Law of Inertia
Title: Law of Inertia
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Aiba/Jun
Word count: 3793
Summary: Aiba and Jun, in the span of many years. Aiba wonders if Jun will ever understand.
Warnings/Notes: This is Aiba’s POV; you can find Jun’s POV in Law of Gravity. I suggest reading that first so this part won’t seem too horribly jumpy. It’s been sitting unpolished for a month in my laptop, so I thought I’d finish it and get it over with. Indulge me because Aiba/Jun is my weakness, next to Sho/Jun. ♥
“So, how was your first practice?”
Aiba smiles generously after he chugs the cold oolong tea from the thermos that his mom handed to him. He is more than glad that he doesn’t have to take the train on the first day. “It was okay.”
His mom takes a long look at him from the driver’s seat. “Just okay?”
He thinks about it. “I made a friend. He’s small, though. And he has big teeth.”
The tinkling and girly laughter of his mom fills the car. “Masaki.”
Aiba watches the scenery roll by pleasantly, noting the flashes of greenery among the grey blurs, all the cold buildings rushing past. The fading light of the afternoon sun halos his face.
“But he was nice. Tokyo people are nice, Kaa-san, did you know?”
His mom laughs again. “You’re the big expert on Tokyo now, huh?”
Aiba feels invincible. He now has a friend from big, bad Tokyo, a friend who smiles with too much unbridled enthusiasm (and not to mention, teeth) to guide him along.
*
At the start, sure, it was a storm. But at some point, it dwindled down. Aiba wonders about what he is doing, and he could not rein in his nascent, foreboding fears. He feels like he is being left behind, and it’s all his fault.
He knows he made a mistake. He hates how he trusted so easily, only to have it bite him back in the end. The pictures are horrible reminders; he loved her, even if it was a fleeting, physical thing, but he really thought that he did. How could she? He does not feel prepared for the world he entered a couple years ago, where his smallest moves and biggest misses are printed and blown up for the whole world to see.
Jun is the first one he sees after it all happens.
A rap on his door wakes him out of the lazy yet restless nap he was having. He squints at the harsh summer sun filtering in through his window.
“Masaki?”
Aiba moans. “Kaa-san, I told you, I don’t want lunch.”
“Your friend’s here,” she says softly.
When Aiba opens the door, he doesn’t know if it is relief or shame that sets in. Perhaps it is both. He lets a sober-looking Jun in. When the door shuts close, Jun is there, standing by his bed. The silence mounts. Aiba’s mouth feels dry, and he notices with a wince at how much of a pigsty his room really resembled.
“I’m sorry, I’ll clean up,” he mumbles, suddenly rushing around to pick up an empty cup of noodles and some shirts off the floor. A hand tightly grips his arm.
“Stop,” Jun says gently.
Aiba can’t bring himself to meet Jun’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”
The hand falls down with a sigh. Aiba thinks there is so much there that is left unsaid.
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”
But how could it not? He took a cab going there, didn’t he? He agreed to go inside her room, didn’t he? He didn’t flinch when she took out the camera, right?
He sits down on his bed, and Jun follows suit. “Doesn’t make things right.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Jun says. “Not anymore. Ohno-kun and the others don’t care about it, okay?”
“It could have ruined us, could’ve ruined Arashi,” Aiba says, almost choking on his words. “Johnny-san said-”
“I don’t care about what he said. We don’t care, okay?”
“I just-”
“I don’t care!”
“It’s my fault.”
Jun gingerly grabs his hand with his warm one. “Stop being stupid.”
His first instinct is to flinch, but instead, he feels warmth. Aiba could literally feel Jun’s fierce resolve against his skin, and Aiba knows and appreciates it for what it is. It is hard to put into words what he feels, so Aiba settles for resting his head on Jun’s shoulder. He is afraid, as he is grateful, that Jun does not shake him off.
He still feels like shit but he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he can find ways to prove Jun right in the future. Prove them all wrong.
*
“OH MY GOD.”
Jun slaps him on the forehead. Gently, of course, but the intention is there. “Drop the fake shock over my hair, will you?”
Aiba laughs. “But you really look like a dork.”
The other man strokes his combed down bangs self-consciously. He sighs. “Why do peasants have ugly hair?”
“Yuji’s not a peasant," Aiba’s replies, his voice gratingly cheerful.
“Shut up.” Jun plops down on the couch beside him. Their thighs align in friendly heat. He motions towards the guitar lying by Aiba’s side. “So, you a virtuoso already?”
Aiba picks up the wooden instrument, shaking his head. “It’s hard.”
“Serves you right.”
“I should’ve told the director that I wanted to be the delivery-boy, not the one playing the guitar.”
“Boo-hoo.”
He sticks up his hand right in front of Jun’s face. “Look, it’s doing a worse job than golf at mangling my hand. Calluses,” he says brightly.
“Ew,” Jun says unenthusiastically.
“They’re battle scars,” Aiba declares.
“Why, have you gotten any better?”
“At what?”
Jun sighs deeply, as if he was conversing with a three-year old. “At playing the guitar.”
Aiba grins. Gingerly, he starts plucking out a few strange-sounding notes.
“Don’t.” There is warning in the other man’s voice.
“My heart is about to burst, because it’s filled with thoughts of you,” he begins to sing, looking to the side at Jun lasciviously. He barely flinches over hitting the wrong chord.
The barest hint of laughter etches itself on the quirk of Jun’s lips.
“I don't have anything and I can't do anything. But my feelings for you won't lose to anyone.” He tries to wink at Jun, which, of course, doesn’t really end up being a wink, Aiba being Aiba. “Sing with me!”
“No way,” Jun laughs.
When he fades out from the chorus, the last discomfiting chord echoes errantly into the air. He raises his brows expectantly for some commentary from Jun. “So?”
“You shouldn’t be left alone with a guitar.”
Aiba laughs. “I should be in a rock band!”
“You’re delirious.”
“Well, you…you look like a wood carving with stupid hair.”
Later, when they are called on to the filming set, Aiba notes the way Jun curls his hand into Aiba’s calloused ones. His thumb strokes the hardened patch of skin. Up, down. Up, down.
Aiba smiles.
*
He hears the crash of the wave more than he feels it. One second, he sees the light blue of sky, next, the overwhelming navy blue of the sea. Aiba gasps underwater, his feet tied down to his surfboard. The undertow is unrelenting and merciless as he tries to pull against the weight of his board; he struggles for air, for sun on his skin, for the heavy weight of crushing water surrounding him to disappear.
For a terrifying moment, he thinks that he might die.
A strong hand grips him, then an arm that is not his anchors firmly around his belly. He hits the surface with a resounding breath, relieved and shocked. Air quickly rushes into his lungs.
“Gotcha,” Jun says in his ear.
Aiba’s heart is still pounding and pounding as he feels Jun’s legs kicking strongly under the water, propelling them towards the safe promise of land. He tries to help Jun, but his body is limp and cannot remember how to swim. It takes all of his efforts to breathe through the waves.
When they reach the shore, Aiba stumbles into the sand, his knees giving out. He coughs out water. His head hits the sand soundlessly.
“Shit,” he rasps.
Jun crashes down beside him after dragging both of their surfboards to shore, breath heavy at the exertion. “You okay?” He worriedly lays a hand on Aiba’s chest.
Aiba stares up at the sky, blinking at its naked brilliance. He relishes the heat on his exposed skin as he weakly wipes away his mop of wet hair, and he musters the strength to acknowledge Jun’s question.
They lie still for a minute, both catching their breaths and reeling their errant heartbeats in. Jun’s face is pale. Aiba grabs Jun’s hand on his chest, searching for the right words and his breath.
“I should’ve known the surf was too rough for your first time.” It is berating, but he hears the apology in Jun’s voice. It makes him squeeze Jun’s hand tight.
“Yeah, you almost killed me.” He turns to Jun and smiles what he thinks is his brave smile.
When they are on the way home, in Jun’s car, they are uncannily silent. An indiscernible enka song is playing on the radio as they coast along the highway. Aiba’s ears are still ringing with the sound of water and he feels his bones growing heavier by the minute. Before he knows it, he has fallen asleep. He dreams of vague, shifting blue landscapes, enveloping him, overwhelming him, until a tender hand caresses his cheek.
“Wake up,” says a soft voice.
The driveway of Aiba’s apartment comes into view. Before he hops off the passenger seat, Aiba makes sure to hug the driver. Jun is about to protest when Aiba whispers into his ear.
“Take me surfing again, okay?”
When he pulls away, he sees Jun looking stricken. Jun begins to ramble. “Sorry, I’m so sorry Aiba-chan, it was my fault-”
Aiba silences him with his lips. It’s my fault, he thinks.
The other man resists for a few seconds, but Aiba’s grip is sure and steady on his arm. It’s nothing but the barest contact of lips, of warm breath hovering about, yet it’s his lifeline. When they break apart, Jun’s eyes are searching.
“I mean it, take me surfing again.” He doesn’t leave the car until Jun nods.
Aiba trusts Jun, trusts him with his life. Aiba wants him to know, wants Jun to trust him the way that he does. It feels more important than anything.
*
“Stop fucking around with me.”
Aiba doesn’t know what comes over him as he wipes his mouth clean. He is still terrified at the heat that two lips together can summon, a kind of heat he has never known before Jun. There had been other people, faceless people, whose lips (and more) he has tasted, but kissing Jun is different. A dull thud in his chest overwhelms him, where a heartbeat should be. His skin is flushed and his body knows the drill: he wants Jun’s tongue exploring over his again, all slick and needy, but Aiba knows that he shouldn’t, that he mustn’t.
He is afraid of crossing clear lines. A nervous laugh rings in the air. “It’s not that.”
Aiba’s mind doesn’t even go down that route, to where things might lead. He remembers meeting Jun, back when they were younger, when they didn’t even know of real sexual feelings, of desire, of seduction. But he remembers Jun’s face of concentration, the one he had when he patiently taught Aiba the choreography he couldn’t catch up with. Jun’s eyebrows would knit together every time he botched a step, and Aiba was careful, so careful, not to make another mistake. He was the new guy, after all, and here was someone nice enough to cater to him. Aiba recalls the relief he felt when he finally aced the steps, and Jun indulged him with a smile.
His worst fear is disappointing Jun, Jun who loved Arashi more than anyone could ever fathom. He would never dream of ruining what they had worked for all those long years, just so he could give in to the easy temptation of Jun’s slick tongue and soft lips on him, even as cruel desire coiled up in his belly.
Aiba watches those two tufts of perfectly shaped brows come together in a knot. Yes, Aiba thinks, he musn’t. He has to be firm about this.
He picks up his reindeer mascot hat off the floor and gives Jun a half-hearted hug. “See you at the Shukudai party.”
His steps are heavy, and it kills him to walk away.
*
“Every object persists in its state of rest or uniform motion in a straight line unless it is compelled to changed that state by the forces impressed on it.”
Aiba knows his limits. When Jun confesses to him in the parking lot, his mind spins in confusion. He has always somewhat known that Jun likes him, that Jun loves him, because Aiba feels the same way. History is on their side; but timing is not. He wants to stay beside Jun for as long as he is allowed to, and he is afraid that by giving in to Jun, he is bound to mess up things that he cannot afford to lose. Things like Jun’s trust.
There is just something too real in the way Jun touches his face. He turns away.
When Jun asks him “why”, he invokes a word he hates to use: impossible. He thinks Jun is being rash, that a night’s thinking will do him good.
Aiba walks away.
The next morning, they are scheduled to record their monthly message for the fan club. He breathes a sigh of relief when Jun smiles at him again, if a bit hesitantly, as if the previous night did not happen.
It is selfish, Aiba knows, but he goes over to Jun and hugs him from behind. Jun does not react and merely starts tampering with his mobile phone. “Jun-kun, I-”
“Shooting starts in a minute,” announces the director.
Jun squirms away from his arms and looks at him. “Time for work.”
*
Aiba is afraid that if he gives in, he wouldn’t be able to follow through. But he can’t give it up either.
*
Over the years, Aiba finds solace in Ohno. One evening, he asks Ohno out for drinks on a whim, expecting to be turned down. When Ohno takes him up on it, Aiba is very surprised. But it was a welcome thing; he finds that he and Ohno actually get along as friends pretty well. Those drinking nights happened more often after that. Their natures agreed with each other, and they had always been very open to each other since then.
“It’s okay to be confused,” Ohno mumbled as he chewed on edamame.
Aiba coughs in mid-gulp of his drink. “What do you mean?”
Ohno takes his time to swallow the beans and to wash it down with beer. He turns to look at Aiba in the eye. “Aiba-chan.”
“Leader?”
“It’s okay to be confused. Just don’t be touchy.”
“I,” Aiba starts, recognizing where Ohno is going with his words. “It’s…hard.”
“It gets easier,” Ohno says, motioning for another beer to the waitress.
Aiba considers this. “How do you do it? How do you and Nino do it?”
Ohno chuckles. “We’re not together together.”
Aiba’s eyes grow wide. “Lies.”
“We’re clear on where we stand, Aiba-chan.”
“And what are you implying?” Aiba challenges. An image of toothy smiles and pale skin creeps up traitorously into his mind.
Ohno stretches like a cat, yawning. “Nothing.”
Aiba grumbles.
The night falls apart as the beer cans pile up and Ohno makes a sport of dodging Aiba’s teasing and queries-“butt touching is just that, Aiba-chan,”-but at the back of Aiba’s mind, he knows he is being lovingly, if not directly, reprimanded.
When they step out into the cold night, Aiba’s fingers circle Ohno’s elbow. “It’s not…I’m not just playing around.”
“I know.”
*
“God, you sweat a lot.”
Aiba grins in the glistening summer heat. ‘Monster' is playing in the background, an empty Kokuritsu their stage for that afternoon's practice. He always feels undeniably glad when Jun notices anything about him, even in a disparaging tone. There is recognition in that voice, recognition he always craved.
Jun throws him a towel. “Stop grinning and start wiping.”
Aiba grabs the proffered piece of cloth and tackles Jun. Jun complains loudly, but Aiba feels no resistance from him. There’s a voice whispering inside him that he shouldn’t be so affectionate, shouldn’t be so wanton with physical contact, especially with Jun. But he gives in to the need, to its comfort.
“That’s really gross,” Sho casually remarks from the side. Aiba can only giggle as Jun pushes him away, his cheeks aflame. “Get off me!”
Nino sniggers. “That tells you not to smother Emperor, you idiot.”
“How many times have I told you not to call me that?”
Aiba guffaws-“Emperor, haha”-until Jun scrubs his face in one direction with the towel none too gently.
“Your sweat is offensive.”
“And your sweat is gold?” Aiba counters, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
“Maybe we should bottle Matsujun’s sweat and sell it online,” Ohno says thoughtfully, speaking up for the first time. Aiba savors the look of deep betrayal on Jun’s face and Ohno’s tiny chuckles.
“In any case, I didn’t know that emperors got sweaty,” Sho pipes in. His gleeful face reveals that he could not resist piping in.
“Sho-chan!”
By then, Aiba is braying with laughter. Jun is about to lunge at Aiba-“You stinky, little”-when Nino comes in between, holding his hands up importantly as if trying to stop a world war as peacemaker.
He grins and pauses for effect. “Wipe all your sweat, you guys. You do not want to offend Emperor, now do you?”
“Fucking brat,” Jun says, poking Nino hard on his side, even as he is somewhat failing in holding back a grin. He shoots a dark look at Aiba. “You’re going to pay later.”
“Ooh,” Nino croons.
Aiba is more than willing to pay the price. He is happy. He doesn’t want to be anywhere else.
*
When his back hits the bed roughly, his mind goes blank. He feels the splayed hands of Jun roaming his chest, touching, feeling. Fluttering lips kissing him all over coaxes the softest of sighs out of him. Aiba gently latches on to the soft tufts of Jun’s hair. The sound of his belt being unbuckled rings palpably in the air.
“Masaki?”
Aiba hears the insecurity in his voice, but he doesn’t know what to say. He hears his zipper being undone, slowly, tooth by tooth.
“Masaki,” Jun repeats.
He looks into Jun’s eyes. “I’m sure.” Jun crawls up to him, his face hovering in front of Aiba’s.
“I don’t want this to be like last time,” Jun whispers, more tentative than Aiba has ever heard him. “Like all the other times."
There is guilt in Aiba’s heart, guilt that he wants nothing to do with anymore. There’s also some fear. A crippling fear that drives him forward, nonetheless. He places his hand on Jun’s flushed cheek. “Do you trust me?”
The most minute of pauses. “I trust you.”
Somehow, that is all Aiba needed to hear. He is staggered by the belief Jun has in him. It isn’t just about the physical proximity, about being skin to skin, but everything. Minutes later, he is close.
*
He is ready.
*
“I’m a busy man,” Nino announces, clinging to Ohno’s arm as they enter their waiting room. “Make it quick.”
Sho shuts the magazine he was reading close. “Actually, I have a meeting for Zero in an hour, Aiba-chan,” he says apologetically.
“Guys.” Aiba looks desperate, almost whining. “Just, please, let me… I have to say something.” He stands from the couch.
“You better, since you called an emergency Arashi meeting,” Nino says, “which we’ve never had before, but I’ll let that slide.” He looks around the room. “Where’s Jun-kun?”
Aiba coughs. “Sit down, Nino. You too, Oh-chan.”
With three of his bandmates and closest friends sitting together in the couch, facing him, Aiba suddenly feels nauseous. Sho and Ohno are looking up at him expectantly, and Nino is staring him down.
“This is about J,” declares Nino in a fearless forecast.
“No!” Aiba replies, frantic. “No, I mean, what if… What if I were to say that I’m serious? That I’m serious now?”
Sho’s eyebrows worry themselves together. “Serious about what?”
Aiba takes a deep breath. “I love Arashi. I love you guys, I love all of this. I don’t think I’ll ever be sick of it. But there’s something bothering me, and I just had to let you guys know. You guys should know.”
He was met with silence.
“Shit, you guys are making this hard!”
Nino suspiciously has hand over his mouth. “Go on,” says Ohno with a mild voice.
“What if, what if I tell you guys that I’m in love with Jun? I mean, I always had…but there was just…but anyway I was just stupid and what I’m feeling now is true, he is it, he’s the game-changer…and I’m ready and I don’t really need your permission, I guess, but it would make me relieved to know you guys are okay with it because we’re Arashi after all, but if not it’s okay but I need you all to know that I’m serious now and I-”
“AIBA-CHAN.”
“What?”
“That was all this was for?” Sho asks incredulously.
Ohno’s giggles erupt from his belly and fill the room. Nino sniggers as he throws a pillow to Aiba’s face.
“YOU GUYS KNEW???”
“He’s the game-changer,” Nino mimics. Aiba goes off to strangle him but Sho is there to see that things don’t get too wild. Ohno is still giggling like a little girl. (Or a hurt puppy. Or maybe that was Nino underneath all of Aiba’s limbs.)
*
It is the sweetest kiss they have ever shared. He likes the way Jun’s lips linger on his, the way his fingers curl in to his nape. Their foreheads bump gently into each other, and a smile worms it way into Jun’s mouth.
The cheers get louder. Their manager is knocking madly on the door. They chuckle at the panicked voice.
“I love you,” Aiba blurts out.
Jun’s hands still for a moment. “We have a concert to do.” He inches away from Aiba and clasps their hands together, tugging him to the door.
Aiba’s heartbeat thrashes wildly against his ribcage as he allows himself to be dragged to their standby positions.
*
Amidst the noise of the crowd and the music, he finds himself looking at Jun.
“If many colors melt together, it would become one in this world.”
They release the multi-colored balloons into the gleaming sunset, the wind whipping the hair into the faces.
“I’m sorry,” Aiba says into Jun’s ear. I’m sorry that it took so long, he supplies in his head.
“I don’t care!”
Jun’s smile is all he needs. The melody falters, an ocean of people and promise stretching behind the horizon. Aiba has everything he needs. It’s his own beautiful world: so much has changed, yet much has remained the same, too.
And so, he gives in.
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Aiba/Jun
Word count: 3793
Summary: Aiba and Jun, in the span of many years. Aiba wonders if Jun will ever understand.
Warnings/Notes: This is Aiba’s POV; you can find Jun’s POV in Law of Gravity. I suggest reading that first so this part won’t seem too horribly jumpy. It’s been sitting unpolished for a month in my laptop, so I thought I’d finish it and get it over with. Indulge me because Aiba/Jun is my weakness, next to Sho/Jun. ♥
“So, how was your first practice?”
Aiba smiles generously after he chugs the cold oolong tea from the thermos that his mom handed to him. He is more than glad that he doesn’t have to take the train on the first day. “It was okay.”
His mom takes a long look at him from the driver’s seat. “Just okay?”
He thinks about it. “I made a friend. He’s small, though. And he has big teeth.”
The tinkling and girly laughter of his mom fills the car. “Masaki.”
Aiba watches the scenery roll by pleasantly, noting the flashes of greenery among the grey blurs, all the cold buildings rushing past. The fading light of the afternoon sun halos his face.
“But he was nice. Tokyo people are nice, Kaa-san, did you know?”
His mom laughs again. “You’re the big expert on Tokyo now, huh?”
Aiba feels invincible. He now has a friend from big, bad Tokyo, a friend who smiles with too much unbridled enthusiasm (and not to mention, teeth) to guide him along.
*
At the start, sure, it was a storm. But at some point, it dwindled down. Aiba wonders about what he is doing, and he could not rein in his nascent, foreboding fears. He feels like he is being left behind, and it’s all his fault.
He knows he made a mistake. He hates how he trusted so easily, only to have it bite him back in the end. The pictures are horrible reminders; he loved her, even if it was a fleeting, physical thing, but he really thought that he did. How could she? He does not feel prepared for the world he entered a couple years ago, where his smallest moves and biggest misses are printed and blown up for the whole world to see.
Jun is the first one he sees after it all happens.
A rap on his door wakes him out of the lazy yet restless nap he was having. He squints at the harsh summer sun filtering in through his window.
“Masaki?”
Aiba moans. “Kaa-san, I told you, I don’t want lunch.”
“Your friend’s here,” she says softly.
When Aiba opens the door, he doesn’t know if it is relief or shame that sets in. Perhaps it is both. He lets a sober-looking Jun in. When the door shuts close, Jun is there, standing by his bed. The silence mounts. Aiba’s mouth feels dry, and he notices with a wince at how much of a pigsty his room really resembled.
“I’m sorry, I’ll clean up,” he mumbles, suddenly rushing around to pick up an empty cup of noodles and some shirts off the floor. A hand tightly grips his arm.
“Stop,” Jun says gently.
Aiba can’t bring himself to meet Jun’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”
The hand falls down with a sigh. Aiba thinks there is so much there that is left unsaid.
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”
But how could it not? He took a cab going there, didn’t he? He agreed to go inside her room, didn’t he? He didn’t flinch when she took out the camera, right?
He sits down on his bed, and Jun follows suit. “Doesn’t make things right.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Jun says. “Not anymore. Ohno-kun and the others don’t care about it, okay?”
“It could have ruined us, could’ve ruined Arashi,” Aiba says, almost choking on his words. “Johnny-san said-”
“I don’t care about what he said. We don’t care, okay?”
“I just-”
“I don’t care!”
“It’s my fault.”
Jun gingerly grabs his hand with his warm one. “Stop being stupid.”
His first instinct is to flinch, but instead, he feels warmth. Aiba could literally feel Jun’s fierce resolve against his skin, and Aiba knows and appreciates it for what it is. It is hard to put into words what he feels, so Aiba settles for resting his head on Jun’s shoulder. He is afraid, as he is grateful, that Jun does not shake him off.
He still feels like shit but he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he can find ways to prove Jun right in the future. Prove them all wrong.
*
“OH MY GOD.”
Jun slaps him on the forehead. Gently, of course, but the intention is there. “Drop the fake shock over my hair, will you?”
Aiba laughs. “But you really look like a dork.”
The other man strokes his combed down bangs self-consciously. He sighs. “Why do peasants have ugly hair?”
“Yuji’s not a peasant," Aiba’s replies, his voice gratingly cheerful.
“Shut up.” Jun plops down on the couch beside him. Their thighs align in friendly heat. He motions towards the guitar lying by Aiba’s side. “So, you a virtuoso already?”
Aiba picks up the wooden instrument, shaking his head. “It’s hard.”
“Serves you right.”
“I should’ve told the director that I wanted to be the delivery-boy, not the one playing the guitar.”
“Boo-hoo.”
He sticks up his hand right in front of Jun’s face. “Look, it’s doing a worse job than golf at mangling my hand. Calluses,” he says brightly.
“Ew,” Jun says unenthusiastically.
“They’re battle scars,” Aiba declares.
“Why, have you gotten any better?”
“At what?”
Jun sighs deeply, as if he was conversing with a three-year old. “At playing the guitar.”
Aiba grins. Gingerly, he starts plucking out a few strange-sounding notes.
“Don’t.” There is warning in the other man’s voice.
“My heart is about to burst, because it’s filled with thoughts of you,” he begins to sing, looking to the side at Jun lasciviously. He barely flinches over hitting the wrong chord.
The barest hint of laughter etches itself on the quirk of Jun’s lips.
“I don't have anything and I can't do anything. But my feelings for you won't lose to anyone.” He tries to wink at Jun, which, of course, doesn’t really end up being a wink, Aiba being Aiba. “Sing with me!”
“No way,” Jun laughs.
When he fades out from the chorus, the last discomfiting chord echoes errantly into the air. He raises his brows expectantly for some commentary from Jun. “So?”
“You shouldn’t be left alone with a guitar.”
Aiba laughs. “I should be in a rock band!”
“You’re delirious.”
“Well, you…you look like a wood carving with stupid hair.”
Later, when they are called on to the filming set, Aiba notes the way Jun curls his hand into Aiba’s calloused ones. His thumb strokes the hardened patch of skin. Up, down. Up, down.
Aiba smiles.
*
He hears the crash of the wave more than he feels it. One second, he sees the light blue of sky, next, the overwhelming navy blue of the sea. Aiba gasps underwater, his feet tied down to his surfboard. The undertow is unrelenting and merciless as he tries to pull against the weight of his board; he struggles for air, for sun on his skin, for the heavy weight of crushing water surrounding him to disappear.
For a terrifying moment, he thinks that he might die.
A strong hand grips him, then an arm that is not his anchors firmly around his belly. He hits the surface with a resounding breath, relieved and shocked. Air quickly rushes into his lungs.
“Gotcha,” Jun says in his ear.
Aiba’s heart is still pounding and pounding as he feels Jun’s legs kicking strongly under the water, propelling them towards the safe promise of land. He tries to help Jun, but his body is limp and cannot remember how to swim. It takes all of his efforts to breathe through the waves.
When they reach the shore, Aiba stumbles into the sand, his knees giving out. He coughs out water. His head hits the sand soundlessly.
“Shit,” he rasps.
Jun crashes down beside him after dragging both of their surfboards to shore, breath heavy at the exertion. “You okay?” He worriedly lays a hand on Aiba’s chest.
Aiba stares up at the sky, blinking at its naked brilliance. He relishes the heat on his exposed skin as he weakly wipes away his mop of wet hair, and he musters the strength to acknowledge Jun’s question.
They lie still for a minute, both catching their breaths and reeling their errant heartbeats in. Jun’s face is pale. Aiba grabs Jun’s hand on his chest, searching for the right words and his breath.
“I should’ve known the surf was too rough for your first time.” It is berating, but he hears the apology in Jun’s voice. It makes him squeeze Jun’s hand tight.
“Yeah, you almost killed me.” He turns to Jun and smiles what he thinks is his brave smile.
When they are on the way home, in Jun’s car, they are uncannily silent. An indiscernible enka song is playing on the radio as they coast along the highway. Aiba’s ears are still ringing with the sound of water and he feels his bones growing heavier by the minute. Before he knows it, he has fallen asleep. He dreams of vague, shifting blue landscapes, enveloping him, overwhelming him, until a tender hand caresses his cheek.
“Wake up,” says a soft voice.
The driveway of Aiba’s apartment comes into view. Before he hops off the passenger seat, Aiba makes sure to hug the driver. Jun is about to protest when Aiba whispers into his ear.
“Take me surfing again, okay?”
When he pulls away, he sees Jun looking stricken. Jun begins to ramble. “Sorry, I’m so sorry Aiba-chan, it was my fault-”
Aiba silences him with his lips. It’s my fault, he thinks.
The other man resists for a few seconds, but Aiba’s grip is sure and steady on his arm. It’s nothing but the barest contact of lips, of warm breath hovering about, yet it’s his lifeline. When they break apart, Jun’s eyes are searching.
“I mean it, take me surfing again.” He doesn’t leave the car until Jun nods.
Aiba trusts Jun, trusts him with his life. Aiba wants him to know, wants Jun to trust him the way that he does. It feels more important than anything.
*
“Stop fucking around with me.”
Aiba doesn’t know what comes over him as he wipes his mouth clean. He is still terrified at the heat that two lips together can summon, a kind of heat he has never known before Jun. There had been other people, faceless people, whose lips (and more) he has tasted, but kissing Jun is different. A dull thud in his chest overwhelms him, where a heartbeat should be. His skin is flushed and his body knows the drill: he wants Jun’s tongue exploring over his again, all slick and needy, but Aiba knows that he shouldn’t, that he mustn’t.
He is afraid of crossing clear lines. A nervous laugh rings in the air. “It’s not that.”
Aiba’s mind doesn’t even go down that route, to where things might lead. He remembers meeting Jun, back when they were younger, when they didn’t even know of real sexual feelings, of desire, of seduction. But he remembers Jun’s face of concentration, the one he had when he patiently taught Aiba the choreography he couldn’t catch up with. Jun’s eyebrows would knit together every time he botched a step, and Aiba was careful, so careful, not to make another mistake. He was the new guy, after all, and here was someone nice enough to cater to him. Aiba recalls the relief he felt when he finally aced the steps, and Jun indulged him with a smile.
His worst fear is disappointing Jun, Jun who loved Arashi more than anyone could ever fathom. He would never dream of ruining what they had worked for all those long years, just so he could give in to the easy temptation of Jun’s slick tongue and soft lips on him, even as cruel desire coiled up in his belly.
Aiba watches those two tufts of perfectly shaped brows come together in a knot. Yes, Aiba thinks, he musn’t. He has to be firm about this.
He picks up his reindeer mascot hat off the floor and gives Jun a half-hearted hug. “See you at the Shukudai party.”
His steps are heavy, and it kills him to walk away.
*
“Every object persists in its state of rest or uniform motion in a straight line unless it is compelled to changed that state by the forces impressed on it.”
Aiba knows his limits. When Jun confesses to him in the parking lot, his mind spins in confusion. He has always somewhat known that Jun likes him, that Jun loves him, because Aiba feels the same way. History is on their side; but timing is not. He wants to stay beside Jun for as long as he is allowed to, and he is afraid that by giving in to Jun, he is bound to mess up things that he cannot afford to lose. Things like Jun’s trust.
There is just something too real in the way Jun touches his face. He turns away.
When Jun asks him “why”, he invokes a word he hates to use: impossible. He thinks Jun is being rash, that a night’s thinking will do him good.
Aiba walks away.
The next morning, they are scheduled to record their monthly message for the fan club. He breathes a sigh of relief when Jun smiles at him again, if a bit hesitantly, as if the previous night did not happen.
It is selfish, Aiba knows, but he goes over to Jun and hugs him from behind. Jun does not react and merely starts tampering with his mobile phone. “Jun-kun, I-”
“Shooting starts in a minute,” announces the director.
Jun squirms away from his arms and looks at him. “Time for work.”
*
Aiba is afraid that if he gives in, he wouldn’t be able to follow through. But he can’t give it up either.
*
Over the years, Aiba finds solace in Ohno. One evening, he asks Ohno out for drinks on a whim, expecting to be turned down. When Ohno takes him up on it, Aiba is very surprised. But it was a welcome thing; he finds that he and Ohno actually get along as friends pretty well. Those drinking nights happened more often after that. Their natures agreed with each other, and they had always been very open to each other since then.
“It’s okay to be confused,” Ohno mumbled as he chewed on edamame.
Aiba coughs in mid-gulp of his drink. “What do you mean?”
Ohno takes his time to swallow the beans and to wash it down with beer. He turns to look at Aiba in the eye. “Aiba-chan.”
“Leader?”
“It’s okay to be confused. Just don’t be touchy.”
“I,” Aiba starts, recognizing where Ohno is going with his words. “It’s…hard.”
“It gets easier,” Ohno says, motioning for another beer to the waitress.
Aiba considers this. “How do you do it? How do you and Nino do it?”
Ohno chuckles. “We’re not together together.”
Aiba’s eyes grow wide. “Lies.”
“We’re clear on where we stand, Aiba-chan.”
“And what are you implying?” Aiba challenges. An image of toothy smiles and pale skin creeps up traitorously into his mind.
Ohno stretches like a cat, yawning. “Nothing.”
Aiba grumbles.
The night falls apart as the beer cans pile up and Ohno makes a sport of dodging Aiba’s teasing and queries-“butt touching is just that, Aiba-chan,”-but at the back of Aiba’s mind, he knows he is being lovingly, if not directly, reprimanded.
When they step out into the cold night, Aiba’s fingers circle Ohno’s elbow. “It’s not…I’m not just playing around.”
“I know.”
*
“God, you sweat a lot.”
Aiba grins in the glistening summer heat. ‘Monster' is playing in the background, an empty Kokuritsu their stage for that afternoon's practice. He always feels undeniably glad when Jun notices anything about him, even in a disparaging tone. There is recognition in that voice, recognition he always craved.
Jun throws him a towel. “Stop grinning and start wiping.”
Aiba grabs the proffered piece of cloth and tackles Jun. Jun complains loudly, but Aiba feels no resistance from him. There’s a voice whispering inside him that he shouldn’t be so affectionate, shouldn’t be so wanton with physical contact, especially with Jun. But he gives in to the need, to its comfort.
“That’s really gross,” Sho casually remarks from the side. Aiba can only giggle as Jun pushes him away, his cheeks aflame. “Get off me!”
Nino sniggers. “That tells you not to smother Emperor, you idiot.”
“How many times have I told you not to call me that?”
Aiba guffaws-“Emperor, haha”-until Jun scrubs his face in one direction with the towel none too gently.
“Your sweat is offensive.”
“And your sweat is gold?” Aiba counters, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
“Maybe we should bottle Matsujun’s sweat and sell it online,” Ohno says thoughtfully, speaking up for the first time. Aiba savors the look of deep betrayal on Jun’s face and Ohno’s tiny chuckles.
“In any case, I didn’t know that emperors got sweaty,” Sho pipes in. His gleeful face reveals that he could not resist piping in.
“Sho-chan!”
By then, Aiba is braying with laughter. Jun is about to lunge at Aiba-“You stinky, little”-when Nino comes in between, holding his hands up importantly as if trying to stop a world war as peacemaker.
He grins and pauses for effect. “Wipe all your sweat, you guys. You do not want to offend Emperor, now do you?”
“Fucking brat,” Jun says, poking Nino hard on his side, even as he is somewhat failing in holding back a grin. He shoots a dark look at Aiba. “You’re going to pay later.”
“Ooh,” Nino croons.
Aiba is more than willing to pay the price. He is happy. He doesn’t want to be anywhere else.
*
When his back hits the bed roughly, his mind goes blank. He feels the splayed hands of Jun roaming his chest, touching, feeling. Fluttering lips kissing him all over coaxes the softest of sighs out of him. Aiba gently latches on to the soft tufts of Jun’s hair. The sound of his belt being unbuckled rings palpably in the air.
“Masaki?”
Aiba hears the insecurity in his voice, but he doesn’t know what to say. He hears his zipper being undone, slowly, tooth by tooth.
“Masaki,” Jun repeats.
He looks into Jun’s eyes. “I’m sure.” Jun crawls up to him, his face hovering in front of Aiba’s.
“I don’t want this to be like last time,” Jun whispers, more tentative than Aiba has ever heard him. “Like all the other times."
There is guilt in Aiba’s heart, guilt that he wants nothing to do with anymore. There’s also some fear. A crippling fear that drives him forward, nonetheless. He places his hand on Jun’s flushed cheek. “Do you trust me?”
The most minute of pauses. “I trust you.”
Somehow, that is all Aiba needed to hear. He is staggered by the belief Jun has in him. It isn’t just about the physical proximity, about being skin to skin, but everything. Minutes later, he is close.
*
He is ready.
*
“I’m a busy man,” Nino announces, clinging to Ohno’s arm as they enter their waiting room. “Make it quick.”
Sho shuts the magazine he was reading close. “Actually, I have a meeting for Zero in an hour, Aiba-chan,” he says apologetically.
“Guys.” Aiba looks desperate, almost whining. “Just, please, let me… I have to say something.” He stands from the couch.
“You better, since you called an emergency Arashi meeting,” Nino says, “which we’ve never had before, but I’ll let that slide.” He looks around the room. “Where’s Jun-kun?”
Aiba coughs. “Sit down, Nino. You too, Oh-chan.”
With three of his bandmates and closest friends sitting together in the couch, facing him, Aiba suddenly feels nauseous. Sho and Ohno are looking up at him expectantly, and Nino is staring him down.
“This is about J,” declares Nino in a fearless forecast.
“No!” Aiba replies, frantic. “No, I mean, what if… What if I were to say that I’m serious? That I’m serious now?”
Sho’s eyebrows worry themselves together. “Serious about what?”
Aiba takes a deep breath. “I love Arashi. I love you guys, I love all of this. I don’t think I’ll ever be sick of it. But there’s something bothering me, and I just had to let you guys know. You guys should know.”
He was met with silence.
“Shit, you guys are making this hard!”
Nino suspiciously has hand over his mouth. “Go on,” says Ohno with a mild voice.
“What if, what if I tell you guys that I’m in love with Jun? I mean, I always had…but there was just…but anyway I was just stupid and what I’m feeling now is true, he is it, he’s the game-changer…and I’m ready and I don’t really need your permission, I guess, but it would make me relieved to know you guys are okay with it because we’re Arashi after all, but if not it’s okay but I need you all to know that I’m serious now and I-”
“AIBA-CHAN.”
“What?”
“That was all this was for?” Sho asks incredulously.
Ohno’s giggles erupt from his belly and fill the room. Nino sniggers as he throws a pillow to Aiba’s face.
“YOU GUYS KNEW???”
“He’s the game-changer,” Nino mimics. Aiba goes off to strangle him but Sho is there to see that things don’t get too wild. Ohno is still giggling like a little girl. (Or a hurt puppy. Or maybe that was Nino underneath all of Aiba’s limbs.)
*
It is the sweetest kiss they have ever shared. He likes the way Jun’s lips linger on his, the way his fingers curl in to his nape. Their foreheads bump gently into each other, and a smile worms it way into Jun’s mouth.
The cheers get louder. Their manager is knocking madly on the door. They chuckle at the panicked voice.
“I love you,” Aiba blurts out.
Jun’s hands still for a moment. “We have a concert to do.” He inches away from Aiba and clasps their hands together, tugging him to the door.
Aiba’s heartbeat thrashes wildly against his ribcage as he allows himself to be dragged to their standby positions.
*
Amidst the noise of the crowd and the music, he finds himself looking at Jun.
“If many colors melt together, it would become one in this world.”
They release the multi-colored balloons into the gleaming sunset, the wind whipping the hair into the faces.
“I’m sorry,” Aiba says into Jun’s ear. I’m sorry that it took so long, he supplies in his head.
“I don’t care!”
Jun’s smile is all he needs. The melody falters, an ocean of people and promise stretching behind the horizon. Aiba has everything he needs. It’s his own beautiful world: so much has changed, yet much has remained the same, too.
And so, he gives in.