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“Does it really bother you?”
“It bothers me.” His pride is starting to balk at this point. His chin starts to jut out just a little bit, and it takes every ounce of willpower for Nino to look into Ohno’s eyes. “Does it bother you?”
“I don’t know how to eat out with you.”
“You just eat and pay.” Nino replies, eyes starting to harden. He wants answers and Ohno’s vagueness aren’t answers. “It’s dinner. It’s not rocket science.”
The reality of the situation is finally starting to seep into Ohno’s skin. When they’re on television shows and making jokes about it, it is okay to not think too hard about Nino’s whining. But when it is real life there are no giggling fangirls and Aiba to save him from the situation, it’s much more taxing when they are alone.
And even now, Nino isn’t really serious so much as emotionally drained. For someone who plays so many video games, Ohno notes, Nino isn’t one for mind games.
He wants to know how he got into this situation. This situation, where he sits outside in the parking lot, late at night, waiting for an agency van to come pick him up with Ninomiya Kazunari, fellow bandmate and non-significant other. They are sitting underneath a light, like a lonely little island in the middle of a dark lot. He contemplates leaving Nino there and walking to the nearest train station.
“I don’t know how to eat out with you.” Ohno replies. And then he thinks-because I wouldn’t know how to act.
For once, Nino doesn’t reply right away. He sits and twiddles his thumbs, squinting off into the darkness and listens for the distant sounds of a motor vehicle. He looks then, at the parking light pole and light attached to it, the fireflies dancing near the lights and the strange fanned out light and the hazy edges of darkness surrounding it. He thinks it is strange that the lights can only point and illuminate small spaces and that the darkness makes the bright silhouette less sharp. With a small sigh, he snaps himself back into some form of cognitive awareness and stands up, hands hanging by his side. “I’m just going to call a cab. I’ll see you tomorrow Leader.”
“Not yet.” Ohno responds, tugging Nino’s hand a little. He watches the fingers curl around his own and tugs a little harder. “Just give the driver some more time.”
And me, Ohno internalizes, some part of him wishes Nino could hear that-just give me a little more time.
From above him, Nino slowly exhales and sits back down, next to Ohno. Gingerly, Ohno reaches his hand towards Nino, lacing his fingers between the hamburger fingers and squeezes. And then, he is aware of his own exhale as Nino squeezes back.
And they sit for another half hour, holding hands and squeezing gently, so as not to ruin the fragile love nestled between them.
*
It is a non-relationship, Ohno muses that night, laying in his bed and staring up at the blank ceiling. He doesn’t know how to change it, but he knows dinner won’t do it. He wants to show Nino that love can be soft and enduring, not dynamic and fiery-burning out quickly and loudly. Sometimes Ohno wants to dip his hands into Nino’s soul and pull out the dark colors and lock them away in a box that can never be opened and never be destroyed. But then he thinks more and more about it, and he thinks that if he removes the darkness, Nino’s light won’t have anything to shine on and make beautiful.
*
If I beat this game, Nino thinks to himself, eyes strained and focused on the screen in front of him, I will ask Ohno to dinner again. And if I lose, I won’t ask again.
He leans forward unconsciously, determined to save whatever non-relationship between him and Ohno. His fingers move against the controller and from the outside, he can hear the wind whistling from the rain, almost as if to cheer him on. A gentle tapping against the window of his living room tells him that the tree branches are knocking, trying to give him some motivation. And the music on the game even starts to sound victorious.
And his fingers press more urgently and he’s stopped breathing and he can only see the screen-because he wants to save this damn relationship and he’s almost there and he can see the food and the table between them and he can hear the music playing in the restaurant he picked out. He can see the finish line and suddenly he can’t see anything.
The power is out. And then the wind is no longer whistling a friendly tune, it is howling mocking words. The tree branches are no longer tapping his windows, they are scraping the glass with cruel fingers. And there is only deafening silence.
Nino sets the controller down and walks to his bed. He pulls the covers around himself and suffocates in the darkness. He won’t ask anymore.
*
“You haven’t asked me to dinner in three weeks.” Ohno says, carefully looking at Nino’s profile.
Nino smiles a little bit, his thin lips not quite rising, “I won’t ask anymore. I already know your answer.”
He picks up his bag and walks away, waving goodbye from the door, “I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m taking a cab home.”
Inside, he feels a little bitter, and maybe a little relieved. He can stop bracing himself for half-hearted excuses and little lies that seem lackluster. Nino reasons that if Ohno insists on breaking his heart, he might as well make the break clean and quick and as painless as possible.
He doesn’t want anymore false hope. He is tired of waiting and waiting and he knows that maybe he ought to do something himself, but then how could he, when even a request for dinner is turned down.
Games, Nino concludes, Ohno likes to play mind games.
*
Ohno is sleeping on the couch of the dressing room when Nino walks in. His hair is sticking up in random places. Yawning, Nino sits down on the edge of the sofa, running his fingers through his black hair. He tells himself that Ohno will wake up in a mere 10 seconds.
As he counts, he hopes he is right.
When he reaches 10, Ohno opens his eyes.
*
“I love you.” Nino says fiercely, as if he dared Ohno take the words from him. He wouldn’t though. He waited so long to hear them. “I love you. So I don’t care that you won’t have dinner with me.”
Ohno nods. His mind is busy constructing the right words to respond with. A simple “I love you,” won’t suffice. He wants to declare unconditional and irreversible and uncontrollable love, dedication, devotion. He contemplates writing it all down and shakes his head, the kanji is too complicated.
They are sitting out the agency again, waiting for a van to come and pick them up.
There is a moment of silence and then Ohno says, his voice gravelly and low from disuse, “Go out to eat with me.”
He whispers, “I want to love you forever. I will love you forever. Is that okay?”
“It’s okay,” Nino responds in kind, nodding his head, his eyes all somber and tight, he doesn’t smile. “It’s okay. I will love you forever. And we’ll be stuck with each other.”
“And we won’t be able to separate, no matter how ugly things get.” Ohno adds.
“And we’ll see all the ugly things no one else gets to see.” Nino agrees, “My nose swells when I cry and I throw things.”
“I get mean when I’m angry.” Ohno returns, “I turn into a completely different person. It’s kind of scary.”
“I’ll push you away and away until you’ll want to leave.”
“I’m scared of how much I love you.”
Their hands are clasped at this point and there is no space between their bodies. Ohno turns his face to Nino. They both look too serious, so he smiles a little bit. And Nino’s shoulders visibly relax. Ohno presses his forehead against Nino’s-they smile at each other. They sit underneath the light, an island amongst the parking lot, soft silhouettes against the dark night.
“Does it really bother you?”
“It bothers me.” His pride is starting to balk at this point. His chin starts to jut out just a little bit, and it takes every ounce of willpower for Nino to look into Ohno’s eyes. “Does it bother you?”
“I don’t know how to eat out with you.”
“You just eat and pay.” Nino replies, eyes starting to harden. He wants answers and Ohno’s vagueness aren’t answers. “It’s dinner. It’s not rocket science.”
The reality of the situation is finally starting to seep into Ohno’s skin. When they’re on television shows and making jokes about it, it is okay to not think too hard about Nino’s whining. But when it is real life there are no giggling fangirls and Aiba to save him from the situation, it’s much more taxing when they are alone.
And even now, Nino isn’t really serious so much as emotionally drained. For someone who plays so many video games, Ohno notes, Nino isn’t one for mind games.
He wants to know how he got into this situation. This situation, where he sits outside in the parking lot, late at night, waiting for an agency van to come pick him up with Ninomiya Kazunari, fellow bandmate and non-significant other. They are sitting underneath a light, like a lonely little island in the middle of a dark lot. He contemplates leaving Nino there and walking to the nearest train station.
“I don’t know how to eat out with you.” Ohno replies. And then he thinks-because I wouldn’t know how to act.
For once, Nino doesn’t reply right away. He sits and twiddles his thumbs, squinting off into the darkness and listens for the distant sounds of a motor vehicle. He looks then, at the parking light pole and light attached to it, the fireflies dancing near the lights and the strange fanned out light and the hazy edges of darkness surrounding it. He thinks it is strange that the lights can only point and illuminate small spaces and that the darkness makes the bright silhouette less sharp. With a small sigh, he snaps himself back into some form of cognitive awareness and stands up, hands hanging by his side. “I’m just going to call a cab. I’ll see you tomorrow Leader.”
“Not yet.” Ohno responds, tugging Nino’s hand a little. He watches the fingers curl around his own and tugs a little harder. “Just give the driver some more time.”
And me, Ohno internalizes, some part of him wishes Nino could hear that-just give me a little more time.
From above him, Nino slowly exhales and sits back down, next to Ohno. Gingerly, Ohno reaches his hand towards Nino, lacing his fingers between the hamburger fingers and squeezes. And then, he is aware of his own exhale as Nino squeezes back.
And they sit for another half hour, holding hands and squeezing gently, so as not to ruin the fragile love nestled between them.
*
It is a non-relationship, Ohno muses that night, laying in his bed and staring up at the blank ceiling. He doesn’t know how to change it, but he knows dinner won’t do it. He wants to show Nino that love can be soft and enduring, not dynamic and fiery-burning out quickly and loudly. Sometimes Ohno wants to dip his hands into Nino’s soul and pull out the dark colors and lock them away in a box that can never be opened and never be destroyed. But then he thinks more and more about it, and he thinks that if he removes the darkness, Nino’s light won’t have anything to shine on and make beautiful.
*
If I beat this game, Nino thinks to himself, eyes strained and focused on the screen in front of him, I will ask Ohno to dinner again. And if I lose, I won’t ask again.
He leans forward unconsciously, determined to save whatever non-relationship between him and Ohno. His fingers move against the controller and from the outside, he can hear the wind whistling from the rain, almost as if to cheer him on. A gentle tapping against the window of his living room tells him that the tree branches are knocking, trying to give him some motivation. And the music on the game even starts to sound victorious.
And his fingers press more urgently and he’s stopped breathing and he can only see the screen-because he wants to save this damn relationship and he’s almost there and he can see the food and the table between them and he can hear the music playing in the restaurant he picked out. He can see the finish line and suddenly he can’t see anything.
The power is out. And then the wind is no longer whistling a friendly tune, it is howling mocking words. The tree branches are no longer tapping his windows, they are scraping the glass with cruel fingers. And there is only deafening silence.
Nino sets the controller down and walks to his bed. He pulls the covers around himself and suffocates in the darkness. He won’t ask anymore.
*
“You haven’t asked me to dinner in three weeks.” Ohno says, carefully looking at Nino’s profile.
Nino smiles a little bit, his thin lips not quite rising, “I won’t ask anymore. I already know your answer.”
He picks up his bag and walks away, waving goodbye from the door, “I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m taking a cab home.”
Inside, he feels a little bitter, and maybe a little relieved. He can stop bracing himself for half-hearted excuses and little lies that seem lackluster. Nino reasons that if Ohno insists on breaking his heart, he might as well make the break clean and quick and as painless as possible.
He doesn’t want anymore false hope. He is tired of waiting and waiting and he knows that maybe he ought to do something himself, but then how could he, when even a request for dinner is turned down.
Games, Nino concludes, Ohno likes to play mind games.
*
Ohno is sleeping on the couch of the dressing room when Nino walks in. His hair is sticking up in random places. Yawning, Nino sits down on the edge of the sofa, running his fingers through his black hair. He tells himself that Ohno will wake up in a mere 10 seconds.
As he counts, he hopes he is right.
When he reaches 10, Ohno opens his eyes.
*
“I love you.” Nino says fiercely, as if he dared Ohno take the words from him. He wouldn’t though. He waited so long to hear them. “I love you. So I don’t care that you won’t have dinner with me.”
Ohno nods. His mind is busy constructing the right words to respond with. A simple “I love you,” won’t suffice. He wants to declare unconditional and irreversible and uncontrollable love, dedication, devotion. He contemplates writing it all down and shakes his head, the kanji is too complicated.
They are sitting out the agency again, waiting for a van to come and pick them up.
There is a moment of silence and then Ohno says, his voice gravelly and low from disuse, “Go out to eat with me.”
He whispers, “I want to love you forever. I will love you forever. Is that okay?”
“It’s okay,” Nino responds in kind, nodding his head, his eyes all somber and tight, he doesn’t smile. “It’s okay. I will love you forever. And we’ll be stuck with each other.”
“And we won’t be able to separate, no matter how ugly things get.” Ohno adds.
“And we’ll see all the ugly things no one else gets to see.” Nino agrees, “My nose swells when I cry and I throw things.”
“I get mean when I’m angry.” Ohno returns, “I turn into a completely different person. It’s kind of scary.”
“I’ll push you away and away until you’ll want to leave.”
“I’m scared of how much I love you.”
Their hands are clasped at this point and there is no space between their bodies. Ohno turns his face to Nino. They both look too serious, so he smiles a little bit. And Nino’s shoulders visibly relax. Ohno presses his forehead against Nino’s-they smile at each other. They sit underneath the light, an island amongst the parking lot, soft silhouettes against the dark night.