Law of Gravity
Title: Law of Gravity
Rating: R (I think)
Characters/Pairings: Aiba/Jun
Word count: 2403
Summary: Aiba and Jun, in the span of many years. Jun wonders if Aiba will ever understand.
Warnings/Notes: I’m just really in the mood for some Aiba/Jun, I don’t know why! It’s my first time writing them in a pseudo romantic light, though. This fic is partially inspired by a Jamie Woon song called Gravity, which you all should listen to because it’s just so spare and beautiful! ♥
Jun likes the way Aiba curls into himself when he takes his afternoon naps: long legs tucked cozily together, the steady breathing that assured Jun so, and his warm cheek over his arm. Jun feels a dint of affection animating his own hands, towards lightly tanned skin and fluttering lashes.
As he stares at a sleeping Aiba, he remembers the first time he meets him at the downtown Shibuya studio, where they held dance practice as Juniors so many years ago. Aiba was standing in one corner, staring at his feet, all tall, gangly, and shy. Chalking it up to gravity, he remembers walking towards the new boy, unable to resist his forlorn looking face.
“Need help with the choreography?”
It’s like the sun, Jun remembers thinking, when Aiba smiles in gratitude. It is the first time Jun truly understands just how disarming a smile can be. It isn’t the last time.
*
When Aiba enters the bus that was to take them to the airport, Jun is beyond ecstatic.
Aiba places his bags along the aisle, shyly looking at the two older Johnny’s sitting at the back. He plunks down beside Jun, who is all smiles. They stare at each other both in wonder and excitement.
“I am going to be a superstar,” Aiba finally says, trying to keep his face straight.
Jun laughs and adoringly smacks Aiba on the forehead. “You didn’t tell me you’d be here too!”
Aiba grins as he rubs the spot where Jun hit him. “I have a passport,” he says, as if it was something to be proud of.
“Unbelievable. You, me, and Nino.” They grin at each other.
After they fix their positions and throw their bags carelessly underneath their seats, Aiba elbows him, gesturing. “Ohno-san and Sakurai, huh?” he whispers. “I can’t decide if Sakurai’s a jerk or if he’s just a snobby little rich boy. Just look at that huge, leather suitcase.”
Jun tries to stifle a laugh. “You probably only think that because Chiba is totally hicksville.”
“Hey!” Aiba punches Jun playfully. “But seriously, Sakurai’s scary.”
Jun shoots off a look at the back. “You know who’s scary? Ohno-san,” he whispers back.
Aiba nods. “I wish Toma was here.”
“What are you two little birds gossiping about?” Nino asks, as he settles across the aisle from them.
“Nothing. And we’re not little birds okay, you’re one to talk,” Jun replies curtly, the corner of his lips quirking up.
“Yeah, you’ve hardly grown the past year, Nino-chan.”
Nino sticks out a tongue at them. “What’s so exciting about debuting, anyway?” He doesn’t wait for their answer and dons his headphones. Aiba and Jun shrug at each other, both unable to keep the smiles off their faces.
The bus starts moving. Out of the blue, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Aiba shoves his hand reassuringly into Jun’s. “Here goes nothing.”
The youthful glints in their eyes are so honest in their excitement and pleasant trepidation, both of them thrumming with expectation of the journey ahead. Aiba grips his hand tighter.
Jun is happy, happier than he remembers.
*
Jun’s heart erupts in relief when he sees who is at the door. Aiba enters the dressing room sheepishly, his eyes shy. “Hi guys.”
Ohno leaps off from the couch in a rare bout of energy and hugs Aiba. “Welcome back, Aiba-chan.”
Sho smiles from where he is sitting. “Masaki. Feeling better?”
“You bet.” He laughs when he feels Ohno squeezing him tight. "Oh-chan!"
“You look pretty healthy…for a crybaby,” Nino interjects. “Your mom called me to say you missed us terribly.”
Aiba happily resurfaces from Ohno’s arms and walks towards Nino. “I miss you too, Nino,” he says, as he ruffles the other guy’s hair. A small, satisfied smile settles on Nino’s face as he shoves Aiba off.
He settles beside Sho, who is across Jun. Their eyes meet. Jun wants nothing more than to hug Aiba, just like Ohno did, but he’s not sure, never sure, when it comes to Aiba.
Jun makes sure that they are the last two to leave the dressing room before taping. He allows his hand to settle on the area of Aiba’s lungs, while also feeling the curious and intimate beats of his heart through the cotton shirt. He exhales a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“You’re fine?”
“Perfectly healthy now,” Aiba says, beaming. For a precious moment, he rests his hand on top of Jun’s.
He is unsure why he feels the need to ask, but he has to know. “Didn’t you miss me too?”
“Jealous of Nino?”
Jun retracts his hand, his cheeks coloring. “Please.” He walks out of the room, leaving Aiba flushing in satisfaction. When he gets home that night, he receives a text message from Jun.
“I’m glad you’re okay.”
*
Jun finds that he is stuck in the orbit of a blazing sun. He does not remember the exact moment when he realizes it. He thinks that he must not be the only one who feels the unquestionable pull. The way they gravitate towards each other is inevitable.
*
They are in a dark corridor after recording. It is freezing and they are due to follow the rest of the Shukudai-kun staff for their Christmas party.
“That towel was really hot, you stupid reindeer.”
Aiba gurgles with laughter. “You looked really sexy with that stocking on your head, you know,” he grins.
It is Aiba who reaches in, all long, alluring and dark-eyed. He playfully kisses Jun on the lips. And just like that, Jun could not stop. He pulls the reindeer mask off of Aiba none too gently, tossing it off to the side haphazardly.
They kiss ravenously, grasping, barely breathing. Aiba allows himself to be pushed against the wall, panting heavily. He manages to whisper, “Jun, stop.” But they are past that, and they both know it. Jun sighs and Aiba’s lips and tongue keep at it, the years finally catching up to them.
Behind the lust, Jun feels the immediate, ugly surge of hope overwhelming him, only to have it dashed as quickly when Aiba abruptly pushes him away. He contorts his face to one of anger that he barely feels, because instead a kind of guilty shame pools in his stomach. “Stop fucking around with me.”
“It’s not that." Aiba laughs, nervously, heartbreakingly.
(It is too soon, maybe?)
Since then, Jun knows to not to fall so easily for Aiba’s baits, all hurtfully thrown without a thought. He keeps his distance when he can. His first instinct is to lash out on Aiba, but he knows he has to be patient. There was nothing else to do than be patient.
*
Aiba stirs, and Jun hastens to swallow back the intense need to push back the fine hairs falling down on Aiba’s forehead. Jun breathes out when Aiba settles back into the couch, still dreaming. He’s safe.
*
The one time Jun brings it up, Aiba recoils. They are on their way home from a staff meeting after grabbing a couple of beers. Jun will never forget Aiba’s big eyes and the way he flinches away.
“You’re too near,” he whispers.
“You don’t understand,” Jun starts to say.
“We can’t,” Aiba says, his eyes on the ground.
Jun will always hate the moment that the only thing he could bring himself to say was “why”.
“It’s impossible, isn’t it.”
Jun has it burned in his head, the image of Aiba walking away from him. He has memorized the way the orange glow of parking lot lamps illuminates Aiba’s every step in an otherworldly manner, punishing Jun for his recklessness. He knows deep inside that it couldn’t really happen, that it’s impossible-not with their lifestyle, not with their stature, not with their fans, not with who they are. Or at least, that’s what Jun keeps on telling himself.
For the first time in his life, he despises who he is.
*
If Jun has a weakness, it is Aiba. Jun has many weaknesses, has accounted for most of them, all carefully if not desperately hidden. But Aiba… Aiba is a struggle to account for and to hide. Jun knows he has to hide the drastic ebb and rise of emotions, but he can’t. Not when it comes to Aiba. He finds his voice rising to reprimand Aiba when he makes ridiculous mistakes in their concerts, finds his heart softening when Aiba apologizes for it with a laugh afterwards.
The sounds of people filing out of Tokyo Dome reverberate in the dressing room. Jun towels off his upper body. “You cried.”
Aiba brushes his shoulder-length hair off his face. “Sorry, Jun-kun. It’s just…we’re finally doing it. What we’ve always talked about.”
“I know.”
It stirs up something in Jun-the collision between feelings of triumph and those of ingratiating fondness over his band mate. He grabs Aiba’s hand, even as he tries to resist it. When Aiba collapses on him, his weight on Jun’s bare body, his shoulders unmistakably shaking, Jun breathes out.
Aiba laughs, his tears on Jun’s damp shoulder. “This far,” he mumbles.
Jun doesn’t know what to make of it, but he hugs the other man back, emotions welling up.
*
Aiba does not meet his gaze.
Jun’s breath hitches as Aiba casts aside his own shirt. He waits for Aiba to speak, yet he is also terrified that he might. His breath stills when Aiba climbs on top of his knees. When a soft kiss lands on his stomach, he bites his lips to stop himself from asking for more, to stop from giving himself away. But as Aiba dares to go lower and lower, his mouth seeking Jun's heat, Jun finds no more space for words, for worries. He is relieved by Aiba's instincts.
Later, they lie silently on Aiba’s bed, their breathing filling the empty space that is the lack of words. Jun is tired and spent, yet he finds that he is still mesmerized by Aiba’s back, where there are two hollows just right above his waist. His fingers ghost along the sensual dips. He is still shocked by the acuity of his desire, even as it had just been sated.
The white sheets ruffle. Aiba faces him, his breathing slow, arms snaking around Jun’s middle. They kiss, and to Jun, it feels like drowning. Jun trembles as he feels Aiba gently sucking sensuously on his lower lip, his hand sliding up and down Jun’s side.
It is whispered against his lips, and Jun barely catches it. “Was it all you thought it would be?”
Jun pulls away, his features hardening. He feels like he has been slapped. “What?”
“Nothing,” Aiba suddenly backtracks. His eyes are unreadable.
“Fine,” Jun says, hurt.
Aiba closes his eyes. “It's just... there’s no going back now.”
“You were the one who said that we shouldn’t make this complicated.”
There remain quiet for what felt like an eternity.
When Aiba says “fuck me”, Jun obliges. But he doesn’t know what to feel when, the next night, Aiba appears on his doorstep and says the same thing. He aches for Aiba to understand.
*
“Please, try it on again, I want to see!”
Jun grimaces. “But it’s wet.”
“You’re wet too, so no harm done!”
Seeing no way out, he gives in to Aiba’s request with a sigh and shrugs into the glittery jacket with much effort.
“So how do you like it?”
“Uh...it’s sparkly, if that’s what you mean,” Jun says, as he checks out his reflection in the mirror.
Aiba smiles with pride. “Sho-chan was totally being a buzzkill and said we should get you that boring black jacket! Good thing I interceded, even though I had to pay for it!”
“I think Sho-kun was the one who had my best interests in mind.”
Aiba hugs him from behind, his chin on Jun’s shoulders. “Aww, don’t be boring like Sho-chan. Nothing but the best for my glittering prince!”
Jun laughs. “Gross.”
“Happy birthday,” Aiba says, the sides of his eyes crinkling, as he zips up the jacket for Jun. He kisses Jun on his temple.
Jun doesn’t want anything else. He doesn’t want to be anywhere else other than within the sphere of Aiba’s arms, in a tacky yellow jacket, both of them sweaty and rain-drenched, post-concert endorphins flying all around them like confetti.
*
Somewhere along the way, they settle into a comfortable ambivalence, neither pushing away nor edging in. Jun has decided long ago that as long as he has Aiba by his side, then it would be more than enough. The other man has never made a move to define what the lingering, if mostly hidden, sweetness between them is. Jun thinks he never will, so he takes the cue, and he’s fine, he keeps on telling himself.
Just fine.
*
Aiba wakes up, and flashes him a sleepy grin as he shifts on the couch. “Hi,” he says in a soft, sleep-worn voice, completely nonplussed that Jun was kneeling on the floor, right in front of his face. Jun makes a move to stand up, but Aiba stills him with his hand. "Hey."
When Aiba kisses Jun’s nose, Jun feels ready to crumble.
“I can’t kiss you on the nose?” Aiba asks with a pout.
He is selfish, always has been, but he has to try not to offend Aiba. So he just closes his eyes. Aiba reaches over for Jun’s hand, aware of the subtle tremors that he has learned never to notice out loud. He presses a soft kiss to the pinkish flesh that surrounded Jun’s knuckles.
"Can't talk?"
Jun doesn't say anything. Aiba kisses him lightly on his eyelid.
“It’s rude to watch people sleep you know.”
"Shut up." His voice is lodged in his throat, and he hates it.
It is remonstration, a subtle warning, Jun knows; he has learned to read the often mixed signals that Aiba sends via the contradiction that are his words and his body language. It irks Jun just as much as it makes his heart pound, but no, he must not cross the line.
When Aiba tugs to pull Jun flush against him in the couch, arms embracing him, he doesn’t protest. He is long past that. He just has to stop the pounding in his chest and the twinge in his heart that whispered be mine, again and again.
“Let’s stay like this, for awhile.”
Jun wonders if Aiba has any idea how long he has consented to that very phrase, even as he aches for more. Will always ache for more. He does not want to be Aiba’s “for awhile”, no, not that, not anymore. He buries his head into Aiba's neck, breathing him in.
*
When it’s time for taping and they get up from the couch, Jun is sick with love and need. He wants to stop, he wants to get rid of every feeling.
“Jun-kun? Time to go,” Aiba says.
But Jun knows. He knows that he will stay, because it’s Aiba. It’s enough, he says, it should be enough. Aiba is his sun, the celestial body his life revolves around. He can never give it up.
And so, he will wait.
Rating: R (I think)
Characters/Pairings: Aiba/Jun
Word count: 2403
Summary: Aiba and Jun, in the span of many years. Jun wonders if Aiba will ever understand.
Warnings/Notes: I’m just really in the mood for some Aiba/Jun, I don’t know why! It’s my first time writing them in a pseudo romantic light, though. This fic is partially inspired by a Jamie Woon song called Gravity, which you all should listen to because it’s just so spare and beautiful! ♥
Jun likes the way Aiba curls into himself when he takes his afternoon naps: long legs tucked cozily together, the steady breathing that assured Jun so, and his warm cheek over his arm. Jun feels a dint of affection animating his own hands, towards lightly tanned skin and fluttering lashes.
As he stares at a sleeping Aiba, he remembers the first time he meets him at the downtown Shibuya studio, where they held dance practice as Juniors so many years ago. Aiba was standing in one corner, staring at his feet, all tall, gangly, and shy. Chalking it up to gravity, he remembers walking towards the new boy, unable to resist his forlorn looking face.
“Need help with the choreography?”
It’s like the sun, Jun remembers thinking, when Aiba smiles in gratitude. It is the first time Jun truly understands just how disarming a smile can be. It isn’t the last time.
*
When Aiba enters the bus that was to take them to the airport, Jun is beyond ecstatic.
Aiba places his bags along the aisle, shyly looking at the two older Johnny’s sitting at the back. He plunks down beside Jun, who is all smiles. They stare at each other both in wonder and excitement.
“I am going to be a superstar,” Aiba finally says, trying to keep his face straight.
Jun laughs and adoringly smacks Aiba on the forehead. “You didn’t tell me you’d be here too!”
Aiba grins as he rubs the spot where Jun hit him. “I have a passport,” he says, as if it was something to be proud of.
“Unbelievable. You, me, and Nino.” They grin at each other.
After they fix their positions and throw their bags carelessly underneath their seats, Aiba elbows him, gesturing. “Ohno-san and Sakurai, huh?” he whispers. “I can’t decide if Sakurai’s a jerk or if he’s just a snobby little rich boy. Just look at that huge, leather suitcase.”
Jun tries to stifle a laugh. “You probably only think that because Chiba is totally hicksville.”
“Hey!” Aiba punches Jun playfully. “But seriously, Sakurai’s scary.”
Jun shoots off a look at the back. “You know who’s scary? Ohno-san,” he whispers back.
Aiba nods. “I wish Toma was here.”
“What are you two little birds gossiping about?” Nino asks, as he settles across the aisle from them.
“Nothing. And we’re not little birds okay, you’re one to talk,” Jun replies curtly, the corner of his lips quirking up.
“Yeah, you’ve hardly grown the past year, Nino-chan.”
Nino sticks out a tongue at them. “What’s so exciting about debuting, anyway?” He doesn’t wait for their answer and dons his headphones. Aiba and Jun shrug at each other, both unable to keep the smiles off their faces.
The bus starts moving. Out of the blue, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Aiba shoves his hand reassuringly into Jun’s. “Here goes nothing.”
The youthful glints in their eyes are so honest in their excitement and pleasant trepidation, both of them thrumming with expectation of the journey ahead. Aiba grips his hand tighter.
Jun is happy, happier than he remembers.
*
Jun’s heart erupts in relief when he sees who is at the door. Aiba enters the dressing room sheepishly, his eyes shy. “Hi guys.”
Ohno leaps off from the couch in a rare bout of energy and hugs Aiba. “Welcome back, Aiba-chan.”
Sho smiles from where he is sitting. “Masaki. Feeling better?”
“You bet.” He laughs when he feels Ohno squeezing him tight. "Oh-chan!"
“You look pretty healthy…for a crybaby,” Nino interjects. “Your mom called me to say you missed us terribly.”
Aiba happily resurfaces from Ohno’s arms and walks towards Nino. “I miss you too, Nino,” he says, as he ruffles the other guy’s hair. A small, satisfied smile settles on Nino’s face as he shoves Aiba off.
He settles beside Sho, who is across Jun. Their eyes meet. Jun wants nothing more than to hug Aiba, just like Ohno did, but he’s not sure, never sure, when it comes to Aiba.
Jun makes sure that they are the last two to leave the dressing room before taping. He allows his hand to settle on the area of Aiba’s lungs, while also feeling the curious and intimate beats of his heart through the cotton shirt. He exhales a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“You’re fine?”
“Perfectly healthy now,” Aiba says, beaming. For a precious moment, he rests his hand on top of Jun’s.
He is unsure why he feels the need to ask, but he has to know. “Didn’t you miss me too?”
“Jealous of Nino?”
Jun retracts his hand, his cheeks coloring. “Please.” He walks out of the room, leaving Aiba flushing in satisfaction. When he gets home that night, he receives a text message from Jun.
“I’m glad you’re okay.”
*
Jun finds that he is stuck in the orbit of a blazing sun. He does not remember the exact moment when he realizes it. He thinks that he must not be the only one who feels the unquestionable pull. The way they gravitate towards each other is inevitable.
*
They are in a dark corridor after recording. It is freezing and they are due to follow the rest of the Shukudai-kun staff for their Christmas party.
“That towel was really hot, you stupid reindeer.”
Aiba gurgles with laughter. “You looked really sexy with that stocking on your head, you know,” he grins.
It is Aiba who reaches in, all long, alluring and dark-eyed. He playfully kisses Jun on the lips. And just like that, Jun could not stop. He pulls the reindeer mask off of Aiba none too gently, tossing it off to the side haphazardly.
They kiss ravenously, grasping, barely breathing. Aiba allows himself to be pushed against the wall, panting heavily. He manages to whisper, “Jun, stop.” But they are past that, and they both know it. Jun sighs and Aiba’s lips and tongue keep at it, the years finally catching up to them.
Behind the lust, Jun feels the immediate, ugly surge of hope overwhelming him, only to have it dashed as quickly when Aiba abruptly pushes him away. He contorts his face to one of anger that he barely feels, because instead a kind of guilty shame pools in his stomach. “Stop fucking around with me.”
“It’s not that." Aiba laughs, nervously, heartbreakingly.
(It is too soon, maybe?)
Since then, Jun knows to not to fall so easily for Aiba’s baits, all hurtfully thrown without a thought. He keeps his distance when he can. His first instinct is to lash out on Aiba, but he knows he has to be patient. There was nothing else to do than be patient.
*
Aiba stirs, and Jun hastens to swallow back the intense need to push back the fine hairs falling down on Aiba’s forehead. Jun breathes out when Aiba settles back into the couch, still dreaming. He’s safe.
*
The one time Jun brings it up, Aiba recoils. They are on their way home from a staff meeting after grabbing a couple of beers. Jun will never forget Aiba’s big eyes and the way he flinches away.
“You’re too near,” he whispers.
“You don’t understand,” Jun starts to say.
“We can’t,” Aiba says, his eyes on the ground.
Jun will always hate the moment that the only thing he could bring himself to say was “why”.
“It’s impossible, isn’t it.”
Jun has it burned in his head, the image of Aiba walking away from him. He has memorized the way the orange glow of parking lot lamps illuminates Aiba’s every step in an otherworldly manner, punishing Jun for his recklessness. He knows deep inside that it couldn’t really happen, that it’s impossible-not with their lifestyle, not with their stature, not with their fans, not with who they are. Or at least, that’s what Jun keeps on telling himself.
For the first time in his life, he despises who he is.
*
If Jun has a weakness, it is Aiba. Jun has many weaknesses, has accounted for most of them, all carefully if not desperately hidden. But Aiba… Aiba is a struggle to account for and to hide. Jun knows he has to hide the drastic ebb and rise of emotions, but he can’t. Not when it comes to Aiba. He finds his voice rising to reprimand Aiba when he makes ridiculous mistakes in their concerts, finds his heart softening when Aiba apologizes for it with a laugh afterwards.
The sounds of people filing out of Tokyo Dome reverberate in the dressing room. Jun towels off his upper body. “You cried.”
Aiba brushes his shoulder-length hair off his face. “Sorry, Jun-kun. It’s just…we’re finally doing it. What we’ve always talked about.”
“I know.”
It stirs up something in Jun-the collision between feelings of triumph and those of ingratiating fondness over his band mate. He grabs Aiba’s hand, even as he tries to resist it. When Aiba collapses on him, his weight on Jun’s bare body, his shoulders unmistakably shaking, Jun breathes out.
Aiba laughs, his tears on Jun’s damp shoulder. “This far,” he mumbles.
Jun doesn’t know what to make of it, but he hugs the other man back, emotions welling up.
*
Aiba does not meet his gaze.
Jun’s breath hitches as Aiba casts aside his own shirt. He waits for Aiba to speak, yet he is also terrified that he might. His breath stills when Aiba climbs on top of his knees. When a soft kiss lands on his stomach, he bites his lips to stop himself from asking for more, to stop from giving himself away. But as Aiba dares to go lower and lower, his mouth seeking Jun's heat, Jun finds no more space for words, for worries. He is relieved by Aiba's instincts.
Later, they lie silently on Aiba’s bed, their breathing filling the empty space that is the lack of words. Jun is tired and spent, yet he finds that he is still mesmerized by Aiba’s back, where there are two hollows just right above his waist. His fingers ghost along the sensual dips. He is still shocked by the acuity of his desire, even as it had just been sated.
The white sheets ruffle. Aiba faces him, his breathing slow, arms snaking around Jun’s middle. They kiss, and to Jun, it feels like drowning. Jun trembles as he feels Aiba gently sucking sensuously on his lower lip, his hand sliding up and down Jun’s side.
It is whispered against his lips, and Jun barely catches it. “Was it all you thought it would be?”
Jun pulls away, his features hardening. He feels like he has been slapped. “What?”
“Nothing,” Aiba suddenly backtracks. His eyes are unreadable.
“Fine,” Jun says, hurt.
Aiba closes his eyes. “It's just... there’s no going back now.”
“You were the one who said that we shouldn’t make this complicated.”
There remain quiet for what felt like an eternity.
When Aiba says “fuck me”, Jun obliges. But he doesn’t know what to feel when, the next night, Aiba appears on his doorstep and says the same thing. He aches for Aiba to understand.
*
“Please, try it on again, I want to see!”
Jun grimaces. “But it’s wet.”
“You’re wet too, so no harm done!”
Seeing no way out, he gives in to Aiba’s request with a sigh and shrugs into the glittery jacket with much effort.
“So how do you like it?”
“Uh...it’s sparkly, if that’s what you mean,” Jun says, as he checks out his reflection in the mirror.
Aiba smiles with pride. “Sho-chan was totally being a buzzkill and said we should get you that boring black jacket! Good thing I interceded, even though I had to pay for it!”
“I think Sho-kun was the one who had my best interests in mind.”
Aiba hugs him from behind, his chin on Jun’s shoulders. “Aww, don’t be boring like Sho-chan. Nothing but the best for my glittering prince!”
Jun laughs. “Gross.”
“Happy birthday,” Aiba says, the sides of his eyes crinkling, as he zips up the jacket for Jun. He kisses Jun on his temple.
Jun doesn’t want anything else. He doesn’t want to be anywhere else other than within the sphere of Aiba’s arms, in a tacky yellow jacket, both of them sweaty and rain-drenched, post-concert endorphins flying all around them like confetti.
*
Somewhere along the way, they settle into a comfortable ambivalence, neither pushing away nor edging in. Jun has decided long ago that as long as he has Aiba by his side, then it would be more than enough. The other man has never made a move to define what the lingering, if mostly hidden, sweetness between them is. Jun thinks he never will, so he takes the cue, and he’s fine, he keeps on telling himself.
Just fine.
*
Aiba wakes up, and flashes him a sleepy grin as he shifts on the couch. “Hi,” he says in a soft, sleep-worn voice, completely nonplussed that Jun was kneeling on the floor, right in front of his face. Jun makes a move to stand up, but Aiba stills him with his hand. "Hey."
When Aiba kisses Jun’s nose, Jun feels ready to crumble.
“I can’t kiss you on the nose?” Aiba asks with a pout.
He is selfish, always has been, but he has to try not to offend Aiba. So he just closes his eyes. Aiba reaches over for Jun’s hand, aware of the subtle tremors that he has learned never to notice out loud. He presses a soft kiss to the pinkish flesh that surrounded Jun’s knuckles.
"Can't talk?"
Jun doesn't say anything. Aiba kisses him lightly on his eyelid.
“It’s rude to watch people sleep you know.”
"Shut up." His voice is lodged in his throat, and he hates it.
It is remonstration, a subtle warning, Jun knows; he has learned to read the often mixed signals that Aiba sends via the contradiction that are his words and his body language. It irks Jun just as much as it makes his heart pound, but no, he must not cross the line.
When Aiba tugs to pull Jun flush against him in the couch, arms embracing him, he doesn’t protest. He is long past that. He just has to stop the pounding in his chest and the twinge in his heart that whispered be mine, again and again.
“Let’s stay like this, for awhile.”
Jun wonders if Aiba has any idea how long he has consented to that very phrase, even as he aches for more. Will always ache for more. He does not want to be Aiba’s “for awhile”, no, not that, not anymore. He buries his head into Aiba's neck, breathing him in.
*
When it’s time for taping and they get up from the couch, Jun is sick with love and need. He wants to stop, he wants to get rid of every feeling.
“Jun-kun? Time to go,” Aiba says.
But Jun knows. He knows that he will stay, because it’s Aiba. It’s enough, he says, it should be enough. Aiba is his sun, the celestial body his life revolves around. He can never give it up.
And so, he will wait.