Gift Fic for kireiyakusoku
To: kireiyakusoku
From: satsumatsu
HAPPY HOLIDAYS!
Title: just like a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle
Pairing/Group: Matsumoto Jun/Ninomiya Kazunari / Arashi
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Notes: Dear kireiyakusoku, I don’t really know if this is what you wanted. I tried to stick to your wishes as much as I could. There is romance, there is (I hope) light humor, there is fluff and it’s AU. I am not sure if it’s a real plot--it’s so long I might have lost the point--but I hope you will enjoy it anyway.
Also thanks to my wonderful beta who worked through the different (black, red, purple) stages of my writing.
Summary: As a book designer, he wanted to work against the trend of producing heavy, glittery, big formatted, loud books; books that tended to vanish in the shelves, heavily bending the wood and easily forgotten simply because of the task to take them to hand and skim through the overly glossy pages.
Jun liked to believe that things fell into place at some point; let it be friendships, a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle, love or a book--a book very complex in its own concept, tempo and tact; in its Skimingness, as Jun likes to explain quite passionately. And if people butt in at his neologism, they would find themselves confronted with a lecture about how a book designer is able to control the readers mind--where to linger, where to skip. How he can make the reader sigh at the smooth paper in his hands, at the beautiful typography, or at the very smell.
As a book designer, he wanted to work against the trend of producing heavy, glittery, big formatted, loud books; books that tended to vanish in the shelves, heavily bending the wood and easily forgotten simply because of the task to take them to hand and skim through the overly glossy pages. Maybe it was his pickiness causing him to get less orders, and working in his tiny apartment did not favor his creativity at all; but damn it, he had is principles.
He liked to be exclusive, even if he could not afford it at all.
It was the willful book with the strange German title "Die Beerchen! Die Beerchen!" that paid off his doggedness; and got him out of his vicious circle and moldy apartment-a tiny one room studio, six tatami mats inclusive bathroom and kitchen on the first floor of an old apartment building in the least corner of Shinjuku-ku, near Ochiai Station with two supermarkets, closer to Nakano and its cheap Broadway, but still Shinjuku-ku. Huge sky scrapers were draped along the main road, forerunners of the real Shinjuku--sky scrapers Jun dreamed to live in, preferably on the top floor, high, high up without the immediate danger of cockroaches or slaters invading his space.
Not without a shudder did he think back when he moved into that hole. He had have to tape every so tiny crack of his apartment and air conditioning to prevent cockroaches from entering his four walls which resulted in mold, green and soft behind his shelf, already contaminating his curtains, television cables and bags. He swore as he cleaned his apartment on a too hot Sunday morning and washed his curtains, clothes and bags in the coin laundry next to his house for 200 yen each shift and swore some more, vowing one day he would live far up those high sky scrapers where the landlord cleaned the street each morning and sorted the garbage.
Die Beerchen! Die Beerchen! was a strange book, but Jun took a liking to the idea behind it, although he didn’t fully understood the need of a compilation of odd photographs of squashed berries. Then again, maybe that was the reason he accepted the request right away.
The book was just as strange as the author. Aiba Masaki had his fingers in everything. He drove a posh sports car, loved animals to death (and they loved him back, from what Jun could tell, watching his show once on TV), played in the golf league and now had the urge to publish a book--of squashed fruit, packed into tiny, artsy photographs. And all he needed now was a good cover and book design. If Jun wondered who in hell should buy it, Aiba surprised him even more by saying he only needed 250 copies and would distribute them himself.
It was a rather exclusive request, just to his liking. It promised no restrictions in design and cost, so of course he put all his might into it. After some research, he chose double layered Gampi Yuki paper, 70 g/m² of the German deckle edged paper fabric Gmund. The book end paper was in pale blue and pink and everything was so soft and light that he used a thick light gray (white really) cupboard as the cover. The title equally chiseled in negative embossing, the binding in linen and deep purple. It was as big as one’s hand. The first time he actually held the end result in his hands, Aiba’s smile was so bright that Jun melted a little. His excitement was radiating, he was bouncing back and forth.
"This," he stretched, "is beautiful, Jun-chan!"
Along the journey of designing a book for one of the most eccentric people Jun had met--meeting Aiba’s crazy schedule between zoo visits, golf courts and sports car test drives had been pretty hard for him--he became Jun-chan, Aiba’s best buddy.
~
Not two weeks later, just when he discovered that his watch molded away in his jewelry box, he got a letter, saying his book was accepted for some book contest (“THE book contest in Japan,” he got scolded later). He froze mid step. He didn’t even know such contests existed-shame on him as a book designer-and there was just one person how would do such a thing as entering him without his knowledge.
"That’s what best buddies do," Aiba’s breathy laugh reached him through the phone, sunny and scolding at the same time. "Jun-kun deserves to be known!"
Jun had thanked him, embarrassed and suppressed any feeling of accomplishment, because nothing was set in stone just yet. That changed when he actually won the second price for Special Cases (he himself wouldn’t even know where to group the book), whacking Aiba over the head who was chanting "I told you so" endlessly, bubbling with happiness he didn’t know he obtained. In the end, this very special case got him an apartment in Chiyoda, 10th floor and a bathroom as huge as his old apartment. Oh the irony.
It also got him a precious friendship and a call from Sakurai Sho, a jury member, telling him that his work was outstanding and that he had this friend--an artist whom Jun would be perfect for.
~
He met said Sakurai Sho over a cup of coffee at a tiny café in Akasaka Mitsuke. It was one of those old shops which had strange opening hours from 1 pm to 4 pm in the afternoon and could still survive. And they did, in fact, served nothing but coffee and tea, no sweets, no cakes, no sandwiches and that day Jun was dying to eat something, anything. He was even close, tempted, to grab for the overly large newspaper Sakurai had been hiding behind.
He knew it was the editor right away. He was the only costumer and had the air of slick professionalism. He looked up when Jun started with a rhetorical "Sakurai-san?" and then smiled politely, folding his newspaper while standing up to offer his hand instead of bowing.
Jun shook it with both hands.
"It's nice meeting you, Matsumoto-san! Coffee?" He guessed and Jun nodded, somehow amused.
He took his seat while Sakurai ordered their drinks from the old lady that must be owning the small establishment. Her back was so bent, Jun wondered if she slept the remaining hours of the day on of the low tables.
Sakurai flashed her a gentle smile before turning around, fishing out his business card case. "Let me introduce myself properly, for starters," he said, sliding his card towards Jun over the smooth surface of the table. "Kobunsha's chief editor, Sakurai Sho."
Jun bowed slightly, taking the card in both hands and knew within an instant that this was serious business. He never saw a more balanced type. He stared at the serifless, clear, almost cautious letters in front of him and could easily understand why he had been a jury member.
"Matsumoto-san," Sakurai started, tracing the edges of his folded newspaper carefully before putting it out of his way. "You may find it a little strange, a chief editor asking you out, but I saw your book on the second staple and wondered who was the idiot who could not see its true beauty, and when I read the note ‘printed on the first of May 2011 on the German deckle edged paper fabric Gmund’ you had me and I knew I was right to use my veto."
Jun had the delicacy not to blush.
The lady brought the coffee, hot and steamy in tiny cups. He reached out for the cream, pouring it into the mocha-like liquid to make it richer somehow.
"You have an eye for detail, Matsumoto-san. And I appreciate perfectionists like you." Sakurai leant forward. "I know Aiba Masaki and he must have been," he paused, "interesting to work with."
Jun suppressed a chuckle at that. Sakurai was the gentlemen type.
"Indeed."
"And not everyone can work with something as abstract as The Berries."
"Maybe."
"That is why you’re perfect for Ohno Satoshi."
“I would have to meet him to make sure of that,” Jun answered, arching an eyebrow at the doubtlessness Sakurai spoke with.
The editor leant back, nodding. "Satoshi's art is challenging.” He paused, looking straight at Jun, searching. “The universe he creates in his pieces deserves a special package."
Jun couldn't help but smile. The editor was passionate. He liked the kind: workaholics, always looking out for the perfect outcome and serious. The more Sakurai talked about Ohno Satoshi and former clients, his way of working, his standards and his demand on co-workers, designers, printers and editors, the more his respect grew. Sakurai could have barely been older than him, but came along with a Keio degree and knowledge Jun dreamed of.
If he had ever searched for a senpai, he surely had found him.
~
It didn’t take long to meet Ohno Satoshi.
The work with him turned out to be pure inspiration; his drawings just as tiny as Aiba’s photographs, just as detailed, but funny in a way, special. Jun studied them as sincerely, discussing possible layouts and designs with him.
But working with Ohno was so very different than it had been with Aiba. Ohno was carefree, youthful and, well, slow. Jun felt himself sinking into his world, adapting to his working space too fast, getting nothing done at all which resulted in scolding from Sakurai. And although Jun did rather not want to disappoint him, he simply couldn’t help it when Ohno smiled lazily at him, motioning with his dripping beer can towards the conglomerate of small figurines, finished a few hours before Jun arrived, waiting to be discovered.
~
"I have a new request for you." Sho said over a coffee at Starbucks, rummaging through the depths of his oversized bag. Jun was surprised; he was in midst of designing Ohno’s project and wasn’t sure if he could, should focus on anything new. "Do you know Ninomiya Kazunari?"
"… Should I?"
"Jun-kun," Sho exclaimed without looking up, it sounded almost exasperated. "You should know more about the artist scene if you want to work in that field."
Jun mumbled something about what Sakurai's there for, but luckily the latter didn't catch it, too occupied to find whatever he was searching for.
"Ninomiya is the talent right now. He writes lyrics, prose, essays, and columns. His view on things is so insightful, you will love him." He pulled out a thick plain clear file with a victorious grin, skimming through it. "All of his works, and it isn’t little, are to be published in a series. It’s a huge deal, Jun-kun, and I need more than 100 percent."
Jun’s heart was fluttering at the possibilities. A series! He accepted without thinking twice. Sakurai, obviously pleased, handed him the clear file.
"To give you an idea," he said while getting up to get another coffee.
Jun took it, reading Sakurai’s hushed hand writing Ninomiya, Interviews, "More" Series. 1-10.
He skimmed through the pages full of plain black kanji on white paper. The moment he stopped on a random page and actually started reading, he was sucked into it.
"The 'now' and 'reality' will never stop for you, they'll keep endlessly changing. So I feel it's important to use my full power to produce things of quality, but even still I can't guarantee that will come true."
He skimmed through the pages.
"Fear is a momentary thing, right? You can't defend against fear by imagining it, after all."
Immersed in Ninomiya's thoughts he forgot about Sakurai, his own coffee and half eaten baumkuchen.
Only when his editor tapped on his shoulder did Jun looked up, disorientated.
"As pleased as I am seeing you that absorbed," Sho smiled, his eyes dancing with mirth and smugness, "it's time to go." Jun glanced at his watch and his eyes widened. It was past midnight and the last train would be gone too soon for his liking. He got up hastily, haphazardly gathering the notes and papers, stuffing them into his bag and ran after Sakurai, passing by and uttering his thanks, rushing to catch his train. He could hear Sakurai laugh and shout to take care and Jun waved briefly in acknowledgment.
At the track he could see his train, the last train, leaving without even having to pass the ticket gate. He swore, his stomach growled on time and he sighed deeply.
Damn it.
He stepped out again in search for a place to spend the next four hours at best with the opportunity of good food. He ducked into the next side street, finding a "Grandpa’s" still open. Only a few guests were left, but Jun sat down at the counter nonetheless, ordering chicken butter curry along with nan and pulled out the stacks. If he had to kill time he could continue to read. He smoothed out the crumbled and deranged pages while the curry was placed beside him along with the nan, huge and oily, the delicious smell reaching his nose. He took a spoon, stirring the curry, his eyes reaching Ninomiya's words again. He shoved the spoon into his mouth, only to swear at the hotness. His eyes watered, his tongue burned and he gulped hard. There was a chuckle beside him he chose to ignore pointedly.
"The older people get, the more they become fixated on quality and start living luxuriously, and they become less flexible in their ways of thinking. But I don't want to distance myself from things that are convenient or new."
Jun nodded absentmindedly in agreement. He was so taken in Ninomiya's thoughts that only when his plate was empty and his eyes itchy, heavy, he realized the sound of shuffling cards beside him which would have distracted him earlier on normal circumstances.
He looked up and his eyes focused on small hands, shuffling a deck of cards expertly.
He wasn’t the type to start random conversations with strangers in some curry place at three in the morning. But anything that prevented his head from falling unceremoniously, ungracefully on top of the counter--he hated sleeping in public--was welcomed.
"What are you doing?" he asked, cringing at the what must be the most uncreative way to start a colloquy.
"Just practicing," the other replied, appearing unfazed by the casual address. Jun studied him curiously (the first thing he noticed was that his hair could use a haircut). He was dressed in a shirt, vest and jeans that rode low on his hips. His natural posture was so hunched, Jun wanted to stick a ruler inside his shirt to get him to sit straighter.
"Pick a card," the stranger offered suddenly, and when Jun did he found himself amazed only moments later when it appeared upside down in the stack.
"How do you do that?" Jun asked, clearly dumbfounded and it pleased his opposite.
"I can't tell you that," he scolded, laughing.
"Are you a magician?"
"You can't tell?" The other winked.
Jun chuckled, shaking his head, trying to get rid of his threatening heavy eyelids. "I mean, for a living? Must be tough," he mused, his eyes getting unfocused again.
"Well, business is strict," was the response, not without a shrug, "but you can survive."
Jun nods at that understandingly, his eyes actually closing, just briefly, just--
"Hey, don't fall asleep just yet." A gentle tap on his shoulder and Jun's eyes snapped open.
"Sorry," he mumbled, pinching his ear shells in an attempt to get rid of his sleepiness.
The other laughed. "I think I have to improve if someone actually falls asleep on me."
Jun stifled a yawn, but grinning nonetheless. "Doesn't have so much to do with you but the hour."
"Or maybe with the paperwork you're doing?" The other asked, snatching the clearfile from Jun before he could react.
"It's not that," Jun replied, watching the other go through his files. "It's actually really, how would you say it, insightful? Philosophic? Inspiring?" Jun gestured vaguely, before yawing yet again.
Brief silence met him before the other looked up, somewhat curious.
"What's your name?"
"Matsumoto. Matsumoto Jun." Jun fished for his business cards. "If you ever think of writing a book about magic don't hesitate to contact me," he joked, holding out his card.
The other accepted it, staring at it, a smile tugging at his lips. Jun found himself labelling it as rather endearing.
"I will remember that," he flashed him a grin. "Then, Matsumoto-san, let's get you to the station." He took him gently by the arm, steadying him as they made their way through narrow desks and stools.
Early signs of morning greeted them outside, the night slowly giving in into the first brightness though the sun was not up yet. It was the time when it was the coolest in Tokyo, and Jun shivered when they stepped out of the curry restaurant.
His one hour acquaintance walked with him until the station, saluting. Jun bowed sleepily, thanking him for his time.
~
After reading Ninomiya’s essays one by one, it was hard for Jun to get into Ohno’s world again, just as he had thought. He had been supposed to work on the line up, but hadn’t given a single thought into that direction. Guiltily biting his lower lip, he pressed the bell to Ohno’s studio-slash-apartment, honestly debating how he should focus on each project simultaneously when Ninomiya had consumed his time so easily. However when Ohno opened the door, paint splattered all over his shirt and his frayed, loose jeans in a pattern, which could have been described as art itself, Jun was there again, fully into it. He smiled softly as Ohno merely nodded sleepily, shuffling back to his sun flooded studio.
Jun was left to follow, and he did.
~
Jinbocho was crowded as ever, but Jun expected no less on a Sunday. The bookshelves narrow and full, Jun slid between them with some difficulty, but he loved it. He loved the smell of dust and paper; he loved skimming through books, old or new to get some new inspiration, to feel different kinds of paper, thick to the touch, heavy, sturdy or light as a feather, transparent, nonexistent.
He hadn’t decided what kind of paper to propose for the Ninomiya series yet. He kind of had a whole set in mind, books lined up and one would know within an instant they belong to each other just like his essays, lyrics and prose seemed to have a red string. But whereas he had a totally different concept for the essays--thick bookmark-like insertions for a separated feeling--the lyrics needed something filigree. And he did not want to think about the prose just yet.
His fingers glided over the glossy page of a Charles Wirgman edition of 1971 and he just couldn’t see any of Ninomiya’s works in it. Actually, he had no clue what to do--and that was definitely a first. It was also a first to not have met the author at this stage. Whether it was coincidence or sheer disinterest Jun did not know but Ninomiya did not care to meet up with him.
It puzzled Jun.
Anything is fine with him, Sho had told him and that was so much harder. While at the beginning he thought that this kind of freedom would be a blessing--not minding at all that he would not meet the author in process, abandoning on of his principle easily in favor of a free hand--he all too soon discovered that it was maddening. It made him unsure in his choices, limiting his ideas instead of broadening them. He didn’t want to disappoint, didn’t want to ruin a 48 volume work.
He had no idea what type would match, what colors to choose, what material for the cover would work, what way to bind.
He sighed, closing the book full of caricatures and squeezed himself through the rows towards the exit just to dunk into the next shop next door.
~
It was pure bliss that anything wasn’t fine with Ohno. For the first time Jun realized how satisfying it really was to actually discuss designs. Certainly Ohno wasn’t the type who spoke much but he had a clear image of the book and the connection of his works so when Jun commented on the samples there were times Ohno nodded along, smiling contently and times when he simply said "No," taking the prints out of Jun’s hands and showing him his idea, leaving Jun stunned because he did not think of that combination.
He learned so much while working with Ohno that his admiration grew steadily, mixing up with a certain fondness for the other that Jun just wanted to work harder for the perfect result.
~
He pressed his Suica card on the ticket gate reader, aiming for the stairs when he heard a “Matsumoto-san!"
He turned around, bewildered, his arms heavy with color books.
"The magician!" He exclaimed when he saw the small man, waving.
"It's Nino. You did not find my card, did you?"
Jun looked confused and the Nino guy laughed, walking towards him and shoving his hands down his coat pockets, making Jun jerk back at the sudden invasion of his space.
"Here!" Nino pulled out a small card with his short name and number tinily scrawled into an edge.
For a second, Jun was taken aback. Nino awfully commemorated his special case Ninomiya, whom he was close to celebrate a love/hate relationship with, and it left him wondering if it was the same person. He looked at Nino, waiting for any kind of revelation, clarification, something, but Nino didn't say anything; he just openly looked at Jun.
"How did you...?"
"I am a magician, remember?"
Jun laughed then, shouldering his slipping books, wincing a little as the bails cut into his skin, leaving angry red marks all across the crook of his arm.
Nino leaned a little forward, eying him. "You don't look too good, Matsumoto-san."
Jun chuckled mirthlessly at that. "You're quite a charmer, aren't you?"
But actually he must look terrible. The way Ninomiya kept invading his mind and his focus on Ohno’s work had to be retained as well, it was no wonder.
When he wasn’t meeting up with Ohno he was reading Ninomiya’s work to get any hint on what would be good as a package, but he had a slight feeling that the author wanted to mess with people. There were endless contradictions in his texts which did not seem to be one at the first glance, and it was brilliant in a way, how he toyed with the reader, but it left Jun frustrated, left him wanting to keep up with him, to reach the same cleverness in the design but at this stage…
"So you did realize my charming personality?" The magician, Nino, interrupted his thoughts.
"Who would not?" Jun asked back, just as playful, surprising himself by welcoming any kind of distraction from Ohno’s art and Ninomiya’s thoughts.
"How about a coffee with Mister Charming, then?" Nino asked.
"Actually I have to-" Jun started, looking at his watch, frowning. Actually he didn’t. It was not like Ninomiya-san was waiting for him or his color proposals. He returned Nino's expectant gaze with a smile and a slight bow. "Who am I to resist such a charming offer?"
He found himself at Tully’s with a cup of hot coffee, his books full of color shade examples occupied by Nino, who skipped through them. Jun circled his hands around the cup, his fingertips burning a little as he observed the other. He found himself relaxing while chatting with Nino. He was easy to talk to; he was fun, he was smooth; leading the conversation so that Jun himself had not to think too much.
Though usually it was what Jun liked to do: thinking, musing, contemplating, bending matters until he lost the original thought; to experience just the opposite was refreshing. Though in the end Jun knew it would not be enough to keep him. But for the time being, being with Nino was easy--too easy, to forget the time, for instance. And even if Ninomiya wasn’t waiting for him, Sho was. As Jun was lost in watching Nino's frame, hunched over the books, pointing out nice shades of colors, his small hands tracing the smooth pages, wetting his lips from time to time (teasingly, Jun couldn't help but think) his glance passed the clock across the street as Nino pointed out the colorful umbrella in a mass of the late autumn early winter grayness that was just this color, look, Matsumoto-san.
"Shit!" He cursed, scrambling for his books while apologizing to a stunned Nino, hurrying out into the rain, all forgetting about his umbrella.
~
In the times when Jun’s patience was running on emergency system--Ninomiya’s disinterest (his own foolish inconsequence) was getting to him--he marveled Ohno’s. He should be frustrated with Jun’s slow progress regarding his project, the way Jun explained or introduced potential materials twice because he simply had his mind somewhere else and forgot that Ohno long had chosen his favourite. Nothing of his professionalism was left and--Ohno’s hand landed on his head, ruffling his hair with strange affection, leaving, Jun was sure, green paint stains. Jun relaxed, letting his head hang low, sighing while Ohno chuckled.
“I think we should go for the vellum paper,” he said, sitting down on the narrow, paint splattered bench, supposed to be table make shift and poured hot water onto the tea roses Jun had bought for him out of apology for a lot of things.
Jun merely nodded, watching Ohno watching the tea rose bloom slowly in the glass, enjoying his unhurried and carefree ways, even though he knew that no hours later Sakurai would strangle his neck.
~
Jun scrolled through the types tiredly. Only his desk lamp was illuminating his room, apart from the lights outside, the lights of Minato-ku all around him. The soft chords of the Jimmy Giuffre trio played in the background, and the dim light in stark contrast to the glaring white of his laptop screen started to hurt his eyes. He typed, tried with another font, typed again and deleted everything, character after character. Just why was he so damn indecisive?
He hadn't had this problem before with clients. But that was the problem--he actually had worked with people, getting to consent while now he was on the road all alone and he just had no clue where to go.
His phone vibrated abruptly on his desk, dancing a little forward, startling Jun in process. It was a message from Nino.
Can you see Tokyo Tower?
Jun looked to his left and smiled, seeing the tower glowing in its soft red light. He didn’t wear his glasses, his vision blurred for things far away so that the tower appeared even softer. Sometimes, he thought, the world blurred was so much nicer, then all sharp and clear.
Yes.
He simply replied.
Me too.
Jun smiled. That was too random. His heart fluttered--and too cheesy.
~
Jun skimmed through Ohno’s sketch book, the edges of the thick paper traced along his thumb until he stopped, surprised. Jun could realize himself in the drawing, added up pencil lines forming the outline of his profile. He could realize himself but at the same time it seemed so foreign and strange that he wondered what Ohno had thought while drawing, in what kind of world the other lived to think and draw like this and if he would ever share. His heart skipped a beat at the thought.
~
Maybe Jun should call it luck that he ran into Nino more often these days. He seemed to be wherever Jun was. And this was Tokyo. People don’t run into people in Tokyo. But Jun was far from actually finding it bothersome. Being with Nino helped to forget his tension so that Jun was actually looking forward to hear the pleasant surprised "Jun-kun?" (Jun never really saw people on the street--his tunnel vision prohibited it) at any random place and they would end up eating okonomiyaki in a small restaurant between a parking lot and a department building, a place one would never find or recognize if they wouldn’t know it existed; the interior so Japanese that Jun loved to sit there, mixing the ingredients in the tiny bowl which always seemed to spill any second, but by now he had enough practice. He would fry the pancake while chatting about his projects endlessly, but Nino didn’t seem to mind, listening to him talk about the Ohno project, how they are finally there, he could finally picture it, his eyes lightening up; about the Ninomiya project which seemed to take steps back instead of forward and he just could not meet him, and it would be so much easier and it was odd and driving him crazy and, "Just what does he expect?"
By this time he was gesticulating wildly with the frying utensils, all forgetting about the food and it was then that Nino leaned into him, their shoulders touching, to take the spatula gently from his hands to finish the task himself.
~
The outcome of “s.o.free” was a light blue, silk cover with tiny silver letters that looked handwritten. The pages, consisting one tiny drawing each, were separated by a thin layer of pure white vellum paper, adding to the obscure and abstract image of the art itself. Ohno was skimming from page to page, one by one, humming low in approval.
Quietness. Color. Motives. Casts. Styles.
Ohno looked up from the book in his hand, his smile fond.
"The books you produce will always find a place, Jun-kun. But not squashed into a bookshelf. It will always be somewhere on top of it."
Jun felt himself blushing. Ohno had seen through him--and that was the longest sentence Ohno had ever spoken to him.
~
The first time Jun questioned his own standards, his strange affection for Ohno, even more strange addiction with Ninomiya and thought he was spending too much time with Nino, that this uncoerced thing between them began to change into something beyond flirtation or coquetry, occurred when he was hovering above him, grabbing for a 105 yen Book-Off manga of HunterXHunter high in the shelf while Nino was squatting down in front of him, humming low in appreciation at the cheap price. It was in the middle of the night. They missed their train, once again, and were killing time and it was fine, all friendly and snarky and fun until Nino suddenly stood up, wanting to show Jun his found and was abruptly too close.
It was one of those slow motion moments, over too soon in an odd contradiction with Nino’s face in front of him, barely centimeters away, his lips parted, his eyes inquiring and both knew from the look in the other’s eyes that this could lead to a kiss, any second now, just one small movement.
Jun was surprised that he wanted to kiss Nino, if only to find out whether there would be a spark for more, screw everything else. He really did but the moment was gone as soon as it came with a high pitched giggle of a female voice near them. Jun drew back immediately, smiling embarrassed, aiming straight for the cashier to buy a volume he long called his own.
~
"You know, you should just go for it!" Aiba said, clutching to his copy of Ohno’s art book. They were out to celebrate.
"Aiba," Jun groaned, wasted. "It’s-not-that-easy," he slurred, pointedly, though. "I-it’s nothing more than a flirt-"
"He’s right, though." Ohno interrupted beside him, patting him in emphasize.
Jun glared at him, half-heartedly. "He’s an amusing acquaintance; he’s Nino, for God’s sake." He didn’t know who he wanted to convince. Jun was close to falling for a complete stranger he only knew half his name of. A quarter, if you think about it properly. But it became a huge deal for Jun, right there and then, thinking properly.
"Nino is-” He interrupted himself, thinking, thinking, thinking. Thoughts forming so slow in his head that it frustrated him; about his feeling that something was simply amiss, something that would make a possible, imaginary relationship last, that would make Jun go for it. That’s it. “Nino is--Nino?"
There he was, again, standing in the door of the small bar.
"How in hell-"
"I called him," Aiba said, waving with Ohno’s book and a fashion which would have brought the horror out of Jun if he were any close to being sober.
"Thank God," Jun laughed instead, at least this riddle was solved. Nino arched an eyebrow at him, an amused smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
"He had a few, huh?"
Aiba nodded enthusiastically.
Nino laughed, squeezed his way to Jun and laid a hand on Jun’s shoulder.
"Let’s go home, Jun-kun."
"I don’t wanna~"
"You should go for it, Jun-chan~"
At the déjà-vu-ish feeling, he looked up at Nino in wonder-God, was he drunk-nodding determinedly.
"Aiba-san, Ohno-san," he saluted, making Nino laugh again, saying, "I have a bad influence on him."
Jun couldn’t remember how they made it home. But Nino requested for his wallet at some point, which he gave over oh so willingly it would frighten him under normal, sober circumstances. But that was a long time coming and Nino had to steady him on the way up to his apartment, his arm slung around his waist, hand at his hip bone.
Jun’s mind was pleasantly clouded, the world round and soft wherein he still wanted to do anything productive at least, fishing for his keys for instance, that was a productive thought but Nino was already dangling with them in front of his nose.
"How…?"
"It’s magic," Nino replied winningly, opening the door.
Jun paused, convincing himself that it must be before passing him, stumbling slightly before stopping so abruptly that Nino ran into his back.
"Jun-kun-" he started exasperatedly, but Jun could hear the amusement clearly.
"Nino-chan, what do I do?" Jun turned around, facing him and he must have looked so forlorn that Nino’s gaze softened visibly.
"You take your shoes off."
"No," Jun shook his head. "I mean, yes, that too, but--" He stopped in the middle again, sitting down on the step to his floor in wonderment when an epiphany hit him. "I loathe Ninomiya, I rea-lly..." Jun trailed of while Nino, already squatted down to finish the task himself gently, only mumbled, "You do, huh?"
Jun chuckled, “With all my might. He’s aloof, he doesn’t care, he-he’s so brilliant you have to hate him. But,” he stared at the mop of hair in front of him, settling a hand on top of it, ruffling Nino’s soft strands with pure affection, “I like Nino-chan. I really do. And still it’s not enough to make me fall, like I would for Ninomiya when he would just be more like you.” Wait, wait, wait... “You two...” The coherency was vanishing as fast as it had came and he must have been close to asleep because Nino’s soft voice was further and further away, but his eyes, he could feel Nino's eyes on him.
"Let’s get you to bed, Jun-kun."
~
When Jun woke up he had a splitting headache and a post-it on his forehead. He groaned, removing the offending paper and had to squint to read it.
Jun-kun,
There’s aspirin next to you.
Let me know you’re okay.
Nino.
The writing was so tiny that Jun had the feeling Nino wanted to punish him. He drowned the aspirin in remorse and grabbed for his phone.
Was I that drunk?
He wanted to hide in the furthest corner of Shinjuku again.
No. The answer came within seconds as if Nino was sitting on his phone; and three spaces below: You were charming.
Jun blushed, his heartbeat quickened. That’s it, he thought. He was officially screwed.
~
That’s it, he thought, starring at the returned package and the post-it saying in a scrawl, "Try again, Jun-kun".
That was no feedback, it was a bad joke.
He glared at the note in his hand, playing with the thought of moving to Europe where, in the damn book business, the damn author had nothing to say and live with the book designed for him. Damn paradise! (He should stop watching these documentaries on NHK.)
He called Sakurai, fed up, demanding the contact address of Ninomiya and no he did not care in hell that he was a rather private person. If he did not want to search for a new designer who would actually-and there he had him.
He took the first train to Shinagawa, the Yamanote line packed just adding up to his anger, boiling inside of him.
The portiere actually retreated when he stepped into the fancy lobby and Jun was free to ride up the 4th floor in an elevator with terrible soothing music. Soon he stood in front of a noncommittal white door, pressing the bell, pressing it again until there was a click and the door opened and Jun was ready with his tirade, the first words on his tongue which would resemble more of swearing then anything constructive to solve the issue. Until he came across all too familiar brown eyes.
Nino was staring back at him. Nino. Ninomiya.
"Jun-kun?" he asked, surprised.
For a moment, his head was blank except hows and whats and whys and Nino, Ninomiya, Nino. He stood there, rooted to the ground, perplexed until he grasped the situation he was in, who had fooled with him all the time.
His mouth snapped close, he balled his fist, turning around to leave without having spoken one single word.
~
Just why would things fall into place? Right, but obviously, so very upsettingly wrong? Ninomiya was the missing piece for Jun to fell for Nino completely and vice versa. It was what had lacked, it set him at peace that his intuition did not fail somehow and at the same time the revelation swept all the trust away Jun could set.
~
“He would tell me. He would tell me. Nonsense!” he cursed, slamming the doors of his fridge close that the magnets flew around. A fuck did he tell.
“Jun-kun,” Jun spun around facing Ohno, calm and collected Ohno. For a split of a second Jun asked himself why he couldn’t have fallen in love with him; knew why, of course he knew but it didn’t stop him from wondering how it would have been like, to receive Ohno’s full attention just once. Jun was sure he would have fallen, then, and deep. But Ohno had his own world and as gentle and wicked he could be it wasn’t enough if he didn’t share. But apparently Nino hadn’t shared either. That--
“--asshole,” he muttered, as if defending himself, not understand the smile Ohno gave in response.
~
Jun found himself buying the MORE magazine although the script would reach him anyway.
It was now glaring up at him from his coffee table and Jun sorted his new purchased books alphabetically into his shelf, washed the dishes and made himself some tea before he sat down to read it.
It sucked him right into the text as Ninomiya usually managed. Or Nino. Or--oh damn it.
“The relationships between people change. No matter how much fun you're having, there will be a day when things like enjoyment and the people you get along with will change with your circumstances. It's bittersweet.”
He frowned at the true lines and how it’s written so calm and resolute when Jun worried sick over how to face him now, how to fight his anger down, his embarrassment.
The soft ping of his mobile got him out of his thoughts.
Nino, he startled, staring at the faint green blinking name on the display until the curiosity got better of him.
Can you see Tokyo Tower?
Jun hesitated, snapped his phone shut, opened it again, starring at it, minutes and minutes, looking up to the tower glowing, maybe glaring a little but Jun could imagine things, looked at the MORE lines and--
Yes.
He finally replied. No more than a few seconds later his doorbell rang and Jun jumped, jumped up, and answered the speaker warily.
"It’s Nino."
"How-"
"You can see Tokyo Tower so I thought you must be home."
"I can see Tokyo Tower from a numerous of places."
"But you’re home, right?"
Jun let out an inaudible sigh which stretched out into silence only broken by the intercom noises.
"Let me up?" came the question. It sounded so hopeful, so unsure that Jun pushed the button almost immediately, cursing moments later when he could see from his door how the elevator numbers highlighted one floor after another. He didn’t know how to face Nino, Ninomiya…whatever, and decided for the only option he could go through: indifference.
"Ninomiya-san, to what do I owe the honor of your visit?"
Nino cringed a little; he could see it with satisfaction.
"Well… I heard my favorite book designer was about to quit his project so I thought I could talk him out of it." The words, so non-committal, so Nino just made Jun even angrier.
"But isn't it your fault to begin with?" he asked, snapping, really.
Nino looked at him, unaffected and Jun wondered just how he did it when Jun was the exact opposite.
"I can't see that."
The door three doors down opened and Jun ran a hand through his hair.
"Come inside," was all he offered, leaving the door open to follow.
He observed how Nino slipped out of his shoes, revealing colorful dotted socks, cute socks, socks he wanted to have as well. Distracted, he ran a hand through his hair, shuffling into his living room.
He caught Nino’s smile while his eyes ghosted over the stacks of material, all for his books and Jun wanted to strangle him. For being a dick. For coming unannounced so he couldn’t hide the chaos which had build up the last months.
He moved to staple the examples of linen to yet another staple of notes to make room for Nino to sit on the white couch. "Tea?" He asked while the other took seat, still looking around curiously. "Don’t pretend you’ve never been here," Jun snapped, remembering the night Nino brought him home.
"I’ve only been in your bedroom, Jun-kun," Nino shot back, not offended in the least and Jun grunted in frustration, running a hand through his hair again, wanting to tear it while retreating to the kitchen.
When he got the cups from the cupboard, it hit him that it might have been not the best decision to leave the other one alone in Jun's... territory. And indeed, when Jun came back with two brewing hot cups of simple green tea he saw him bending above one of Jun’s sketch books, his bows furrowed in concentration, elbows on his knees, chin propped on his palms.
"Actually interested?" Jun snarled, balancing the steaming cups in his hands, his fingertips actually burning. He put them down, rearranging the material on his table so that Nino would actually reach his.
"I never said I wasn’t," Nino replied, glancing up briefly.
"You never bothered," Jun shrugged, only slowly adapting to the calm attitude. He bet that he would get along perfectly with Ohno-he didn’t know where this thought was coming from.
Nino, meanwhile, nodded thoughtfully. "I never really bothered about my works being published in a series," he admitted. "But having Sakurai as an editor…" Nino shrugged, his fingers tracing the linen carefully. "I never really bothered about the outcome, anything was fine. But I do want it finished, especially if it’s made by you.”
Jun blushed. "It’s hard to finish it if I don’t know what you want. I don’t want to--"
Nino smiled at him, catching Jun's gaze through his bangs. "Don’t judge a book by its cover."
Jun sighed. Of course there was the saying but people did just that. "That would leave me without work."
“I could care for you,” Nino replied in all earnest that surprised Jun briefly, surprised at the butterflies collecting in his stomach, dissipating no seconds later when he detected the mocking.
“I bet you can, two-timer,” he retorted then, his voice betraying his intentions to keep it light.
Nino shrugged. “I am not too fond of the idea of people choosing to read my work just because the cover is nice or catchy. They should read it because it’s me."
Jun looked at him pensively. "But most of the time it does not work like that. You need a proper and fitting appearance. I am not saying there is any need of glitter or blinking LEDs for people to catch attention, but…"
"That is why I trust Jun-kun. From the first moment I knew you were to design my books I knew I could trust you. Maybe you tend to think too much but-"
Jun swatted his head. "I do not!"
"Oh, I bet. How often have you thought about approaching me or to reach out and ki-"
Jun really did hit him then and only received a laugh in return.
"You’re annoying!" Jun mumbled, leaning in at the invitation.
"Thank you," Nino laughed, angling for Jun’s neck to draw him closer.
~
In the end Jun knocked the whole concept on the head. Sakurai was near a tantrum, actually yelling, finally losing his temper. Jun had been waiting for it but now that it happened… The chief editor was indeed scary, throwing words of investment, budgets and marketing at him-that was until Jun explained that the new design would be so much cheaper and that should be in Ninomiya’s mind as well, right?
Only then Sakurai actually started to listen and Jun could imagine him nodding, calculating and scribbling notes down.
The finished collection as a whole was breathtaking, in pieces collected clarity. In order of the spines, one could see a rainbow, a prism like color range of the 48 spectrum colors of the sun light. The design was simple and only consisted of the typography. One book had its one-colored binding with title and author in the middle, separated by a thin line between the characters. It was to the point, without frills and functional but in whole playful.
Jun had a hard time combining the two Ninomiya’s he got to know--the calm, straightforwardness he caught from his work and the plain flirty, charming personality in person.
If one would grab a book alone nothing would distract from the content, just like he requested (finally!). But as a whole it was payback.
~
Can you see the rainbow?
Jun shut his mobile phone, grinning winningly. It buzzed no seconds later in his hand. He flipped it open.
No.
He smiled, taking a picture of the neatly lined up books in the shelf.
Aw, Jun-kun. ♥
Omake:
Where are you so that I can make love to you?
Jun laughed.
Idiot.
(home)
From: satsumatsu
HAPPY HOLIDAYS!
Title: just like a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle
Pairing/Group: Matsumoto Jun/Ninomiya Kazunari / Arashi
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Notes: Dear kireiyakusoku, I don’t really know if this is what you wanted. I tried to stick to your wishes as much as I could. There is romance, there is (I hope) light humor, there is fluff and it’s AU. I am not sure if it’s a real plot--it’s so long I might have lost the point--but I hope you will enjoy it anyway.
Also thanks to my wonderful beta who worked through the different (black, red, purple) stages of my writing.
Summary: As a book designer, he wanted to work against the trend of producing heavy, glittery, big formatted, loud books; books that tended to vanish in the shelves, heavily bending the wood and easily forgotten simply because of the task to take them to hand and skim through the overly glossy pages.
Jun liked to believe that things fell into place at some point; let it be friendships, a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle, love or a book--a book very complex in its own concept, tempo and tact; in its Skimingness, as Jun likes to explain quite passionately. And if people butt in at his neologism, they would find themselves confronted with a lecture about how a book designer is able to control the readers mind--where to linger, where to skip. How he can make the reader sigh at the smooth paper in his hands, at the beautiful typography, or at the very smell.
As a book designer, he wanted to work against the trend of producing heavy, glittery, big formatted, loud books; books that tended to vanish in the shelves, heavily bending the wood and easily forgotten simply because of the task to take them to hand and skim through the overly glossy pages. Maybe it was his pickiness causing him to get less orders, and working in his tiny apartment did not favor his creativity at all; but damn it, he had is principles.
He liked to be exclusive, even if he could not afford it at all.
It was the willful book with the strange German title "Die Beerchen! Die Beerchen!" that paid off his doggedness; and got him out of his vicious circle and moldy apartment-a tiny one room studio, six tatami mats inclusive bathroom and kitchen on the first floor of an old apartment building in the least corner of Shinjuku-ku, near Ochiai Station with two supermarkets, closer to Nakano and its cheap Broadway, but still Shinjuku-ku. Huge sky scrapers were draped along the main road, forerunners of the real Shinjuku--sky scrapers Jun dreamed to live in, preferably on the top floor, high, high up without the immediate danger of cockroaches or slaters invading his space.
Not without a shudder did he think back when he moved into that hole. He had have to tape every so tiny crack of his apartment and air conditioning to prevent cockroaches from entering his four walls which resulted in mold, green and soft behind his shelf, already contaminating his curtains, television cables and bags. He swore as he cleaned his apartment on a too hot Sunday morning and washed his curtains, clothes and bags in the coin laundry next to his house for 200 yen each shift and swore some more, vowing one day he would live far up those high sky scrapers where the landlord cleaned the street each morning and sorted the garbage.
Die Beerchen! Die Beerchen! was a strange book, but Jun took a liking to the idea behind it, although he didn’t fully understood the need of a compilation of odd photographs of squashed berries. Then again, maybe that was the reason he accepted the request right away.
The book was just as strange as the author. Aiba Masaki had his fingers in everything. He drove a posh sports car, loved animals to death (and they loved him back, from what Jun could tell, watching his show once on TV), played in the golf league and now had the urge to publish a book--of squashed fruit, packed into tiny, artsy photographs. And all he needed now was a good cover and book design. If Jun wondered who in hell should buy it, Aiba surprised him even more by saying he only needed 250 copies and would distribute them himself.
It was a rather exclusive request, just to his liking. It promised no restrictions in design and cost, so of course he put all his might into it. After some research, he chose double layered Gampi Yuki paper, 70 g/m² of the German deckle edged paper fabric Gmund. The book end paper was in pale blue and pink and everything was so soft and light that he used a thick light gray (white really) cupboard as the cover. The title equally chiseled in negative embossing, the binding in linen and deep purple. It was as big as one’s hand. The first time he actually held the end result in his hands, Aiba’s smile was so bright that Jun melted a little. His excitement was radiating, he was bouncing back and forth.
"This," he stretched, "is beautiful, Jun-chan!"
Along the journey of designing a book for one of the most eccentric people Jun had met--meeting Aiba’s crazy schedule between zoo visits, golf courts and sports car test drives had been pretty hard for him--he became Jun-chan, Aiba’s best buddy.
~
Not two weeks later, just when he discovered that his watch molded away in his jewelry box, he got a letter, saying his book was accepted for some book contest (“THE book contest in Japan,” he got scolded later). He froze mid step. He didn’t even know such contests existed-shame on him as a book designer-and there was just one person how would do such a thing as entering him without his knowledge.
"That’s what best buddies do," Aiba’s breathy laugh reached him through the phone, sunny and scolding at the same time. "Jun-kun deserves to be known!"
Jun had thanked him, embarrassed and suppressed any feeling of accomplishment, because nothing was set in stone just yet. That changed when he actually won the second price for Special Cases (he himself wouldn’t even know where to group the book), whacking Aiba over the head who was chanting "I told you so" endlessly, bubbling with happiness he didn’t know he obtained. In the end, this very special case got him an apartment in Chiyoda, 10th floor and a bathroom as huge as his old apartment. Oh the irony.
It also got him a precious friendship and a call from Sakurai Sho, a jury member, telling him that his work was outstanding and that he had this friend--an artist whom Jun would be perfect for.
~
He met said Sakurai Sho over a cup of coffee at a tiny café in Akasaka Mitsuke. It was one of those old shops which had strange opening hours from 1 pm to 4 pm in the afternoon and could still survive. And they did, in fact, served nothing but coffee and tea, no sweets, no cakes, no sandwiches and that day Jun was dying to eat something, anything. He was even close, tempted, to grab for the overly large newspaper Sakurai had been hiding behind.
He knew it was the editor right away. He was the only costumer and had the air of slick professionalism. He looked up when Jun started with a rhetorical "Sakurai-san?" and then smiled politely, folding his newspaper while standing up to offer his hand instead of bowing.
Jun shook it with both hands.
"It's nice meeting you, Matsumoto-san! Coffee?" He guessed and Jun nodded, somehow amused.
He took his seat while Sakurai ordered their drinks from the old lady that must be owning the small establishment. Her back was so bent, Jun wondered if she slept the remaining hours of the day on of the low tables.
Sakurai flashed her a gentle smile before turning around, fishing out his business card case. "Let me introduce myself properly, for starters," he said, sliding his card towards Jun over the smooth surface of the table. "Kobunsha's chief editor, Sakurai Sho."
Jun bowed slightly, taking the card in both hands and knew within an instant that this was serious business. He never saw a more balanced type. He stared at the serifless, clear, almost cautious letters in front of him and could easily understand why he had been a jury member.
"Matsumoto-san," Sakurai started, tracing the edges of his folded newspaper carefully before putting it out of his way. "You may find it a little strange, a chief editor asking you out, but I saw your book on the second staple and wondered who was the idiot who could not see its true beauty, and when I read the note ‘printed on the first of May 2011 on the German deckle edged paper fabric Gmund’ you had me and I knew I was right to use my veto."
Jun had the delicacy not to blush.
The lady brought the coffee, hot and steamy in tiny cups. He reached out for the cream, pouring it into the mocha-like liquid to make it richer somehow.
"You have an eye for detail, Matsumoto-san. And I appreciate perfectionists like you." Sakurai leant forward. "I know Aiba Masaki and he must have been," he paused, "interesting to work with."
Jun suppressed a chuckle at that. Sakurai was the gentlemen type.
"Indeed."
"And not everyone can work with something as abstract as The Berries."
"Maybe."
"That is why you’re perfect for Ohno Satoshi."
“I would have to meet him to make sure of that,” Jun answered, arching an eyebrow at the doubtlessness Sakurai spoke with.
The editor leant back, nodding. "Satoshi's art is challenging.” He paused, looking straight at Jun, searching. “The universe he creates in his pieces deserves a special package."
Jun couldn't help but smile. The editor was passionate. He liked the kind: workaholics, always looking out for the perfect outcome and serious. The more Sakurai talked about Ohno Satoshi and former clients, his way of working, his standards and his demand on co-workers, designers, printers and editors, the more his respect grew. Sakurai could have barely been older than him, but came along with a Keio degree and knowledge Jun dreamed of.
If he had ever searched for a senpai, he surely had found him.
~
It didn’t take long to meet Ohno Satoshi.
The work with him turned out to be pure inspiration; his drawings just as tiny as Aiba’s photographs, just as detailed, but funny in a way, special. Jun studied them as sincerely, discussing possible layouts and designs with him.
But working with Ohno was so very different than it had been with Aiba. Ohno was carefree, youthful and, well, slow. Jun felt himself sinking into his world, adapting to his working space too fast, getting nothing done at all which resulted in scolding from Sakurai. And although Jun did rather not want to disappoint him, he simply couldn’t help it when Ohno smiled lazily at him, motioning with his dripping beer can towards the conglomerate of small figurines, finished a few hours before Jun arrived, waiting to be discovered.
~
"I have a new request for you." Sho said over a coffee at Starbucks, rummaging through the depths of his oversized bag. Jun was surprised; he was in midst of designing Ohno’s project and wasn’t sure if he could, should focus on anything new. "Do you know Ninomiya Kazunari?"
"… Should I?"
"Jun-kun," Sho exclaimed without looking up, it sounded almost exasperated. "You should know more about the artist scene if you want to work in that field."
Jun mumbled something about what Sakurai's there for, but luckily the latter didn't catch it, too occupied to find whatever he was searching for.
"Ninomiya is the talent right now. He writes lyrics, prose, essays, and columns. His view on things is so insightful, you will love him." He pulled out a thick plain clear file with a victorious grin, skimming through it. "All of his works, and it isn’t little, are to be published in a series. It’s a huge deal, Jun-kun, and I need more than 100 percent."
Jun’s heart was fluttering at the possibilities. A series! He accepted without thinking twice. Sakurai, obviously pleased, handed him the clear file.
"To give you an idea," he said while getting up to get another coffee.
Jun took it, reading Sakurai’s hushed hand writing Ninomiya, Interviews, "More" Series. 1-10.
He skimmed through the pages full of plain black kanji on white paper. The moment he stopped on a random page and actually started reading, he was sucked into it.
"The 'now' and 'reality' will never stop for you, they'll keep endlessly changing. So I feel it's important to use my full power to produce things of quality, but even still I can't guarantee that will come true."
He skimmed through the pages.
"Fear is a momentary thing, right? You can't defend against fear by imagining it, after all."
Immersed in Ninomiya's thoughts he forgot about Sakurai, his own coffee and half eaten baumkuchen.
Only when his editor tapped on his shoulder did Jun looked up, disorientated.
"As pleased as I am seeing you that absorbed," Sho smiled, his eyes dancing with mirth and smugness, "it's time to go." Jun glanced at his watch and his eyes widened. It was past midnight and the last train would be gone too soon for his liking. He got up hastily, haphazardly gathering the notes and papers, stuffing them into his bag and ran after Sakurai, passing by and uttering his thanks, rushing to catch his train. He could hear Sakurai laugh and shout to take care and Jun waved briefly in acknowledgment.
At the track he could see his train, the last train, leaving without even having to pass the ticket gate. He swore, his stomach growled on time and he sighed deeply.
Damn it.
He stepped out again in search for a place to spend the next four hours at best with the opportunity of good food. He ducked into the next side street, finding a "Grandpa’s" still open. Only a few guests were left, but Jun sat down at the counter nonetheless, ordering chicken butter curry along with nan and pulled out the stacks. If he had to kill time he could continue to read. He smoothed out the crumbled and deranged pages while the curry was placed beside him along with the nan, huge and oily, the delicious smell reaching his nose. He took a spoon, stirring the curry, his eyes reaching Ninomiya's words again. He shoved the spoon into his mouth, only to swear at the hotness. His eyes watered, his tongue burned and he gulped hard. There was a chuckle beside him he chose to ignore pointedly.
"The older people get, the more they become fixated on quality and start living luxuriously, and they become less flexible in their ways of thinking. But I don't want to distance myself from things that are convenient or new."
Jun nodded absentmindedly in agreement. He was so taken in Ninomiya's thoughts that only when his plate was empty and his eyes itchy, heavy, he realized the sound of shuffling cards beside him which would have distracted him earlier on normal circumstances.
He looked up and his eyes focused on small hands, shuffling a deck of cards expertly.
He wasn’t the type to start random conversations with strangers in some curry place at three in the morning. But anything that prevented his head from falling unceremoniously, ungracefully on top of the counter--he hated sleeping in public--was welcomed.
"What are you doing?" he asked, cringing at the what must be the most uncreative way to start a colloquy.
"Just practicing," the other replied, appearing unfazed by the casual address. Jun studied him curiously (the first thing he noticed was that his hair could use a haircut). He was dressed in a shirt, vest and jeans that rode low on his hips. His natural posture was so hunched, Jun wanted to stick a ruler inside his shirt to get him to sit straighter.
"Pick a card," the stranger offered suddenly, and when Jun did he found himself amazed only moments later when it appeared upside down in the stack.
"How do you do that?" Jun asked, clearly dumbfounded and it pleased his opposite.
"I can't tell you that," he scolded, laughing.
"Are you a magician?"
"You can't tell?" The other winked.
Jun chuckled, shaking his head, trying to get rid of his threatening heavy eyelids. "I mean, for a living? Must be tough," he mused, his eyes getting unfocused again.
"Well, business is strict," was the response, not without a shrug, "but you can survive."
Jun nods at that understandingly, his eyes actually closing, just briefly, just--
"Hey, don't fall asleep just yet." A gentle tap on his shoulder and Jun's eyes snapped open.
"Sorry," he mumbled, pinching his ear shells in an attempt to get rid of his sleepiness.
The other laughed. "I think I have to improve if someone actually falls asleep on me."
Jun stifled a yawn, but grinning nonetheless. "Doesn't have so much to do with you but the hour."
"Or maybe with the paperwork you're doing?" The other asked, snatching the clearfile from Jun before he could react.
"It's not that," Jun replied, watching the other go through his files. "It's actually really, how would you say it, insightful? Philosophic? Inspiring?" Jun gestured vaguely, before yawing yet again.
Brief silence met him before the other looked up, somewhat curious.
"What's your name?"
"Matsumoto. Matsumoto Jun." Jun fished for his business cards. "If you ever think of writing a book about magic don't hesitate to contact me," he joked, holding out his card.
The other accepted it, staring at it, a smile tugging at his lips. Jun found himself labelling it as rather endearing.
"I will remember that," he flashed him a grin. "Then, Matsumoto-san, let's get you to the station." He took him gently by the arm, steadying him as they made their way through narrow desks and stools.
Early signs of morning greeted them outside, the night slowly giving in into the first brightness though the sun was not up yet. It was the time when it was the coolest in Tokyo, and Jun shivered when they stepped out of the curry restaurant.
His one hour acquaintance walked with him until the station, saluting. Jun bowed sleepily, thanking him for his time.
~
After reading Ninomiya’s essays one by one, it was hard for Jun to get into Ohno’s world again, just as he had thought. He had been supposed to work on the line up, but hadn’t given a single thought into that direction. Guiltily biting his lower lip, he pressed the bell to Ohno’s studio-slash-apartment, honestly debating how he should focus on each project simultaneously when Ninomiya had consumed his time so easily. However when Ohno opened the door, paint splattered all over his shirt and his frayed, loose jeans in a pattern, which could have been described as art itself, Jun was there again, fully into it. He smiled softly as Ohno merely nodded sleepily, shuffling back to his sun flooded studio.
Jun was left to follow, and he did.
~
Jinbocho was crowded as ever, but Jun expected no less on a Sunday. The bookshelves narrow and full, Jun slid between them with some difficulty, but he loved it. He loved the smell of dust and paper; he loved skimming through books, old or new to get some new inspiration, to feel different kinds of paper, thick to the touch, heavy, sturdy or light as a feather, transparent, nonexistent.
He hadn’t decided what kind of paper to propose for the Ninomiya series yet. He kind of had a whole set in mind, books lined up and one would know within an instant they belong to each other just like his essays, lyrics and prose seemed to have a red string. But whereas he had a totally different concept for the essays--thick bookmark-like insertions for a separated feeling--the lyrics needed something filigree. And he did not want to think about the prose just yet.
His fingers glided over the glossy page of a Charles Wirgman edition of 1971 and he just couldn’t see any of Ninomiya’s works in it. Actually, he had no clue what to do--and that was definitely a first. It was also a first to not have met the author at this stage. Whether it was coincidence or sheer disinterest Jun did not know but Ninomiya did not care to meet up with him.
It puzzled Jun.
Anything is fine with him, Sho had told him and that was so much harder. While at the beginning he thought that this kind of freedom would be a blessing--not minding at all that he would not meet the author in process, abandoning on of his principle easily in favor of a free hand--he all too soon discovered that it was maddening. It made him unsure in his choices, limiting his ideas instead of broadening them. He didn’t want to disappoint, didn’t want to ruin a 48 volume work.
He had no idea what type would match, what colors to choose, what material for the cover would work, what way to bind.
He sighed, closing the book full of caricatures and squeezed himself through the rows towards the exit just to dunk into the next shop next door.
~
It was pure bliss that anything wasn’t fine with Ohno. For the first time Jun realized how satisfying it really was to actually discuss designs. Certainly Ohno wasn’t the type who spoke much but he had a clear image of the book and the connection of his works so when Jun commented on the samples there were times Ohno nodded along, smiling contently and times when he simply said "No," taking the prints out of Jun’s hands and showing him his idea, leaving Jun stunned because he did not think of that combination.
He learned so much while working with Ohno that his admiration grew steadily, mixing up with a certain fondness for the other that Jun just wanted to work harder for the perfect result.
~
He pressed his Suica card on the ticket gate reader, aiming for the stairs when he heard a “Matsumoto-san!"
He turned around, bewildered, his arms heavy with color books.
"The magician!" He exclaimed when he saw the small man, waving.
"It's Nino. You did not find my card, did you?"
Jun looked confused and the Nino guy laughed, walking towards him and shoving his hands down his coat pockets, making Jun jerk back at the sudden invasion of his space.
"Here!" Nino pulled out a small card with his short name and number tinily scrawled into an edge.
For a second, Jun was taken aback. Nino awfully commemorated his special case Ninomiya, whom he was close to celebrate a love/hate relationship with, and it left him wondering if it was the same person. He looked at Nino, waiting for any kind of revelation, clarification, something, but Nino didn't say anything; he just openly looked at Jun.
"How did you...?"
"I am a magician, remember?"
Jun laughed then, shouldering his slipping books, wincing a little as the bails cut into his skin, leaving angry red marks all across the crook of his arm.
Nino leaned a little forward, eying him. "You don't look too good, Matsumoto-san."
Jun chuckled mirthlessly at that. "You're quite a charmer, aren't you?"
But actually he must look terrible. The way Ninomiya kept invading his mind and his focus on Ohno’s work had to be retained as well, it was no wonder.
When he wasn’t meeting up with Ohno he was reading Ninomiya’s work to get any hint on what would be good as a package, but he had a slight feeling that the author wanted to mess with people. There were endless contradictions in his texts which did not seem to be one at the first glance, and it was brilliant in a way, how he toyed with the reader, but it left Jun frustrated, left him wanting to keep up with him, to reach the same cleverness in the design but at this stage…
"So you did realize my charming personality?" The magician, Nino, interrupted his thoughts.
"Who would not?" Jun asked back, just as playful, surprising himself by welcoming any kind of distraction from Ohno’s art and Ninomiya’s thoughts.
"How about a coffee with Mister Charming, then?" Nino asked.
"Actually I have to-" Jun started, looking at his watch, frowning. Actually he didn’t. It was not like Ninomiya-san was waiting for him or his color proposals. He returned Nino's expectant gaze with a smile and a slight bow. "Who am I to resist such a charming offer?"
He found himself at Tully’s with a cup of hot coffee, his books full of color shade examples occupied by Nino, who skipped through them. Jun circled his hands around the cup, his fingertips burning a little as he observed the other. He found himself relaxing while chatting with Nino. He was easy to talk to; he was fun, he was smooth; leading the conversation so that Jun himself had not to think too much.
Though usually it was what Jun liked to do: thinking, musing, contemplating, bending matters until he lost the original thought; to experience just the opposite was refreshing. Though in the end Jun knew it would not be enough to keep him. But for the time being, being with Nino was easy--too easy, to forget the time, for instance. And even if Ninomiya wasn’t waiting for him, Sho was. As Jun was lost in watching Nino's frame, hunched over the books, pointing out nice shades of colors, his small hands tracing the smooth pages, wetting his lips from time to time (teasingly, Jun couldn't help but think) his glance passed the clock across the street as Nino pointed out the colorful umbrella in a mass of the late autumn early winter grayness that was just this color, look, Matsumoto-san.
"Shit!" He cursed, scrambling for his books while apologizing to a stunned Nino, hurrying out into the rain, all forgetting about his umbrella.
~
In the times when Jun’s patience was running on emergency system--Ninomiya’s disinterest (his own foolish inconsequence) was getting to him--he marveled Ohno’s. He should be frustrated with Jun’s slow progress regarding his project, the way Jun explained or introduced potential materials twice because he simply had his mind somewhere else and forgot that Ohno long had chosen his favourite. Nothing of his professionalism was left and--Ohno’s hand landed on his head, ruffling his hair with strange affection, leaving, Jun was sure, green paint stains. Jun relaxed, letting his head hang low, sighing while Ohno chuckled.
“I think we should go for the vellum paper,” he said, sitting down on the narrow, paint splattered bench, supposed to be table make shift and poured hot water onto the tea roses Jun had bought for him out of apology for a lot of things.
Jun merely nodded, watching Ohno watching the tea rose bloom slowly in the glass, enjoying his unhurried and carefree ways, even though he knew that no hours later Sakurai would strangle his neck.
~
Jun scrolled through the types tiredly. Only his desk lamp was illuminating his room, apart from the lights outside, the lights of Minato-ku all around him. The soft chords of the Jimmy Giuffre trio played in the background, and the dim light in stark contrast to the glaring white of his laptop screen started to hurt his eyes. He typed, tried with another font, typed again and deleted everything, character after character. Just why was he so damn indecisive?
He hadn't had this problem before with clients. But that was the problem--he actually had worked with people, getting to consent while now he was on the road all alone and he just had no clue where to go.
His phone vibrated abruptly on his desk, dancing a little forward, startling Jun in process. It was a message from Nino.
Can you see Tokyo Tower?
Jun looked to his left and smiled, seeing the tower glowing in its soft red light. He didn’t wear his glasses, his vision blurred for things far away so that the tower appeared even softer. Sometimes, he thought, the world blurred was so much nicer, then all sharp and clear.
Yes.
He simply replied.
Me too.
Jun smiled. That was too random. His heart fluttered--and too cheesy.
~
Jun skimmed through Ohno’s sketch book, the edges of the thick paper traced along his thumb until he stopped, surprised. Jun could realize himself in the drawing, added up pencil lines forming the outline of his profile. He could realize himself but at the same time it seemed so foreign and strange that he wondered what Ohno had thought while drawing, in what kind of world the other lived to think and draw like this and if he would ever share. His heart skipped a beat at the thought.
~
Maybe Jun should call it luck that he ran into Nino more often these days. He seemed to be wherever Jun was. And this was Tokyo. People don’t run into people in Tokyo. But Jun was far from actually finding it bothersome. Being with Nino helped to forget his tension so that Jun was actually looking forward to hear the pleasant surprised "Jun-kun?" (Jun never really saw people on the street--his tunnel vision prohibited it) at any random place and they would end up eating okonomiyaki in a small restaurant between a parking lot and a department building, a place one would never find or recognize if they wouldn’t know it existed; the interior so Japanese that Jun loved to sit there, mixing the ingredients in the tiny bowl which always seemed to spill any second, but by now he had enough practice. He would fry the pancake while chatting about his projects endlessly, but Nino didn’t seem to mind, listening to him talk about the Ohno project, how they are finally there, he could finally picture it, his eyes lightening up; about the Ninomiya project which seemed to take steps back instead of forward and he just could not meet him, and it would be so much easier and it was odd and driving him crazy and, "Just what does he expect?"
By this time he was gesticulating wildly with the frying utensils, all forgetting about the food and it was then that Nino leaned into him, their shoulders touching, to take the spatula gently from his hands to finish the task himself.
~
The outcome of “s.o.free” was a light blue, silk cover with tiny silver letters that looked handwritten. The pages, consisting one tiny drawing each, were separated by a thin layer of pure white vellum paper, adding to the obscure and abstract image of the art itself. Ohno was skimming from page to page, one by one, humming low in approval.
Quietness. Color. Motives. Casts. Styles.
Ohno looked up from the book in his hand, his smile fond.
"The books you produce will always find a place, Jun-kun. But not squashed into a bookshelf. It will always be somewhere on top of it."
Jun felt himself blushing. Ohno had seen through him--and that was the longest sentence Ohno had ever spoken to him.
~
The first time Jun questioned his own standards, his strange affection for Ohno, even more strange addiction with Ninomiya and thought he was spending too much time with Nino, that this uncoerced thing between them began to change into something beyond flirtation or coquetry, occurred when he was hovering above him, grabbing for a 105 yen Book-Off manga of HunterXHunter high in the shelf while Nino was squatting down in front of him, humming low in appreciation at the cheap price. It was in the middle of the night. They missed their train, once again, and were killing time and it was fine, all friendly and snarky and fun until Nino suddenly stood up, wanting to show Jun his found and was abruptly too close.
It was one of those slow motion moments, over too soon in an odd contradiction with Nino’s face in front of him, barely centimeters away, his lips parted, his eyes inquiring and both knew from the look in the other’s eyes that this could lead to a kiss, any second now, just one small movement.
Jun was surprised that he wanted to kiss Nino, if only to find out whether there would be a spark for more, screw everything else. He really did but the moment was gone as soon as it came with a high pitched giggle of a female voice near them. Jun drew back immediately, smiling embarrassed, aiming straight for the cashier to buy a volume he long called his own.
~
"You know, you should just go for it!" Aiba said, clutching to his copy of Ohno’s art book. They were out to celebrate.
"Aiba," Jun groaned, wasted. "It’s-not-that-easy," he slurred, pointedly, though. "I-it’s nothing more than a flirt-"
"He’s right, though." Ohno interrupted beside him, patting him in emphasize.
Jun glared at him, half-heartedly. "He’s an amusing acquaintance; he’s Nino, for God’s sake." He didn’t know who he wanted to convince. Jun was close to falling for a complete stranger he only knew half his name of. A quarter, if you think about it properly. But it became a huge deal for Jun, right there and then, thinking properly.
"Nino is-” He interrupted himself, thinking, thinking, thinking. Thoughts forming so slow in his head that it frustrated him; about his feeling that something was simply amiss, something that would make a possible, imaginary relationship last, that would make Jun go for it. That’s it. “Nino is--Nino?"
There he was, again, standing in the door of the small bar.
"How in hell-"
"I called him," Aiba said, waving with Ohno’s book and a fashion which would have brought the horror out of Jun if he were any close to being sober.
"Thank God," Jun laughed instead, at least this riddle was solved. Nino arched an eyebrow at him, an amused smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
"He had a few, huh?"
Aiba nodded enthusiastically.
Nino laughed, squeezed his way to Jun and laid a hand on Jun’s shoulder.
"Let’s go home, Jun-kun."
"I don’t wanna~"
"You should go for it, Jun-chan~"
At the déjà-vu-ish feeling, he looked up at Nino in wonder-God, was he drunk-nodding determinedly.
"Aiba-san, Ohno-san," he saluted, making Nino laugh again, saying, "I have a bad influence on him."
Jun couldn’t remember how they made it home. But Nino requested for his wallet at some point, which he gave over oh so willingly it would frighten him under normal, sober circumstances. But that was a long time coming and Nino had to steady him on the way up to his apartment, his arm slung around his waist, hand at his hip bone.
Jun’s mind was pleasantly clouded, the world round and soft wherein he still wanted to do anything productive at least, fishing for his keys for instance, that was a productive thought but Nino was already dangling with them in front of his nose.
"How…?"
"It’s magic," Nino replied winningly, opening the door.
Jun paused, convincing himself that it must be before passing him, stumbling slightly before stopping so abruptly that Nino ran into his back.
"Jun-kun-" he started exasperatedly, but Jun could hear the amusement clearly.
"Nino-chan, what do I do?" Jun turned around, facing him and he must have looked so forlorn that Nino’s gaze softened visibly.
"You take your shoes off."
"No," Jun shook his head. "I mean, yes, that too, but--" He stopped in the middle again, sitting down on the step to his floor in wonderment when an epiphany hit him. "I loathe Ninomiya, I rea-lly..." Jun trailed of while Nino, already squatted down to finish the task himself gently, only mumbled, "You do, huh?"
Jun chuckled, “With all my might. He’s aloof, he doesn’t care, he-he’s so brilliant you have to hate him. But,” he stared at the mop of hair in front of him, settling a hand on top of it, ruffling Nino’s soft strands with pure affection, “I like Nino-chan. I really do. And still it’s not enough to make me fall, like I would for Ninomiya when he would just be more like you.” Wait, wait, wait... “You two...” The coherency was vanishing as fast as it had came and he must have been close to asleep because Nino’s soft voice was further and further away, but his eyes, he could feel Nino's eyes on him.
"Let’s get you to bed, Jun-kun."
~
When Jun woke up he had a splitting headache and a post-it on his forehead. He groaned, removing the offending paper and had to squint to read it.
Jun-kun,
There’s aspirin next to you.
Let me know you’re okay.
Nino.
The writing was so tiny that Jun had the feeling Nino wanted to punish him. He drowned the aspirin in remorse and grabbed for his phone.
Was I that drunk?
He wanted to hide in the furthest corner of Shinjuku again.
No. The answer came within seconds as if Nino was sitting on his phone; and three spaces below: You were charming.
Jun blushed, his heartbeat quickened. That’s it, he thought. He was officially screwed.
~
That’s it, he thought, starring at the returned package and the post-it saying in a scrawl, "Try again, Jun-kun".
That was no feedback, it was a bad joke.
He glared at the note in his hand, playing with the thought of moving to Europe where, in the damn book business, the damn author had nothing to say and live with the book designed for him. Damn paradise! (He should stop watching these documentaries on NHK.)
He called Sakurai, fed up, demanding the contact address of Ninomiya and no he did not care in hell that he was a rather private person. If he did not want to search for a new designer who would actually-and there he had him.
He took the first train to Shinagawa, the Yamanote line packed just adding up to his anger, boiling inside of him.
The portiere actually retreated when he stepped into the fancy lobby and Jun was free to ride up the 4th floor in an elevator with terrible soothing music. Soon he stood in front of a noncommittal white door, pressing the bell, pressing it again until there was a click and the door opened and Jun was ready with his tirade, the first words on his tongue which would resemble more of swearing then anything constructive to solve the issue. Until he came across all too familiar brown eyes.
Nino was staring back at him. Nino. Ninomiya.
"Jun-kun?" he asked, surprised.
For a moment, his head was blank except hows and whats and whys and Nino, Ninomiya, Nino. He stood there, rooted to the ground, perplexed until he grasped the situation he was in, who had fooled with him all the time.
His mouth snapped close, he balled his fist, turning around to leave without having spoken one single word.
~
Just why would things fall into place? Right, but obviously, so very upsettingly wrong? Ninomiya was the missing piece for Jun to fell for Nino completely and vice versa. It was what had lacked, it set him at peace that his intuition did not fail somehow and at the same time the revelation swept all the trust away Jun could set.
~
“He would tell me. He would tell me. Nonsense!” he cursed, slamming the doors of his fridge close that the magnets flew around. A fuck did he tell.
“Jun-kun,” Jun spun around facing Ohno, calm and collected Ohno. For a split of a second Jun asked himself why he couldn’t have fallen in love with him; knew why, of course he knew but it didn’t stop him from wondering how it would have been like, to receive Ohno’s full attention just once. Jun was sure he would have fallen, then, and deep. But Ohno had his own world and as gentle and wicked he could be it wasn’t enough if he didn’t share. But apparently Nino hadn’t shared either. That--
“--asshole,” he muttered, as if defending himself, not understand the smile Ohno gave in response.
~
Jun found himself buying the MORE magazine although the script would reach him anyway.
It was now glaring up at him from his coffee table and Jun sorted his new purchased books alphabetically into his shelf, washed the dishes and made himself some tea before he sat down to read it.
It sucked him right into the text as Ninomiya usually managed. Or Nino. Or--oh damn it.
“The relationships between people change. No matter how much fun you're having, there will be a day when things like enjoyment and the people you get along with will change with your circumstances. It's bittersweet.”
He frowned at the true lines and how it’s written so calm and resolute when Jun worried sick over how to face him now, how to fight his anger down, his embarrassment.
The soft ping of his mobile got him out of his thoughts.
Nino, he startled, staring at the faint green blinking name on the display until the curiosity got better of him.
Can you see Tokyo Tower?
Jun hesitated, snapped his phone shut, opened it again, starring at it, minutes and minutes, looking up to the tower glowing, maybe glaring a little but Jun could imagine things, looked at the MORE lines and--
Yes.
He finally replied. No more than a few seconds later his doorbell rang and Jun jumped, jumped up, and answered the speaker warily.
"It’s Nino."
"How-"
"You can see Tokyo Tower so I thought you must be home."
"I can see Tokyo Tower from a numerous of places."
"But you’re home, right?"
Jun let out an inaudible sigh which stretched out into silence only broken by the intercom noises.
"Let me up?" came the question. It sounded so hopeful, so unsure that Jun pushed the button almost immediately, cursing moments later when he could see from his door how the elevator numbers highlighted one floor after another. He didn’t know how to face Nino, Ninomiya…whatever, and decided for the only option he could go through: indifference.
"Ninomiya-san, to what do I owe the honor of your visit?"
Nino cringed a little; he could see it with satisfaction.
"Well… I heard my favorite book designer was about to quit his project so I thought I could talk him out of it." The words, so non-committal, so Nino just made Jun even angrier.
"But isn't it your fault to begin with?" he asked, snapping, really.
Nino looked at him, unaffected and Jun wondered just how he did it when Jun was the exact opposite.
"I can't see that."
The door three doors down opened and Jun ran a hand through his hair.
"Come inside," was all he offered, leaving the door open to follow.
He observed how Nino slipped out of his shoes, revealing colorful dotted socks, cute socks, socks he wanted to have as well. Distracted, he ran a hand through his hair, shuffling into his living room.
He caught Nino’s smile while his eyes ghosted over the stacks of material, all for his books and Jun wanted to strangle him. For being a dick. For coming unannounced so he couldn’t hide the chaos which had build up the last months.
He moved to staple the examples of linen to yet another staple of notes to make room for Nino to sit on the white couch. "Tea?" He asked while the other took seat, still looking around curiously. "Don’t pretend you’ve never been here," Jun snapped, remembering the night Nino brought him home.
"I’ve only been in your bedroom, Jun-kun," Nino shot back, not offended in the least and Jun grunted in frustration, running a hand through his hair again, wanting to tear it while retreating to the kitchen.
When he got the cups from the cupboard, it hit him that it might have been not the best decision to leave the other one alone in Jun's... territory. And indeed, when Jun came back with two brewing hot cups of simple green tea he saw him bending above one of Jun’s sketch books, his bows furrowed in concentration, elbows on his knees, chin propped on his palms.
"Actually interested?" Jun snarled, balancing the steaming cups in his hands, his fingertips actually burning. He put them down, rearranging the material on his table so that Nino would actually reach his.
"I never said I wasn’t," Nino replied, glancing up briefly.
"You never bothered," Jun shrugged, only slowly adapting to the calm attitude. He bet that he would get along perfectly with Ohno-he didn’t know where this thought was coming from.
Nino, meanwhile, nodded thoughtfully. "I never really bothered about my works being published in a series," he admitted. "But having Sakurai as an editor…" Nino shrugged, his fingers tracing the linen carefully. "I never really bothered about the outcome, anything was fine. But I do want it finished, especially if it’s made by you.”
Jun blushed. "It’s hard to finish it if I don’t know what you want. I don’t want to--"
Nino smiled at him, catching Jun's gaze through his bangs. "Don’t judge a book by its cover."
Jun sighed. Of course there was the saying but people did just that. "That would leave me without work."
“I could care for you,” Nino replied in all earnest that surprised Jun briefly, surprised at the butterflies collecting in his stomach, dissipating no seconds later when he detected the mocking.
“I bet you can, two-timer,” he retorted then, his voice betraying his intentions to keep it light.
Nino shrugged. “I am not too fond of the idea of people choosing to read my work just because the cover is nice or catchy. They should read it because it’s me."
Jun looked at him pensively. "But most of the time it does not work like that. You need a proper and fitting appearance. I am not saying there is any need of glitter or blinking LEDs for people to catch attention, but…"
"That is why I trust Jun-kun. From the first moment I knew you were to design my books I knew I could trust you. Maybe you tend to think too much but-"
Jun swatted his head. "I do not!"
"Oh, I bet. How often have you thought about approaching me or to reach out and ki-"
Jun really did hit him then and only received a laugh in return.
"You’re annoying!" Jun mumbled, leaning in at the invitation.
"Thank you," Nino laughed, angling for Jun’s neck to draw him closer.
~
In the end Jun knocked the whole concept on the head. Sakurai was near a tantrum, actually yelling, finally losing his temper. Jun had been waiting for it but now that it happened… The chief editor was indeed scary, throwing words of investment, budgets and marketing at him-that was until Jun explained that the new design would be so much cheaper and that should be in Ninomiya’s mind as well, right?
Only then Sakurai actually started to listen and Jun could imagine him nodding, calculating and scribbling notes down.
The finished collection as a whole was breathtaking, in pieces collected clarity. In order of the spines, one could see a rainbow, a prism like color range of the 48 spectrum colors of the sun light. The design was simple and only consisted of the typography. One book had its one-colored binding with title and author in the middle, separated by a thin line between the characters. It was to the point, without frills and functional but in whole playful.
Jun had a hard time combining the two Ninomiya’s he got to know--the calm, straightforwardness he caught from his work and the plain flirty, charming personality in person.
If one would grab a book alone nothing would distract from the content, just like he requested (finally!). But as a whole it was payback.
~
Can you see the rainbow?
Jun shut his mobile phone, grinning winningly. It buzzed no seconds later in his hand. He flipped it open.
No.
He smiled, taking a picture of the neatly lined up books in the shelf.
Aw, Jun-kun. ♥
Omake:
Where are you so that I can make love to you?
Jun laughed.
Idiot.
(home)