ohno was probably more against the suddenly formed group than Sho.
Sho feels guilty for a short time, but the blame doesn’t really belong to anyone. They were all just swept up by fallible circumstances that they couldn’t control. It was just some sort of miscalculation.
(That’s what he’s been telling himself, at least, to remedy the knots in his chest because he knows he has dreams and a bright future and he knows that this isn’t it.)
Sho has been able to ride the momentum of the sudden debut up to now, but with their first tour about to come to an end, Sho is getting tired of it. Johnny gave them schedules, songs to sing and words to say… everything but a second to breathe again, a chance to pause and think and ask himself if he really wants this and what should he do about it. But here, backstage, moments before the concert’s commencement, he found that chance to take everything into consideration. It hurts to do so, and Sho can’t figure out why.
If he goes to Keio as planned, he will obtain stability and reassurance - a fallback for when their short-lived fame ends. Idols are ephemeral; they’re a fad of the masses that are thrown out like garbage once the public tires of them. Sho will admit that singing, dancing, rapping, and hanging out with the others is fun enough, but reasonably it’s not something that Sho can entrust his future to.
That’s all. It’s simple, really. It isn’t even worth a second thought.
Sho slips into the seat next to Ohno in the dressing room, getting a tiny nod of acknowledgment from the spacey boy in return. Jun is there as well, but on the opposite site of the room, having a discussion with one of the stylists.
“What are they doing?” Sho asks, before remembering that this is Ohno he’s talking to, and he would have an easier time having a conversation with a brick wall.
But surprisingly, Ohno doesn’t just give an offhand shrug. “Matsujun is making suggestions,” he says quietly. “About costumes and stuff. And asking questions. I think… he really wants this.”
Sho looks up to see Jun holding up a particularly sparkly pink shirt and winces. “He… really wants it, huh? I guess we’ve had worse, though. I can’t believe some of the costumes they made us wear as juniors.”
“Huh?” Ohno blinks. “Oh, that’s not what I meant. This. He wants… us.”
Ohno usually makes as much sense as someone speaking in a foreign language, but Sho is startled because he looks back to the youngest and actually knows what Ohno is saying. Jun carries the same eagerness as when they debuted, and all of the same uncertainties. Sho, Ohno, and Nino all had dreams outside of Johnny’s Entertainment, but what about Jun and Aiba?
Sho already knew that debuting was Jun’s dream - Arashi was Jun’s dream - but Ohno’s vague words twist the thought until it winds into his stomach and disrupts all of Sho’s logic. Because Sho has viewed Arashi as just that, a storm, and has been focusing on the way he’s been tossed to and fro like a boat in a typhoon, and how he’s wet and tired and sick of being knocked around. He’s been searching for ways to get back to land, and he never realized quite what that meant to the people who want to stay on the ship and find a way to sail through the storm.
Abandoning ship means abandoning the people on board.
“But do you want it?” Sho whispers, because something in Ohno’s eyes tells him that Ohno has come to this conclusion as well.
The world around them grows busier: hairdressers and make-up arrive and dig around, setting up their supplies. Managers and staff members flit around mentioning schedules and technical jargon. Outside, the halls are bustling as the crew prepares for the final show of their very first concert (it’s like a last chance at a first impression, Sho thinks, and pushes away his conscience’s refutation that it’s something different, more like a beginning than an end).
Within the increasing volume around them, Ohno’s voice is a soft constancy, and Sho fears it will fade amidst the clamor. But Ohno is there, steady and unchanging (the beams from a lighthouse that flicker through the obese storm clouds; the man they’ve nominated as their leader and captain despite him being just as lost, who can somehow navigate these ambiguous waters and bring them toward the light).
“I don’t really know… I’m not unhappy, but I don’t think I belong here.” Ohno licks his lips and pinches his nose as their manager pops in and tells them it’s time for rehearsal. Sho realizes that this might be the most he’s heard Ohno talk since meeting him, and somehow it feels significant. “But then again, maybe the place you belong isn’t something you find, but something you make.”
Ohno shuffles out nonchalantly, as if nothing he said held importance, and in that moment, Sho decides that maybe there’s a reason Ohno is the leader. Maybe he’s their calm within the storm.
Is Arashi a job?
Jun follows Ohno out, suppressing a toothy grin from bottled-up enthusiasm. He wants this, Sho repeats in his head. He really wants this.
Suddenly, the idea doesn’t seem so bad.
ii. subtract
Sho almost pointed out the way something seemed off, but it was mostly some sort of instinct, not something he could actually see, so he remains silent. Besides, it was Aiba. Nothing was ever wrong with Aiba; Aiba was the one who made things right.
Until he collapsed.
Sho wishes he could forget that feeling of dread, those open possibilities of turns for the worse. Sho already knew - and he’s sure the others knew as well - that they could lose Arashi at any given moment, but those fragile days became Sho’s first confrontation of exactly how much he had to lose.
But Aiba has always been too strong to let something like that bring him down. In time, he recovered, and Arashi’s time began ticking forward at a normal pace again. It’s been two years now, a journey neither short nor long, ugly nor beautiful - but it’s one that Sho is thankful for. He’s thankful for every second.
As always, it’s Aiba’s presence that tells Sho things are the way they should be with Arashi. It’s Aiba who takes their shaky dream and gives it a shape: for Arashi to become number one.
Sho is fatigued, but it’s not from staying awake for nearly two days straight, from running back and forth from different venues, or from the camera’s constant eye on them, giving no mercy for them to slow down. He’s tired because of the strain of held-back tears and the oppressing guilt on his back, from the bruises he’s inflicting on his own heart by wondering over and over how the group known for being so close could have been so myopic over such precious and important things.
We didn’t even notice.
“Notice what?” Ohno asks weakly from behind him even though Sho doesn’t remember speaking, profound bags under his eyes. He stretches his hands into the air, revealing a patch of toned muscle hidden beneath yellow fabric. Something strange swells up in Sho’s own stomach, mixing in with his contradicting emotions and last morsel of adrenaline. It’s something frighteningly unfamiliar but he’s too tired to ignore it or fight it or even give a damn.
“He’s struggled with those feelings for two years and we didn’t even suspect anything was wrong.”
Ohno freezes with his arms still over his head and pouts, furrowing his eyebrows. It’s sort of adorable, but Sho doesn’t think he even has the energy to laugh. Ohno’s expression softens again before he even has a chance to try. “Sho-kun, we couldn’t have-”
For once, Sho doesn’t want to hear what Ohno has to say. “Yes, we could have. We could have but we didn’t. You heard what Aiba said in his letter, didn’t you? He was probably expecting us to kick him out or something. He thought he was useless, like he was being a burden to us.”
“Did you think that?”
Ohno’s question slammed right through his chest and punched into his heart. “Of course I didn’t. That’s why-”
“You both have less than a minute to get back onstage!” someone interrupts before running off, probably to find the other members.
Sho stands and starts to walk away, but Ohno catches his wrist. “You wouldn’t ever think of Aiba-chan as a burden,” Ohno continues, suddenly completely awake and alert. “None of us would dare. How are we supposed to notice Aiba-chan’s feelings when he’s smiling all the time, and the thought is something absolutely ridiculous that would never even cross our minds?”
Sho opens his mouth to respond, but Ohno drags him back to the stage to continue the live broadcast. Aiba greets them again with his sunny smile and playful giggle, and right before the cameras switch back to them Sho can hear Aiba sigh happily, “Isn’t Arashi the best?”
After trying to keep himself under control after twenty-four tear-inducing hours, everything threatens to overflow and spill. Sho tries to match Aiba’s smile instead, grinning so wide it hurts his jaw and laughing so hard he loses his breath, because all of the chaos within him has acuminated into understanding.
(But no, Sho corrects himself, it’s the opposite: all sagacity has lost to chaos, and Sho is confused at how the world seems to make more sense in the realms outside of logic.)
Sho steals a glance to Ohno and feels an urge to find enlightenment on every little thing that makes Ohno tick. He wants to know all of the secrets of Ohno’s world, all of the dull enigmas and ordinary beauties.
iii. divide
Sho almost confesses to Ohno, but he doesn’t.
Whenever he is with Ohno, it feels as if he’s in a place he’s not permitted to be, so he takes a step back. And in turn, the gap between them becomes a gulf so far apart that Sho’s not sure he can hear Ohno’s actual voice anymore, because all he can hear are the echoes.
The distance is tangible, as if they’re connected by an invisible line and Sho is straining to the extent he fears it may snap, and he’ll be cut off from Ohno completely. It’s an unbearable tug-of-war with conflicting emotions. Sho is reaching out with open arms and an open heart, but Ohno is always too far away to touch.
But then, a new distance shakes him, and he has arms stretched out in opposing directions but is still unable to grasp anything. This time, though, it’s okay. Sho remembers those days when Nino dreamt of going to America for directing, and while maybe the dream has changed, he knows that Nino deserves this. Sho had his chance to pursue something outside of Arashi with Keio, and maybe this is Nino’s opportunity to do the same. Starring in a Hollywood movie was nothing short of a monumental feat. The other four have had to make due during Nino’s absence, but Nino is worth it.
Still, that doesn’t stop his world from aching as if disjointed, and while he certainly doesn’t think that Nino leaving is a mistake, his body feels worn down for some reason, and he knows that something important has been overlooked, or overshadowed.
And while all of the members suffer from it, it’s Ohno who sits with his hands clenched as they’re folded over his lap. His eyes are concentrated on the ground as if eventually Nino will rise from there, because to Ohno, Hollywood is as distant as an unknown underground city: a place majestic and miraculous that Ohno has never seen or touched, and never will be able to no matter much dirt he garners under his nails trying to dig it up.
Seeing Ohno in such a state is what enlightens Sho to his own feelings. They’ve both been stretching their arms out to touch the ethereal; trying to trespass into territory they aren’t permitted to go. But the most painful thing is that while Sho is extending his arms toward Ohno, Ohno isn’t reaching for Sho. Maybe Nino is the one he loves, Sho thinks one day. He almost wishes he’d feel bitter about it, because he only feels sad.
Ohno is in flight so high above him, soaring to heights that Sho is unable to go (or is at least too much of a coward to try). Because Ohno flies with talent and kindness and all of those hidden treasures, while Sho can only create a poor duplicate.
Waxen wings will never be strong enough to withstand the sun.
But Ohno’s eyes aren’t set on Sho; they’re gazing beyond him, to something farther off, probably to something greater. Still, Sho can’t shake off the feeling that maybe Ohno isn’t sure what he’s searching for in the first place, like he’s waiting for a train without being sure of where he’s going.
Sho sits beside Ohno after the day’s work is done and the last of filming is completed (completed, but not whole - one member is missing, after all) and all has gone quiet. The couch in the green room is rather uncomfortable, somehow saggy from use and stiff at the same time, and Sho uses it as an excuse to wrap an arm around the older man and snuggle up beside him, even though the conditions of the sofa really has nothing to do with what the proper proximity apart is or isn’t. Ohno heaves a sigh and rests his head against Sho’s shoulder, giggling wearily and teasing him about how his head might slide off because of the slope.
Sho supposes that this would be the time to tell himself that his only wish is for Ohno to be happy, but he can’t. He wants Ohno to be happy with him. He doesn’t want to see Ohno content with someone else. It’s horrible and selfish and he knows that, damnit, but if he knew a way to change his heart he wouldn’t have this problem in the first place.
“Nino should be home next week,” Sho mutters, squeezing him closer, possessive over what isn’t his. He spoke thoughtlessly. He didn’t want to bring Nino up at all.
Ohno hums an affirmative, tracing circles on Sho’s knee with his finger, his nail scratching his jeans lightly. Sho can feel his face flushing. Neither of them say anything further, so Sho closes his eyes and pretends that the physical contact isn’t some unconscious act and that Ohno’s touch is speaking to him, as if the circles he’s making are actually hearts.
“He’ll be back, right?” Ohno says into Sho’s arm, muffling the sound.
“I just said that. Next week.” Sho wishes Ohno would just drop it. No, that’s not it… Sho wishes that Ohno would, for only a few precious minutes, focus on Sho and nothing else.
But Ohno sits up, shaking his head. The ministrations on Sho’s knee halt, and the loss screams at him like a bad itch. “No, I mean, do you think he… that he’ll be back?”
Sho frowns. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. My manager mentioned earlier that they just had to wrap a few things up, and if all goes well, he will arrive in Japan in about a week. He should be perfectly able to participate in all of our activities upon his return. Is that what you mean? Sure, Satoshi-kun, he might be a bit jet lagged, but that doesn’t mean he can’t film with us.”
“No, I… Nevermind.” Ohno dips his head, biting his lip as if disappointed… but in whom? Sho? Nino? Himself? Sho can’t understand why Ohno is acting like Nino is going to run off and become a Hollywood star and-
Sho tenses, swallowing hard. “Are you asking… if Nino wants to come back to us? If he really will?”
As Ohno nods slowly, Sho’s mind begins to whirr with an entirely new train of thought. What is Nino reaching out for? Has something bigger than Arashi, something like Hollywood, been in his vision this entire time? If he returns to them and stays, will he forever be staring off into the distance, regretting the way he touched the unreachable and then let it go?
“I want Nino to do whatever makes him happy,” Ohno admits, “but I really love Arashi, and Arashi won’t be Arashi without Nino. I don’t want him or Arashi to go away. Is that selfish of me?”
Maybe, Sho thinks. But not any more selfish than the blip on your radar that wants to become your destination - your home - even though you deserve so much more.
Or it could be that Ohno’s destination is Arashi. Perhaps…
So Sho says, “Maybe, but… but I think we all feel the same. Matsujun and Aiba-chan definitely would never want Nino to leave. Everyone is selfish in some way, but thinking of yourself isn’t a bad thing, right? I don’t know how Nino feels, or what it is he wants, but he cares for Arashi, too. If Arashi means as much to Nino as it does to us, and I believe it does, Nino isn’t going to leave.”
Sho isn’t entirely sure about what he’s saying, but Ohno finds meaning in his gibberish. He smiles, leans back onto Sho and slips his arms around Sho’s waist, pushing his face into Sho’s chest. Sho’s a little mortified because Ohno can probably hear his accelerated heartbeat and probably noticed the slight gasp Sho forgot to hold back. But Ohno is there, so close to him and so real, close enough for Sho to breathe in the smells of clay and faded cologne and a little sweat.
Sho shuts his eyes again; the shorter man’s fingers are at work once more, trailing lightly along his back, and this time he doesn’t need to pretend: Ohno’s touch is speaking, telling him thank you over and over.
Sho wants to believe that one day it will be saying I love you instead.
iv. multiply
Sho almost does a backflip. A real backflip, with no one there to push his legs over his head. Only, it’s while falling off the stage during rehearsals, and even though it starts out as a flip when he falls backwards and manages to turn around in the air, he kind of ends up crashing into the ground gracelessly before he can go full circle and land on his feet, and he sort of fractures his thumb in the process. But technicalities aside, he almost does one.
Hah. They make fun of him for being afraid of heights, and then he falls off the stage. Why isn’t he surprised?
It’s not a major injury. After a few weeks, with the help of some painkillers and that Sai Baba-like guy, the fracture is almost completely healed. Even during concerts, the pain isn’t too intense, and the other members are constantly making sure that Sho is taken care of.
So it’s probably at least somewhat Sho’s fault that Ohno comes so close to hitting rock bottom, almost like Sho grabbed onto him and dragged him down with him, still as greedy as always. But it happens slowly, and everyone is too busy applauding Ohno for his first leading role or preparing for concerts and new singles and helping Sho carry his bags around because of that stupid thumb to notice that Ohno has slipped. Eventually they realize Ohno’s shoulders are sagging from fatigue, that there are dark circles under his eyes, and that his body has become thinner and frailer, but by then the scandal gets out, and it’s too late to catch him. They can only watch Ohno fall and pray he doesn’t break, that they’ll have the strength to pull him back onto his feet again.
Because, as always, Ohno’s eyes are on some outlying wonder, only now… Ohno is beginning to strive for it. He’s moving toward it, away from them (away from Sho), and in the process making it the only thing that exists in his universe - and probably without even realizing he’s doing it. He’s drifting off, focused so intently on a lighthouse beyond an unconquerable tempest that it’s become all he sees. He can’t see the other members anymore. He can’t see their concern. He can’t see Sho, struggling in impossible winds but unable to follow. Ohno’s even become blind to himself and his own condition. In the process of chasing a light, the world around him has grown dark.
(Ohno is still Sho’s lighthouse. He has been since the beginning. If Ohno loses himself, will Sho ever see the light again?)
But even though it’s so painful to watch, and even though it’s obvious that this is not the way things should be, Sho can’t object entirely. The others try so hard to help Ohno with work or by bringing food in for him and forcing him to eat, anything they possibly can, but Ohno only accepts the acts of kindness out of politeness. Ohno has made a decision to stand alone. Ohno fell, and he broke. But not in the way most people think - it’s the brokenness of realizing that your feet are in ball and chain, dragging you back down into the place you want to break free of and keeping you away from the place you want to go.
Ohno is putting himself back together, and they can’t help him do that because only Ohno knows where the pieces fit. They can’t speak his soliloquy. It’s heartbreaking on both sides, but Sho understands: for those crossing the vast spaces between them and their treasure, it’s a fall that’s a necessity.
Sho has faith in Ohno, but not enough. Sho believes that Ohno will be able to repair himself, but not with all of his heart. Sho is confident that Ohno will reach that faraway light no matter how broken he becomes, but not that he will take Sho with him.
For all Sho knows, it’s not as dramatic as he makes it out to be, and soon everything will be in a state of peace again. But the bottom line is that Ohno isn’t himself anymore, and that much is more than enough to concern him.
The four of them have been doing all they can to keep Ohno from falling away from them, even though Ohno continues to say he’s fine, that it’s only until the drama is finished. That might be true, but Sho isn’t patient enough to wait and find out if Ohno would return or not. Arashi needs their leader. Sho needs Satoshi.
When they arrive at the next hotel for the next string of concerts, Sho manages to convince Ohno that his teeth grinding has gotten better, really, and that they should share a room this time. The others return to their own rooms; they can tell (they can always tell) that it’s not a time for late-night banter or for reviewing concert footage together seriously. Sho is reaching out again for the one he has never been able to touch, hoping that this time Ohno will reach out to Sho as well.
Ohno shrugs his jacket off and drops it aimlessly on the floor, heading straight for the bed. Sho stops him before he can crawl under the covers. “Please, Satoshi,” he whispers, suddenly struck with desperation. “Please, no more of this. No more. Eat meals three times a day, get enough sleep, don’t go fishing when you’re so fucking tired you can barely stand-”
“I’m trying to go to sleep now,” Ohno points out, squirming in an attempt to get his arm out of Sho’s grip. Sho hadn’t noticed he’d begun squeezing it. “You’re the one who’s not letting me.”
Little by little, the distance between them was increasing, and Sho can’t take it anymore. He can’t let Ohno slip away and disappear.
Sho kisses him. He runs his tongue across Ohno’s lips, tasting the leftover lip balm, sucking on the bottom one a bit insistently. But it only lasts a few seconds; he stops himself, backing away but avoiding eye contact. Ohno is still far, far away, even when Sho is holding him so close.
Ohno runs and Sho doesn’t blame him. The hotel door shuts with a thud behind him, and Sho is left with the humming of the air conditioner, the lights still off and the curtains drawn. The room is Sho’s world, isolated and small and not where Ohno wants to be. Sho wishes he could dash to the wide world beyond his walls, but it feels like Ohno is sprinting too fast, and Sho can’t get far enough away from his own place to catch up. The world is moving around him while he’s at a standstill, strapped down by a ball and chain. Sho fell (in love) and broke (his heart), and (unlike Ohno) he doesn’t know how to puzzle the fragments back together.
The distance never decreases; it simply spreads out in all directions until Sho is even far away from himself.
Ohno probably just went next door to stay the night with someone else. He’s only a room away now.
But Sho can feel it. The distance is expanding.
v. calculate
Sho almost brings up the kiss, but every time he tries, he pictures Ohno running away again, his back growing further and further away until he’s just a speck on the horizon, and then eventually blending into it until Sho can’t see him at all. Sho can’t bear the thought of the space between them increasing, so he hesitates and decides to keep the peace. He almost breaks it; almost, but not quite.
They are still Arashi, and Arashi is still the best of friends, just as they have been for the past ten years. Their anniversary is almost like proof of that, as if it’s their bond that’s being celebrated, not their career. After ten long years of happiness and hardships, they’ve reached their dream of becoming on top. With all of their accomplishments, from the sell-out concerts to their million-seller album, and into the beginning of their eleventh year, they all love each other, and that hasn’t changed. Ohno and Sho still love each other, and that hasn’t changed - it’s just that Sho loves Ohno in a different way than Ohno loves him. Sho doesn’t feel awkward when he throws an arm around the shorter member’s shoulder, or when they’re talking together casually when they’re alone. Their friendship is strong. It’s not that kind of distance.
It’s the distance of not even being able to believe in the whole-hearted illusions he’s created, those pretty ideas full of kisses and embraces and eternities, and then striving for that imaginary world anyway. It’s how Sho is happy yet never satisfied with the way things are, and not even being sure he wants to be, like he’s depending on some fictitious beauty to understand him and act as a painkiller.
The distance of human nature.
“What is?” Ohno inquires from behind him, causing Sho to jump out of his seat, clutching his chest. “The ‘distance of human nature…’ sounds like some documentary.”
Sho calms himself down, scooting over to give Ohno room on the couch. Ohno sits squashed up next to him anyway. “Well… the way we create distance between each other without realizing it, even when we’re trying to bridge the gaps. When we see something out of reach, we want it more than anything, and when we try to obtain it, we accidentally end up pushing it away.”
Ohno purses his lips and nods. “Sho-kun has sure been thinking about deep stuff, haven’t you?”
Sho laughs, ruffling Ohno’s hair. “Must be old age. I’ll be twenty-eight tomorrow, you know.”
“That’s funny. I’m twenty-nine now, and that deep-thinking stage still hasn’t hit me.” Ohno grins, but it fades upon studying Sho’s expression, and he asks him what’s wrong. Is Sho really that easy to read?
“I’m just tired,” Sho sighs. “Tired of reaching for the unreachable, even though I know I’ll never stop wanting it. I just… it almost feels like life is rolling by me while I’m stuck in a perpetual state of in-betweens. I feel like I’m in my own solitary little world sometimes, and it’s a place where my voice only echoes and not a single outsider can hear me, but I can’t stop screaming.”
Tired because human nature seems to dictate that the treasures we already have and the rewards we gain after fighting all become burdens once they’re in our hands. Tired of turning everything in my life into a burden just because I want and love what I can’t have. Tired because reality is cruel, but all of the escape routes only lead to emptiness.
(Because Ohno is too far off now, and Sho can’t even ask for it. Even his words can’t travel there; they would just fly off without ever arriving.)
But Sho doesn’t divulge that; he watches Ohno furrow his eyebrows, trying to make sense of what Sho said. “This isn’t about Arashi, is it?”
“No,” Sho assures him, shaking his head. He stands up to leave, even though he doesn’t really have anywhere to get to. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”
“Why did you kiss me?”
The blood drains from Sho’s face. Ohno remains seated, looking up at him with patient but wide eyes. Why is he suddenly bringing it up after half a year of pretending it never happened? How could he have known that it was him Sho was referring to?
Sho can’t think of a single beautiful lie that could cover it up. The only thing in his mind is the truth. So, after a moment of hesitation, Sho throws his emotions into that gorge between them rather than hiding them, the way he’s been hiding since the beginning. He might have a lot to lose, but he has so, so much he wants to gain.
“Because I wanted to kiss you,” Sho admits. “Because I wanted to bridge the gap. Because I’m in love you, but it feels like you’re in a place my love doesn’t reach.”
Ohno is quietly contemplating, staring at his hands and taking deep breaths. After a few silent moments he stands, meeting Sho’s gaze. “You know,” he says softly, “if you feel like you’re screaming and your voice is just echoing back to you, maybe that’s not a bad thing. Maybe, for once, you’ll hear yourself.”
Sho opens his mouth to reply, but there are lips gliding over lips, fingers curled in his hair and around his nape, and eyelashes fluttering against his cheek. Ohno is hesitant and unsure but he’s there, right there, right there in a place Sho can reach him.
Sho pulls Ohno closer, parting Ohno’s lips with his tongue and moving his hands to Ohno’s hips, rubbing his thumbs along the bones there. He explores the contours of Ohno’s mouth, memorizes the tastes until they both run out of air. They part, but they don’t separate.
Or maybe, it means you should stop screaming and try listening instead, Sho imagines Ohno continuing breathlessly as if it’s some justification; like something needs to be undone. But they aren’t polished and gleaming with all of the things they are - they’re rough and imperfect but abound with things they could be, because they’re polar ends to the same earth with so much territory between them to explore. Ohno is reaching out as if waving a magic wand around, transforming the space between them that Sho’s cursed at for so long into an opportunity to create memories. He accidentally lets this thought slip to Ohno. Ohno punches his arm and calls him a sap.
Sho laughs as he kisses him again; light pecks all across his face, grinning like an idiot as Ohno blushes from the attention. He is listening now as Ohno shyly whispers into his ear the words that Sho has been aching for this entire time: “Happy birthday. I love you, Sho-kun.”
How long, he wonders, has Ohno been saying it? How long has he been waiting for Sho to hear it? On that day he ran, did he wait outside the door for Sho to chase after him? All of those times he painted imaginary pictures with his finger on Sho’s arm or knee, have they been hearts all along? Has Sho actually been trying to touch, not trying to hold, and in the process always keeping Ohno an arm’s distance away?
But there is no distance now. There is Sho desperately crashing his lips against Ohno’s, pushing him back until he collapses on the couch. There’s Sho climbing on top of him and kissing along his jaw line, sucking on his neck, nibbling on his ear. There are Ohno’s little moans and shivers as Sho strips off their shirts and teases a nipple, rolling his tongue across the roof of Ohno’s mouth. There's skin against skin and dirty words and pure intensity. There’s heat and passion and sweat, and there’s Ohno crying out Sho’s name as they climax. It’s a song that reverberates throughout his mind, proof that their worlds have made contact.
No, there is certainly no distance now.
They stay that way, panting and tangled in one another, and Sho understands. Is Sho soaring now, or has Ohno’s feet touched the earth? It doesn’t matter; the scenery is beautiful no matter where they go. This is not the destination, and neither is Sho - Ohno is still looking towards somewhere far off, a place not yet seen or touched.
Ohno’s hands run along his spine, fingers dancing across his hips, up to his shoulders and neck. They’re mapping out that distant world, Sho thinks. Without me, he can never find or reach it. I’m his map to that far off place.
That place they can go together.
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A/N: (aka quick pimpage:) want a drabble? Read the end of this post to find out more!
This fic started with the line "almost, but not quite." That was even the title. It started with an idea of Sho living a logical, structured life, and Ohno being the thing that breaks it; Sho being fascinated with Ohno but unable to understand him. And as I wrote, it changed into this - "Displacement Theory". As for what that means, I'll leave it up to you. Writing this brought me to tears... and maybe even self-discovery. Whether you are moved as deeply as I am from this fic or it's just another fanfiction to you, I hope it's shown you a glimpse of a world that seems distant, but is perhaps much closer than we think.