Drabble: Only Human
Title: Only Human
Pairing: None
Rating: G
Word Count: 638
Notes: Just a drabble that came to me after seeing the Nagoya show Saturday night and hearing about the accident on Sunday. Good old Arashi rabu rabu. This is really just a bit of catharsis on my part. Unbeta'd but should be fine.
He sat at the end of the stage, feet dangling, in the middle of the impossibly large room - for that’s all a dome really was: a huge pressurized, engulfing, intimidating room. He’d left the dressing room and backstage so that he wouldn’t have to feel their eyes on him, on his hand, with their empathy, sympathy and worry. He couldn’t face that. In a room made for fifty thousand, he sat alone, feeling smaller than ever.
“How’s the pity party?”
He didn’t look up; he knew it was Jun. As soon as the first one came, the rest were sure to follow. His good hand cradled its twin, resting gently in the clinical white sling the doctor had given him.
“I’m sorry.” He wondered if those words still had meaning after the number of times he’d uttered them in the last twenty-four hours.
“Stop saying that. You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” said Ohno, crouching beside him on his left side, his good side. Sho opened his mouth to protest, respond, apologize again, but words wouldn’t come out. He didn’t know what to say. He felt ashamed. “You’re only human, you know.”
“I know that.” He knew he was human but he didn’t realize that he was so fragile. He took a deep breath and tried to will away the throbbing, numbed by codeine but still very much there.
“It’s only a broken bone; it will heal. You’re not going to die. It’s not the end of the world.” Trust Nino to supply the truth as bluntly as possible. It only hurt slightly less than when the doctor had realigned the shattered bones so they could be set in the cast.
“For such a small, insignificant injury, I feel so utterly useless.”
“That’s probably because you’re on three different kinds of painkillers. And that is your fault because you insisted on performing.”
“Of course I did… I couldn’t let the fans down. I couldn’t let you guys down,” said Sho, his voice dropping to barely a whisper, as if he were revealing the deepest, darkest secrets of the universe.
Aiba joined them to round out the group; bigger and better than three or four but tighter and closer than six or seven. Five is a magical number. “If it was me, I wouldn’t have been able to pull off even a quarter of what you did tonight.”
Sho exhaled a tired sigh. “Maybe this was a mistake.”
“What was a mistake?” asked Jun.
“The whole tour: it just feels like it has been such a let down so far. It’s my fault we had to push it forward.”
“You know as well as the rest of us that we didn’t really have a choice. And we wouldn’t ask you not to go to Beijing just because we have always done tours in August,” responded Nino.
“The Beijing Olympics only happen once. Arashi will always be here,” Ohno said, actually acting leader-like for once.
Aiba ruffled Sho’s hair gently; it was probably the only part of him that wasn’t experiencing any pain. “Everyone took on my share when I got sick, and we will all do the same for you. That’s just how things work. And besides, I owe you all, big time.” A small smile tugged at the corner of Sho’s lips.
“I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m starving,” announced Nino, patting his stomach.
“I could eat,” replied Ohno. Jun and Aiba hummed and nodded in agreement.
“That actually sounds good,” said Sho. “But could we just get room service? I don’t really feel like adding more humiliation to my day by having people gawk at me as I fail to use chopsticks left-handed.”
“Don’t worry, Sho-kun,” said Jun, patting him on the left shoulder. “Aiba will feed you. Consider it his first payment.”
Pairing: None
Rating: G
Word Count: 638
Notes: Just a drabble that came to me after seeing the Nagoya show Saturday night and hearing about the accident on Sunday. Good old Arashi rabu rabu. This is really just a bit of catharsis on my part. Unbeta'd but should be fine.
He sat at the end of the stage, feet dangling, in the middle of the impossibly large room - for that’s all a dome really was: a huge pressurized, engulfing, intimidating room. He’d left the dressing room and backstage so that he wouldn’t have to feel their eyes on him, on his hand, with their empathy, sympathy and worry. He couldn’t face that. In a room made for fifty thousand, he sat alone, feeling smaller than ever.
“How’s the pity party?”
He didn’t look up; he knew it was Jun. As soon as the first one came, the rest were sure to follow. His good hand cradled its twin, resting gently in the clinical white sling the doctor had given him.
“I’m sorry.” He wondered if those words still had meaning after the number of times he’d uttered them in the last twenty-four hours.
“Stop saying that. You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” said Ohno, crouching beside him on his left side, his good side. Sho opened his mouth to protest, respond, apologize again, but words wouldn’t come out. He didn’t know what to say. He felt ashamed. “You’re only human, you know.”
“I know that.” He knew he was human but he didn’t realize that he was so fragile. He took a deep breath and tried to will away the throbbing, numbed by codeine but still very much there.
“It’s only a broken bone; it will heal. You’re not going to die. It’s not the end of the world.” Trust Nino to supply the truth as bluntly as possible. It only hurt slightly less than when the doctor had realigned the shattered bones so they could be set in the cast.
“For such a small, insignificant injury, I feel so utterly useless.”
“That’s probably because you’re on three different kinds of painkillers. And that is your fault because you insisted on performing.”
“Of course I did… I couldn’t let the fans down. I couldn’t let you guys down,” said Sho, his voice dropping to barely a whisper, as if he were revealing the deepest, darkest secrets of the universe.
Aiba joined them to round out the group; bigger and better than three or four but tighter and closer than six or seven. Five is a magical number. “If it was me, I wouldn’t have been able to pull off even a quarter of what you did tonight.”
Sho exhaled a tired sigh. “Maybe this was a mistake.”
“What was a mistake?” asked Jun.
“The whole tour: it just feels like it has been such a let down so far. It’s my fault we had to push it forward.”
“You know as well as the rest of us that we didn’t really have a choice. And we wouldn’t ask you not to go to Beijing just because we have always done tours in August,” responded Nino.
“The Beijing Olympics only happen once. Arashi will always be here,” Ohno said, actually acting leader-like for once.
Aiba ruffled Sho’s hair gently; it was probably the only part of him that wasn’t experiencing any pain. “Everyone took on my share when I got sick, and we will all do the same for you. That’s just how things work. And besides, I owe you all, big time.” A small smile tugged at the corner of Sho’s lips.
“I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m starving,” announced Nino, patting his stomach.
“I could eat,” replied Ohno. Jun and Aiba hummed and nodded in agreement.
“That actually sounds good,” said Sho. “But could we just get room service? I don’t really feel like adding more humiliation to my day by having people gawk at me as I fail to use chopsticks left-handed.”
“Don’t worry, Sho-kun,” said Jun, patting him on the left shoulder. “Aiba will feed you. Consider it his first payment.”