[30 Days to 30] 02. Take Me Faraway
Title: Take Me Faraway
Pairing: Ohno Satoshi x Ninomiya Kazunari
Notes: Since I love my ojii-san who doesn't look a day older than seventeen, my little way of saying thanks for being an inspiration to a lot of people. Picture prompts of Ninomiya for 30 days until his 30th birthday! This fic inspired from this picture.
Summary: I want to send it to you.
He can still remember that smile. The way his phone rang, and how the voice on the other line sounded.
"I want to go on a trip," Nino declared, still out of breath like he just ran a marathon.
"What?" Ohno asked, not knowing how else to reply.
"A trip," Nino repeats, boyish enthusiasm in his voice. "Let's go on a trip. Just you and me. Like it's the last day of the world, and let's just be crazy together!"
He chuckles low under his breath as he stares wistfully at his fishing rods, not saying a word.
"...oh alright, we can even go fishing! I'll even go ride a boat for you, please just go? Please please please please please?" Nino whined. Ohno laughed softly and nodded, then said "yes" because he realized Nino couldn't actually see him nod.
"I'll meet you tomorrow morning at seven," Nino replied smugly.
Ohno could almost see the smile in his face.
"Ohno-san...?" a voice called out. He started, the pencil falling from his slack grip. It was one of the staff, cautiously trying to get his attention.
Everyone was cautious around him nowadays.
He goes around work, like usual. Listless, staring off into space, often not even talking on air. He acts with blank faces. He sings with blank eyes, a blank heart.
Nothing makes him smile much these days.
Everyone tries to cheer him up, and he tries really hard. But nothing really works now.
He arrives at location shoots early. He prefers walking now more than ever, and whenever they have to ride cars he has to make sure the seatbelts are fastened tightly. Thrice.
He's afraid of having to wait for people to arrive.
Afraid they won't come.
Again.
Because that day, he waited. That morning, at seven. He waited.
Nino never came.
He found out in the news later. Everyone was calling him, trying to find him because he wasn't answering his phone. Refusing to answer unless it was Nino, because he was worried.
He had reason to.
Something about a wrong turn on the road and roads slippery from the heavy rain the night before, and cars turning over and airbags not working and seatbelts coming off at the worst moment.
Next to the body they found a suitcase battered from the crash, the hoodie that he had given him among the clothes and a composition without lyrics in a folder with a "To Satoshi" scribbled on the top in his handwriting.
Ohno bites his lip and picks up the pencil, and began writing. He was never good with words (Nino was the wielder of words; he was more comfortable with drawing. Now all his paintings and drawings just silently screamed pain.)
In front of the paper he was writing out with a lot of crossed-out words was a crumpled, slightly dirty folder.
Inside it was a few pages of sheet music. A half-finished song without lyrics with a "To Satoshi" scribbled on the top in his handwriting.
Nino's handwriting.
He went back to the sea for the first time. Going there by cab, he had gripped the seatbelt tightly in his hands, a crumpled folder on his lap along with a glass bottle.
Soon he reached the shore where he said his first reluctant goodbye.
Nino said that he wanted his ashes to be scattered at sea. It used to be a private joke, because he said at least he'll be with Ohno more than ever.
It was Ohno who scattered Nino's ashes. Cast them out to the sea. Thinking how it'll never be the same either way. He wanted him sitting beside him on the boat green-faced but still trying not to be sick as he cheered on Ohno fishing while playing on his DS, not staring at where his remains would have settled at the bottom of the sea and try not to cry.
Ohno rented a boat and went to the same point at sea. Opening the bottle, he stared at it for a long moment before taking out the contents of the folder.
A copy of the sheet music, note for note. There was now a title. And lyrics.
Ohno's feelings.
The lines I had tied together last night to tell you about are two stories
No matter how much the world starts to change, they are constant
And over the top, scribbled in Ohno's handwriting, was written "To Kazunari"
These he slipped into the bottle. And then a small sliver of paper.
I miss you Kazu. Always. Forever.
I wish I could have told you in person.
He sealed the bottle with shaky hands.
Then with a measured throw, he cast out the bottle to the sea. Watching it bob away, floating. Imagining how Nino can now read it.
Slowly, a smile spread across his lips.
The feelings I write down, I'm feeling all of them strongly deep in my heart
Only the words I wanted to tell you, I wrote over and over again
Like the constellations floating faraway, I'm drawing the moment
I asked the silence that goes around and around me,
Tell me why? Take me faraway
He stretched his arms over his head and looked up at the sky.
The sky was the brightest blue he had seen in a while.
Pairing: Ohno Satoshi x Ninomiya Kazunari
Notes: Since I love my ojii-san who doesn't look a day older than seventeen, my little way of saying thanks for being an inspiration to a lot of people. Picture prompts of Ninomiya for 30 days until his 30th birthday! This fic inspired from this picture.
Summary: I want to send it to you.
He can still remember that smile. The way his phone rang, and how the voice on the other line sounded.
"I want to go on a trip," Nino declared, still out of breath like he just ran a marathon.
"What?" Ohno asked, not knowing how else to reply.
"A trip," Nino repeats, boyish enthusiasm in his voice. "Let's go on a trip. Just you and me. Like it's the last day of the world, and let's just be crazy together!"
He chuckles low under his breath as he stares wistfully at his fishing rods, not saying a word.
"...oh alright, we can even go fishing! I'll even go ride a boat for you, please just go? Please please please please please?" Nino whined. Ohno laughed softly and nodded, then said "yes" because he realized Nino couldn't actually see him nod.
"I'll meet you tomorrow morning at seven," Nino replied smugly.
Ohno could almost see the smile in his face.
"Ohno-san...?" a voice called out. He started, the pencil falling from his slack grip. It was one of the staff, cautiously trying to get his attention.
Everyone was cautious around him nowadays.
He goes around work, like usual. Listless, staring off into space, often not even talking on air. He acts with blank faces. He sings with blank eyes, a blank heart.
Nothing makes him smile much these days.
Everyone tries to cheer him up, and he tries really hard. But nothing really works now.
He arrives at location shoots early. He prefers walking now more than ever, and whenever they have to ride cars he has to make sure the seatbelts are fastened tightly. Thrice.
He's afraid of having to wait for people to arrive.
Afraid they won't come.
Again.
Because that day, he waited. That morning, at seven. He waited.
Nino never came.
He found out in the news later. Everyone was calling him, trying to find him because he wasn't answering his phone. Refusing to answer unless it was Nino, because he was worried.
He had reason to.
Something about a wrong turn on the road and roads slippery from the heavy rain the night before, and cars turning over and airbags not working and seatbelts coming off at the worst moment.
Next to the body they found a suitcase battered from the crash, the hoodie that he had given him among the clothes and a composition without lyrics in a folder with a "To Satoshi" scribbled on the top in his handwriting.
Ohno bites his lip and picks up the pencil, and began writing. He was never good with words (Nino was the wielder of words; he was more comfortable with drawing. Now all his paintings and drawings just silently screamed pain.)
In front of the paper he was writing out with a lot of crossed-out words was a crumpled, slightly dirty folder.
Inside it was a few pages of sheet music. A half-finished song without lyrics with a "To Satoshi" scribbled on the top in his handwriting.
Nino's handwriting.
He went back to the sea for the first time. Going there by cab, he had gripped the seatbelt tightly in his hands, a crumpled folder on his lap along with a glass bottle.
Soon he reached the shore where he said his first reluctant goodbye.
Nino said that he wanted his ashes to be scattered at sea. It used to be a private joke, because he said at least he'll be with Ohno more than ever.
It was Ohno who scattered Nino's ashes. Cast them out to the sea. Thinking how it'll never be the same either way. He wanted him sitting beside him on the boat green-faced but still trying not to be sick as he cheered on Ohno fishing while playing on his DS, not staring at where his remains would have settled at the bottom of the sea and try not to cry.
Ohno rented a boat and went to the same point at sea. Opening the bottle, he stared at it for a long moment before taking out the contents of the folder.
A copy of the sheet music, note for note. There was now a title. And lyrics.
Ohno's feelings.
The lines I had tied together last night to tell you about are two stories
No matter how much the world starts to change, they are constant
And over the top, scribbled in Ohno's handwriting, was written "To Kazunari"
These he slipped into the bottle. And then a small sliver of paper.
I miss you Kazu. Always. Forever.
I wish I could have told you in person.
He sealed the bottle with shaky hands.
Then with a measured throw, he cast out the bottle to the sea. Watching it bob away, floating. Imagining how Nino can now read it.
Slowly, a smile spread across his lips.
The feelings I write down, I'm feeling all of them strongly deep in my heart
Only the words I wanted to tell you, I wrote over and over again
Like the constellations floating faraway, I'm drawing the moment
I asked the silence that goes around and around me,
Tell me why? Take me faraway
He stretched his arms over his head and looked up at the sky.
The sky was the brightest blue he had seen in a while.