Fic: The Way It Wasn't Supposed to End
[Title] : The Way It Wasn't Supposed to End
[Fandom] : Arashi
[Pairing] : Ohmiya
The Way It Wasn't Supposed to End
The hours had already been counted, and all that was left was minutes; they glared at Nino, showing no mercy, and he closed his eyes against their painful brightness, wishing that the old adage were true: If you couldn't see it, it didn't exist.
And yet still there he was in the same bed, with the same breezy sheets barely covering his nakedness; still there he was, muscles fatigued in a comfortable ache, sleep that he denied tugging at the corner of his mind; still there he was, and though he couldn't see or hear or feel him, there Ohno was too, centimetres away, close enough so that Nino could turn on his side and shape to his spine like a lover would.
Nino wanted to. He wanted to reach out and test the pliancy of Ohno's muscles, to feel Ohno's breath make his chest rise.
But he wouldn't, because the clock was ticking, ticking, and it always happened the same way: Ohno would push the sheets away and rise as if shaking off a dream, button his jeans back up and search for his shirt, give Nino a brief kiss on the lips and smile. "Next weekend ne?"
"Next weekend," Nino would say, and his voice didn't sound like his own but he didn't know whose it was, except that it was someone who loved Ohno so desperately that even this farce was worth living.
-
Ohno liked Nino. Nino knew this, knew it very clearly. And Nino liked Ohno, which Ohno discovered one rainy day in February when Nino caught him on the way home and dragged him under the awning of the local yakiniku restaurant, the sign in the window red and cheerful and casting the strangest glow over Nino's face before he kissed Ohno, fierce and daring.
That was the first night they went to a love hotel.
The curtains were a tasteless shade of crimson that matched the coverlet, and the headboard was a gigantic heart with shelves for a telephone and an alarm that they neglected to set. Ohno had been careful, but purposeful: Nino got the very clear impression that Ohno had ideas in his head about how this was supposed to be done, or maybe it was just that he'd fantasized about it so many times he knew just what he wanted to do, but either way Nino was happy to let him take the lead.
Nino's clothes were the first to go. They shed to the floor, soulless, silent, and Ohno drew him closer to the bed with lingering touches and fluid grace that Nino admired but could never replicate. Ohno's touch was hot, and almost rough; Nino gasped, his legs spread apart and his back arched--he couldn't get enough air, he couldn't keep his eyes open, he couldn't let go of Ohno when they joined together and rocked deep into the mattress.
When they came, Nino thought he knew what happiness felt like.
And then Ohno took it away.
-
Ohno's girlfriend was, Nino decided, the ugliest person he had ever seen. She had a cute mouth, a cute nose, a cute smile, a cute way of pursing her lips when she thought about something particularly important, took cute bites of whatever she ate, and she and Ohno were horrendously cute together. Nino hated her beyond anything he had ever hated before.
He hated Ohno, too. He hated the way Ohno smiled at her when she came near, the way he'd take her hand without thinking (the way he used to take Nino's), the way he'd duck his head close to hers and whisper something that Nino couldn't hear and desperately wanted to and yet didn't at all.
"I love you," Ohno said, suddenly.
Nino started. The sheets hissed over his skin as he pulled them up, the red silk as bold as blood and drowning him from view. The bitterness, the desperation and the love that he brought with him to this bed each and every time they met swelled in his breast.
I love you. And Ohno's laughing face was etched behind his eyelids with his girlfriend and her child-bearing hips standing in the place where Nino should have been.
I love you. Ohno's mother and father and sister, his whole family accepted her, called her family, welcomed her in with open arms and plates of home-cooked food.
I love you. When they made love Ohno's mouth would drop open and he would say Nino's name over and over, a mantra, a litany, as Nino folded up on himself and called Ohno, Ohno, wishing that Ohno could really hear what he was saying: I want you more than she ever will.
No, you don't, thought Nino, consumed by the fire of jealousy and rage, but he'd long had practice at stilling the muscles of his face, of not showing any reaction at all to those that caused him pain. No, you don't, you love your facade, you love your perfect life and your perfect future where I don't belong, you love your mother thinking you're a good child that will give her grandsons.
You don't love me, thought Nino.
But he smiled. "I love you too."
[Fandom] : Arashi
[Pairing] : Ohmiya
The Way It Wasn't Supposed to End
The hours had already been counted, and all that was left was minutes; they glared at Nino, showing no mercy, and he closed his eyes against their painful brightness, wishing that the old adage were true: If you couldn't see it, it didn't exist.
And yet still there he was in the same bed, with the same breezy sheets barely covering his nakedness; still there he was, muscles fatigued in a comfortable ache, sleep that he denied tugging at the corner of his mind; still there he was, and though he couldn't see or hear or feel him, there Ohno was too, centimetres away, close enough so that Nino could turn on his side and shape to his spine like a lover would.
Nino wanted to. He wanted to reach out and test the pliancy of Ohno's muscles, to feel Ohno's breath make his chest rise.
But he wouldn't, because the clock was ticking, ticking, and it always happened the same way: Ohno would push the sheets away and rise as if shaking off a dream, button his jeans back up and search for his shirt, give Nino a brief kiss on the lips and smile. "Next weekend ne?"
"Next weekend," Nino would say, and his voice didn't sound like his own but he didn't know whose it was, except that it was someone who loved Ohno so desperately that even this farce was worth living.
-
Ohno liked Nino. Nino knew this, knew it very clearly. And Nino liked Ohno, which Ohno discovered one rainy day in February when Nino caught him on the way home and dragged him under the awning of the local yakiniku restaurant, the sign in the window red and cheerful and casting the strangest glow over Nino's face before he kissed Ohno, fierce and daring.
That was the first night they went to a love hotel.
The curtains were a tasteless shade of crimson that matched the coverlet, and the headboard was a gigantic heart with shelves for a telephone and an alarm that they neglected to set. Ohno had been careful, but purposeful: Nino got the very clear impression that Ohno had ideas in his head about how this was supposed to be done, or maybe it was just that he'd fantasized about it so many times he knew just what he wanted to do, but either way Nino was happy to let him take the lead.
Nino's clothes were the first to go. They shed to the floor, soulless, silent, and Ohno drew him closer to the bed with lingering touches and fluid grace that Nino admired but could never replicate. Ohno's touch was hot, and almost rough; Nino gasped, his legs spread apart and his back arched--he couldn't get enough air, he couldn't keep his eyes open, he couldn't let go of Ohno when they joined together and rocked deep into the mattress.
When they came, Nino thought he knew what happiness felt like.
And then Ohno took it away.
-
Ohno's girlfriend was, Nino decided, the ugliest person he had ever seen. She had a cute mouth, a cute nose, a cute smile, a cute way of pursing her lips when she thought about something particularly important, took cute bites of whatever she ate, and she and Ohno were horrendously cute together. Nino hated her beyond anything he had ever hated before.
He hated Ohno, too. He hated the way Ohno smiled at her when she came near, the way he'd take her hand without thinking (the way he used to take Nino's), the way he'd duck his head close to hers and whisper something that Nino couldn't hear and desperately wanted to and yet didn't at all.
"I love you," Ohno said, suddenly.
Nino started. The sheets hissed over his skin as he pulled them up, the red silk as bold as blood and drowning him from view. The bitterness, the desperation and the love that he brought with him to this bed each and every time they met swelled in his breast.
I love you. And Ohno's laughing face was etched behind his eyelids with his girlfriend and her child-bearing hips standing in the place where Nino should have been.
I love you. Ohno's mother and father and sister, his whole family accepted her, called her family, welcomed her in with open arms and plates of home-cooked food.
I love you. When they made love Ohno's mouth would drop open and he would say Nino's name over and over, a mantra, a litany, as Nino folded up on himself and called Ohno, Ohno, wishing that Ohno could really hear what he was saying: I want you more than she ever will.
No, you don't, thought Nino, consumed by the fire of jealousy and rage, but he'd long had practice at stilling the muscles of his face, of not showing any reaction at all to those that caused him pain. No, you don't, you love your facade, you love your perfect life and your perfect future where I don't belong, you love your mother thinking you're a good child that will give her grandsons.
You don't love me, thought Nino.
But he smiled. "I love you too."