(get a) hold on (to you) [arashi rps]
(get a) hold on (to you) [1/?]
Aiba/Nino, Nino/OFC, eventual Aiba/Jun| 嵐 RPS | PG | ~2,400 words
For myjulien, because she is lovely in every way. ♥
It takes all his nerves, and Nino won't admit later that his legs were shaking when he handed over the letter.
Johnny's eyes are sharp. "You're sure that you won't regret this?" He sounds annoyed, but it sounds more like a question than a warning. Like he doesn't have an army of juniors to handpick a replacement for Nino from.
Nino bows politely. "I'm very sorry." He is -well, a little. He's sorry that he inconvenienced people, sorry that he's going to have to break it to Aiba that no, they aren't debuting together, and yes, he's kind of regretting that he won't be lying on a beach in Hawaii anytime soon.
On the other hand, this means no more sweaty, hand-me-down costumes. No more swaying gently in the backdrop while puffy-haired seniors croon love songs to deluded teenage girls. No more disguising himself in public - he can smoke a cigarette and only worry about shocking his mom, forget the media.
Nino never wanted any of this. It's not difficult to give it up.
+
Aiba does cry, even though he pretends fiercely that he's not as he slams his way out of the dressing room, keeping his head tucked against his chest, long bangs dripping over his eyes.
It cuts into Nino, seeing Aiba like that - normally, he'd be happy to punch out anyone who did that. He should go after him, but right now, Sho is eyeing him like he wouldn't mind punching Nino around a bit himself.
"Well, that does it," Sho says, "I can't go in and hand in my resignation now - two is just too many."
"Of course you can." It's not like he went in alone on purpose, it's just that Sho had been taking so long to dither between college and Johnny's. It was Nino's career, Nino's life. "It's not a party invitation, it's a job offer. Just turn it down. There's plenty of other people who want it. Give them what they want."
Sho scrunches up his face. "Yeah, and I can already see it - there goes Sakurai Sho, the guy who thought he was too good to debut - won't be able to walk through the halls without- "
"It doesn't matter, does it? You won't be here." This is why Nino didn't wait, why he knows that soon, Sho himself is going to realize that he can't say no - Sho hates disappointing people, and he can't stand to look bad or give up. He'll go through with this debut out of sheer bloody-mindedness, no matter the consequences.
+
Of course he catches up with Aiba later, on the same train that they always take home together. It's awkward, but it's mid-July and too hot to talk anyways. The humidity makes the air feel thick and hazy, and he can feel sweat beading where his bare leg is pressed to Aiba's.
"Will you come over?" Aiba asks suddenly, when Nino is one stop away from home.
He can't possibly say no.
+
Maybe Nino should have seen it coming, with the way that Aiba was so tense and quiet. Aiba was usually pretty quiet, but in a gentle sort of way, a calm way. Aiba watches him all evening like Nino is going to disappear from right in front of him. He seems to take each step hesitatingly, like there's something he needs to decide.
He must have come to some sort of inner consensus, because when the lights go out after two plates of watermelon and countless games from Mario Kart, Aiba stumbles ungracefully in the dark into Nino's futon.
"-'stay with you?" Aiba asks, voice thick and drowsy as he leans into Nino. Aiba's really not that good of an actor, Nino reflects.
He stays still, unsure what to do with a jumble of trembling Aiba pinning him down. This probably isn't a very good time to apologize.
Aiba's hand presses on his leg, his fingers shaky as he leans into Nino. Nino lets his breath out in a hiss. The summer quilt isn't that thick, and Aiba knows exactly where his hand is creeping towards. This is such a bad idea.
"Aiba." Nino stands up, upending Aiba from the futon. "Hell - we are not doing this."
"Why?" Aiba's voice is angry, not confused, and that takes Nino aback. "Don't tell me you haven't thought about it."
Oh, he will never tell Matsujun anything ever again, no matter how innocent or cute he seems.
"That's not the point," he says lamely. "We can't - I'm leaving, Masaki."
Aiba laughs, but it sounds almost like a sob. "Not yet."
"I don't want you to regret anything." Johnny's voice echoes in his ears, you're sure that you won't regret this?, and that completely kills any arousal that Aiba's fumbling had caused.
"Why would I?" Aiba is slumped back against the foot of his bed now. His anger has deflated now, and he just seems sad. If they were younger, like they used to be, Nino would try to cheer him up by licking his nose, or if he was feeling gracious, just resting his head in Aiba's lap so Aiba could stroke his hair.
He can't believe Aiba is really this crazy.
"I'm not coming back." It has to be said, but the silence that follows is still painful. Nino waits, two, maybe three minutes, and he's almost convinced that Aiba has fallen asleep sitting up until he suddenly stands, sliding back into his own bed without another word.
To Aiba's credit, he cries pretty quietly - but then again, Nino is trying his hardest not to hear.
+
First impressions: California is hot and dry, the sun cracking his lips and making his skin red and itchy, peeling and ripping apart in curling flakes. The food is terrible, and even the sushi looks alien. He can't understand any of his teachers, and by the end of his first week, he's been 'recommended' to a language program at a nearby college to upgrade his English before he can return full-time to his drama studies.
Now that he's here, Nino can't imagine why he thought it would be easy. Obviously, it wouldn't have been a cakewalk, but he didn't anticipate the grinding frustration of every simple chore becoming an insurmountable hurdle. He spends fifteen minutes one morning arguing ineffectively with a lady working at the Laundromat who won't let him put his clothes in the washer, and he's embarrassingly close to either tears or punching her a new drainage hole in the wall.
"Can I help?" someone asks in Japanese, and Nino blinks briefly before he is elbowed aside by the most beautiful girl he has ever seen. She's taller than him, with dark hair stretching down to her waist, and sharp, thoughtful eyes. She looks Japanese, but she's speaking English to the attendant faster than Nino can understand, although he's too busy watching her lips move to catch the words.
The girl turns to him as the attendant walks away. "I'll help you set the cycle - she said that you messed up the load setting last time and nearly broke the washer. And you need to bring your own soap, or pay extra for the stuff they keep at the counter."
"I brought soap last time," Nino says, a little defensively.
She smiles gently. "She said that it was shampoo."
Words are not coming easily to him now, even in his own tongue. "I'm a little illiterate," he manages.
"Oh good," the girl says lightly, "Imagine the insults that I can get away with."
+
Her name is Min. Nino had always thought he would somehow recruit himself someone leggy and blonde to fit the picture of his American Girlfriend, but he doesn't really mind. Min is half-Japanese, half-Korean, and all-American. She's also an absolute angel. She not only helps Nino set his laundry, but also folds it, and then takes him to a surprisingly decent ramen place close to campus.
In between inhaling two bowls of the most decent food he's had since he stumbled off a plane, Nino comes to realize that this is someone who he would like to get to know very, very well.
+
As it turns out, Johnny chooses not to replace him after all. Arashi debuts as four, and Nino expects himself to feel some kind of lost feeling, some regret as he watches the DVD that his mom mailed to him. Mostly he's just glad that he wasn't there - the motion of the camera rocking up and down with the boat is enough to give him a faint feeling of seasickness even while sitting on the couch.
He does wonder why, though - it isn't that Johnny wouldn't be have been able to find a replacement. There were literally over a hundred boys in the company who were salivating for the security and (if somewhat questionable) glamour of a debut. Maybe Johnny was feeling vindictive, or wanted Nino to feel guilty in some way. Again, this doesn't seem plausible. Depriving the world of another sparkle-pantsed teen idol is something that Nino doesn't mind being responsible for.
Aiba keeps messing up his lines. Nino stops the DVD, stands up from the couch and stretches. Maybe he should buy some groceries - Min was coming over after her business seminar tonight, and he had promised to cook something.
The DVD stays on his shelf, and Nino does eventually finish it - he actually watches it over and over again from time to time, always alone. Something about it feels too private to show to others, a part of his past that he doesn't know how to explain, because the meaning just doesn't translate.
Whatever Johnny's intentions, he left a space for Nino. Nino can't watch the video without somehow imagining a gap where he fits in, and he wonders if anyone else notices that he's missing.
+
Acting class isn't like Nino imagined, really. Maybe the Jimusho set his expectations for something regimented and predictable - maybe it's just because this is America, and people seem crazy in America, even though Min gets angry when he says that.
After a morning spent rolling around in blankets and pretending to be a newborn baby, Nino decides to skip Dramatic Process and eat a proper lunch in his own apartment. It's late autumn and the bike ride home is cool and pleasant. Soon it will be winter - or as close to winter as California can possibly get. It's hard to believe that it's been over a year.
Min is perched on a stool near the kitchen window, eating a melting cheese sandwich and reading a novel that's almost too thick for her to hold in one hand. She looks up when Nino comes in, glasses sliding down her nose a little. "Want a sandwich?"
Nino smiles, and kisses her on the cheek. "I'll make something."
She hums and goes back to her book. "Package came for you in the mail. I think it's from Japan."
Nino closes the fridge. "From my mom?" No one else has bothered to mail him, although it is the new millennium, and no one seems to acknowledge the postal system anymore. Nino didn't realize how much he liked mail until he moved across the world, and each parcel of snacks, pictures, and manga felt like Christmas morning.
"I guess so - I didn't open it," Min takes another bite of her sandwich, crumbs sticking to her lips. "Hey, speaking of moms - mine keeps asking if I'm going to have my Nice Foreign Boyfriend over for dinner again sometime."
"Your mom is Japanese, why on Earth does she call me a foreigner?"
"Because you keep bowing to people and expect 7-11 to stock onigiri? I'm not sure, Kazu."
The package is smaller than his mom's usual, and Nino glumly resigns himself to not catching up on One Piece before he realizes that the handwriting on the envelope is not his mother's - and neither is the return address.
"Old girlfriend?" Min says teasingly, and Nino realizes that he's been staring at the envelope for a full minute.
"A friend," Nino says, and realizes that he sounds a bit defensive.
He can't believe he's missed the stupid curlicues and disjointed sticks of Aiba's writing, and see his name is Aiba's hand makes it feel like he can hear Aiba saying it out loud.
He hasn't been forgotten after all.
Aiba/Nino, Nino/OFC, eventual Aiba/Jun| 嵐 RPS | PG | ~2,400 words
For myjulien, because she is lovely in every way. ♥
It takes all his nerves, and Nino won't admit later that his legs were shaking when he handed over the letter.
Johnny's eyes are sharp. "You're sure that you won't regret this?" He sounds annoyed, but it sounds more like a question than a warning. Like he doesn't have an army of juniors to handpick a replacement for Nino from.
Nino bows politely. "I'm very sorry." He is -well, a little. He's sorry that he inconvenienced people, sorry that he's going to have to break it to Aiba that no, they aren't debuting together, and yes, he's kind of regretting that he won't be lying on a beach in Hawaii anytime soon.
On the other hand, this means no more sweaty, hand-me-down costumes. No more swaying gently in the backdrop while puffy-haired seniors croon love songs to deluded teenage girls. No more disguising himself in public - he can smoke a cigarette and only worry about shocking his mom, forget the media.
Nino never wanted any of this. It's not difficult to give it up.
+
Aiba does cry, even though he pretends fiercely that he's not as he slams his way out of the dressing room, keeping his head tucked against his chest, long bangs dripping over his eyes.
It cuts into Nino, seeing Aiba like that - normally, he'd be happy to punch out anyone who did that. He should go after him, but right now, Sho is eyeing him like he wouldn't mind punching Nino around a bit himself.
"Well, that does it," Sho says, "I can't go in and hand in my resignation now - two is just too many."
"Of course you can." It's not like he went in alone on purpose, it's just that Sho had been taking so long to dither between college and Johnny's. It was Nino's career, Nino's life. "It's not a party invitation, it's a job offer. Just turn it down. There's plenty of other people who want it. Give them what they want."
Sho scrunches up his face. "Yeah, and I can already see it - there goes Sakurai Sho, the guy who thought he was too good to debut - won't be able to walk through the halls without- "
"It doesn't matter, does it? You won't be here." This is why Nino didn't wait, why he knows that soon, Sho himself is going to realize that he can't say no - Sho hates disappointing people, and he can't stand to look bad or give up. He'll go through with this debut out of sheer bloody-mindedness, no matter the consequences.
+
Of course he catches up with Aiba later, on the same train that they always take home together. It's awkward, but it's mid-July and too hot to talk anyways. The humidity makes the air feel thick and hazy, and he can feel sweat beading where his bare leg is pressed to Aiba's.
"Will you come over?" Aiba asks suddenly, when Nino is one stop away from home.
He can't possibly say no.
+
Maybe Nino should have seen it coming, with the way that Aiba was so tense and quiet. Aiba was usually pretty quiet, but in a gentle sort of way, a calm way. Aiba watches him all evening like Nino is going to disappear from right in front of him. He seems to take each step hesitatingly, like there's something he needs to decide.
He must have come to some sort of inner consensus, because when the lights go out after two plates of watermelon and countless games from Mario Kart, Aiba stumbles ungracefully in the dark into Nino's futon.
"-'stay with you?" Aiba asks, voice thick and drowsy as he leans into Nino. Aiba's really not that good of an actor, Nino reflects.
He stays still, unsure what to do with a jumble of trembling Aiba pinning him down. This probably isn't a very good time to apologize.
Aiba's hand presses on his leg, his fingers shaky as he leans into Nino. Nino lets his breath out in a hiss. The summer quilt isn't that thick, and Aiba knows exactly where his hand is creeping towards. This is such a bad idea.
"Aiba." Nino stands up, upending Aiba from the futon. "Hell - we are not doing this."
"Why?" Aiba's voice is angry, not confused, and that takes Nino aback. "Don't tell me you haven't thought about it."
Oh, he will never tell Matsujun anything ever again, no matter how innocent or cute he seems.
"That's not the point," he says lamely. "We can't - I'm leaving, Masaki."
Aiba laughs, but it sounds almost like a sob. "Not yet."
"I don't want you to regret anything." Johnny's voice echoes in his ears, you're sure that you won't regret this?, and that completely kills any arousal that Aiba's fumbling had caused.
"Why would I?" Aiba is slumped back against the foot of his bed now. His anger has deflated now, and he just seems sad. If they were younger, like they used to be, Nino would try to cheer him up by licking his nose, or if he was feeling gracious, just resting his head in Aiba's lap so Aiba could stroke his hair.
He can't believe Aiba is really this crazy.
"I'm not coming back." It has to be said, but the silence that follows is still painful. Nino waits, two, maybe three minutes, and he's almost convinced that Aiba has fallen asleep sitting up until he suddenly stands, sliding back into his own bed without another word.
To Aiba's credit, he cries pretty quietly - but then again, Nino is trying his hardest not to hear.
+
First impressions: California is hot and dry, the sun cracking his lips and making his skin red and itchy, peeling and ripping apart in curling flakes. The food is terrible, and even the sushi looks alien. He can't understand any of his teachers, and by the end of his first week, he's been 'recommended' to a language program at a nearby college to upgrade his English before he can return full-time to his drama studies.
Now that he's here, Nino can't imagine why he thought it would be easy. Obviously, it wouldn't have been a cakewalk, but he didn't anticipate the grinding frustration of every simple chore becoming an insurmountable hurdle. He spends fifteen minutes one morning arguing ineffectively with a lady working at the Laundromat who won't let him put his clothes in the washer, and he's embarrassingly close to either tears or punching her a new drainage hole in the wall.
"Can I help?" someone asks in Japanese, and Nino blinks briefly before he is elbowed aside by the most beautiful girl he has ever seen. She's taller than him, with dark hair stretching down to her waist, and sharp, thoughtful eyes. She looks Japanese, but she's speaking English to the attendant faster than Nino can understand, although he's too busy watching her lips move to catch the words.
The girl turns to him as the attendant walks away. "I'll help you set the cycle - she said that you messed up the load setting last time and nearly broke the washer. And you need to bring your own soap, or pay extra for the stuff they keep at the counter."
"I brought soap last time," Nino says, a little defensively.
She smiles gently. "She said that it was shampoo."
Words are not coming easily to him now, even in his own tongue. "I'm a little illiterate," he manages.
"Oh good," the girl says lightly, "Imagine the insults that I can get away with."
+
Her name is Min. Nino had always thought he would somehow recruit himself someone leggy and blonde to fit the picture of his American Girlfriend, but he doesn't really mind. Min is half-Japanese, half-Korean, and all-American. She's also an absolute angel. She not only helps Nino set his laundry, but also folds it, and then takes him to a surprisingly decent ramen place close to campus.
In between inhaling two bowls of the most decent food he's had since he stumbled off a plane, Nino comes to realize that this is someone who he would like to get to know very, very well.
+
As it turns out, Johnny chooses not to replace him after all. Arashi debuts as four, and Nino expects himself to feel some kind of lost feeling, some regret as he watches the DVD that his mom mailed to him. Mostly he's just glad that he wasn't there - the motion of the camera rocking up and down with the boat is enough to give him a faint feeling of seasickness even while sitting on the couch.
He does wonder why, though - it isn't that Johnny wouldn't be have been able to find a replacement. There were literally over a hundred boys in the company who were salivating for the security and (if somewhat questionable) glamour of a debut. Maybe Johnny was feeling vindictive, or wanted Nino to feel guilty in some way. Again, this doesn't seem plausible. Depriving the world of another sparkle-pantsed teen idol is something that Nino doesn't mind being responsible for.
Aiba keeps messing up his lines. Nino stops the DVD, stands up from the couch and stretches. Maybe he should buy some groceries - Min was coming over after her business seminar tonight, and he had promised to cook something.
The DVD stays on his shelf, and Nino does eventually finish it - he actually watches it over and over again from time to time, always alone. Something about it feels too private to show to others, a part of his past that he doesn't know how to explain, because the meaning just doesn't translate.
Whatever Johnny's intentions, he left a space for Nino. Nino can't watch the video without somehow imagining a gap where he fits in, and he wonders if anyone else notices that he's missing.
+
Acting class isn't like Nino imagined, really. Maybe the Jimusho set his expectations for something regimented and predictable - maybe it's just because this is America, and people seem crazy in America, even though Min gets angry when he says that.
After a morning spent rolling around in blankets and pretending to be a newborn baby, Nino decides to skip Dramatic Process and eat a proper lunch in his own apartment. It's late autumn and the bike ride home is cool and pleasant. Soon it will be winter - or as close to winter as California can possibly get. It's hard to believe that it's been over a year.
Min is perched on a stool near the kitchen window, eating a melting cheese sandwich and reading a novel that's almost too thick for her to hold in one hand. She looks up when Nino comes in, glasses sliding down her nose a little. "Want a sandwich?"
Nino smiles, and kisses her on the cheek. "I'll make something."
She hums and goes back to her book. "Package came for you in the mail. I think it's from Japan."
Nino closes the fridge. "From my mom?" No one else has bothered to mail him, although it is the new millennium, and no one seems to acknowledge the postal system anymore. Nino didn't realize how much he liked mail until he moved across the world, and each parcel of snacks, pictures, and manga felt like Christmas morning.
"I guess so - I didn't open it," Min takes another bite of her sandwich, crumbs sticking to her lips. "Hey, speaking of moms - mine keeps asking if I'm going to have my Nice Foreign Boyfriend over for dinner again sometime."
"Your mom is Japanese, why on Earth does she call me a foreigner?"
"Because you keep bowing to people and expect 7-11 to stock onigiri? I'm not sure, Kazu."
The package is smaller than his mom's usual, and Nino glumly resigns himself to not catching up on One Piece before he realizes that the handwriting on the envelope is not his mother's - and neither is the return address.
"Old girlfriend?" Min says teasingly, and Nino realizes that he's been staring at the envelope for a full minute.
"A friend," Nino says, and realizes that he sounds a bit defensive.
He can't believe he's missed the stupid curlicues and disjointed sticks of Aiba's writing, and see his name is Aiba's hand makes it feel like he can hear Aiba saying it out loud.
He hasn't been forgotten after all.