Through The Fear That You Will Wake
Title: Through The Fear That You Will Wake
Rating: R
Pairing: Ohno/Sho
Word count: 3645
Summary: Sho has always wanted Ohno.
Warnings/Notes: My first ever Yama pair, and wow, I think I may have gotten too emotionally involved. Anyway, this fic is dedicated to all the crazy Sho fangirls on my tumblr feed who make me adore Sho just a little bit more with every obsessive and delusional amazing post. You guys know who you are. ♥
Sho’s biggest fear is that when Ohno finds out, nothing will ever be the same.
He watches him secretly, with the most furtive of glances. He has always watched him out of the corner of his eyes, during stolen moments when he thinks no one notices, for far longer than he ever wants to admit.
Sho feels the familiar lump of fondness and desire lodge in his throat as he watches the minute twitches of Ohno’s eyes and the tiny purse of his lips. Ohno reading an old, battered fishing magazine, his legs tucked under him haphazardly and his arm propped on the couch, un-styled hair all over the place, is more breathtaking than any person has any right to be. He doesn’t know how many times he has wanted to reach out, near enough to breathe everything he is in. Before he knows it, he has let an unguarded sigh come out of his mouth.
He doesn’t realize it himself, not until Ohno is looking at him searchingly. Ohno peers on top of the magazine and gives Sho a kind, questioning glance. “Tired?”
Sho nervously shoots him a tight-lipped smile as he shakes his head. “It’s nothing.” He hates the shaky, gravely voice that barely covers up his nerves at perhaps being caught in the act of staring.
The magazine is abandoned as Ohno stands up and sits down beside Sho. He is close enough that Sho can smell that familiar Ohno smell that evokes clean laundry and the sun. Their shoulders are touching, and Ohno nudges him wordlessly. When Sho doesn’t react, he does it again, and this time, forcefully enough to make Sho tip to the side. Sho can’t help but laugh.
“Satoshi-kun,” he breathes. Sho unconsciously scoots an inch away, wary of being too near.
The corner of Ohno’s eyes turn up. He squirms beside Sho until there’s no space between them again. He manages to grab a hold of Sho’s arm and promptly puts it around his own shoulders, as if draping a comfortable scarf. Sho stiffens.
“You’re strange,” he accuses Sho.
“Why am I strange?” While being called strange by someone like Ohno is normally a cause for reflection, Sho feels like Ohno is seeing straight through him that moment. That, and he is also flustered by the casual contact. It is still well within the bounds of what counted as the manifestation of their normal physical affection, but it’s also not something that Ohno does everyday. He swallows a little at having him this close, the spikes of Ohno’s hair tickling his chin.
Ohno only settles deeper into the crook of his arm, leaning on the slope of Sho’s shoulders. “Sho-kun?”
"Hmm?" It takes all of his energy to resist sniffing his hair and fully enveloping him with two arms.
“You can always tell me,” Ohno says. “Whatever it is,” he mumbles, slight embarrassment tingeing his cheeks, “okay?”
Sho shifts in his seat. “I know.”
He says those two words even when the very thing that is bothering him is the one thing that he can’t ever talk about. Not when he still wants to have Ohno like this, with zero complications.
They have Arashi-they have years of steady camaraderie going on for them, years of going through all the highs and lows that people can only dream of and have nightmares about. They also have a friendship that doesn’t really fit neatly into normal categories; like they have answered in so many magazine interviews, theirs is a kind of friendship that escapes definition and exists in a place of its own. But despite all that, Sho still wonders. He wonders if Ohno has ever thought about them, him, differently. He wonders if it’s even possible that he is not alone in the sharp loneliness of liking Ohno-a member, a brother, a childhood friend-as something…more.
Sho himself is a fan of clear boundaries, yet when it comes to their Leader, everything just overflows into one uncontainable mess of emotions.
If asked, Sho would not be able to trace when or how his heart started to race at just the sight of Ohno. Perhaps it was from the first time they met each other-it was on a bus, they were en route to the airport for an overseas taping. Ohno’s bangs were falling into his eyes, his smile barely there, and Sho wondered how such a lax guy could be the enigmatic senior who danced in Kyoto that everyone talked about and also the “ridiculously talented boy you’ll be in a group in with, because someone has to sing," via Johnny. Ohno shook his hand and pointed to his suitcase-which was admittedly rather huge for his frame then-and asked, “What have you got in there?”
But perhaps it didn’t really start at any specific time and place that he can pinpoint. Perhaps the feeling has always just merely existed, because he is who he is and Ohno is Ohno. He wishes he can fault Ohno for that, but he can’t. No one ever told him to fall for someone so close to him (yet so hopelessly out of his league.)
When they are called to the studio for their photo shoot, Ohno slowly stands up and offers him a hand. Sho takes it. Ohno doesn’t let go and Sho allows Ohno’s warm hand to ease his clammy one. They walk together towards the light, hand in hand, in a way that only serves to remind Sho that this is all he could ever have.
*
He doesn’t hate the fact that he’s always been in love with Ohno, because he knows that his feelings will never be returned. There is comfort in that.
Yet he still can’t help but hope for more when Ohno shows that he cares. Of course, Ohno cares for everyone in Arashi in his hazy, roundabout way, yet he’s still more demonstrative towards their younger band mates even though much time has passed. When they started out, there had been a clear line between the older ones (Sho and Ohno), and the younger ones (the rest). Although Ohno, by sheer force of personality, has never stopped being the non-leader-like leader that he is, he is still unconsciously more indulgent towards Aiba, Nino, and Jun. From the start, despite the fact that Sho is also younger than him, Ohno has always seen Sho as an equal. So when Ohno dotes on him and slathers him with more affection than usual, Sho is as pleased as he is clueless about what to do.
On Mondays when he is more swamped than normal (which is already more work than mere mortals could ever imagine), Ohno never forgets to message him. That Ohno always watches News Zero when he can is something Sho is embarrassed about, yet secretly thankful for. When he receives a text message that says “thanks for your hard work tonight” with a picture of his face demarcated by subtle lines thanks to the television screen, Sho feels that all the hard work is worth it.
Sometimes, Ohno simply texts him “ikemen!” and Sho will be smiling that smile that makes his jaw hurt all throughout the week.
There are also days when Ohno stays back to help him with his dancing. Those are the days when Sho has it the worst.
In the first place, it was never in Ohno’s job description to make sure that every time they have a dance routine to master that Sho got it down seamlessly. They have choreographers and dance instructors for that, and Sho does okay enough as long as he is given double the time to learn it. Whenever the dance steps get too complicated, Sho opts to stay behind in the studio, with the music player and a video of the choreography to contend with, usually, for the rest of the night. The first time Ohno stays, Sho is confused.
Ohno grins at Sho’s reflection in the mirror. Sho turns back in surprise. “Satoshi! I…I thought you went home.”
He shrugs, not bothering to explain his presence. He simply presses play and falls into step beside Sho. Whenever Sho makes a mistake, Ohno patiently pauses the player and demonstrates the step again. He has no misgivings about touching to correct Sho. Ohno pries his legs apart with his knees, guides the angle of his arms with his hands, gets behind Sho to show him where his hips should go.
Sho always feels the trickle of sweat more keenly whenever Ohno is around.
When Sho finally aces the steps, they run through the choreography several times again just to make sure. During those nights, Ohno dances without holding back. Sho is absolutely mesmerized by the sharp and concise movements, the blinding energy that Ohno usually withholds during their performances because he doesn’t want to outshine everyone else. But when it’s just the two of them, Sho can see for his own eyes that it would be impossible for Ohno to truly outgrow dancing, even when he says that he’s “finished” with dance. Even the bright lights seem to recognize this and shine on Ohno the way they have never shined for anyone else.
One time, Sho jokes. “Why aren’t we just your backdancers again?”
“What are you talking about,” Ohno mutters. He drinks water in huge gulps, his sweat pooling around him almost inhumanly. Sho wishes he can look away.
Throughout the years, those intense and yet not altogether unpleasant one-on-one dance practice sessions became a bonding point, something they didn’t share with the other three. And in an irrational way, Sho is glad that he gets to keep that side of Ohno all to himself, the side of Ohno who dances not for the fans, but only for himself. He keeps and holds that sight deep in his heart, because that's all he has.
*
It gets crippling, always seeing Ohno and being around him. No, it doesn’t affect his work, but he’s not sure just how much longer he can pretend without saying anything. It’s not that he dares to hope for more. He just needs one last thing to completely let it go. It’s been simmering in his thoughts for years, and maybe it’s about time to come clean, Sho thinks.
Sho wants to tie the longest loose end in his life. He just doesn’t know how to go about it.
*
The five of them are out drinking after a long day filled to the brim with the mundane side of idol-hood: answering interview questions they feel like they’ve answered a hundred times before, a meeting to discuss the set-list for their next concert, dance practice, and a wardrobe check for their next performances. They haven’t gone out together in ages, and figure that it’s a good time as any to spend some time together, now that their schedules are miraculously open all at the same time.
The night progresses in a relaxed fashion, the drinks arriving on their table in a steady pace. Nino, a lightweight when it comes to alcohol, has already degraded to exchanging meaningless insults with a slightly inebriated Jun, who is won’t to back down. Aiba is sitting there quietly, presumably texting the girl he’s been seeing for quite some time, if the slight quirk in his mouth is to be a clue. Ohno’s just staring at an empty point in space, his hand nestled against the sweating bottle of beer that needs replacing.
Sho is a little plastered himself. Okay, so he’s more than plastered. While he usually never gets drunk, he finds that stress and being around four other people who also know and experience exactly just how tired he is make him drink more than usual. Just as conversation is picking up again, with Nino teasing Aiba about being “sickeningly smitten” yet “under-fucked”, Sho excuses himself to get some fresh air.
It is strangely a little warm for a spring night. He breathes in and out, willing the pounding in his head to subside. His breath hitches a little when Ohno appears beside him.
“Too much to drink?” Ohno asks.
Sho nods. “Yeah.
“Wanna take a walk?”
“We’re going to leave them behind?” Sho’s voice is thick. He doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol or the weight that’s beginning to settle on his shoulders.
Ohno shrugs noncommittally. “Aiba-chan’s still pretty sober.”
"Who'll pay?"
"I would like to say Nino, but," Ohno says, a tiny dimple denting the skin right by his mouth.
They spend an hour walking around aimlessly, the late hour an instant identity cloak that keeps them undisturbed. They don’t talk about anything in particular, yet it soothes Sho more than he expected it to. When they pass by a convenience store, Ohno goes in and comes right back out with a six-pack of beer.
He dangles it in front of Sho. “Lets go to your place.”
Sho only nods okay and leads the both of them to where his car is parked. He has a sickening feeling what this is all about. He keeps repeating a mantra in his head, this is just Ohno, just Satoshi-kun, Satoshi, Satoshi…
When they get to Sho’s apartment, Ohno toes off his shoes easily and sets the beer on the coffee table by the couch. Sho grabs a couple of glasses and a bucket of ice from the kitchen. Sitting beside Ohno, alone, makes him jittery, the white noise accumulating in his head. The pop of the beer can breaks through the wall of silence like a gunshot in an empty battlefield. Sho tries not to jump.
Sho gulps at his beer while Ohno sips unhurriedly. Minutes pass. Sho makes a move to stand up, yet he finds his wrist circled by Ohno’s hand.
“Sho-kun, please. I,” he says, swallowing. “Let me.”
When Sho gets the courage to meet Ohno’s eyes, he finds that they are red-rimmed and oh, he’s drunk too. Ohno’s grip on his thigh becomes the conduit for the wordless, articulate transference of what Ohno doesn’t have the heart to say out loud. Sho stays perfectly still, not knowing what to do.
No, he doesn’t want this, not this way. Yet when he hears the clink of the glass on the table, and Ohno’s suddenly too close, he falters. Ohno tentatively licks a stripe on his neck, where his shirt is unbuttoned right up to where his pulse beats. Sho gasps.
“Satoshi-kun,” he says, “don’t,” hoping that words can be sufficient. How would he be able to physically tear himself away if words couldn't do it for him?
But Ohno is undeterred. “Just this once.”
“Just this once,” Sho says, and he feels like his heart has migrated into his brain where it now beats with brutal force. Sho grips empty air inside the pockets of his pants. He wants to douse the embers of desire he feels when he sees Ohno’s pink lips and the glimpse of collarbone that peeps out from his shirt. He wants to stop before anyone gets hurt, but the warmth of their thighs beside each other and Ohno hovering so closely is just too much.
“Just this once,” Ohno repeats, his brows furrowing. Before Sho can even think to backtrack and beg Ohno to reconsider, he feels a tug on his collar.
Ohno inches in, his soft lips landing on Sho’s unsuspecting ones. It is brief, Sho barely has the time to shut his eyes to enjoy the feeling, but he doubts he’ll ever forget about it anyway. Ohno’s lips are slightly chapped, gentle as they coax Sho’s. Sho feels a sudden fire burning in the pit of his stomach, urging him to reconsider or never turn back.
The bright-eyed inexplicability that Ohno wears on his face makes Sho breathless. He can’t read anything into it, yet he is comforted by the way Ohno’s hand settles gently on his arm, the tactile, Ohno-equivalent of it’s okay.
“Like that?”
Sho is not sure if it is an invitation to re-do things and push matters towards the direction that he has only dared to hope for, or if Ohno expects him to nod and be on his merry way-his mind is riotous and he struggles to jumble cause and effect back in the right order.
Against his better judgment, Sho looks straight at Ohno. He says the first thing that comes into his mind. “Thank you.”
Ohno frowns.
“Satoshi, you’re drunk,” he adds, as he tries to stand up and get away. He needs to be away from Ohno, because.
Ohno looks up at him, eyes unfocused and dark. “You’re unfair.” He catches Sho’s hand, fingers stroking his knuckles. “But I’m worse.”
“Why?”
“I know about you,” Ohno starts, tripping on his words and on alcohol, “about how you feel about me. You never say anything,” he accuses.
Sho doesn’t know what to say. He feels the heat on his cheeks and the alcohol making happy, swirly blots inside where his frontal lobe should be. “There’s no reason for me to. I don’t…I don’t expect anything.”
“Just tonight,” Ohno blurts out, his hand still enveloping Sho’s. Sho sees the uncertainty he feels mirrored in Ohno’s eyes. Just tonight-two words that break down every defense Sho has been desperately trying to erect. He swallows at the implications, wondering who is worse for what.
When Ohno drags him down to him, Sho stops thinking about anything. Their lips meet in hunger. Sho arranges his legs so that he is straddling Ohno, a sigh stuck on his throat as he lets Ohno’s tongue slide inside his mouth. He shivers as Ohno’s hands finds his way underneath his shirt, touching and feeling the expanse of skin upwards then down to the band of his underwear.
This is what Sho has always wanted. There is nothing disappointing about the way Ohno doesn’t cede all control to him and fights back, in a rush to touch and feel.
Ohno kisses like he fucking means it, Sho finds out.
He’ll process that tidbit for later. Ohno is now rocking on to him, and he gets the general idea. Before he knows it, their positions have shifted and he is sitting on the couch, his pants pooled around his ankles. Ohno is positioned in between his legs, staring through his eyelashes with his liquid brown eyes. Sho touches his cheek, wondering how it has come to this, when Ohno takes him inside his mouth.
All regrets and rational thought fly out of his head as he learns to hold on to the tufts of Ohno’s hair. Ohno soothingly runs his hand up and down on his leg as he hollows his cheek, and it takes all of Sho’s self-control not to scream.
When, minutes later, he finally comes, he doesn’t meet Ohno’s eyes.
Ohno cants his head slightly as he swallows and wets his lips again. He stretches up to kiss Sho on the forehead.
Sometime later that night, they move to the bedroom.
*
It doesn’t happen only once, or twice. For a couple of months, they were able to delude themselves into thinking that things were as they should be. They both develop a taste for ignoring their feelings, until they couldn’t anymore. It couldn’t have gone on forever, not if they were to remain friends.
Sho is the first one to crack. He meets Ohno in the park near his apartment, the sun threatening to disappear on them fast.
“I won’t be the last,” Ohno says, and Sho almost hates him for it, but he can’t, because it’s Ohno, and he knows what Ohno is saying. The warm hand against his cheek is a comfort and a thorn, and he leans into it, because words fail him. He curls his own hand around Ohno’s.
Ohno lets him be.
When a few minutes pass-it could have been an eternity, for all Sho knew-he lets Ohno’s hand go. Ohno is smiling, but Sho knows better. His heart aches with the knowledge that not even Ohno cannot hide the sadness that he feels, a sadness entirely different from the one that Sho is intimate with. Sho aches because there's even a difference.
“It’s not your fault,” he manages to say. “I’m so sorry.”
Ohno’s lips brushes his softly, lingering for a moment, apologies in his eyes. “Sho.” He kisses Sho again, on the forehead. “No.”
Underneath Ohno’s brevity when it comes to words comes an underlying galaxy of things unsaid, and Sho doesn’t want to mess anything up. Not with Ohno. Not ever. Not again. There are holes in their apologies, but Sho understands.
He nods and tells Ohno to go first. The sun sets on their parting.
When he wakes up the next day to an empty bed, Sho knows that he needs to put it all past him, and he will. Maybe there’s a universe out there where they specifically end up together and the cruel question of who deserves who doesn’t exist, a universe where Ohno doesn’t apologize for anything, a universe where the weight of what they’ve done does not bear heavily on him because why would it? It is not hate that undoes him-because hate is passion and caring too much-it is the unraveling that feels like his ruin. To have known so much and to have to forget everything: he did not expect it to hurt just this much.
But Sho knows. He owes it to Ohno and to himself to move on. Sho just needs time to pretend that he hasn’t crossed a line he had thought he would never allow himself to cross. His feelings for Ohno had meant much more than some errors in judgment, surely? Yet the silky feel of Ohno inside his mouth threatens to consume him alive.
Things will never be the same again. There is no helping it.
The tears are falling fast on his lap, and he lets it. How could we.
Rating: R
Pairing: Ohno/Sho
Word count: 3645
Summary: Sho has always wanted Ohno.
Warnings/Notes: My first ever Yama pair, and wow, I think I may have gotten too emotionally involved. Anyway, this fic is dedicated to all the crazy Sho fangirls on my tumblr feed who make me adore Sho just a little bit more with every obsessive and delusional amazing post. You guys know who you are. ♥
Sho’s biggest fear is that when Ohno finds out, nothing will ever be the same.
He watches him secretly, with the most furtive of glances. He has always watched him out of the corner of his eyes, during stolen moments when he thinks no one notices, for far longer than he ever wants to admit.
Sho feels the familiar lump of fondness and desire lodge in his throat as he watches the minute twitches of Ohno’s eyes and the tiny purse of his lips. Ohno reading an old, battered fishing magazine, his legs tucked under him haphazardly and his arm propped on the couch, un-styled hair all over the place, is more breathtaking than any person has any right to be. He doesn’t know how many times he has wanted to reach out, near enough to breathe everything he is in. Before he knows it, he has let an unguarded sigh come out of his mouth.
He doesn’t realize it himself, not until Ohno is looking at him searchingly. Ohno peers on top of the magazine and gives Sho a kind, questioning glance. “Tired?”
Sho nervously shoots him a tight-lipped smile as he shakes his head. “It’s nothing.” He hates the shaky, gravely voice that barely covers up his nerves at perhaps being caught in the act of staring.
The magazine is abandoned as Ohno stands up and sits down beside Sho. He is close enough that Sho can smell that familiar Ohno smell that evokes clean laundry and the sun. Their shoulders are touching, and Ohno nudges him wordlessly. When Sho doesn’t react, he does it again, and this time, forcefully enough to make Sho tip to the side. Sho can’t help but laugh.
“Satoshi-kun,” he breathes. Sho unconsciously scoots an inch away, wary of being too near.
The corner of Ohno’s eyes turn up. He squirms beside Sho until there’s no space between them again. He manages to grab a hold of Sho’s arm and promptly puts it around his own shoulders, as if draping a comfortable scarf. Sho stiffens.
“You’re strange,” he accuses Sho.
“Why am I strange?” While being called strange by someone like Ohno is normally a cause for reflection, Sho feels like Ohno is seeing straight through him that moment. That, and he is also flustered by the casual contact. It is still well within the bounds of what counted as the manifestation of their normal physical affection, but it’s also not something that Ohno does everyday. He swallows a little at having him this close, the spikes of Ohno’s hair tickling his chin.
Ohno only settles deeper into the crook of his arm, leaning on the slope of Sho’s shoulders. “Sho-kun?”
"Hmm?" It takes all of his energy to resist sniffing his hair and fully enveloping him with two arms.
“You can always tell me,” Ohno says. “Whatever it is,” he mumbles, slight embarrassment tingeing his cheeks, “okay?”
Sho shifts in his seat. “I know.”
He says those two words even when the very thing that is bothering him is the one thing that he can’t ever talk about. Not when he still wants to have Ohno like this, with zero complications.
They have Arashi-they have years of steady camaraderie going on for them, years of going through all the highs and lows that people can only dream of and have nightmares about. They also have a friendship that doesn’t really fit neatly into normal categories; like they have answered in so many magazine interviews, theirs is a kind of friendship that escapes definition and exists in a place of its own. But despite all that, Sho still wonders. He wonders if Ohno has ever thought about them, him, differently. He wonders if it’s even possible that he is not alone in the sharp loneliness of liking Ohno-a member, a brother, a childhood friend-as something…more.
Sho himself is a fan of clear boundaries, yet when it comes to their Leader, everything just overflows into one uncontainable mess of emotions.
If asked, Sho would not be able to trace when or how his heart started to race at just the sight of Ohno. Perhaps it was from the first time they met each other-it was on a bus, they were en route to the airport for an overseas taping. Ohno’s bangs were falling into his eyes, his smile barely there, and Sho wondered how such a lax guy could be the enigmatic senior who danced in Kyoto that everyone talked about and also the “ridiculously talented boy you’ll be in a group in with, because someone has to sing," via Johnny. Ohno shook his hand and pointed to his suitcase-which was admittedly rather huge for his frame then-and asked, “What have you got in there?”
But perhaps it didn’t really start at any specific time and place that he can pinpoint. Perhaps the feeling has always just merely existed, because he is who he is and Ohno is Ohno. He wishes he can fault Ohno for that, but he can’t. No one ever told him to fall for someone so close to him (yet so hopelessly out of his league.)
When they are called to the studio for their photo shoot, Ohno slowly stands up and offers him a hand. Sho takes it. Ohno doesn’t let go and Sho allows Ohno’s warm hand to ease his clammy one. They walk together towards the light, hand in hand, in a way that only serves to remind Sho that this is all he could ever have.
*
He doesn’t hate the fact that he’s always been in love with Ohno, because he knows that his feelings will never be returned. There is comfort in that.
Yet he still can’t help but hope for more when Ohno shows that he cares. Of course, Ohno cares for everyone in Arashi in his hazy, roundabout way, yet he’s still more demonstrative towards their younger band mates even though much time has passed. When they started out, there had been a clear line between the older ones (Sho and Ohno), and the younger ones (the rest). Although Ohno, by sheer force of personality, has never stopped being the non-leader-like leader that he is, he is still unconsciously more indulgent towards Aiba, Nino, and Jun. From the start, despite the fact that Sho is also younger than him, Ohno has always seen Sho as an equal. So when Ohno dotes on him and slathers him with more affection than usual, Sho is as pleased as he is clueless about what to do.
On Mondays when he is more swamped than normal (which is already more work than mere mortals could ever imagine), Ohno never forgets to message him. That Ohno always watches News Zero when he can is something Sho is embarrassed about, yet secretly thankful for. When he receives a text message that says “thanks for your hard work tonight” with a picture of his face demarcated by subtle lines thanks to the television screen, Sho feels that all the hard work is worth it.
Sometimes, Ohno simply texts him “ikemen!” and Sho will be smiling that smile that makes his jaw hurt all throughout the week.
There are also days when Ohno stays back to help him with his dancing. Those are the days when Sho has it the worst.
In the first place, it was never in Ohno’s job description to make sure that every time they have a dance routine to master that Sho got it down seamlessly. They have choreographers and dance instructors for that, and Sho does okay enough as long as he is given double the time to learn it. Whenever the dance steps get too complicated, Sho opts to stay behind in the studio, with the music player and a video of the choreography to contend with, usually, for the rest of the night. The first time Ohno stays, Sho is confused.
Ohno grins at Sho’s reflection in the mirror. Sho turns back in surprise. “Satoshi! I…I thought you went home.”
He shrugs, not bothering to explain his presence. He simply presses play and falls into step beside Sho. Whenever Sho makes a mistake, Ohno patiently pauses the player and demonstrates the step again. He has no misgivings about touching to correct Sho. Ohno pries his legs apart with his knees, guides the angle of his arms with his hands, gets behind Sho to show him where his hips should go.
Sho always feels the trickle of sweat more keenly whenever Ohno is around.
When Sho finally aces the steps, they run through the choreography several times again just to make sure. During those nights, Ohno dances without holding back. Sho is absolutely mesmerized by the sharp and concise movements, the blinding energy that Ohno usually withholds during their performances because he doesn’t want to outshine everyone else. But when it’s just the two of them, Sho can see for his own eyes that it would be impossible for Ohno to truly outgrow dancing, even when he says that he’s “finished” with dance. Even the bright lights seem to recognize this and shine on Ohno the way they have never shined for anyone else.
One time, Sho jokes. “Why aren’t we just your backdancers again?”
“What are you talking about,” Ohno mutters. He drinks water in huge gulps, his sweat pooling around him almost inhumanly. Sho wishes he can look away.
Throughout the years, those intense and yet not altogether unpleasant one-on-one dance practice sessions became a bonding point, something they didn’t share with the other three. And in an irrational way, Sho is glad that he gets to keep that side of Ohno all to himself, the side of Ohno who dances not for the fans, but only for himself. He keeps and holds that sight deep in his heart, because that's all he has.
*
It gets crippling, always seeing Ohno and being around him. No, it doesn’t affect his work, but he’s not sure just how much longer he can pretend without saying anything. It’s not that he dares to hope for more. He just needs one last thing to completely let it go. It’s been simmering in his thoughts for years, and maybe it’s about time to come clean, Sho thinks.
Sho wants to tie the longest loose end in his life. He just doesn’t know how to go about it.
*
The five of them are out drinking after a long day filled to the brim with the mundane side of idol-hood: answering interview questions they feel like they’ve answered a hundred times before, a meeting to discuss the set-list for their next concert, dance practice, and a wardrobe check for their next performances. They haven’t gone out together in ages, and figure that it’s a good time as any to spend some time together, now that their schedules are miraculously open all at the same time.
The night progresses in a relaxed fashion, the drinks arriving on their table in a steady pace. Nino, a lightweight when it comes to alcohol, has already degraded to exchanging meaningless insults with a slightly inebriated Jun, who is won’t to back down. Aiba is sitting there quietly, presumably texting the girl he’s been seeing for quite some time, if the slight quirk in his mouth is to be a clue. Ohno’s just staring at an empty point in space, his hand nestled against the sweating bottle of beer that needs replacing.
Sho is a little plastered himself. Okay, so he’s more than plastered. While he usually never gets drunk, he finds that stress and being around four other people who also know and experience exactly just how tired he is make him drink more than usual. Just as conversation is picking up again, with Nino teasing Aiba about being “sickeningly smitten” yet “under-fucked”, Sho excuses himself to get some fresh air.
It is strangely a little warm for a spring night. He breathes in and out, willing the pounding in his head to subside. His breath hitches a little when Ohno appears beside him.
“Too much to drink?” Ohno asks.
Sho nods. “Yeah.
“Wanna take a walk?”
“We’re going to leave them behind?” Sho’s voice is thick. He doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol or the weight that’s beginning to settle on his shoulders.
Ohno shrugs noncommittally. “Aiba-chan’s still pretty sober.”
"Who'll pay?"
"I would like to say Nino, but," Ohno says, a tiny dimple denting the skin right by his mouth.
They spend an hour walking around aimlessly, the late hour an instant identity cloak that keeps them undisturbed. They don’t talk about anything in particular, yet it soothes Sho more than he expected it to. When they pass by a convenience store, Ohno goes in and comes right back out with a six-pack of beer.
He dangles it in front of Sho. “Lets go to your place.”
Sho only nods okay and leads the both of them to where his car is parked. He has a sickening feeling what this is all about. He keeps repeating a mantra in his head, this is just Ohno, just Satoshi-kun, Satoshi, Satoshi…
When they get to Sho’s apartment, Ohno toes off his shoes easily and sets the beer on the coffee table by the couch. Sho grabs a couple of glasses and a bucket of ice from the kitchen. Sitting beside Ohno, alone, makes him jittery, the white noise accumulating in his head. The pop of the beer can breaks through the wall of silence like a gunshot in an empty battlefield. Sho tries not to jump.
Sho gulps at his beer while Ohno sips unhurriedly. Minutes pass. Sho makes a move to stand up, yet he finds his wrist circled by Ohno’s hand.
“Sho-kun, please. I,” he says, swallowing. “Let me.”
When Sho gets the courage to meet Ohno’s eyes, he finds that they are red-rimmed and oh, he’s drunk too. Ohno’s grip on his thigh becomes the conduit for the wordless, articulate transference of what Ohno doesn’t have the heart to say out loud. Sho stays perfectly still, not knowing what to do.
No, he doesn’t want this, not this way. Yet when he hears the clink of the glass on the table, and Ohno’s suddenly too close, he falters. Ohno tentatively licks a stripe on his neck, where his shirt is unbuttoned right up to where his pulse beats. Sho gasps.
“Satoshi-kun,” he says, “don’t,” hoping that words can be sufficient. How would he be able to physically tear himself away if words couldn't do it for him?
But Ohno is undeterred. “Just this once.”
“Just this once,” Sho says, and he feels like his heart has migrated into his brain where it now beats with brutal force. Sho grips empty air inside the pockets of his pants. He wants to douse the embers of desire he feels when he sees Ohno’s pink lips and the glimpse of collarbone that peeps out from his shirt. He wants to stop before anyone gets hurt, but the warmth of their thighs beside each other and Ohno hovering so closely is just too much.
“Just this once,” Ohno repeats, his brows furrowing. Before Sho can even think to backtrack and beg Ohno to reconsider, he feels a tug on his collar.
Ohno inches in, his soft lips landing on Sho’s unsuspecting ones. It is brief, Sho barely has the time to shut his eyes to enjoy the feeling, but he doubts he’ll ever forget about it anyway. Ohno’s lips are slightly chapped, gentle as they coax Sho’s. Sho feels a sudden fire burning in the pit of his stomach, urging him to reconsider or never turn back.
The bright-eyed inexplicability that Ohno wears on his face makes Sho breathless. He can’t read anything into it, yet he is comforted by the way Ohno’s hand settles gently on his arm, the tactile, Ohno-equivalent of it’s okay.
“Like that?”
Sho is not sure if it is an invitation to re-do things and push matters towards the direction that he has only dared to hope for, or if Ohno expects him to nod and be on his merry way-his mind is riotous and he struggles to jumble cause and effect back in the right order.
Against his better judgment, Sho looks straight at Ohno. He says the first thing that comes into his mind. “Thank you.”
Ohno frowns.
“Satoshi, you’re drunk,” he adds, as he tries to stand up and get away. He needs to be away from Ohno, because.
Ohno looks up at him, eyes unfocused and dark. “You’re unfair.” He catches Sho’s hand, fingers stroking his knuckles. “But I’m worse.”
“Why?”
“I know about you,” Ohno starts, tripping on his words and on alcohol, “about how you feel about me. You never say anything,” he accuses.
Sho doesn’t know what to say. He feels the heat on his cheeks and the alcohol making happy, swirly blots inside where his frontal lobe should be. “There’s no reason for me to. I don’t…I don’t expect anything.”
“Just tonight,” Ohno blurts out, his hand still enveloping Sho’s. Sho sees the uncertainty he feels mirrored in Ohno’s eyes. Just tonight-two words that break down every defense Sho has been desperately trying to erect. He swallows at the implications, wondering who is worse for what.
When Ohno drags him down to him, Sho stops thinking about anything. Their lips meet in hunger. Sho arranges his legs so that he is straddling Ohno, a sigh stuck on his throat as he lets Ohno’s tongue slide inside his mouth. He shivers as Ohno’s hands finds his way underneath his shirt, touching and feeling the expanse of skin upwards then down to the band of his underwear.
This is what Sho has always wanted. There is nothing disappointing about the way Ohno doesn’t cede all control to him and fights back, in a rush to touch and feel.
Ohno kisses like he fucking means it, Sho finds out.
He’ll process that tidbit for later. Ohno is now rocking on to him, and he gets the general idea. Before he knows it, their positions have shifted and he is sitting on the couch, his pants pooled around his ankles. Ohno is positioned in between his legs, staring through his eyelashes with his liquid brown eyes. Sho touches his cheek, wondering how it has come to this, when Ohno takes him inside his mouth.
All regrets and rational thought fly out of his head as he learns to hold on to the tufts of Ohno’s hair. Ohno soothingly runs his hand up and down on his leg as he hollows his cheek, and it takes all of Sho’s self-control not to scream.
When, minutes later, he finally comes, he doesn’t meet Ohno’s eyes.
Ohno cants his head slightly as he swallows and wets his lips again. He stretches up to kiss Sho on the forehead.
Sometime later that night, they move to the bedroom.
*
It doesn’t happen only once, or twice. For a couple of months, they were able to delude themselves into thinking that things were as they should be. They both develop a taste for ignoring their feelings, until they couldn’t anymore. It couldn’t have gone on forever, not if they were to remain friends.
Sho is the first one to crack. He meets Ohno in the park near his apartment, the sun threatening to disappear on them fast.
“I won’t be the last,” Ohno says, and Sho almost hates him for it, but he can’t, because it’s Ohno, and he knows what Ohno is saying. The warm hand against his cheek is a comfort and a thorn, and he leans into it, because words fail him. He curls his own hand around Ohno’s.
Ohno lets him be.
When a few minutes pass-it could have been an eternity, for all Sho knew-he lets Ohno’s hand go. Ohno is smiling, but Sho knows better. His heart aches with the knowledge that not even Ohno cannot hide the sadness that he feels, a sadness entirely different from the one that Sho is intimate with. Sho aches because there's even a difference.
“It’s not your fault,” he manages to say. “I’m so sorry.”
Ohno’s lips brushes his softly, lingering for a moment, apologies in his eyes. “Sho.” He kisses Sho again, on the forehead. “No.”
Underneath Ohno’s brevity when it comes to words comes an underlying galaxy of things unsaid, and Sho doesn’t want to mess anything up. Not with Ohno. Not ever. Not again. There are holes in their apologies, but Sho understands.
He nods and tells Ohno to go first. The sun sets on their parting.
When he wakes up the next day to an empty bed, Sho knows that he needs to put it all past him, and he will. Maybe there’s a universe out there where they specifically end up together and the cruel question of who deserves who doesn’t exist, a universe where Ohno doesn’t apologize for anything, a universe where the weight of what they’ve done does not bear heavily on him because why would it? It is not hate that undoes him-because hate is passion and caring too much-it is the unraveling that feels like his ruin. To have known so much and to have to forget everything: he did not expect it to hurt just this much.
But Sho knows. He owes it to Ohno and to himself to move on. Sho just needs time to pretend that he hasn’t crossed a line he had thought he would never allow himself to cross. His feelings for Ohno had meant much more than some errors in judgment, surely? Yet the silky feel of Ohno inside his mouth threatens to consume him alive.
Things will never be the same again. There is no helping it.
The tears are falling fast on his lap, and he lets it. How could we.