Arashi: A Golden Moon (4)
FANDOM: Arashi
RATING: G
PAIRING: Juntoshi, Sakuraiba
ARCHIVE: just here
WARNING: possible OOC, AU
DATE: December 12th, 2010
NOTES: I don't own Arashi. Very loosely based on Suga Shikao's 「黄金の月」(Ougon no Tsuki). Sequel to "This Year's Sakura."
Chapter Three | Chapter Five
CHAPTER FOUR | Your Wishes and My Lies
Jun looked out the bus window as he leaned back, tired from the long day, spent in photo shoots, more auditions, and ending with an appearance in a variety show. Embarrassing. That was what he thought of the whole thing. But this sort of thing is work, too. And he took any kind of work seriously.
He loved watching the buildings that the bus passed by, especially the apartments. There was something about the way one could see only certain rooms lighted up, that got to him. It made him think of the people living in those rooms, and he wondered what kind of lives they led. He wondered how many of the people in those rooms were in love, and how many just had their hearts broken. He wondered how many of those people he would eventually meet one day - after all, the stranger he passed by without noticing that day could end up being the best friend he ever had ten years in the future. One never knew; everything was up to chance, or perhaps fate.
Random meetings would be rare where Sho was now, he thought. The small town was nothing like what he was used to; everyone knew everyone else. He had only been there for about a month, the first time, but when he went back people still remembered him. The workers at the station, the part-timer at the only Family Mart in town... even the old man who always walked in the park near where the hotel was. They all remembered him.
It wasn’t unpleasant, but it was strange. Somehow, he felt that it was easier to be alone in a city full of strangers. He had to admit that there was a certain kind of soothing feeling, looking out the windows and passing by all those apartments, all those people he may never come to know.
The bus stop was a fifteen minutes walk from his apartment. The train was actually closer, but most of the time he preferred to take the bus. It was cheaper, and gave him more time to think, or wind down after a long day. He remembered when Sho was still around - he’d take the bus and spend the time thinking of what to make for dinner, wonder if he’d end up leaving everything in the fridge for Sho to warm up again.
It was strange, but he missed that, too.
As he climbed up the four flights of stairs (not feeling like bumping into neighbours at the elevator), Jun thought that he might skip dinner that day. He didn’t feel much like cooking. He didn’t feel much like anything, really, as he trudged through the few steps that brought him to his front door. And then he stopped. Stared.
“What are you doing here?”
})i({
The two of them stared at each other stubbornly, both unwilling to give way. Finally, annoyed, Jun turned, muttering that he didn’t have time. He was leaving that evening, anyway.
Ohno had never felt much urgency before, but he thought that it must be what he was feeling as he asked, “what time?”
“What time what?”
“You said you’re leaving. What time?”
“Seven,” Jun replied. He bit back a yelp as Ohno grabbed his wrist, holding it up to look at his watch.
“It’s only 1:45 now,” the older man murmured, releasing Jun and closing his sketchbook. “We have time for one sitting.”
Frowning, Jun asked, “didn’t you hear what I said earlier?”
“Just one sitting,” Ohno insisted. “If I want more, then I’ll give them a chance.”
Jun paused, thinking about it. He looked at Ohno suspiciously. “Promise?”
The smile that he received in return was innocent. Jun didn’t trust it one bit, but as it did the first time he saw it, warmth rushed through him. He cursed inwardly, knowing that for that smile, he’d endure as many sittings as Ohno wanted.
Of course, that didn’t mean that Ohno had to know.
“Promise.” The artist said the words solemnly, but his eyes shone bright with amusement, the sleepiness in them already fading away.
})i({
One month. It had been a little over a month since he had last seen Ohno, and he had been resigned to the fact that he may never hear from the artist again. There was still a heavy feeling at the pit of his stomach, a wondering of what came out of that one sitting he had done, and a mixture of disappointment and abandonment. He must have known, even then, that Ohno wouldn’t have agreed to working with Toma and Shun, no matter what. It was just misplaced pride, a thought that maybe he could do what no one else could and get Ohno to show his work.
What he should have remembered was that he was the one who always got everything wrong.
Ohno, or the person who looked like Ohno, who was standing in front of him, just offered a smile. The sweetness of it hurt.
“Sho gave me your address. He left a message for you. So did Nino, I think.”
It was then that Jun noticed the faded duffle bag at Ohno’s feet. So he had come to stay for awhile. Jun had noticed his machine blinking for the last couple of days, but hadn’t been moved to check his messages. He hadn’t even switched on his cellphone in awhile; he had another phone that he used for work, and if it was important his manager knew to reach him there. “I haven’t checked my messages,” he said blankly. Then, as if remembering himself, he shook his head. “Sorry. Come in; you can tell me what’s going on later. Have you had dinner?”
Ohno murmured a no as he unlocked the door, and helped the artist carry the bag in. “I took a bus here instead of the train; I’ve been traveling since early in the afternoon. Just got here an hour ago.”
“And you’ve been waiting in front of my door the whole time?” Jun wondered what his neighbours would’ve thought.
“It wasn’t a big deal.”
Jun didn’t have a response to that. He rushed to the guest room, and after checking that it was presentable, he told Ohno that he could unpack or change or whatever he wanted while Jun made them dinner. The artist just nodded absently, absorbed in the act of taking in his surroundings. He let Jun put his bag in the guest room as he took his time looking at the paintings and photographs hung throughout the apartment, and scanning through the bookshelves and CD racks. It made Jun nervous.
They ate in silence, after which Ohno politely complimented his cooking. The courteous tone the artist used irked him; he knew he was a good cook - didn’t Sho always tell him that he was? - but he felt as if he had failed to impress Ohno. The idea that he wanted to impress Ohno in the first place made him even more edgy. “So... why are you here, again?”
“I’m supposed to meet with Oguri-san from One Art,” Ohno said darkly. “Nino arranged the whole trip behind my back. Sho said that you wouldn’t mind if I stayed here.”
“I don’t mind,” Jun said slowly, “but it would be nice to be asked.”
“You’re the one who switched off your phone and didn’t check your messages.”
It was only the truth, so Jun didn’t have a response to that, either. “I guess Nino succeeded where I failed, then,” he said lightly.
“Don’t be silly,” Ohno said, still speaking in a low, murmuring tone, although there was a hint of amusement to his voice. “I don’t care if Nino promised Oguri the world, or if he spent half his fortune to make sure I didn’t have to do anything to get here. If I didn’t feel like going, I wouldn’t.”
It sounded true enough. Ohno really was that stubborn, Jun realised. “Then why are you here?”
A shrug. “It just so happened that there are a few interesting exhibitions going on at the moment. It would be nice to take a look, since I had a free trip here. And I missed you.”
The last remark took Jun aback. No one missed him. Not even Sho, who hadn’t even bothered to tell Jun when he was in town. He looked up, then, staring at the man who was smiling at him as if there was nothing in the world that could trouble him.
})i({
Jun had worried about Ohno getting around by himself; the artist had never really traveled much outside the town he was from, as far as Jun knew. He had bought a monthly train pass for Ohno, and wrote down detailed instructions on how to get to One Art, but still he worried.
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay? I have a shoot today but it’s not really an important one, I could cancel -”
“Jun-kun,” Ohno interrupted calmly. “Sho tells me that you never missed work, even when you were sick.”
“Yes, but -”
“Go. I’ll be fine.”
In the end Ohno managed to talk him into leaving, but he spent the rest of the day wondering if Ohno was alright, and how his meeting with Shun went. He went back as soon as he could, and when he reached home he discovered that he really had been worrying about the wrong thing. He was horrified to come home to find that his kitchen was a mess, several of his books were scattered around the living room, half open, as if Ohno had started reading them before getting distracted by something else, and the guest room... Ohno had moved the useless, decorative items on the desk to the floor, replacing them with art supplies. An easel stood in one corner (from which a chair once was; it was pushed aside to make room for the easel). Jun didn’t remember Ohno even bringing an easel with him.
He had to take a few deep breaths before he could speak without sounding too hysterical.
“What’s going on?”
Ohno didn’t reply, too engrossed with his work. Jun inched closer, trying to see what Ohno was working on, but the artist frowned, as if to say that he was intruding. Feeling a little rejected by the gesture, Jun stepped back out, closing the door behind him. He then went to the kitchen to inspect the damage. He spent a good half-an-hour cleaning up, after which he picked up the stray books and a slightly crumpled t-shirt he found behind one of the cushions, putting them back where they belonged (he folded the shirt and placed it neatly on one side of the sofa for Ohno to pick up later). It was only then that he realised that he was hungry. Too tired to cook, he moved to ask Ohno if he minded going out for dinner, but hesitated as he remembered that Ohno was busy. Not knowing what to do, Jun looked around him helplessly, his eyes falling on the dining table. There was one covered pot left, that Jun hadn’t looked into or put away - the result of the mess that Ohno made in the kitchen. He lifted the lid tentatively, and was surprised by the pleasant aroma that hit him. He swallowed, looked back towards the closed door of the guest room, and decided that Ohno wouldn’t mind him having a taste.
Ohno’s cooking was a little like Ohno himself - it warmed him, even though it was a little sweet, with just a hint of spice that Jun didn’t quite understand. He was almost done when Ohno emerged from the guest room, the intense expression he had on earlier giving way to something like a cross between sleepiness, satisfaction, and mild curiosity. “You’re eating.”
“Sorry, I didn’t ask you first -”
“Don’t worry about it. It was for you, anyway.” Ohno plopped onto a chair opposite Jun, and smiled. “How was your day?”
Jun lifted a shoulder, the smallest of shrugs. “It was okay.” He looked at Ohno intently, trying to determine if it was alright to ask. Then, because he really couldn’t guess at Ohno’s mood, he asked anyway. “How was your meeting?”
“Uh... that.” Ohno scratched lightly at the back of his head before continuing. “I didn’t go.”
“You what?”
“I was going to go,” came Ohno’s defensive reply, “but I came across this art supply shop and it was quite amazing, and after that I took the wrong train, but it was a good thing, because I came across this building which was just incredible, really, and I just had to sketch it...” he paused. He was being a lot more talkative than he was used to, and it tired him out.
“Never mind,” Jun snapped, putting down the spoon in his hand. “You never really wanted to meet Shun, did you?”
He couldn’t believe that he had actually been worried about the messy, thickheaded, obstinate... oaf.
Telling himself that he didn’t care anymore, Jun stood up and stalked off to his room, slamming the door shut.
})i({
Ohno sighed soundlessly as the door slammed. He had anticipated Jun’s reaction, but he couldn’t help it. Jun was right; he had never wanted to meet with Oguri in the first place. Anyway, he preferred Jun’s flash of temper to the still, melancholy look the model had been wearing ever since they first met.
His excuses had been lies. He had had his supplies boxed and mailed to him, so he only had to wait for them to arrive that afternoon. And he did see an interesting building when he went out, but there was still some kind of block within him, that nothing he worked on came out the way he wanted it to. It wasn't just that. Nothing made him want to draw. Except for Jun, he amended. Perhaps it was the very melancholy that he wanted to vanquish, but there was something about Jun that he felt like he had to capture on paper. Pages and pages of his sketchbook had been used up this way, and still he couldn’t quite get the essence right.
})i({
“Sho-chan, it’s for you.”
Sho reached for the phone Aiba was handing out to him absently, his other hand still holding up the book he was supposed to have read two days ago. It’s been awhile since his parents last called. “Mom?”
“That’s the most interesting thing anyone’s called me in awhile,” came the amused reply.
“Satoshi.” Sho looked at Aiba, who was snickering at him, and stuck out his tongue childishly. The teacher just rolled his eyes, and left the room, thinking that Sho probably needed some privacy. Sho didn’t, but appreciated the gesture just the same. “How was your meeting?”
“I didn’t go.”
“Satoshi...” Sho had a long speech prepared, just in case Ohno did what everyone had expected him to do in the first place, and ditch the meeting Nino had set up. In the end, knowing that it was futile, he gave up before starting. “What did you do today, then?”
“Went out. Too many people here, though, and not enough space to think.”
“Yeah,” Sho agreed, although he sounded a little wistful, thinking of a few places he missed, including the apartment he had shared with Jun.
“I don’t like it.”
“I didn’t think you would. What else did you do?” The trick with Ohno, as far as Sho was concerned, was to ask questions. Lots of them. It was the only way to know what went on in his head.
“I shopped a little and made lunch, and then my supplies arrived - thanks for mailing them - so I tried to work on some new stuff.”
Sho frowned. “Did you ask Jun if it’s okay?”
“He wasn’t around at the time.”
“You didn’t spill any of your paints anywhere, did you?”
“Just a little on the desk. It’s fine.”
“Satoshi...” Sho took a deep breath. “The desk in the guest room? It’s an antique.”
“Oh. Well... I’ll think of something.”
Sho waited for Ohno to elaborate, but after a (very) long pause, it became apparent that he wouldn’t. He sighed. “How’s Jun?”
“He’s unhappy.”
“I wouldn’t be either, if someone had just ruined my furniture.”
Ohno hummed, as if he was deliberating on whether or not to say something. He didn’t.
“Satoshi, just... never mind.”
“Why didn’t you call him up, when you were here last month?”
“How’d you know - Aiba. Of course.” Sho sighed again, feeling tired all of a sudden. “I just can’t see him for now,” he said, lowering his voice, even though Aiba wasn’t in the room. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
Ohno didn’t say anything, but he wasn’t expecting the other man to do so anyway.
“Look, just take care of yourself, and don’t mess up Jun’s stuff too much, okay? He hates that.”
})i({
After saying goodbye and hanging up, Ohno took a long look at the living room, and thought of how in all the years that Sho had lived here, he had never visited. Not that he had even known Sho’s address, back then. Not that Sho had kept in touch with anyone. He wondered what Sho’s life was like, here, with Jun. He had gotten used to seeing Sho with Aiba, and he knew that the writer was really settling down. It was funny - Sho was always the one who was the most eager to get out of town, followed by Aiba. Now they were living in the house Aiba had grown up in, and they were happy.
Ohno tried to imagine Sho’s things in the apartment, mixed together with Jun’s. It was difficult, and he didn’t like the idea of it. It must be a life completely alien to him. He read Sho’s old column - even though the subject was one that he knew well, it was still about a different world than the one he knew. Sho’s life, as far as he could tell, had been about over-the-top fundraising events and gallery openings and obscure film festivals and the kind of music he would never have the chance to listen to, living where he did. The people Sho mingled with on an every day basis were the kind that Ohno would only read about, or see on television. He didn’t know that world. He wouldn’t fit into that world, and he didn’t really care to. But it was also Jun’s world, and that’s when everything falls apart and he felt like he had something stuck in his throat, because as unreasonable as it was, he wanted to understand Jun’s world.
Maybe if he understood, he would’ve been able to draw the model the way he saw Jun in his head.
He knew what Jun wanted of him, and he knew that he was being a little too pertinacious in his resistance. But that was the other thing. He was scared. It was just as Ikuta had said to him, the day he appeared on Ohno’s doorstep. It was like he had been in a small room all of his life. It was cozy, and he loved it, but it was small. He’d find himself dreaming of what life was like outside that room, and he even imagined himself breaking down walls to get out there, but it was okay, because it was safe. He was in his room. But then one day there was a door and all he had to do was turn the knob, and he found himself not wanting to. He didn’t want to step across that threshold, no matter how much a part of him wanted to.
How was he to know if he could find his way back, if he stepped out?
~ to be continued ~
Chapter Three | Chapter Five
Marineko's Notes:
One month since this fic was last updated... (T_T)
RATING: G
PAIRING: Juntoshi, Sakuraiba
ARCHIVE: just here
WARNING: possible OOC, AU
DATE: December 12th, 2010
NOTES: I don't own Arashi. Very loosely based on Suga Shikao's 「黄金の月」(Ougon no Tsuki). Sequel to "This Year's Sakura."
Chapter Three | Chapter Five
CHAPTER FOUR | Your Wishes and My Lies
Jun looked out the bus window as he leaned back, tired from the long day, spent in photo shoots, more auditions, and ending with an appearance in a variety show. Embarrassing. That was what he thought of the whole thing. But this sort of thing is work, too. And he took any kind of work seriously.
He loved watching the buildings that the bus passed by, especially the apartments. There was something about the way one could see only certain rooms lighted up, that got to him. It made him think of the people living in those rooms, and he wondered what kind of lives they led. He wondered how many of the people in those rooms were in love, and how many just had their hearts broken. He wondered how many of those people he would eventually meet one day - after all, the stranger he passed by without noticing that day could end up being the best friend he ever had ten years in the future. One never knew; everything was up to chance, or perhaps fate.
Random meetings would be rare where Sho was now, he thought. The small town was nothing like what he was used to; everyone knew everyone else. He had only been there for about a month, the first time, but when he went back people still remembered him. The workers at the station, the part-timer at the only Family Mart in town... even the old man who always walked in the park near where the hotel was. They all remembered him.
It wasn’t unpleasant, but it was strange. Somehow, he felt that it was easier to be alone in a city full of strangers. He had to admit that there was a certain kind of soothing feeling, looking out the windows and passing by all those apartments, all those people he may never come to know.
The bus stop was a fifteen minutes walk from his apartment. The train was actually closer, but most of the time he preferred to take the bus. It was cheaper, and gave him more time to think, or wind down after a long day. He remembered when Sho was still around - he’d take the bus and spend the time thinking of what to make for dinner, wonder if he’d end up leaving everything in the fridge for Sho to warm up again.
It was strange, but he missed that, too.
As he climbed up the four flights of stairs (not feeling like bumping into neighbours at the elevator), Jun thought that he might skip dinner that day. He didn’t feel much like cooking. He didn’t feel much like anything, really, as he trudged through the few steps that brought him to his front door. And then he stopped. Stared.
“What are you doing here?”
})i({
The two of them stared at each other stubbornly, both unwilling to give way. Finally, annoyed, Jun turned, muttering that he didn’t have time. He was leaving that evening, anyway.
Ohno had never felt much urgency before, but he thought that it must be what he was feeling as he asked, “what time?”
“What time what?”
“You said you’re leaving. What time?”
“Seven,” Jun replied. He bit back a yelp as Ohno grabbed his wrist, holding it up to look at his watch.
“It’s only 1:45 now,” the older man murmured, releasing Jun and closing his sketchbook. “We have time for one sitting.”
Frowning, Jun asked, “didn’t you hear what I said earlier?”
“Just one sitting,” Ohno insisted. “If I want more, then I’ll give them a chance.”
Jun paused, thinking about it. He looked at Ohno suspiciously. “Promise?”
The smile that he received in return was innocent. Jun didn’t trust it one bit, but as it did the first time he saw it, warmth rushed through him. He cursed inwardly, knowing that for that smile, he’d endure as many sittings as Ohno wanted.
Of course, that didn’t mean that Ohno had to know.
“Promise.” The artist said the words solemnly, but his eyes shone bright with amusement, the sleepiness in them already fading away.
})i({
One month. It had been a little over a month since he had last seen Ohno, and he had been resigned to the fact that he may never hear from the artist again. There was still a heavy feeling at the pit of his stomach, a wondering of what came out of that one sitting he had done, and a mixture of disappointment and abandonment. He must have known, even then, that Ohno wouldn’t have agreed to working with Toma and Shun, no matter what. It was just misplaced pride, a thought that maybe he could do what no one else could and get Ohno to show his work.
What he should have remembered was that he was the one who always got everything wrong.
Ohno, or the person who looked like Ohno, who was standing in front of him, just offered a smile. The sweetness of it hurt.
“Sho gave me your address. He left a message for you. So did Nino, I think.”
It was then that Jun noticed the faded duffle bag at Ohno’s feet. So he had come to stay for awhile. Jun had noticed his machine blinking for the last couple of days, but hadn’t been moved to check his messages. He hadn’t even switched on his cellphone in awhile; he had another phone that he used for work, and if it was important his manager knew to reach him there. “I haven’t checked my messages,” he said blankly. Then, as if remembering himself, he shook his head. “Sorry. Come in; you can tell me what’s going on later. Have you had dinner?”
Ohno murmured a no as he unlocked the door, and helped the artist carry the bag in. “I took a bus here instead of the train; I’ve been traveling since early in the afternoon. Just got here an hour ago.”
“And you’ve been waiting in front of my door the whole time?” Jun wondered what his neighbours would’ve thought.
“It wasn’t a big deal.”
Jun didn’t have a response to that. He rushed to the guest room, and after checking that it was presentable, he told Ohno that he could unpack or change or whatever he wanted while Jun made them dinner. The artist just nodded absently, absorbed in the act of taking in his surroundings. He let Jun put his bag in the guest room as he took his time looking at the paintings and photographs hung throughout the apartment, and scanning through the bookshelves and CD racks. It made Jun nervous.
They ate in silence, after which Ohno politely complimented his cooking. The courteous tone the artist used irked him; he knew he was a good cook - didn’t Sho always tell him that he was? - but he felt as if he had failed to impress Ohno. The idea that he wanted to impress Ohno in the first place made him even more edgy. “So... why are you here, again?”
“I’m supposed to meet with Oguri-san from One Art,” Ohno said darkly. “Nino arranged the whole trip behind my back. Sho said that you wouldn’t mind if I stayed here.”
“I don’t mind,” Jun said slowly, “but it would be nice to be asked.”
“You’re the one who switched off your phone and didn’t check your messages.”
It was only the truth, so Jun didn’t have a response to that, either. “I guess Nino succeeded where I failed, then,” he said lightly.
“Don’t be silly,” Ohno said, still speaking in a low, murmuring tone, although there was a hint of amusement to his voice. “I don’t care if Nino promised Oguri the world, or if he spent half his fortune to make sure I didn’t have to do anything to get here. If I didn’t feel like going, I wouldn’t.”
It sounded true enough. Ohno really was that stubborn, Jun realised. “Then why are you here?”
A shrug. “It just so happened that there are a few interesting exhibitions going on at the moment. It would be nice to take a look, since I had a free trip here. And I missed you.”
The last remark took Jun aback. No one missed him. Not even Sho, who hadn’t even bothered to tell Jun when he was in town. He looked up, then, staring at the man who was smiling at him as if there was nothing in the world that could trouble him.
})i({
Jun had worried about Ohno getting around by himself; the artist had never really traveled much outside the town he was from, as far as Jun knew. He had bought a monthly train pass for Ohno, and wrote down detailed instructions on how to get to One Art, but still he worried.
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay? I have a shoot today but it’s not really an important one, I could cancel -”
“Jun-kun,” Ohno interrupted calmly. “Sho tells me that you never missed work, even when you were sick.”
“Yes, but -”
“Go. I’ll be fine.”
In the end Ohno managed to talk him into leaving, but he spent the rest of the day wondering if Ohno was alright, and how his meeting with Shun went. He went back as soon as he could, and when he reached home he discovered that he really had been worrying about the wrong thing. He was horrified to come home to find that his kitchen was a mess, several of his books were scattered around the living room, half open, as if Ohno had started reading them before getting distracted by something else, and the guest room... Ohno had moved the useless, decorative items on the desk to the floor, replacing them with art supplies. An easel stood in one corner (from which a chair once was; it was pushed aside to make room for the easel). Jun didn’t remember Ohno even bringing an easel with him.
He had to take a few deep breaths before he could speak without sounding too hysterical.
“What’s going on?”
Ohno didn’t reply, too engrossed with his work. Jun inched closer, trying to see what Ohno was working on, but the artist frowned, as if to say that he was intruding. Feeling a little rejected by the gesture, Jun stepped back out, closing the door behind him. He then went to the kitchen to inspect the damage. He spent a good half-an-hour cleaning up, after which he picked up the stray books and a slightly crumpled t-shirt he found behind one of the cushions, putting them back where they belonged (he folded the shirt and placed it neatly on one side of the sofa for Ohno to pick up later). It was only then that he realised that he was hungry. Too tired to cook, he moved to ask Ohno if he minded going out for dinner, but hesitated as he remembered that Ohno was busy. Not knowing what to do, Jun looked around him helplessly, his eyes falling on the dining table. There was one covered pot left, that Jun hadn’t looked into or put away - the result of the mess that Ohno made in the kitchen. He lifted the lid tentatively, and was surprised by the pleasant aroma that hit him. He swallowed, looked back towards the closed door of the guest room, and decided that Ohno wouldn’t mind him having a taste.
Ohno’s cooking was a little like Ohno himself - it warmed him, even though it was a little sweet, with just a hint of spice that Jun didn’t quite understand. He was almost done when Ohno emerged from the guest room, the intense expression he had on earlier giving way to something like a cross between sleepiness, satisfaction, and mild curiosity. “You’re eating.”
“Sorry, I didn’t ask you first -”
“Don’t worry about it. It was for you, anyway.” Ohno plopped onto a chair opposite Jun, and smiled. “How was your day?”
Jun lifted a shoulder, the smallest of shrugs. “It was okay.” He looked at Ohno intently, trying to determine if it was alright to ask. Then, because he really couldn’t guess at Ohno’s mood, he asked anyway. “How was your meeting?”
“Uh... that.” Ohno scratched lightly at the back of his head before continuing. “I didn’t go.”
“You what?”
“I was going to go,” came Ohno’s defensive reply, “but I came across this art supply shop and it was quite amazing, and after that I took the wrong train, but it was a good thing, because I came across this building which was just incredible, really, and I just had to sketch it...” he paused. He was being a lot more talkative than he was used to, and it tired him out.
“Never mind,” Jun snapped, putting down the spoon in his hand. “You never really wanted to meet Shun, did you?”
He couldn’t believe that he had actually been worried about the messy, thickheaded, obstinate... oaf.
Telling himself that he didn’t care anymore, Jun stood up and stalked off to his room, slamming the door shut.
})i({
Ohno sighed soundlessly as the door slammed. He had anticipated Jun’s reaction, but he couldn’t help it. Jun was right; he had never wanted to meet with Oguri in the first place. Anyway, he preferred Jun’s flash of temper to the still, melancholy look the model had been wearing ever since they first met.
His excuses had been lies. He had had his supplies boxed and mailed to him, so he only had to wait for them to arrive that afternoon. And he did see an interesting building when he went out, but there was still some kind of block within him, that nothing he worked on came out the way he wanted it to. It wasn't just that. Nothing made him want to draw. Except for Jun, he amended. Perhaps it was the very melancholy that he wanted to vanquish, but there was something about Jun that he felt like he had to capture on paper. Pages and pages of his sketchbook had been used up this way, and still he couldn’t quite get the essence right.
})i({
“Sho-chan, it’s for you.”
Sho reached for the phone Aiba was handing out to him absently, his other hand still holding up the book he was supposed to have read two days ago. It’s been awhile since his parents last called. “Mom?”
“That’s the most interesting thing anyone’s called me in awhile,” came the amused reply.
“Satoshi.” Sho looked at Aiba, who was snickering at him, and stuck out his tongue childishly. The teacher just rolled his eyes, and left the room, thinking that Sho probably needed some privacy. Sho didn’t, but appreciated the gesture just the same. “How was your meeting?”
“I didn’t go.”
“Satoshi...” Sho had a long speech prepared, just in case Ohno did what everyone had expected him to do in the first place, and ditch the meeting Nino had set up. In the end, knowing that it was futile, he gave up before starting. “What did you do today, then?”
“Went out. Too many people here, though, and not enough space to think.”
“Yeah,” Sho agreed, although he sounded a little wistful, thinking of a few places he missed, including the apartment he had shared with Jun.
“I don’t like it.”
“I didn’t think you would. What else did you do?” The trick with Ohno, as far as Sho was concerned, was to ask questions. Lots of them. It was the only way to know what went on in his head.
“I shopped a little and made lunch, and then my supplies arrived - thanks for mailing them - so I tried to work on some new stuff.”
Sho frowned. “Did you ask Jun if it’s okay?”
“He wasn’t around at the time.”
“You didn’t spill any of your paints anywhere, did you?”
“Just a little on the desk. It’s fine.”
“Satoshi...” Sho took a deep breath. “The desk in the guest room? It’s an antique.”
“Oh. Well... I’ll think of something.”
Sho waited for Ohno to elaborate, but after a (very) long pause, it became apparent that he wouldn’t. He sighed. “How’s Jun?”
“He’s unhappy.”
“I wouldn’t be either, if someone had just ruined my furniture.”
Ohno hummed, as if he was deliberating on whether or not to say something. He didn’t.
“Satoshi, just... never mind.”
“Why didn’t you call him up, when you were here last month?”
“How’d you know - Aiba. Of course.” Sho sighed again, feeling tired all of a sudden. “I just can’t see him for now,” he said, lowering his voice, even though Aiba wasn’t in the room. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
Ohno didn’t say anything, but he wasn’t expecting the other man to do so anyway.
“Look, just take care of yourself, and don’t mess up Jun’s stuff too much, okay? He hates that.”
})i({
After saying goodbye and hanging up, Ohno took a long look at the living room, and thought of how in all the years that Sho had lived here, he had never visited. Not that he had even known Sho’s address, back then. Not that Sho had kept in touch with anyone. He wondered what Sho’s life was like, here, with Jun. He had gotten used to seeing Sho with Aiba, and he knew that the writer was really settling down. It was funny - Sho was always the one who was the most eager to get out of town, followed by Aiba. Now they were living in the house Aiba had grown up in, and they were happy.
Ohno tried to imagine Sho’s things in the apartment, mixed together with Jun’s. It was difficult, and he didn’t like the idea of it. It must be a life completely alien to him. He read Sho’s old column - even though the subject was one that he knew well, it was still about a different world than the one he knew. Sho’s life, as far as he could tell, had been about over-the-top fundraising events and gallery openings and obscure film festivals and the kind of music he would never have the chance to listen to, living where he did. The people Sho mingled with on an every day basis were the kind that Ohno would only read about, or see on television. He didn’t know that world. He wouldn’t fit into that world, and he didn’t really care to. But it was also Jun’s world, and that’s when everything falls apart and he felt like he had something stuck in his throat, because as unreasonable as it was, he wanted to understand Jun’s world.
Maybe if he understood, he would’ve been able to draw the model the way he saw Jun in his head.
He knew what Jun wanted of him, and he knew that he was being a little too pertinacious in his resistance. But that was the other thing. He was scared. It was just as Ikuta had said to him, the day he appeared on Ohno’s doorstep. It was like he had been in a small room all of his life. It was cozy, and he loved it, but it was small. He’d find himself dreaming of what life was like outside that room, and he even imagined himself breaking down walls to get out there, but it was okay, because it was safe. He was in his room. But then one day there was a door and all he had to do was turn the knob, and he found himself not wanting to. He didn’t want to step across that threshold, no matter how much a part of him wanted to.
How was he to know if he could find his way back, if he stepped out?
~ to be continued ~
Chapter Three | Chapter Five
Marineko's Notes:
One month since this fic was last updated... (T_T)