Harbourage

[bclar]

Title: Harbourage
Word Count: ca. 700
Pairing: Ohmiya (friendship)
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I don’t own Arashi. This is for fun. Don’t you take it seriously.
Summary: Nino is agitated and Ohno comforts him (Fluff)
A/N: Unbetaed

“Ohno? Nino’s here! He’ll come up now.”

“Okay!” I shout back as I hear my mother calling. Nino would sometimes drop by. He usually, though not invariably, sends a text message. I don’t care. I like it when he visits, be it announced or not. He changes the atmosphere. There are times when we wouldn’t speak a word the whole day, just sit there, painting, playing, watching, enjoying the presence of the other.

It’s different today, I can see it as he climbs the stairs. On the surface Nino looks completely normal, but there’s something about him that tells me he’s not alright.

He walks straight into my room and crawls onto the not made-up bed to cower, back pressed at the wall, knees at his chin and arms wound around them, a small ball of Nino, not looking up. I follow slowly and sit down beside him. He neither looks nor speaks up. I wait for him to say something, to tell me what’s wrong, but he doesn’t move, just seems to get smaller with every passing second.

“What happened?”

There’s no reaction to my words, no movement of any kind, not even his eyes. He keeps staring at his jeans, at the worn-out spots on his knees.

“My father died.”

I don’t know what to say. His parents divorced when he was in elementary school, and he and his sister stayed with his mother. He never spoke much about him.

So I keep silent. I just sit there next to him, waiting for him to figure out how I can help.

He still doesn’t move.

I have never seen him like that, face free of emotion, and yet radiating fear and confusion. It hurts. Nino is lively and loud, always in the middle of happenings, and if he isn’t, he’s still monitoring, waiting for his turn to be part of it again. Like his Wii. Running or on standby. I have never seen him turned off.

I want to pull him near and cradle him, like my mother did when I was small. Nothing can compare to the feeling of someone holding you, telling you everything’s gonna be all right, don’t worry, shh, cry, yes, cry it all out, shh, there, stop shaking, I’m here.

But I don’t dare. When I touch him I don’t always know how he will react. Sometimes he would answer it, sometimes he would slap my arm away. It doesn’t depend on the occasion or what I exactly do. It all depends on his mood, and his current mood I can’t evaluate.

So we sit in silence.

Next to each other, shoulders touching.

Stare at our knees.

Listen to the cars driving by on the street.

See how the light shining through the window changes from white to orange to red and finally vanishes.

My mother comes once, probably to ask whether we would like dinner, but before she even opens her mouth I shake my head. She nods and closes the door again.

We continue waiting, what for, we both don’t know.

A movement. He stops clutching himself as if to prevent from falling to pieces and places his hands on his face instead.

Enough.

“Come here.”

I put my arms around him. He leans into the embrace, so I pull him closer, until his face, still hidden, is on my chest and I can burrow my face in his hair.

“Shhhh. It’s okay. Whatever is inside you, feel it. Cry. Shout. Whatever. I’m here. Don’t hold back. Can you feel me? I’m right here. It’s just us. I won’t tell anyone. Hm? Don’t be afraid.” I keep on talking, reassuring words and calming noises. And finally I hear a sob. Quiet and tiny, barely audible. But soon it is followed by more, getting louder as he lets go. He’s shaking horribly, he cries and mumbles words I don’t understand, he probably doesn’t understand himself. His hands clutch my shirt, tugging it as he tries to crawl closer, to bury himself deeper in my warmth.

I keep on stroking him, rub his back, curl around him, whisper soothing nonsense in his hair and lull him until the shivering faints along with the sobs to be replaced by relaxation and deep, even breathing.

And although my shirt is soaked and my leg is wedged in an unhealthy angle it doesn’t take much time until I fall asleep as well.