Static Cling
Title: Static Cling (2/2)
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Sho/Jun
Word count: 9173
Summary: Jun has been away for two years. Was it too late for them?
Warnings/Notes: First part can be found HERE (I suggest reading it first before this part.) Apologies for the late posting! I had too much fun writing :D
He didn’t know how he could have chugged down almost a whole bottle of ice-cold Asahi in one go, but he did.
“Easy, Sho-chan,” Aiba laughed.
Sho gave the other man an apologetic grin. He settled into his seat, wiping the condensation away from his bottle on his shirt. On-screen, a view of the New York skyline faded in from black, a riveting electronic beat pumped out from the speakers. Familiar American names and faces graced the screen, the cast, in various states of chasing and being chased.
Aiba whistled out loud. “This is no joke, huh.”
“Those aerial crane shots must’ve cost a bomb,” Nino contributed, his feet propped up on the lap of Ohno, who coolly sipped his own bottle of beer.
“Ahh! There he is, there he is!”
Then there indeed he was, attired in all black, jumping from the top of the building onto a coasting helicopter.
“There he is!” No one volleyed Aiba’s enthusiasm back to him, but he didn’t seem to notice (or mind).
After Jun was securely hanging onto the side of the helicopter, the shot closed in on his face as he removed his aviator shades, eyes staring off into the dusky distance. His face was freeze-framed, just like that, with a simple text of “introducing Jun Matsumoto” on the lower corner of the screen. The other three whooped in delight as they watched with bated breaths.
Except for Sho. He realized he had been gripping into his beer bottle too tightly.
“Too cool! Bet he was the one who added that ‘removing the aviators’ bit,” Aiba commented.
“That’s because I was the one who told him that he looked good in them. Remember that hotdog scene in Hanadan?” A smug tone permeated Nino’s reply, his face all I-have-that-guy’s-phone-number-esque.
“Yeah? Well, I’ve always told him that he looked good in black! Ne, Sho-chan?”
Sho crossed his legs. “He does look good.”
“Of course that’s what Sho-chan would say,” Nino said, a corner of his lip shooting up.
In reply, Sho only smiled. Or maybe winced might be more like it.
Why did he have to play a spy, of all things?
It was ridiculously hot.
I don’t need this, Sho thought. It was hard not to immediately recall the last time he saw Jun.
A couple of months have already passed since that night, but Sho still felt the way their lips felt together, how Jun’s was a little chapped and perfect, the way it had grazed slowly on Sho’s bottom lip, not unlike a furtive question, a suggestion too, perhaps. And Sho had felt something, felt moved, unbelieving that he was kissing Jun, the Jun who always seemed cold to him. He could not decide whether the tremor he felt in his hands was something he was just imagining or not. It was hard to handle the encompassing need that suddenly mushroomed out from nowhere. He had stood up and left, after only abruptly hugging Jun goodbye.
Jun’s cold eyes unnerved him, and made him want to be anywhere else but there. And Sho understood, somehow, because no one in the right mind would ever utter the words “it’s a mistake” just seconds after a kiss. Their first kiss.
Except him.
He knew it was wrong, he regretted the words right after he said it, but he had to, he just had to say it. It’s a secret that he would take to his grave (because it was uncharacteristic and sentimental and he still didn’t know exactly why he did it), but Sho had watched the plane carrying Jun take-off from the tarmac. He will not forget, for quite a bit, how heavy his mobile phone had felt in his hand, still and quiet and useless: it was the heft of a tiny regret simmering in his chest.
In all the nights immediately after Jun left, Sho had only worried more and more, about having said the wrong things, or the right things, but not having been able to convey them the way he had wanted to. No, he never believed himself to be eloquent, despite his way with words. At the most important junctions, he always found himself stiffening up.
I should call him.
No, I shouldn’t.
And after several nights of deliberation, he didn’t, because really, what would be the point?
Sho had bolted for a reason, that night. It was a mistake, for him to have come. It was a mistake, having kissed someone and having been kissed back, because all he could think of in that tentative, finger-tipped, hushed skin warmth was “don’t leave,” and he didn’t want to say those words, no. It scared him.
And Jun, Sho thought, had left, without saying a thing. He had only asked if it was a good idea to leave, and really, it was. Perhaps he had just needed a push.
“It’s an amazing opportunity, isn’t it?”
Sho hadn’t been lying. It would be foolish of Jun to refuse such an offer. Sho had owed that honesty towards Jun, at the very least.
There was no point in calling. It was just a kiss, anyway.
It’s better this way.
The sound of glass clinking playfully against his bottle immediately snapped Sho out of his stupor. He realized with a start that the other three had gotten off from their former positions on the couch: Aiba and Nino were in the kitchen, huddled over something that Sho couldn’t see, and Ohno was sidled up beside him.
“Your beer was getting lonely,” Ohno smiled.
“Was it?”
The smaller man nodded affirmatively. “Drink up.” Although his now lukewarm beer wasn’t that enticing at all anymore, who could say no to an attentive Ohno? He looked pleased as Sho gulped down the flat, amber remains of his Asahi.
“He’s doing great, isn’t he?” Ohno said conversationally, even though they had muted the television after watching the opening sequence (it wasn’t dubbed or subtitled, so yeah.)
“Well, you’d expect no less from him.”
Ohno nodded at that, absentmindedly licking at the foam spilling over at the neck of a newly opened bottle.
Sho was glad to be in the company of friends that night, and not the professional clones that they were during work, especially recently. They were still struggling to make up for the absence of Jun; they had not anticipated the big change in their dynamics that took place once Jun had left. Earlier that day, they were recording new Shiyagare episodes, as their pre-recorded ones with Jun were running out. It wasn’t that it was a big failure, the four of them were seasoned professionals after all, but they had fumbled to cover the gap Jun had left.
On their post-shoot meeting, Ohno suggested that they have a cutout life-size Jun paper doll on the set. The producers looked at him like he was crazy.
“But we had a Nino paper doll on Shukudai when he was gone,” pouted Ohno.
The producer and director exchanged standard “I don’t know if Ohno is being serious or not” looks, both shrugging at each other. Ohno’s only consolations were stubby fingers patting his head affectionately.
After the meeting, Aiba invited the three of them to his apartment. “Jun’s drama premiered yesterday, you guys!” He faintly mentioned having a copy of the episode, despite the fact that show was still slated for a Japan premiere the next week.
“Where did you get your copy?” Nino asked, a little suspicious.
Aiba only puffed his chest out and replied, as if affronted, “I know how to use torrents, ‘kay?”
“I think Jun-kun wouldn’t be too pleased if he finds out that we watched a pirated copy of his show,” Nino said, dryly.
Nonetheless, they all hitched with Aiba on the way home and bought a case of beer at the convenience store. No one mentioned having noticed the slight neediness in Aiba’s request. After all, they all felt a little bit clingy towards each other (although their degree of admitting to that varied.) Being whittled down to four was a little…scary. Although Sho wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about Aiba’s choice of activity, he also felt a strong need to be around the three.
Ohno handed him a new bottle of beer.
“Thanks.”
The older man leaned contentedly on Sho’s shoulder, beer bottle attached to his mouth, not unlike a baby with a milk bottle. (Well, a creepy, tanned, beer-chugging baby, in Ohno's case.)
Sho silently watched the muted screen; Jun was on again. He was approaching an entrapped criminal who was cowering down on his office seat, all sweaty and wound up. Jun’s eyes were cold as steel, his white hands around a gun. There was no haste in those eyes, only a sharp, focused look that spared no warmth or understanding.
It felt a little bit too familiar.
“That’s definitely illegal, you idiot,” Nino yelled, making Sho turn towards the two. Ohno grumbled about being disturbed.
Aiba laughed. “Really?”
“How do you think they got those files up so quickly, then?”
“I don’t know,” was the airy, English response of the grinning Aiba.
Yes, Sho was glad he didn’t have to be alone that night. Standing up, he decided that he had better check out whether Aiba was committing intellectual property crimes, or something.
*
He was used to traveling, but he sure as hell wasn’t used to settling for quite the long while in another place, on another continent. The fumbling at the start was a new challenge for Jun; it was a little bit like trying to get used to a pair of shoes that didn’t quite perfectly fit. New York was metropolitan, just as Tokyo was, but Jun felt so foreign (aside from the fact that he really was), and somehow, too exposed. It was weird because if a feeling of “exposed” applied to anyone, it was to him and his larger-than-life idol persona in Japan: he had to hide under layers of clothes, hastily brushed down bangs, hats, and maybe shades, if he wanted to completely meld into the crowd. But in New York, he felt even more exposed than he ever did in downtown Tokyo during rush hour.
No, people didn’t stare at him or scream the occasional “Matsujun!” towards him on the streets, yet he felt as if he was being judged. He felt that people saw through him, that they sensed his emotions, and that they were all ready to pounce on him at the slightest show of weakness. It was irrational and just his own imagination, he knew, but he still couldn’t help but think so.
For example, encounters on completely normal places like convenience stores made him jumpy.
He handed in his purchases: toothpaste, a roll of toilet paper, some cheap red wine, a lighter, and a pack of reds.
“Will that be all?” the young looking clerk asked, as he rung up Jun’s stuff.
“Yes.”
The clerk looked up. “You new around here?”
Jun handed in the cash. “Yes.”
“Your English is funny.”
Jun had no idea how the clerk arrived at that conclusion by only hearing him say one word, but it bothered him. As he was handed back his change, he grabbed his purchases and wordlessly made his way to the exit.
“I was only kidding, bro,” the clerk had shouted.
He hadn’t lost his temper, but instead, he felt a debilitating sense of displacement. Jun spent that night drinking and smoking, which he hadn’t done in the longest, especially alone. Thoughts of naturally pouted lips and shy intakes of breath swirled in a tempest inside his head; it wasn’t so easy, this forgetting business. He still felt the sting of rejection. It had been three months, yet he felt like he had just only arrived in New York, fresh from that night. It was hard, to stop thinking, drinking about it.
His phone suddenly rang. Probably only his manager, checking if he had received the script for next week’s episode. I’ve already mailed you that I did, I’m even halfway done memorizing the thing, Jun thought, irritated.
“Hello?”
The other person on the other end didn’t say anything.
“Uh, who’s this? Hello?”
Jun heard faint breathing on the other end, and something about the landscape of sound that traveled through the phone wires transfixed him; he listened. Hoping, secretly. Unconsciously, he timed his breath with the other person’s, as if it would somehow bring Jun closer. To what, he couldn’t have said. Or wouldn’t say.
Then suddenly the connection went dead. The bleeping sound of his loneliness played over and over his ear, and he could not let go.
“…Sho.”
He fell asleep on the kitchen table, his ear still glued to his mobile phone, the disconnected, insistent tone, his lullaby.
When Jun woke up with a migraine, he cursed himself for almost finishing the whole bottle of wine. He knew it was irresponsible, as he had some scenes to shoot that day, plus the English lessons that he attended almost every day.
He pushed the non-conversation he had on the phone last night away, not wanting to deal with it, any part of it.
During the shoot, he had to retake one scene several times because he kept on messing up his lines; his hangover a bludgeon on his memory. The director was patient with him, even as Jun had cursed in Japanese and looked frustrated with his own performance. He was only too painfully aware that he might not be meeting expectations, that he was a burden to the staff.
At the end of the day, he felt exhausted and alone. He was struggling and he hated himself for it.
Time to shape up, Jun. Stop this.
*
Her laughter was contagious. Jun took a liking to her instantly.
“Oh god, Jun Matsumoto,” she shrieked, when the director first introduced them on the day when they first had a scene together.
Well, almost instantly. (His ears were sensitive, okay?)
“I’m Amanda. I’m the girl who’s going to kick your ass and make you suffer, but you’re going to fall for me just like that anyway,” she said, as she snapped her finger.
She was definitely gorgeous, yet Jun was surprised and a bit taken aback by her sheer… enthusiasm, given the fact that her role was that of a somber, unfazed, if rather cold, crime-lab hot chick.
“Well, you know, at least, in the TV show,” she amended, winking. Jun didn’t exactly catch what she had said, but he shook her hand just the same and smiled back at her, a little confused.
“Oh! Forgive my manners. Yoroshiku onegaishimasu~” she said in a perfect accent, bowing low, then bouncing right back up.
“Yorosh-wait, you speak Nihongo?”
Amanda beamed, flipping her short, dark pixie hair to the back. (How that was possible, Jun didn’t know, but she did it.) “Yes, I do! I studied in Tokyo for junior high school and high school. Dad was in the army, so we moved around a lot.”
“That’s…great?”
Jun felt a little tongue-tied at the sudden burst of perfectly eloquent Japanese. It was a little silly, but he missed the sound of it. He felt immediately comfortable around her.
“So what is an idol doing in the US of A? Don’t you miss your adoring legions of fans?”
Jun cocked an eyebrow. “You know about Arashi?”
“Well, I know this.” She launched into a barely recognizable rendition of their debut song’s choreography.
“You are my soul, soul, itsumo-”
Jun felt a surge of unwanted chuckles coming over him as he desperately tried to suppress it. “That’s not the choreography,” he muttered, as she did a suggestive thrust after scratching her head. Some of the staff stared and laughed as well; messing around was messing around, in English, Japanese, or, well, Engrish.
“…for dream!” Amanda finished with a flourish, her other hand on her hip.
“What do you think?”
“Smooth.”
“Why thank you! Forgive the lyrics, I haven’t heard that song in ages, by the way,” she said.
“I’m surprised you even remember at all!” It was a little flattering, to be honest.
“Are you kidding? You guys were hot stuff!”
Jun opened a bottle of water he grabbed earlier from the refreshment stand. “Were?”
“Well, you’re not looking too shabby right now,” Amanda grinned. “I remember the rapper guy though! He was pretty fly. What was his name, ugh, god, it’s at the tip of my tongue-”
Jun coughed. “Sho-san.”
“Yeah! That’s it, Sakurai Sho! Everyone in my class had a crush on him. Ladies totally dug the rapping thing, you know?”
All Jun could manage was a weak smile.
“Anyway, I’m glad to be working with you, seriously! It’s going to be so much fun.” Her green eyes literally twinkled in enthusiasm. It reminded Jun a little of Aiba.
“Same here.” He found himself sincerely meaning it.
“So, how should I address you? Matsumoto…san?” She looked genuinely embarrassed for an awkward second that Jun couldn’t help but smile.
“Jun is okay.” After all, they were on foreign soil; it might do well to leave behind all the unnecessary Japanese niceties. Also, something told Jun that this girl was okay. Even if he already foresaw how she might grate on his nerves a little.
“Okay. Jun then.” Amanda smiled back.
After they successfully shot their first encounter, the director was all praises for the two of them. “You guys have this zing together, onscreen! It’s great to watch!”
Jun was a bit lost; the rapid-fire English was a little bit too much for him. He nudged Amanda. “Zing? What did he say?”
“Nothing important,” she said, smiling slightly as she hopped to her trailer. “Later!”
I need to work on my English, Jun thought. But somehow, he felt lighter and better. It was a good day on the set, on another country, in another life. Maybe, just maybe, he truly could get used to it.
*
Sho had a talent for forgetting things.
Or maybe, he only thought that he did, because he tended to block out what was unnecessary when he became so busy. Perhaps it was a coping mechanism that he never really quite figured out. It was highly convenient for him, though. Like when he was knee-deep in seriousness researching a news report, he could easily block out anything that didn’t have anything to do with the subject matter he was dealing with.
He was in the waiting lounge at Charles de Gaulle airport, with a small entourage. Dark eye-bags threatened to swallow his whole face; he didn’t look quite right in a rumpled suit and an old black ski cap. Well, he never was one to ascribe to fashion tenets, anyway. A small smile formed at his face at the thought of the fans and viewers would’ve said had they seen what he was wearing at that very moment.
Sho had just come from covering the G10 economic conference in Paris for News Zero. Over the past year and a half, Murao-san and the producers of Zero had steadily given him more and more important news stories to cover; he also now did Zero two nights a week. It didn’t seem like much of a bigger imposition, that additional day plus the added coverage, but to a busy, popular idol, it had meant less sleep.
The only thing that gave his schedule a little leeway was Arashi’s lack of musical activities; the absence of releases slashed away music programs, PV and jacket cover shoots, recordings, and rehearsals in their schedules. The jimusho thought it best that they forego recording any new single as a group until Matsumoto returned. In any case, they were already configuring the details of their big return to the musical scene, with an album and their biggest concert tour to date. Just in time for their 15th anniversary.
Until then, Arashi was to remain low-key. Low-key was relative, though, because Arashi was still reigning over television; their juniors still haven’t gotten anywhere close to the ratings and viewer recall that Arashi steadily got. Nino had just finished a drama and was slated for a new movie, asides from the voice acting he was tapped to do for the newest Ghibli animated film, along with Aiba, who was still doing Tensai. (“Nino, we’re going to be playing friends! Sobu Line team, yay!” Nino ignored him.) Ohno, who had been fishing a whole lot more in the first half-year when Jun left than he did in the past, was suddenly given an art-centered show to host on NHK. He was hesitant about his solo-hosting abilities, but the ratings proved that his hesitation was unfounded. He still got to go fishing a whole lot, though, and Sho had to constantly remind him to be liberal with the SPF.
Jun, on the other hand, was gaining recognition as a credible Japanese actor, a picture of studied cool and Asian grace. The high point of his ongoing stint abroad was probably his GQ cover just the other month, where he was prominently front and center, flanked by the boys from Far East Movement (the ones who sang the massive hit theme song for the series.) The neon headline had read “Far East Blows Up”, with the sub-heading saying “Far East Movement and Jun Matsumoto of THE COMPENDIUM prove to you why the East is here to stay”. He definitely wasn’t the token “Asian nerd” of the series, that was for sure. American audiences totally and completely ate up the hesitant and adversarial romantic plot line between him and Amanda’s character, especially with Jun’s stinging English one-liners. Understandably, the Japanese audiences had a few misgivings about the coupling (after all, a major percentage of them weren’t fangirls since birth for nothing), but the show nonetheless enjoyed high viewership in Japan as well.
It was why Sho was headed to New York, he was assigned to cover the show’s success for News Zero’s Culture segment. Of course, the first time he had heard that he was assigned to it, he wasn't exactly excited.
“I don’t know, has the jimusho okay-ed it? It might also overlap with my G10 conference coverage, I want to solely focus on that and deliver a comprehensive report,” Sho had said to the producer.
“No worries, Sakurai-san. We have the clear from your management. Also, it won’t overlap with your Paris assignment, you even get to have a one-day break before flying out to New York.”
He sighed.
The truth was, he was nervous. The foreign economic leaders gathered at Paris? Easy. He did not graduate from Keio with an Economics degree for nothing. He wasn’t a newbie reporter either. But to conduct an interview with Jun?
Just the mention of that name made him want to hurl in anxiety.
He has not seen Jun in so long, (the longest span of time, in all their years as a group together), and it was a nerve-wracking prospect. Sho was only too highly aware that he was the only one who hasn’t given Jun a call; the other three made sure to share the contents of their conversations with each other when they had the chance. Jun hadn’t called Sho either. Not that Sho was expecting him to.
Aiba was encouraging when Sho told him he was going to fly to New York to see Jun. The two of them were having ramen for dinner after a magazine shoot. A tone of whining couldn’t help but permeate Sho's complaints.
“But that’s great, Sho-chan! I’m jealous, I miss him,” Aiba said earnestly, as he blew on the ramen he had on his chopsticks. Brown eyes flitted up at Sho’s. “Don’t you miss him?”
Sho scratched his nose, uncomfortable. “Um…yeah? I guess.”
“Then why are you making it seem like it’s such an ordeal? It’s not like they’re forcing you to bungee jump from the Empire State building or something like that.”
But it was.
“It might be uncomfortable,” Sho replied weakly.
Aiba slurped down his noodles. “Why would it be? It’s just Matsujun, Sho-chan.”
When Sho didn’t reply, Aiba looked up at him, expression changing. This was it.
“When was the last time you two talked?”
If Sho trusted anyone in Arashi with his deepest worries, it was-
“-Masaki. I, I sort of, well, I haven’t talked to Matsujun since the night before he left,” he said breathlessly.
Aiba’s eyes grew big. Putting his appetite (and chopsticks) aside, he replied, “But why?” When Aiba chose to willingly set aside a piping hot bowl of ramen for a reply, it had always been Sho’s cue to spit it out.
It was now or never.
“Things got bad,” Sho said, his voice rough. “We sort of…kissed. And I had told him it was a mistake-“ Aiba’s eyes were like saucers now, “-and it was, it really was, he had to go, and he left.”
Aiba’s tone was hushed. “Wow…”
“Yeah.”
"You kissed."
Sho made a depressed noise.
“You…kissed?”
“Yes, we’ve established that.”
“Wow,” Aiba reiterated.
The both of them couldn’t say anything for a few minutes. Sho felt his heart thumping and thumping madly at his admission.
“I thought Jun was over you,” Aiba said, his eyes questioning.
“He is. I mean, I don’t-it wasn’t-it wasn’t anything like that. It just happened. It was a mistake.”
“Did you hate it that much?”
“Hate what?”
“The…kiss. For you to say it to his face that it was a mistake,” Aiba said, wiping his sweat. “I know you’ve never liked guys but saying-“
“Wait! Wait, wait, wait. I never said that I didn’t,” his hands suddenly felt clammy, “-like guys.”
It was impossible to miss the sharp intake of Aiba’s breath.
“Really?”
Sho nodded sheepishly. “Really.”
“That’s…news to me,” Aiba replied. He took a big gulp from the sweating glass of water on the table. “Does he know? Jun?”
Sho shook his head.
“So, wait. Wait. Sho-chan…do you-do you have feelings for Jun?”
No one had ever asked him that, ever. Nino might have danced around it, but he never implicitly asked Sho to clear it up, once and for all. It was funny, but he actually had an answer at the ready. It was an epiphany, yet it also felt like the most mundane fact in the world. Sho just knew.
“If I say I do, do you promise not to tell Nino or Satoshi? Just-not yet.”
Aiba’s mouth fell, almost in an exaggerated, comic way, but Sho felt genuine shock emanating in waves from Aiba. He felt those waves swirling around inside him as well.
“Omigod, Sho-chan. Holy sh-with Jun? Ehh… Are you being serious?”
And Sho realized, he was, he really was.
Again, they both fell quiet for a while. Sho ate some noodles, suddenly feeling drained of energy. He knew he could trust Aiba, because for all his air-headedness and giddiness, he was pretty levelheaded when it came to serious matters. Aiba liked being told secrets and kept them airtight safe in his heart.
“So there. And now, I have to see him. I don’t want to, I can’t! I can’t talk to him,” Sho said, brows furrowing together.
“You should tell him. You have to tell him,” Aiba said.
“I can’t.” Sho looked up at Aiba.
“Oh god, you and Jun.” Tiny spurts of unbelieving laughter escaped Aiba’s mouth. Finally.
Sho felt somewhat relieved. He laughed back, if a little humorlessly.
“It’s impossible, isn’t it?”
Aiba’s chortles mercifully eased off into a soft smile, his chopsticks back in his hand. “You don’t know that, yet.”
“It’s impossible, I’m telling you. It’s too late. He thinks I hate him. He probably hates me, if he spares me any thought at all, that is.”
“You don’t know that.”
Sho had a talent for forgetting things, but somehow, there was something he couldn’t forget. He was sitting in an airport lounge, laptop bag and a big, lovely, white package beside him, about to board a plane that will fly him directly to the person who was the source of all his secret anxieties and worries.
Talk about asking for it.
He was about to switch off his mobile, when an email suddenly made its presence known with a tiny beep. It was from Aiba.
“Tell him!” The email also featured a cheering smiley and a heart emoticon, for added effect.
Hell no.
*
The first time he saw Jun again, Sho had thought he might faint.
He was on his way to the hotel’s bathroom to freshen up a little, maybe splash some water on his face, because god, he was so nervous about the interview. The makeup artist can put the foundation again after he washed his face, right?
Suddenly, he saw him, heading towards where Sho was. He was some meters away, but Sho could easily spot that face anywhere.
Oh. Long hair.
He allowed himself to stare for a few seconds, because Jun almost seemed like an apparition. It was shameful, but Sho held his breath and hid behind a column. He was still unprepared to bump into Jun, a camera nowhere to be seen to act as buffer.
The first time they both saw each other again, right before shooting the interview, Sho had also felt faint but was glad for the familiar klieg lights, the staff, and the cameras that made it easier for him to meet those familiar brown eyes.
“Sho-kun,” he said simply.
“Hey.” He looked more courageous than he felt. He gave Jun a quick, manly hug, giving Jun no time to reject him or let his arms hang limply on the sides.
It felt unreal to finally see Jun, to finally be so near his warmth, that Sho was easily rendered speechless, blood rushing to his brain. The longer hair made him look older, Sho observed, but there was something he couldn’t place about Jun. It was unnerving, not knowing.
“How are the other three?”
“They’re doing great.”
The interview itself was painful, although of course, that might just have been on Sho’s part. It was just like they had gone back to the old days, when they could talk like normal without having anything hanging over their heads. It was a mark of Sho’s professionalism that he was able to make the interview seem like a truly happy meeting of friends, of comrades. But it was undeniable, the way his insides had hurt, seeing Jun smiling so wide at the mention of his cast mates (particularly Amanda) and everything else that comprised Jun’s life outside Sho, outside Arashi, outside Japan. Sho himself could even sense how much Jun had grown, and, well, how much sturdier Jun seemed. Perhaps he was even a little jealous at the short English message Jun left for the show’s international fans, amazed at how quickly he had learned English. But Sho knew he was only being petty, wanting to push back the cutting, rawer emotions that threatened to swallow him whole if he let it.
Jun had left a warm message for the members. “Aiba-chan, you’re not getting into too much trouble without me, aren’t you? Stay out of trouble! Nino, how are you? I’m bringing you back loads of games, don’t you ever mail me again to say I’m being stingy. And to Leader! Hello! Do you miss me? Because I miss you!” He gave a hearty chuckle. “I can’t wait to see you all in a few months!” He then waved goodbye at the camera.
“I’ll also see you guys in a few months!” Sho joked, also waving goodbye.
Jun smiled at Sho. Maybe it was just for the benefit of the cameras, but the sight of it felt like a draft of cold, sparkling water on a blistering day.
*
“So, did you talk? Really talk?”
“No, we didn’t. It’s impossible, after all.”
“Sho-chaaaaaaaaaaaaaan.”
There was no point. Jun might as well have been a completely new person, Sho thought. After the interview, he had only shook hands with Sho and said “thanks” when Sho handed him something he got from Paris. The words let’s have dinner immediately died on Sho’s lips.
There was no point.
“I’ll see you in Japan, Sho-kun,” Jun said, before rushing off to another engagement.
It wasn’t that he did not want Jun too close-it was because Jun had already wormed his way in without Sho realizing. There had been many signs, and small instances when Jun had admitted to his crime, when he had laid his heart out on the table for Sho’s ego to swiftly kick away. How could I have not realized?
Finally, it hit him, as he watched Jun’s retreating back.
It was a bitter thing to finally realize that he was, and had been, in love with Jun for so long. And because of the time he couldn’t turn back, the decisions he couldn’t undo, and the looks he couldn’t return, Jun had left, a long time ago.
There was no point.
*
“Who are these flattened-out cupcakes from?” asked Amanda, a teasing tone to her voice as she swiped one from the big, white box for herself. “And why are they all green?”
“They’re from your beloved Sakurai Sho,” Jun retorted.
“Ooh!”
“And they’re macarons from Pierre Hermé, you doofus. He came from Paris.”
“Oui, oui! God, do you guys always give each other fancy souvenirs like this?” Even though it was a little bit fancier than he was used to, they did make a tradition out of always buying souvenirs from when they were abroad, so he nodded.
“Technically though, it’s not a souvenir because they also have a store in Japan,” Jun felt compelled to add.
“Eh. You guys are pretty tight, huh?” She said, examining the macaron. Maybe Jun was imagining it, but she looked a little disappointed. Or sad.
“Hmm, maybe.”
She gingerly bit off a little chunk at the side. Her eyes grew wide.
“Wow, this tastes like paper, only, like, with lots of butter. Wanna have the rest of it?”
Jun rolled his eyes. “You have no taste, whatsoever,” he said, as he popped the rest of the green confection into his mouth.
Mmm, pistachio.
“I don’t know how you can eat that stuff, it’s inedible, seriously.”
You can call out Sho on his hokey, hopelessly unfashionable outfits, but when it came to food, there was no doubt that he had the most discriminating taste. The time Sho invested in researching, tasting, and enjoying food has always fascinated and puzzled Jun.
How Sho knew, though, that pistachio macarons were his favorite, completely mystified him.
Jun grinned at Amanda, his teeth all crumby and coated with green speckles.
“Stop that,” Amanda said, cracking up. It was pretty ridiculous, since she had fake blood all over her face and clothes (her scene that day involved her getting shot.) Seeing her laugh with all that bloody gunk around her made Jun giggle as well.
“You do know you look ridiculous, right?”
She gave a little curtsy. “Thanks!”
“I mean it.”
“Aw, you’ll miss my ridiculous face soon enough, Matsujun.”
“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?”
In any case, Jun was pretty cheerful that filming day. He had twenty little green pieces of home in a box (well, nineteen) and it was just what he needed. New York was wonderful, and he had felt triumphant at the way things worked out for him, but suddenly he couldn’t wait to go home. Just a few more months, he told himself.
*
Nothing could have ever prepared him for the welcome he was about to get.
His manager briefed him that there would definitely be reporters, lots of cameras, and possibly (or most likely) throngs and throngs of fans welcoming him upon his arrival at Narita, and Jun expected as much. After all, he hasn’t been in the public eye in Japan for two years. He visited once, but it was for the wedding of his closest cousin, and he made sure that no one but his family knew. He barely stayed a day that time, because his schedule in New York was so demanding.
Jun freshened up, washing off the signs of cabin disgruntlement, and changed into a dressier outfit that his stylist had prepared especially for his arrival. A few minutes later, he felt the reassuring bump of the wheels on the tarmac, the sensation of the plane leveling with the ground. As he looked out the window, the view that greeted him immediately woke him up.
Finally.
The deafening cheers that ensued when he approached the airport exit were overwhelming. The collective shouts of “Welcome home!” washed over him so suddenly, and Jun felt his eyes wet. His hearty “I’m back!” would be replayed numerous times throughout the day, on the news, with newscasters announcing his much-awaited return to Japan.
After spending a short while talking to the crowd in the sudden makeshift press conference by the airport exit, Jun was escorted to huge, luxurious black limousine. Johnny sure pulled out all the stops, Jun thought. Not that he minded. It was great to be back home, in style.
When he entered the limo, the bright lights temporarily blinded him.
A noisy rabble greeted him, shouts of “Welcome home” “Can’t believe you’re back” “WHERE ARE MY GAMES” came out from all directions, and suddenly, he was drowned in a messy group hug.
So he really was home.
“Get off me, you idiots,” Jun snarled, his words lacking any venom. As his vision cleared, he saw the smiling faces of Aiba, Ohno, and Nino. Sho waved at him from the side, looking calm and collected.
“Welcome back.”
“Thanks.”
*
The first order of business was recording the album that was to be both their comeback in the music scene and their 15th anniversary offering as well. It was their third day of recording; Sho was the first one to arrive at the studio. He sank down on the big couch behind the producer, looking over the lyrics.
The past few days of recording went well enough. It was great being complete as five again and being back in the studio; it had been too long indeed. Ohno was actually being proactive in suggesting better harmonies, all smiles and occasional clinginess to Jun, who didn’t seem to mind. It was the most “awake” Sho had ever seen Ohno. In a leader kind of way, he must be happy that we’re all complete again, even though he won’t say it, Sho had thought.
He wished he could express both the relief and anxiety that he felt upon suddenly having Jun around again, but it was impossible. Sho knew that if he even allowed himself to truly show even a small part of his feelings, everything would come spilling out when he didn’t want it to. Not when Jun was being perfectly civil to him.
Or maybe, that’s what irked him. The civility. It was like that night before Jun left never happened.
Sho couldn’t blame Jun. But Sho couldn’t stand it.
“What’s eating you?” Nino asked, plopping down beside Sho.
“Nothing.”
A few moments later, Jun entered the recording studio as well. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” Nino said, his eyes on Jun. Sho gave him a tiny nod.
“So, how was your recording yesterday? Finished writing your rap?” Jun asked.
“It was okay. And, yeah, finished it,” Sho replied.
“That’s good.”
Ah, civility.
After confirming something with the producer and dumping his bag on the table, Jun headed back to the door. “I’m getting coffee from the vending machine, you guys want anything?”
When Nino and Sho both said “no thanks”, Jun shrugged and stepped out the door.
Nino snuck closer to Sho. “That Jun-kun, still wearing his heart on his sleeves. Thought he might be, you know, cooler and more chill after his Hollywood stint, but no.”
“What do you mean?” Sho furrowed his brows.
“You’re pretty damn un-cool too, you know?”
“What? Why?”
“Find out on your own,” Nino said, yawning obnoxiously. He stood up to stretch in front of Sho.
That night, after finishing their recording, they all decided to head to a bar and celebrate. It was only a few blocks from the studio so they had decided to walk, lightly disguised, of course. Sho reveled in the just right breeze that swept up the leaves and their hair.
Still giddy at being finally reunited and at finishing their album, Ohno, Aiba, and Nino found themselves drunk. Sho and Jun kept to themselves, sipping coolly while watching the other three fool around. When Aiba suggested, no, screamed, “BODY SHOTS!” (while turning back and forth to Sho and Jun and wiggling his brows in what he probably thought was a subtle manner) Sho took it as a sign that they should herd the three drunken Arashi members home.
“These guys are such a pain,” Jun said, as he hoisted a limp Nino to the backseat. His breath was ragged from dragging Nino, deadweight, at that.
“Tell me about it,” replied Sho, as he tried to hold up a barely walking Aiba and a sleepy Ohno.
After depositing the three to Aiba’s apartment, Jun drove Sho home as well.
“I missed driving,” Jun said, finally speaking up after what seemed like an eternity of silence.
“Really? How did you get around New York?”
“Mostly cabs. Sometimes I got chauffeured around.”
“Oh.”
Sho stole a sideway glance at Jun. His face in profile seemed just as he remembered it, yet there was a kind of maturity there that Sho had only begun to notice. His heartbeat sped up as he realized that it was the first time that they were alone together, ever since Jun had arrived. He didn’t know whether to thank or curse the fate that was his apartment being quite far off from Aiba’s. But it felt nice, being in that car with Jun, the night-lights illuminating the roads and their faces.
Sho couldn’t help wanting to know how Jun was, how Jun felt. He couldn’t help it; he wanted to hear Jun’s voice. It still felt like such a novelty. He wanted to keep his mouth shut, but...
“How do you feel, now that you’re back?”
“Hmm?” Jun took a sudden left turn. “Sorry, didn’t see the sign,” he mumbled as an aside.
“I mean, don’t you miss New York?”
Jun mulled over this for a while. “I guess I do. But I think I miss the people I met there more than actually living there.”
“Ah.”
Sho couldn’t think of anything else to say after that. His mind suddenly conjured up the image of Jun’s American onscreen partner. The two of them had seemed awfully close to Sho, when he had watched their interviews and appearances. Sho battled with the pathetic spikes of jealousy that he felt, and thus remained silent. Jun felt no need at all to talk more, either. It felt as if they had exhausted everything they could talk about in the civil, friendly bubble they had made strictly for their encounters ever since Jun arrived.
They spent the next ten minutes to Sho’s in silence.
Jun yawned and pulled up into the driveway of Sho’s apartment. “Here we are.”
Sho unbuckled his seatbelt. “Thanks for the ride.”
“You got it.”
As he was about to step down from Jun’s car, he slowly turned back to face him.
Do it.
“Do you-do you want to come up for a bit?”
Jun looked a little surprised.
Do it.
“I think you could do with a cup of coffee or something. You look awfully sleepy,” Sho said. It took more courage than it seemed, yet he waited in bated breath for the polite declination that was sure to-
“Okay.”
*
Jun sniffed at the framed picture by the living room wall, a slight smile hovering around his mouth. “I can’t believe you chose to have that picture framed. We have tons of other pictures together.”
Sipping the remains of his coffee, Sho looked at the picture. It was the five of them on a boat in Hawaii, waving and all looking thin enough to be blown away by the wind.
“That’s when it all started, right?”
“I guess.”
“We were all so clueless back then, god. I wonder what would’ve happened if I really quit,” Sho said.
“Well, I wouldn’t be here right now, for starters,” Jun replied.
Although Sho knew Jun had only meant that he wouldn’t be in his apartment because had he quit, they probably wouldn’t have been friends anymore, fifteen years down the line, he still found himself a little winded at hearing Jun say it.
“Yeah,” Sho replied, a little breathless. “These fifteen years have been such a ride. I mean, look at you.”
“Me?”
“Your series. It was great,” Sho said, cheeks reddening. “I bet you have tons of international offers now.”
The silence that followed what he said alarmed Sho. He watched Jun silently finishing the coffee in his cup.
“To think I almost didn’t go,” Jun said, as he stood up, his facial expression darkening.
Sho's heart pounded.
“Did I say something wrong?”
He stood up as well, watching Jun put on his coat, then his shoes, in silence.
“Did I say something wrong,” Sho repeated, approaching Jun. He knew that he probably did, and he couldn’t stand not knowing and not being minded.
Jun straightened out and faced Sho. “Yes,” he said, through gritted teeth.
“What was it?”
Just as he was about to turn away to walk out the door, Sho grabbed his wrist.
“What are you doing? Let go,” Jun said, his voice, rising, as he tried to pull away from Sho’s grip.
“No. Not until you tell me what I said wrong.”
Jun, incredulous, tried shaking Sho off. “Fuck, what are you, ten? Let me go.”
“No.” His temper was getting the best of him, and he tried to control it, he really did, but panic was again washing over him.
“Fine!”
Sho felt as if he was struck on the face, and he let go of Jun. But it was too late.
“I didn’t mean-sorry-“
Jun’s voice as he cut through him was cold. “No, you don’t get to say that. You want to hear what you said wrong? I’ll tell you what you said wrong.”
Sho couldn’t talk, couldn’t say a thing, he felt immobilized.
“You told me that it was a great opportunity.”
It took a couple of breaths for Sho to get it, and when he did, he felt faint. Jun had wanted Sho to tell him to stay.
“And you know what, it was, it really was. I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.”
Then just like that, Jun walked out.
*
The next few months felt like a blur to Sho.
He was suddenly on stage. The cheers of everyone who had come to celebrate their fifteenth anniversary with them in Kokuritsu were deafening. This was the culmination of half a life’s hard work, everything he had put his heart and soul into for the last fifteen years. It was momentous, and if not crazier, then just as crazy as their tenth anniversary had been. Arashi certainly has taken away from him a chance at normalcy, but Arashi has also given him everything that mattered in his life; it was this realization that made him quake in place, even though he has stood there so many times.
Sho was thankful, he really was, more than anyone could know.
It was just that there was still one thing missing in his life.
The five of them had to choose an old song to sing for their solo performance. As the opening melody of the song he chose played over the stadium, he closed his eyes and fervently wished that he was listening.
"Someday..." I remembered the words you said that I had nearly forgotten
Standing on the street I call up the seasons, and the wind stops
Then your voice brings me back to my senses, and life has carried on as usual
Ever since that day when everything was shining
Everything seems like it will disappear if I close the door
The fleeting days when I couldn't be more honest have gone away
That was probably the day we set off walking, each on a different path
Until the time when those feelings radiate their light
When the wheels start to turn, the journey will begin
So I'll gently embrace the past so I won't go astray again
Even the secrets I kept hidden all along, I've shared only with you
No matter when, everything I am, is probably still...
On the busy street, I pass by people whose names I don't even know
Yes, everyone has a precious someone that they're yearning for
When you feel like you're being crushed by all the burdens you carry, just remember
The hand you've been holding onto all this time is not a lie
I long for the days that will never return, but tomorrow is waiting for us
We can still keep going, no matter how far
"What did you say to me back then..."
Saying that doesn't matter anymore, does it?
We met often, we gradually understood, and as the season drew near we cried often
You are you, so paint your dreams huge
I'll be here wishing for your success
"If you just wait around, tomorrow won't come
If you only move here, nothing will start"
Even on the dark street where you can't see ahead
Even if it's a detour
For now both of us should put away
Our painful expressions, just for a while
This isn't goodbye, it's the beginning of many new meetings
But, I still want to see you again
Still...
Someday we'll meet again smiling, yes, I know it
It was the first time Sho shed tears on stage since their first concert, way back in 2000. It was just too much, seeing everyone that he loved in the same place, all the fans that have been there, from the start or not. And somehow, selfishly, all he could think about was Jun. The stadium trembled, thousands upon thousands of people cheering Sho on. He bowed low before mouthing a silent “thank you”.
*
It was the next morning at their dressing room.
Sho had entered the room, and Jun didn’t know why, or how he did it, or what he was thinking, but he pinned Sho to the wall. The other man looked terrified, initially, until his eyes registered mere caution.
“Did you mean it? Wanting me to go?” Jun asked, breathless.
He was afraid to hear the answer, once and for all, but he was done. Done skirting around the issue, done feeling bad for what happened years ago, done staying silent, done silently, consciously hating and outwardly ignoring Sho. He just wanted to hear it from Sho himself and finally let it be.
He heard Sho singing yesterday.
“Yes.”
If a heart could deflate so quickly, it was then; Jun felt his heart doing so upon hearing that “yes”. He let go of the Sho, breathing hard, forcing to finally accept what he already believed to be true, for years, anyway.
“But not in the way that you think.”
Jun looked up. In his line of vision was only Sho, his face, unreadable.
“I was scared, Jun. It was the scariest thing to realize, that I didn’t want you to leave,” Sho said.
“What?” Jun replied, feigning calm.
“You heard me. I didn’t want you to leave. But I wanted you to go, to show everyone what you could do. It was your dream. And I thought, I was selfish enough to think, that I could forget you,” Sho whispered.
“Forget me?" Jun shook. "Wait. You told me it was a mistake.”
“I know," Sho sighed. "I’m sorry if I let you think that that was what I thought-I, I couldn’t deal with it. I wanted to take it back, but it was too late. But you have to know that it wasn’t how I felt about it. I need you to know that I was weak then, and if I could, I would take it back. Because it wasn’t a mistake.”
It was akin to the whole world turning upside down. Jun felt so heartbroken for what could have been; everything he had believed for the past two years were being refuted, as if he was being told off that he wasted his time. It was the confession he had only dreamed of hearing, but no, he didn’t want it this way. He felt a burning sensation in his chest; all he wanted to do was shout, so he did.
“We kissed, and you told me it was a mistake!”
“I know.” Sho reached out to touch him, but he roughly pushed him away.
"Don't!"
Sho just stood there.
“You are fucking unbelievable. So, what, everything’s supposed to be fine and dandy now, because you’ve told me all this? You can’t do that. You have no right!”
“You’re right, I can’t. And I’m sorry. It was just-I couldn’t. I was too afraid then. And you, you had somewhere to be. It wasn’t the right time. I thought it was impossible.”
“You are so…dumb.”
“Yeah.”
Jun sighed, seeing the sorrowful look on Sho’s face. “It didn’t have to be one or the other, you know.”
“No, it didn’t,” acknowledged Sho in a deep, somber voice.
Jun felt resignation seeping into his bones. Soft lips landed on his own. Jun let go, allowing Sho to pull him closer. He closed his eyes. Sho gently reversed their positions and nudged Jun to the wall.
It didn't feel real. Jun slid his hands through Sho’s hair, down his nape, and anchored his other hand to Sho’s beating chest. He felt Sho’s hands on his hips. It was a kiss more effortless and sinuous than Jun could have ever imagined, as if they were both pouring into each other everything they had left unsaid, all those years.
They broke apart, warm breaths mingling, hands, quivering.
“I’m in love with you,” Sho whispered.
Jun rested his forehead on Sho’s shoulder. He gave up.
*
Sho was bound to misread Jun’s intentions every now and then, that was certain, but that was the challenge of it. Every little thing he still didn’t understand about Jun were just more things to unearth and love.
He finally found a harness to assuage his residual fears, because Jun had whispered back three tiny, important words. Sho finally understood as much, and he was contented. Warm fingertips pressed on the back of his neck. It felt so good, kissing Jun, and feeling him right there, kissing back, slowly, so openly.
They were finally both in the same reality, on the same page, their lips, aligned, hot, and wanting.
“Oh, shit. Sorry.” Ohno began to say, closing the door.
They broke apart. “Leader!” Jun shouted.
Ohno tentatively entered the dressing room, a smile playing on his lips as he crossed to where the two were standing.
He hugged both Sho and Jun. “Slowpokes.”
Jun laughed.
- - -
Addition A/N: So, that was fairly long. Hope you enjoyed reading! I'm sure there are still some grammatical quirks/errors in there, I'll look it over tomorrow. For now, my eyes are seriously shot! Just wanted to post this ASAP. Anyway, if you guys have any fic requests in mind, I'd be totally willing to consider writing it. It doesn't have to be Sakumoto, but, you know, throw me some good ones ;) Also, I was just wondering, should I stop posting to jent_fanfics and just stick to arashirabu (and sakumoto , when it applies?) All the cross-posting gives me a migraine.
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Sho/Jun
Word count: 9173
Summary: Jun has been away for two years. Was it too late for them?
Warnings/Notes: First part can be found HERE (I suggest reading it first before this part.) Apologies for the late posting! I had too much fun writing :D
He didn’t know how he could have chugged down almost a whole bottle of ice-cold Asahi in one go, but he did.
“Easy, Sho-chan,” Aiba laughed.
Sho gave the other man an apologetic grin. He settled into his seat, wiping the condensation away from his bottle on his shirt. On-screen, a view of the New York skyline faded in from black, a riveting electronic beat pumped out from the speakers. Familiar American names and faces graced the screen, the cast, in various states of chasing and being chased.
Aiba whistled out loud. “This is no joke, huh.”
“Those aerial crane shots must’ve cost a bomb,” Nino contributed, his feet propped up on the lap of Ohno, who coolly sipped his own bottle of beer.
“Ahh! There he is, there he is!”
Then there indeed he was, attired in all black, jumping from the top of the building onto a coasting helicopter.
“There he is!” No one volleyed Aiba’s enthusiasm back to him, but he didn’t seem to notice (or mind).
After Jun was securely hanging onto the side of the helicopter, the shot closed in on his face as he removed his aviator shades, eyes staring off into the dusky distance. His face was freeze-framed, just like that, with a simple text of “introducing Jun Matsumoto” on the lower corner of the screen. The other three whooped in delight as they watched with bated breaths.
Except for Sho. He realized he had been gripping into his beer bottle too tightly.
“Too cool! Bet he was the one who added that ‘removing the aviators’ bit,” Aiba commented.
“That’s because I was the one who told him that he looked good in them. Remember that hotdog scene in Hanadan?” A smug tone permeated Nino’s reply, his face all I-have-that-guy’s-phone-number-esque.
“Yeah? Well, I’ve always told him that he looked good in black! Ne, Sho-chan?”
Sho crossed his legs. “He does look good.”
“Of course that’s what Sho-chan would say,” Nino said, a corner of his lip shooting up.
In reply, Sho only smiled. Or maybe winced might be more like it.
Why did he have to play a spy, of all things?
It was ridiculously hot.
I don’t need this, Sho thought. It was hard not to immediately recall the last time he saw Jun.
A couple of months have already passed since that night, but Sho still felt the way their lips felt together, how Jun’s was a little chapped and perfect, the way it had grazed slowly on Sho’s bottom lip, not unlike a furtive question, a suggestion too, perhaps. And Sho had felt something, felt moved, unbelieving that he was kissing Jun, the Jun who always seemed cold to him. He could not decide whether the tremor he felt in his hands was something he was just imagining or not. It was hard to handle the encompassing need that suddenly mushroomed out from nowhere. He had stood up and left, after only abruptly hugging Jun goodbye.
Jun’s cold eyes unnerved him, and made him want to be anywhere else but there. And Sho understood, somehow, because no one in the right mind would ever utter the words “it’s a mistake” just seconds after a kiss. Their first kiss.
Except him.
He knew it was wrong, he regretted the words right after he said it, but he had to, he just had to say it. It’s a secret that he would take to his grave (because it was uncharacteristic and sentimental and he still didn’t know exactly why he did it), but Sho had watched the plane carrying Jun take-off from the tarmac. He will not forget, for quite a bit, how heavy his mobile phone had felt in his hand, still and quiet and useless: it was the heft of a tiny regret simmering in his chest.
In all the nights immediately after Jun left, Sho had only worried more and more, about having said the wrong things, or the right things, but not having been able to convey them the way he had wanted to. No, he never believed himself to be eloquent, despite his way with words. At the most important junctions, he always found himself stiffening up.
I should call him.
No, I shouldn’t.
And after several nights of deliberation, he didn’t, because really, what would be the point?
Sho had bolted for a reason, that night. It was a mistake, for him to have come. It was a mistake, having kissed someone and having been kissed back, because all he could think of in that tentative, finger-tipped, hushed skin warmth was “don’t leave,” and he didn’t want to say those words, no. It scared him.
And Jun, Sho thought, had left, without saying a thing. He had only asked if it was a good idea to leave, and really, it was. Perhaps he had just needed a push.
“It’s an amazing opportunity, isn’t it?”
Sho hadn’t been lying. It would be foolish of Jun to refuse such an offer. Sho had owed that honesty towards Jun, at the very least.
There was no point in calling. It was just a kiss, anyway.
It’s better this way.
The sound of glass clinking playfully against his bottle immediately snapped Sho out of his stupor. He realized with a start that the other three had gotten off from their former positions on the couch: Aiba and Nino were in the kitchen, huddled over something that Sho couldn’t see, and Ohno was sidled up beside him.
“Your beer was getting lonely,” Ohno smiled.
“Was it?”
The smaller man nodded affirmatively. “Drink up.” Although his now lukewarm beer wasn’t that enticing at all anymore, who could say no to an attentive Ohno? He looked pleased as Sho gulped down the flat, amber remains of his Asahi.
“He’s doing great, isn’t he?” Ohno said conversationally, even though they had muted the television after watching the opening sequence (it wasn’t dubbed or subtitled, so yeah.)
“Well, you’d expect no less from him.”
Ohno nodded at that, absentmindedly licking at the foam spilling over at the neck of a newly opened bottle.
Sho was glad to be in the company of friends that night, and not the professional clones that they were during work, especially recently. They were still struggling to make up for the absence of Jun; they had not anticipated the big change in their dynamics that took place once Jun had left. Earlier that day, they were recording new Shiyagare episodes, as their pre-recorded ones with Jun were running out. It wasn’t that it was a big failure, the four of them were seasoned professionals after all, but they had fumbled to cover the gap Jun had left.
On their post-shoot meeting, Ohno suggested that they have a cutout life-size Jun paper doll on the set. The producers looked at him like he was crazy.
“But we had a Nino paper doll on Shukudai when he was gone,” pouted Ohno.
The producer and director exchanged standard “I don’t know if Ohno is being serious or not” looks, both shrugging at each other. Ohno’s only consolations were stubby fingers patting his head affectionately.
After the meeting, Aiba invited the three of them to his apartment. “Jun’s drama premiered yesterday, you guys!” He faintly mentioned having a copy of the episode, despite the fact that show was still slated for a Japan premiere the next week.
“Where did you get your copy?” Nino asked, a little suspicious.
Aiba only puffed his chest out and replied, as if affronted, “I know how to use torrents, ‘kay?”
“I think Jun-kun wouldn’t be too pleased if he finds out that we watched a pirated copy of his show,” Nino said, dryly.
Nonetheless, they all hitched with Aiba on the way home and bought a case of beer at the convenience store. No one mentioned having noticed the slight neediness in Aiba’s request. After all, they all felt a little bit clingy towards each other (although their degree of admitting to that varied.) Being whittled down to four was a little…scary. Although Sho wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about Aiba’s choice of activity, he also felt a strong need to be around the three.
Ohno handed him a new bottle of beer.
“Thanks.”
The older man leaned contentedly on Sho’s shoulder, beer bottle attached to his mouth, not unlike a baby with a milk bottle. (Well, a creepy, tanned, beer-chugging baby, in Ohno's case.)
Sho silently watched the muted screen; Jun was on again. He was approaching an entrapped criminal who was cowering down on his office seat, all sweaty and wound up. Jun’s eyes were cold as steel, his white hands around a gun. There was no haste in those eyes, only a sharp, focused look that spared no warmth or understanding.
It felt a little bit too familiar.
“That’s definitely illegal, you idiot,” Nino yelled, making Sho turn towards the two. Ohno grumbled about being disturbed.
Aiba laughed. “Really?”
“How do you think they got those files up so quickly, then?”
“I don’t know,” was the airy, English response of the grinning Aiba.
Yes, Sho was glad he didn’t have to be alone that night. Standing up, he decided that he had better check out whether Aiba was committing intellectual property crimes, or something.
*
He was used to traveling, but he sure as hell wasn’t used to settling for quite the long while in another place, on another continent. The fumbling at the start was a new challenge for Jun; it was a little bit like trying to get used to a pair of shoes that didn’t quite perfectly fit. New York was metropolitan, just as Tokyo was, but Jun felt so foreign (aside from the fact that he really was), and somehow, too exposed. It was weird because if a feeling of “exposed” applied to anyone, it was to him and his larger-than-life idol persona in Japan: he had to hide under layers of clothes, hastily brushed down bangs, hats, and maybe shades, if he wanted to completely meld into the crowd. But in New York, he felt even more exposed than he ever did in downtown Tokyo during rush hour.
No, people didn’t stare at him or scream the occasional “Matsujun!” towards him on the streets, yet he felt as if he was being judged. He felt that people saw through him, that they sensed his emotions, and that they were all ready to pounce on him at the slightest show of weakness. It was irrational and just his own imagination, he knew, but he still couldn’t help but think so.
For example, encounters on completely normal places like convenience stores made him jumpy.
He handed in his purchases: toothpaste, a roll of toilet paper, some cheap red wine, a lighter, and a pack of reds.
“Will that be all?” the young looking clerk asked, as he rung up Jun’s stuff.
“Yes.”
The clerk looked up. “You new around here?”
Jun handed in the cash. “Yes.”
“Your English is funny.”
Jun had no idea how the clerk arrived at that conclusion by only hearing him say one word, but it bothered him. As he was handed back his change, he grabbed his purchases and wordlessly made his way to the exit.
“I was only kidding, bro,” the clerk had shouted.
He hadn’t lost his temper, but instead, he felt a debilitating sense of displacement. Jun spent that night drinking and smoking, which he hadn’t done in the longest, especially alone. Thoughts of naturally pouted lips and shy intakes of breath swirled in a tempest inside his head; it wasn’t so easy, this forgetting business. He still felt the sting of rejection. It had been three months, yet he felt like he had just only arrived in New York, fresh from that night. It was hard, to stop thinking, drinking about it.
His phone suddenly rang. Probably only his manager, checking if he had received the script for next week’s episode. I’ve already mailed you that I did, I’m even halfway done memorizing the thing, Jun thought, irritated.
“Hello?”
The other person on the other end didn’t say anything.
“Uh, who’s this? Hello?”
Jun heard faint breathing on the other end, and something about the landscape of sound that traveled through the phone wires transfixed him; he listened. Hoping, secretly. Unconsciously, he timed his breath with the other person’s, as if it would somehow bring Jun closer. To what, he couldn’t have said. Or wouldn’t say.
Then suddenly the connection went dead. The bleeping sound of his loneliness played over and over his ear, and he could not let go.
“…Sho.”
He fell asleep on the kitchen table, his ear still glued to his mobile phone, the disconnected, insistent tone, his lullaby.
When Jun woke up with a migraine, he cursed himself for almost finishing the whole bottle of wine. He knew it was irresponsible, as he had some scenes to shoot that day, plus the English lessons that he attended almost every day.
He pushed the non-conversation he had on the phone last night away, not wanting to deal with it, any part of it.
During the shoot, he had to retake one scene several times because he kept on messing up his lines; his hangover a bludgeon on his memory. The director was patient with him, even as Jun had cursed in Japanese and looked frustrated with his own performance. He was only too painfully aware that he might not be meeting expectations, that he was a burden to the staff.
At the end of the day, he felt exhausted and alone. He was struggling and he hated himself for it.
Time to shape up, Jun. Stop this.
*
Her laughter was contagious. Jun took a liking to her instantly.
“Oh god, Jun Matsumoto,” she shrieked, when the director first introduced them on the day when they first had a scene together.
Well, almost instantly. (His ears were sensitive, okay?)
“I’m Amanda. I’m the girl who’s going to kick your ass and make you suffer, but you’re going to fall for me just like that anyway,” she said, as she snapped her finger.
She was definitely gorgeous, yet Jun was surprised and a bit taken aback by her sheer… enthusiasm, given the fact that her role was that of a somber, unfazed, if rather cold, crime-lab hot chick.
“Well, you know, at least, in the TV show,” she amended, winking. Jun didn’t exactly catch what she had said, but he shook her hand just the same and smiled back at her, a little confused.
“Oh! Forgive my manners. Yoroshiku onegaishimasu~” she said in a perfect accent, bowing low, then bouncing right back up.
“Yorosh-wait, you speak Nihongo?”
Amanda beamed, flipping her short, dark pixie hair to the back. (How that was possible, Jun didn’t know, but she did it.) “Yes, I do! I studied in Tokyo for junior high school and high school. Dad was in the army, so we moved around a lot.”
“That’s…great?”
Jun felt a little tongue-tied at the sudden burst of perfectly eloquent Japanese. It was a little silly, but he missed the sound of it. He felt immediately comfortable around her.
“So what is an idol doing in the US of A? Don’t you miss your adoring legions of fans?”
Jun cocked an eyebrow. “You know about Arashi?”
“Well, I know this.” She launched into a barely recognizable rendition of their debut song’s choreography.
“You are my soul, soul, itsumo-”
Jun felt a surge of unwanted chuckles coming over him as he desperately tried to suppress it. “That’s not the choreography,” he muttered, as she did a suggestive thrust after scratching her head. Some of the staff stared and laughed as well; messing around was messing around, in English, Japanese, or, well, Engrish.
“…for dream!” Amanda finished with a flourish, her other hand on her hip.
“What do you think?”
“Smooth.”
“Why thank you! Forgive the lyrics, I haven’t heard that song in ages, by the way,” she said.
“I’m surprised you even remember at all!” It was a little flattering, to be honest.
“Are you kidding? You guys were hot stuff!”
Jun opened a bottle of water he grabbed earlier from the refreshment stand. “Were?”
“Well, you’re not looking too shabby right now,” Amanda grinned. “I remember the rapper guy though! He was pretty fly. What was his name, ugh, god, it’s at the tip of my tongue-”
Jun coughed. “Sho-san.”
“Yeah! That’s it, Sakurai Sho! Everyone in my class had a crush on him. Ladies totally dug the rapping thing, you know?”
All Jun could manage was a weak smile.
“Anyway, I’m glad to be working with you, seriously! It’s going to be so much fun.” Her green eyes literally twinkled in enthusiasm. It reminded Jun a little of Aiba.
“Same here.” He found himself sincerely meaning it.
“So, how should I address you? Matsumoto…san?” She looked genuinely embarrassed for an awkward second that Jun couldn’t help but smile.
“Jun is okay.” After all, they were on foreign soil; it might do well to leave behind all the unnecessary Japanese niceties. Also, something told Jun that this girl was okay. Even if he already foresaw how she might grate on his nerves a little.
“Okay. Jun then.” Amanda smiled back.
After they successfully shot their first encounter, the director was all praises for the two of them. “You guys have this zing together, onscreen! It’s great to watch!”
Jun was a bit lost; the rapid-fire English was a little bit too much for him. He nudged Amanda. “Zing? What did he say?”
“Nothing important,” she said, smiling slightly as she hopped to her trailer. “Later!”
I need to work on my English, Jun thought. But somehow, he felt lighter and better. It was a good day on the set, on another country, in another life. Maybe, just maybe, he truly could get used to it.
*
Sho had a talent for forgetting things.
Or maybe, he only thought that he did, because he tended to block out what was unnecessary when he became so busy. Perhaps it was a coping mechanism that he never really quite figured out. It was highly convenient for him, though. Like when he was knee-deep in seriousness researching a news report, he could easily block out anything that didn’t have anything to do with the subject matter he was dealing with.
He was in the waiting lounge at Charles de Gaulle airport, with a small entourage. Dark eye-bags threatened to swallow his whole face; he didn’t look quite right in a rumpled suit and an old black ski cap. Well, he never was one to ascribe to fashion tenets, anyway. A small smile formed at his face at the thought of the fans and viewers would’ve said had they seen what he was wearing at that very moment.
Sho had just come from covering the G10 economic conference in Paris for News Zero. Over the past year and a half, Murao-san and the producers of Zero had steadily given him more and more important news stories to cover; he also now did Zero two nights a week. It didn’t seem like much of a bigger imposition, that additional day plus the added coverage, but to a busy, popular idol, it had meant less sleep.
The only thing that gave his schedule a little leeway was Arashi’s lack of musical activities; the absence of releases slashed away music programs, PV and jacket cover shoots, recordings, and rehearsals in their schedules. The jimusho thought it best that they forego recording any new single as a group until Matsumoto returned. In any case, they were already configuring the details of their big return to the musical scene, with an album and their biggest concert tour to date. Just in time for their 15th anniversary.
Until then, Arashi was to remain low-key. Low-key was relative, though, because Arashi was still reigning over television; their juniors still haven’t gotten anywhere close to the ratings and viewer recall that Arashi steadily got. Nino had just finished a drama and was slated for a new movie, asides from the voice acting he was tapped to do for the newest Ghibli animated film, along with Aiba, who was still doing Tensai. (“Nino, we’re going to be playing friends! Sobu Line team, yay!” Nino ignored him.) Ohno, who had been fishing a whole lot more in the first half-year when Jun left than he did in the past, was suddenly given an art-centered show to host on NHK. He was hesitant about his solo-hosting abilities, but the ratings proved that his hesitation was unfounded. He still got to go fishing a whole lot, though, and Sho had to constantly remind him to be liberal with the SPF.
Jun, on the other hand, was gaining recognition as a credible Japanese actor, a picture of studied cool and Asian grace. The high point of his ongoing stint abroad was probably his GQ cover just the other month, where he was prominently front and center, flanked by the boys from Far East Movement (the ones who sang the massive hit theme song for the series.) The neon headline had read “Far East Blows Up”, with the sub-heading saying “Far East Movement and Jun Matsumoto of THE COMPENDIUM prove to you why the East is here to stay”. He definitely wasn’t the token “Asian nerd” of the series, that was for sure. American audiences totally and completely ate up the hesitant and adversarial romantic plot line between him and Amanda’s character, especially with Jun’s stinging English one-liners. Understandably, the Japanese audiences had a few misgivings about the coupling (after all, a major percentage of them weren’t fangirls since birth for nothing), but the show nonetheless enjoyed high viewership in Japan as well.
It was why Sho was headed to New York, he was assigned to cover the show’s success for News Zero’s Culture segment. Of course, the first time he had heard that he was assigned to it, he wasn't exactly excited.
“I don’t know, has the jimusho okay-ed it? It might also overlap with my G10 conference coverage, I want to solely focus on that and deliver a comprehensive report,” Sho had said to the producer.
“No worries, Sakurai-san. We have the clear from your management. Also, it won’t overlap with your Paris assignment, you even get to have a one-day break before flying out to New York.”
He sighed.
The truth was, he was nervous. The foreign economic leaders gathered at Paris? Easy. He did not graduate from Keio with an Economics degree for nothing. He wasn’t a newbie reporter either. But to conduct an interview with Jun?
Just the mention of that name made him want to hurl in anxiety.
He has not seen Jun in so long, (the longest span of time, in all their years as a group together), and it was a nerve-wracking prospect. Sho was only too highly aware that he was the only one who hasn’t given Jun a call; the other three made sure to share the contents of their conversations with each other when they had the chance. Jun hadn’t called Sho either. Not that Sho was expecting him to.
Aiba was encouraging when Sho told him he was going to fly to New York to see Jun. The two of them were having ramen for dinner after a magazine shoot. A tone of whining couldn’t help but permeate Sho's complaints.
“But that’s great, Sho-chan! I’m jealous, I miss him,” Aiba said earnestly, as he blew on the ramen he had on his chopsticks. Brown eyes flitted up at Sho’s. “Don’t you miss him?”
Sho scratched his nose, uncomfortable. “Um…yeah? I guess.”
“Then why are you making it seem like it’s such an ordeal? It’s not like they’re forcing you to bungee jump from the Empire State building or something like that.”
But it was.
“It might be uncomfortable,” Sho replied weakly.
Aiba slurped down his noodles. “Why would it be? It’s just Matsujun, Sho-chan.”
When Sho didn’t reply, Aiba looked up at him, expression changing. This was it.
“When was the last time you two talked?”
If Sho trusted anyone in Arashi with his deepest worries, it was-
“-Masaki. I, I sort of, well, I haven’t talked to Matsujun since the night before he left,” he said breathlessly.
Aiba’s eyes grew big. Putting his appetite (and chopsticks) aside, he replied, “But why?” When Aiba chose to willingly set aside a piping hot bowl of ramen for a reply, it had always been Sho’s cue to spit it out.
It was now or never.
“Things got bad,” Sho said, his voice rough. “We sort of…kissed. And I had told him it was a mistake-“ Aiba’s eyes were like saucers now, “-and it was, it really was, he had to go, and he left.”
Aiba’s tone was hushed. “Wow…”
“Yeah.”
"You kissed."
Sho made a depressed noise.
“You…kissed?”
“Yes, we’ve established that.”
“Wow,” Aiba reiterated.
The both of them couldn’t say anything for a few minutes. Sho felt his heart thumping and thumping madly at his admission.
“I thought Jun was over you,” Aiba said, his eyes questioning.
“He is. I mean, I don’t-it wasn’t-it wasn’t anything like that. It just happened. It was a mistake.”
“Did you hate it that much?”
“Hate what?”
“The…kiss. For you to say it to his face that it was a mistake,” Aiba said, wiping his sweat. “I know you’ve never liked guys but saying-“
“Wait! Wait, wait, wait. I never said that I didn’t,” his hands suddenly felt clammy, “-like guys.”
It was impossible to miss the sharp intake of Aiba’s breath.
“Really?”
Sho nodded sheepishly. “Really.”
“That’s…news to me,” Aiba replied. He took a big gulp from the sweating glass of water on the table. “Does he know? Jun?”
Sho shook his head.
“So, wait. Wait. Sho-chan…do you-do you have feelings for Jun?”
No one had ever asked him that, ever. Nino might have danced around it, but he never implicitly asked Sho to clear it up, once and for all. It was funny, but he actually had an answer at the ready. It was an epiphany, yet it also felt like the most mundane fact in the world. Sho just knew.
“If I say I do, do you promise not to tell Nino or Satoshi? Just-not yet.”
Aiba’s mouth fell, almost in an exaggerated, comic way, but Sho felt genuine shock emanating in waves from Aiba. He felt those waves swirling around inside him as well.
“Omigod, Sho-chan. Holy sh-with Jun? Ehh… Are you being serious?”
And Sho realized, he was, he really was.
Again, they both fell quiet for a while. Sho ate some noodles, suddenly feeling drained of energy. He knew he could trust Aiba, because for all his air-headedness and giddiness, he was pretty levelheaded when it came to serious matters. Aiba liked being told secrets and kept them airtight safe in his heart.
“So there. And now, I have to see him. I don’t want to, I can’t! I can’t talk to him,” Sho said, brows furrowing together.
“You should tell him. You have to tell him,” Aiba said.
“I can’t.” Sho looked up at Aiba.
“Oh god, you and Jun.” Tiny spurts of unbelieving laughter escaped Aiba’s mouth. Finally.
Sho felt somewhat relieved. He laughed back, if a little humorlessly.
“It’s impossible, isn’t it?”
Aiba’s chortles mercifully eased off into a soft smile, his chopsticks back in his hand. “You don’t know that, yet.”
“It’s impossible, I’m telling you. It’s too late. He thinks I hate him. He probably hates me, if he spares me any thought at all, that is.”
“You don’t know that.”
Sho had a talent for forgetting things, but somehow, there was something he couldn’t forget. He was sitting in an airport lounge, laptop bag and a big, lovely, white package beside him, about to board a plane that will fly him directly to the person who was the source of all his secret anxieties and worries.
Talk about asking for it.
He was about to switch off his mobile, when an email suddenly made its presence known with a tiny beep. It was from Aiba.
“Tell him!” The email also featured a cheering smiley and a heart emoticon, for added effect.
Hell no.
*
The first time he saw Jun again, Sho had thought he might faint.
He was on his way to the hotel’s bathroom to freshen up a little, maybe splash some water on his face, because god, he was so nervous about the interview. The makeup artist can put the foundation again after he washed his face, right?
Suddenly, he saw him, heading towards where Sho was. He was some meters away, but Sho could easily spot that face anywhere.
Oh. Long hair.
He allowed himself to stare for a few seconds, because Jun almost seemed like an apparition. It was shameful, but Sho held his breath and hid behind a column. He was still unprepared to bump into Jun, a camera nowhere to be seen to act as buffer.
The first time they both saw each other again, right before shooting the interview, Sho had also felt faint but was glad for the familiar klieg lights, the staff, and the cameras that made it easier for him to meet those familiar brown eyes.
“Sho-kun,” he said simply.
“Hey.” He looked more courageous than he felt. He gave Jun a quick, manly hug, giving Jun no time to reject him or let his arms hang limply on the sides.
It felt unreal to finally see Jun, to finally be so near his warmth, that Sho was easily rendered speechless, blood rushing to his brain. The longer hair made him look older, Sho observed, but there was something he couldn’t place about Jun. It was unnerving, not knowing.
“How are the other three?”
“They’re doing great.”
The interview itself was painful, although of course, that might just have been on Sho’s part. It was just like they had gone back to the old days, when they could talk like normal without having anything hanging over their heads. It was a mark of Sho’s professionalism that he was able to make the interview seem like a truly happy meeting of friends, of comrades. But it was undeniable, the way his insides had hurt, seeing Jun smiling so wide at the mention of his cast mates (particularly Amanda) and everything else that comprised Jun’s life outside Sho, outside Arashi, outside Japan. Sho himself could even sense how much Jun had grown, and, well, how much sturdier Jun seemed. Perhaps he was even a little jealous at the short English message Jun left for the show’s international fans, amazed at how quickly he had learned English. But Sho knew he was only being petty, wanting to push back the cutting, rawer emotions that threatened to swallow him whole if he let it.
Jun had left a warm message for the members. “Aiba-chan, you’re not getting into too much trouble without me, aren’t you? Stay out of trouble! Nino, how are you? I’m bringing you back loads of games, don’t you ever mail me again to say I’m being stingy. And to Leader! Hello! Do you miss me? Because I miss you!” He gave a hearty chuckle. “I can’t wait to see you all in a few months!” He then waved goodbye at the camera.
“I’ll also see you guys in a few months!” Sho joked, also waving goodbye.
Jun smiled at Sho. Maybe it was just for the benefit of the cameras, but the sight of it felt like a draft of cold, sparkling water on a blistering day.
*
“So, did you talk? Really talk?”
“No, we didn’t. It’s impossible, after all.”
“Sho-chaaaaaaaaaaaaaan.”
There was no point. Jun might as well have been a completely new person, Sho thought. After the interview, he had only shook hands with Sho and said “thanks” when Sho handed him something he got from Paris. The words let’s have dinner immediately died on Sho’s lips.
There was no point.
“I’ll see you in Japan, Sho-kun,” Jun said, before rushing off to another engagement.
It wasn’t that he did not want Jun too close-it was because Jun had already wormed his way in without Sho realizing. There had been many signs, and small instances when Jun had admitted to his crime, when he had laid his heart out on the table for Sho’s ego to swiftly kick away. How could I have not realized?
Finally, it hit him, as he watched Jun’s retreating back.
It was a bitter thing to finally realize that he was, and had been, in love with Jun for so long. And because of the time he couldn’t turn back, the decisions he couldn’t undo, and the looks he couldn’t return, Jun had left, a long time ago.
There was no point.
*
“Who are these flattened-out cupcakes from?” asked Amanda, a teasing tone to her voice as she swiped one from the big, white box for herself. “And why are they all green?”
“They’re from your beloved Sakurai Sho,” Jun retorted.
“Ooh!”
“And they’re macarons from Pierre Hermé, you doofus. He came from Paris.”
“Oui, oui! God, do you guys always give each other fancy souvenirs like this?” Even though it was a little bit fancier than he was used to, they did make a tradition out of always buying souvenirs from when they were abroad, so he nodded.
“Technically though, it’s not a souvenir because they also have a store in Japan,” Jun felt compelled to add.
“Eh. You guys are pretty tight, huh?” She said, examining the macaron. Maybe Jun was imagining it, but she looked a little disappointed. Or sad.
“Hmm, maybe.”
She gingerly bit off a little chunk at the side. Her eyes grew wide.
“Wow, this tastes like paper, only, like, with lots of butter. Wanna have the rest of it?”
Jun rolled his eyes. “You have no taste, whatsoever,” he said, as he popped the rest of the green confection into his mouth.
Mmm, pistachio.
“I don’t know how you can eat that stuff, it’s inedible, seriously.”
You can call out Sho on his hokey, hopelessly unfashionable outfits, but when it came to food, there was no doubt that he had the most discriminating taste. The time Sho invested in researching, tasting, and enjoying food has always fascinated and puzzled Jun.
How Sho knew, though, that pistachio macarons were his favorite, completely mystified him.
Jun grinned at Amanda, his teeth all crumby and coated with green speckles.
“Stop that,” Amanda said, cracking up. It was pretty ridiculous, since she had fake blood all over her face and clothes (her scene that day involved her getting shot.) Seeing her laugh with all that bloody gunk around her made Jun giggle as well.
“You do know you look ridiculous, right?”
She gave a little curtsy. “Thanks!”
“I mean it.”
“Aw, you’ll miss my ridiculous face soon enough, Matsujun.”
“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?”
In any case, Jun was pretty cheerful that filming day. He had twenty little green pieces of home in a box (well, nineteen) and it was just what he needed. New York was wonderful, and he had felt triumphant at the way things worked out for him, but suddenly he couldn’t wait to go home. Just a few more months, he told himself.
*
Nothing could have ever prepared him for the welcome he was about to get.
His manager briefed him that there would definitely be reporters, lots of cameras, and possibly (or most likely) throngs and throngs of fans welcoming him upon his arrival at Narita, and Jun expected as much. After all, he hasn’t been in the public eye in Japan for two years. He visited once, but it was for the wedding of his closest cousin, and he made sure that no one but his family knew. He barely stayed a day that time, because his schedule in New York was so demanding.
Jun freshened up, washing off the signs of cabin disgruntlement, and changed into a dressier outfit that his stylist had prepared especially for his arrival. A few minutes later, he felt the reassuring bump of the wheels on the tarmac, the sensation of the plane leveling with the ground. As he looked out the window, the view that greeted him immediately woke him up.
Finally.
The deafening cheers that ensued when he approached the airport exit were overwhelming. The collective shouts of “Welcome home!” washed over him so suddenly, and Jun felt his eyes wet. His hearty “I’m back!” would be replayed numerous times throughout the day, on the news, with newscasters announcing his much-awaited return to Japan.
After spending a short while talking to the crowd in the sudden makeshift press conference by the airport exit, Jun was escorted to huge, luxurious black limousine. Johnny sure pulled out all the stops, Jun thought. Not that he minded. It was great to be back home, in style.
When he entered the limo, the bright lights temporarily blinded him.
A noisy rabble greeted him, shouts of “Welcome home” “Can’t believe you’re back” “WHERE ARE MY GAMES” came out from all directions, and suddenly, he was drowned in a messy group hug.
So he really was home.
“Get off me, you idiots,” Jun snarled, his words lacking any venom. As his vision cleared, he saw the smiling faces of Aiba, Ohno, and Nino. Sho waved at him from the side, looking calm and collected.
“Welcome back.”
“Thanks.”
*
The first order of business was recording the album that was to be both their comeback in the music scene and their 15th anniversary offering as well. It was their third day of recording; Sho was the first one to arrive at the studio. He sank down on the big couch behind the producer, looking over the lyrics.
The past few days of recording went well enough. It was great being complete as five again and being back in the studio; it had been too long indeed. Ohno was actually being proactive in suggesting better harmonies, all smiles and occasional clinginess to Jun, who didn’t seem to mind. It was the most “awake” Sho had ever seen Ohno. In a leader kind of way, he must be happy that we’re all complete again, even though he won’t say it, Sho had thought.
He wished he could express both the relief and anxiety that he felt upon suddenly having Jun around again, but it was impossible. Sho knew that if he even allowed himself to truly show even a small part of his feelings, everything would come spilling out when he didn’t want it to. Not when Jun was being perfectly civil to him.
Or maybe, that’s what irked him. The civility. It was like that night before Jun left never happened.
Sho couldn’t blame Jun. But Sho couldn’t stand it.
“What’s eating you?” Nino asked, plopping down beside Sho.
“Nothing.”
A few moments later, Jun entered the recording studio as well. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” Nino said, his eyes on Jun. Sho gave him a tiny nod.
“So, how was your recording yesterday? Finished writing your rap?” Jun asked.
“It was okay. And, yeah, finished it,” Sho replied.
“That’s good.”
Ah, civility.
After confirming something with the producer and dumping his bag on the table, Jun headed back to the door. “I’m getting coffee from the vending machine, you guys want anything?”
When Nino and Sho both said “no thanks”, Jun shrugged and stepped out the door.
Nino snuck closer to Sho. “That Jun-kun, still wearing his heart on his sleeves. Thought he might be, you know, cooler and more chill after his Hollywood stint, but no.”
“What do you mean?” Sho furrowed his brows.
“You’re pretty damn un-cool too, you know?”
“What? Why?”
“Find out on your own,” Nino said, yawning obnoxiously. He stood up to stretch in front of Sho.
That night, after finishing their recording, they all decided to head to a bar and celebrate. It was only a few blocks from the studio so they had decided to walk, lightly disguised, of course. Sho reveled in the just right breeze that swept up the leaves and their hair.
Still giddy at being finally reunited and at finishing their album, Ohno, Aiba, and Nino found themselves drunk. Sho and Jun kept to themselves, sipping coolly while watching the other three fool around. When Aiba suggested, no, screamed, “BODY SHOTS!” (while turning back and forth to Sho and Jun and wiggling his brows in what he probably thought was a subtle manner) Sho took it as a sign that they should herd the three drunken Arashi members home.
“These guys are such a pain,” Jun said, as he hoisted a limp Nino to the backseat. His breath was ragged from dragging Nino, deadweight, at that.
“Tell me about it,” replied Sho, as he tried to hold up a barely walking Aiba and a sleepy Ohno.
After depositing the three to Aiba’s apartment, Jun drove Sho home as well.
“I missed driving,” Jun said, finally speaking up after what seemed like an eternity of silence.
“Really? How did you get around New York?”
“Mostly cabs. Sometimes I got chauffeured around.”
“Oh.”
Sho stole a sideway glance at Jun. His face in profile seemed just as he remembered it, yet there was a kind of maturity there that Sho had only begun to notice. His heartbeat sped up as he realized that it was the first time that they were alone together, ever since Jun had arrived. He didn’t know whether to thank or curse the fate that was his apartment being quite far off from Aiba’s. But it felt nice, being in that car with Jun, the night-lights illuminating the roads and their faces.
Sho couldn’t help wanting to know how Jun was, how Jun felt. He couldn’t help it; he wanted to hear Jun’s voice. It still felt like such a novelty. He wanted to keep his mouth shut, but...
“How do you feel, now that you’re back?”
“Hmm?” Jun took a sudden left turn. “Sorry, didn’t see the sign,” he mumbled as an aside.
“I mean, don’t you miss New York?”
Jun mulled over this for a while. “I guess I do. But I think I miss the people I met there more than actually living there.”
“Ah.”
Sho couldn’t think of anything else to say after that. His mind suddenly conjured up the image of Jun’s American onscreen partner. The two of them had seemed awfully close to Sho, when he had watched their interviews and appearances. Sho battled with the pathetic spikes of jealousy that he felt, and thus remained silent. Jun felt no need at all to talk more, either. It felt as if they had exhausted everything they could talk about in the civil, friendly bubble they had made strictly for their encounters ever since Jun arrived.
They spent the next ten minutes to Sho’s in silence.
Jun yawned and pulled up into the driveway of Sho’s apartment. “Here we are.”
Sho unbuckled his seatbelt. “Thanks for the ride.”
“You got it.”
As he was about to step down from Jun’s car, he slowly turned back to face him.
Do it.
“Do you-do you want to come up for a bit?”
Jun looked a little surprised.
Do it.
“I think you could do with a cup of coffee or something. You look awfully sleepy,” Sho said. It took more courage than it seemed, yet he waited in bated breath for the polite declination that was sure to-
“Okay.”
*
Jun sniffed at the framed picture by the living room wall, a slight smile hovering around his mouth. “I can’t believe you chose to have that picture framed. We have tons of other pictures together.”
Sipping the remains of his coffee, Sho looked at the picture. It was the five of them on a boat in Hawaii, waving and all looking thin enough to be blown away by the wind.
“That’s when it all started, right?”
“I guess.”
“We were all so clueless back then, god. I wonder what would’ve happened if I really quit,” Sho said.
“Well, I wouldn’t be here right now, for starters,” Jun replied.
Although Sho knew Jun had only meant that he wouldn’t be in his apartment because had he quit, they probably wouldn’t have been friends anymore, fifteen years down the line, he still found himself a little winded at hearing Jun say it.
“Yeah,” Sho replied, a little breathless. “These fifteen years have been such a ride. I mean, look at you.”
“Me?”
“Your series. It was great,” Sho said, cheeks reddening. “I bet you have tons of international offers now.”
The silence that followed what he said alarmed Sho. He watched Jun silently finishing the coffee in his cup.
“To think I almost didn’t go,” Jun said, as he stood up, his facial expression darkening.
Sho's heart pounded.
“Did I say something wrong?”
He stood up as well, watching Jun put on his coat, then his shoes, in silence.
“Did I say something wrong,” Sho repeated, approaching Jun. He knew that he probably did, and he couldn’t stand not knowing and not being minded.
Jun straightened out and faced Sho. “Yes,” he said, through gritted teeth.
“What was it?”
Just as he was about to turn away to walk out the door, Sho grabbed his wrist.
“What are you doing? Let go,” Jun said, his voice, rising, as he tried to pull away from Sho’s grip.
“No. Not until you tell me what I said wrong.”
Jun, incredulous, tried shaking Sho off. “Fuck, what are you, ten? Let me go.”
“No.” His temper was getting the best of him, and he tried to control it, he really did, but panic was again washing over him.
“Fine!”
Sho felt as if he was struck on the face, and he let go of Jun. But it was too late.
“I didn’t mean-sorry-“
Jun’s voice as he cut through him was cold. “No, you don’t get to say that. You want to hear what you said wrong? I’ll tell you what you said wrong.”
Sho couldn’t talk, couldn’t say a thing, he felt immobilized.
“You told me that it was a great opportunity.”
It took a couple of breaths for Sho to get it, and when he did, he felt faint. Jun had wanted Sho to tell him to stay.
“And you know what, it was, it really was. I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.”
Then just like that, Jun walked out.
*
The next few months felt like a blur to Sho.
He was suddenly on stage. The cheers of everyone who had come to celebrate their fifteenth anniversary with them in Kokuritsu were deafening. This was the culmination of half a life’s hard work, everything he had put his heart and soul into for the last fifteen years. It was momentous, and if not crazier, then just as crazy as their tenth anniversary had been. Arashi certainly has taken away from him a chance at normalcy, but Arashi has also given him everything that mattered in his life; it was this realization that made him quake in place, even though he has stood there so many times.
Sho was thankful, he really was, more than anyone could know.
It was just that there was still one thing missing in his life.
The five of them had to choose an old song to sing for their solo performance. As the opening melody of the song he chose played over the stadium, he closed his eyes and fervently wished that he was listening.
"Someday..." I remembered the words you said that I had nearly forgotten
Standing on the street I call up the seasons, and the wind stops
Then your voice brings me back to my senses, and life has carried on as usual
Ever since that day when everything was shining
Everything seems like it will disappear if I close the door
The fleeting days when I couldn't be more honest have gone away
That was probably the day we set off walking, each on a different path
Until the time when those feelings radiate their light
When the wheels start to turn, the journey will begin
So I'll gently embrace the past so I won't go astray again
Even the secrets I kept hidden all along, I've shared only with you
No matter when, everything I am, is probably still...
On the busy street, I pass by people whose names I don't even know
Yes, everyone has a precious someone that they're yearning for
When you feel like you're being crushed by all the burdens you carry, just remember
The hand you've been holding onto all this time is not a lie
I long for the days that will never return, but tomorrow is waiting for us
We can still keep going, no matter how far
"What did you say to me back then..."
Saying that doesn't matter anymore, does it?
We met often, we gradually understood, and as the season drew near we cried often
You are you, so paint your dreams huge
I'll be here wishing for your success
"If you just wait around, tomorrow won't come
If you only move here, nothing will start"
Even on the dark street where you can't see ahead
Even if it's a detour
For now both of us should put away
Our painful expressions, just for a while
This isn't goodbye, it's the beginning of many new meetings
But, I still want to see you again
Still...
Someday we'll meet again smiling, yes, I know it
It was the first time Sho shed tears on stage since their first concert, way back in 2000. It was just too much, seeing everyone that he loved in the same place, all the fans that have been there, from the start or not. And somehow, selfishly, all he could think about was Jun. The stadium trembled, thousands upon thousands of people cheering Sho on. He bowed low before mouthing a silent “thank you”.
*
It was the next morning at their dressing room.
Sho had entered the room, and Jun didn’t know why, or how he did it, or what he was thinking, but he pinned Sho to the wall. The other man looked terrified, initially, until his eyes registered mere caution.
“Did you mean it? Wanting me to go?” Jun asked, breathless.
He was afraid to hear the answer, once and for all, but he was done. Done skirting around the issue, done feeling bad for what happened years ago, done staying silent, done silently, consciously hating and outwardly ignoring Sho. He just wanted to hear it from Sho himself and finally let it be.
He heard Sho singing yesterday.
“Yes.”
If a heart could deflate so quickly, it was then; Jun felt his heart doing so upon hearing that “yes”. He let go of the Sho, breathing hard, forcing to finally accept what he already believed to be true, for years, anyway.
“But not in the way that you think.”
Jun looked up. In his line of vision was only Sho, his face, unreadable.
“I was scared, Jun. It was the scariest thing to realize, that I didn’t want you to leave,” Sho said.
“What?” Jun replied, feigning calm.
“You heard me. I didn’t want you to leave. But I wanted you to go, to show everyone what you could do. It was your dream. And I thought, I was selfish enough to think, that I could forget you,” Sho whispered.
“Forget me?" Jun shook. "Wait. You told me it was a mistake.”
“I know," Sho sighed. "I’m sorry if I let you think that that was what I thought-I, I couldn’t deal with it. I wanted to take it back, but it was too late. But you have to know that it wasn’t how I felt about it. I need you to know that I was weak then, and if I could, I would take it back. Because it wasn’t a mistake.”
It was akin to the whole world turning upside down. Jun felt so heartbroken for what could have been; everything he had believed for the past two years were being refuted, as if he was being told off that he wasted his time. It was the confession he had only dreamed of hearing, but no, he didn’t want it this way. He felt a burning sensation in his chest; all he wanted to do was shout, so he did.
“We kissed, and you told me it was a mistake!”
“I know.” Sho reached out to touch him, but he roughly pushed him away.
"Don't!"
Sho just stood there.
“You are fucking unbelievable. So, what, everything’s supposed to be fine and dandy now, because you’ve told me all this? You can’t do that. You have no right!”
“You’re right, I can’t. And I’m sorry. It was just-I couldn’t. I was too afraid then. And you, you had somewhere to be. It wasn’t the right time. I thought it was impossible.”
“You are so…dumb.”
“Yeah.”
Jun sighed, seeing the sorrowful look on Sho’s face. “It didn’t have to be one or the other, you know.”
“No, it didn’t,” acknowledged Sho in a deep, somber voice.
Jun felt resignation seeping into his bones. Soft lips landed on his own. Jun let go, allowing Sho to pull him closer. He closed his eyes. Sho gently reversed their positions and nudged Jun to the wall.
It didn't feel real. Jun slid his hands through Sho’s hair, down his nape, and anchored his other hand to Sho’s beating chest. He felt Sho’s hands on his hips. It was a kiss more effortless and sinuous than Jun could have ever imagined, as if they were both pouring into each other everything they had left unsaid, all those years.
They broke apart, warm breaths mingling, hands, quivering.
“I’m in love with you,” Sho whispered.
Jun rested his forehead on Sho’s shoulder. He gave up.
*
Sho was bound to misread Jun’s intentions every now and then, that was certain, but that was the challenge of it. Every little thing he still didn’t understand about Jun were just more things to unearth and love.
He finally found a harness to assuage his residual fears, because Jun had whispered back three tiny, important words. Sho finally understood as much, and he was contented. Warm fingertips pressed on the back of his neck. It felt so good, kissing Jun, and feeling him right there, kissing back, slowly, so openly.
They were finally both in the same reality, on the same page, their lips, aligned, hot, and wanting.
“Oh, shit. Sorry.” Ohno began to say, closing the door.
They broke apart. “Leader!” Jun shouted.
Ohno tentatively entered the dressing room, a smile playing on his lips as he crossed to where the two were standing.
He hugged both Sho and Jun. “Slowpokes.”
Jun laughed.
- - -
Addition A/N: So, that was fairly long. Hope you enjoyed reading! I'm sure there are still some grammatical quirks/errors in there, I'll look it over tomorrow. For now, my eyes are seriously shot! Just wanted to post this ASAP. Anyway, if you guys have any fic requests in mind, I'd be totally willing to consider writing it. It doesn't have to be Sakumoto, but, you know, throw me some good ones ;) Also, I was just wondering, should I stop posting to jent_fanfics and just stick to arashirabu (and sakumoto , when it applies?) All the cross-posting gives me a migraine.