| itsOK | Дата: Суббота, 03.12.2011, 20:50 | Сообщение # 1 | Полковник Группа: Администраторы Сообщений: 220 Награды: 33Репутация: 38Статус: Offline | Когда-то эта история так понравилась мне, что я даже хотела ее перевести... Перевод входит в мои планы на грядущий 2012, а пока... по просьбе подруги я выложу ее в оригинале, потому что в конечном счете нет ничего лучше первоисточника...
AUTHOR: Marineko/mylittlecthulhu
FANDOM: Arashi
PAIRING: Sakumoto
RATING: R-ish?
DATE: January 22nd, 2011
WORD COUNT: 12,717
NOTES/DISCLAIMERS: I do not own Arashi. This was prompted by salwaphoenix, who wanted a fic based on silverchair's Miss You Love. Some angst, some sap.
Idolization
I'm not, not sure
Not too sure how it feels
To handle everyday
Like the one that just passed
In the crowds of all the people
- "Miss You Love" by silverchair
If it isn’t for the fact that Sho is pinning him against the wall, Jun probably would have sunk to the floor. He hates this, the way Sho makes him feel like he is losing everything, like he is strapped on the worst roller-coaster ride or like he is free-falling without a parachute and he can’t slow things down or pause or stop from falling, and all he is able to do in the end is close his eyes and pray that he survives. He loses control of himself the moment Sho reaches for him; it doesn’t matter how many times he tells himself he will stop this, that he will tell Sho ‘no’ this time, the moment contact happens, sometimes even the moment Sho gives him that urgent look that says he wants Jun, now... in that moment everything else falls away and he becomes nothing.
})i({
“Sho. Sho-kun, what are you doing? Did you just come back from filming?” Sho shouldn’t even be there, Jun thinks. He doesn’t live in the dormitories, so there’s no reason for Sho to be there. There’s especially no reason for Sho to be in his room, on his bed, drunk (but not really that drunk, Jun realises, noticing the gleam of intensity behind the slightly glazed eyes) and hands fumbling clumsily over Jun’s clothes. Fire and ice shoots up Jun’s spine and all he could do is stare at the other boy, wide-eyed. He doesn’t recognise this Sho - “his” Sho is smart and reliable and responsible and hardworking, even if he does have a temper that scares Jun at times, a temper that seems to get worse now that he’s filming this new drama of his. “His” Sho would not sneak into his room for a - he doesn’t even know what Sho wants, until Sho leans in and touches his lips experimentally to the hollow planes of Jun’s neck, causing Jun to suck in his breath in a hiss. “Sho-kun.”
“Shut up,” Sho mumbled. “You love me, anyway, don’t you? You should be happy, so shut up.”
Jun shakes his head and tries to push the older boy away, feeling more scared of this Sho than the angry one, the one who snaps at him for always being a pest. But Sho is stronger, and when Sho’s mouth moved from his neck to his lips Jun lets out a small whimper, closes his eyes, and lets it happen.
This isn’t what he means when he says he loves Sho, but it feels so good, despite the bitter taste on Sho’s lips that makes him think that he never wants to touch alcohol, even when he’s old enough.
})i({
It takes awhile for the blurry edges of his mind to sharpen again. When the pleasant glow thrumming through his entire self finally calms a little, he finds himself asking why does no one else make him the way Sho does. He hates it, but he misses it at the same time. His breathing has yet to steady, but Sho has somehow maneuvered him to the couch where he is sitting, and is now next to him, still looking at him with an odd expression he can’t place. “Sho,” he manages, always amazed at how incoherent he feels with Sho, how out of breath and mindless, to the point where speech takes such extraneous effort. “Sho. What the fuck?”
Sho seems to flinch from his question, but it happens in a split second, and he could have been mistaken. “I’m -” Sho starts to say, but stops, and asks a question instead. “Did I hurt you?”
Jun feels the irony of it before he lets out a bark of a laugh. “You’re asking me this, now?” What about when he had been nothing but a kid who wears his heart on his sleeve, who hero worships this person who was like no one he had known before? Sho’s question feels like eight years too late.
“It’s been awhile, and I didn’t -”
“I haven’t needed that kid-glove treatment in a long time, Sho,” Jun interrupts. “And it’s not like there haven’t been others. So stuff it.”
Jun is expecting anger, or perhaps indifference, or relief, but Sho’s eyes just dull over as he nods. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say now, how he is supposed to feel about the unexpected relapse. It has been too many years since the last time.
})i({
Sex hurts. Jun had always known this, in a vague kind of way, but it still surprises him when Sho pushes into him for the first time. The white-hot burning pain that explodes into him and causes him to let out a strangled cry - even Sho pauses, briefly, but he grits his teeth and reaches up for the older boy, willing Sho to continue, because he just wants it to be over as soon as possible.
“It’s going to hurt,” Sho had said earlier, even though Jun knows that Sho has no intention of stopping.
“I like the pain,” he had replied, with an easy confidence he doesn’t feel at all; after months of Sho sneaking into his room or dragging him into dark, enclosed spaces, he is learning.
He lies.
})i({
When Jun tries to remember the past he always gets it wrong. He doesn’t know, or accurately remember, how long his strange relationship with Sho lasted. It is like living a double life; triple, if one counts their private lives and their time as idols as separate. He remembers that - feeling like he is on Procrustes’ bed, having some stretching him to limits too painful to reach while others cut off parts that they think didn’t fit.
He remembers wishing that he was more like Sho, who seems to handle all his responsibilities effortlessly. He loved Sho, the way boys loved their older brothers - he had thought that Sho could never do wrong. He had followed Sho around the way annoying younger brothers do, but he isn’t Sho’s brother, and Sho had too much on his own plate to deal with Jun’s infatuation. He still remembers the times Sho had had enough and flared up at him. The first time Sho sneaks into his room - that’s probably just different kind of breakdown, something in Sho snapping and needing to hurt someone else in return. By then Sho had learned that Jun would endure anything for him.
It takes awhile, but after enough time has passed Jun starts to connect the ways their different lives affect each other.
})i({
“Rough day?” Jun asks, wondering if it’s a good thing that he loves the way Sho’s arms are wrapped oh so casually around his waist, Sho’s lips leaving trails of kisses on his shoulders and neck. He even likes the way Sho’s other hand is holding him, in a grip so tight he’s sure it will bruise. He doesn’t know what’s really going on between them, but as he slowly accepts that Sho isn’t quite the person he had always looked up to, he learns something new.
“Just a normal day, I suppose,” Sho replies, then laughs a little. “As if I know what ‘normal’ is. Can’t even get to fucking class in peace.”
“Is... is it true?”
“Is what true?” But Sho must know what Jun is thinking of. News travel fast; he must know that Johnny has already heard of his latest outburst, even though the tabloids aren’t going to hit the stands until the next morning. One of the juniors had been listening at the door - whether he had went with the intention of eavesdropping, or it was just a case of being conveniently at the right time and place, Jun will never know - and of course within minutes everyone else knows.
So Jun just looks at Sho; he doesn’t know yet how to be stern or scolding with this boy he admires so much who keeps insisting on disappointing him (or with anyone, really; Ninomiya always tells him he’s too much of a pushover) but there is a glimmer of it there, a promise of the person he might become one day. Something changes in the way Sho looks back at him, before Sho’s arms leaves his waist, reaches out to lock the door.
“Does it matter?” Sho asks.
He doesn’t care about the answer, and he doesn’t give Jun time or space to reply anyway. Jun knows the answer, and he knows that Sho knows, too. It doesn’t matter. What matters is this - behind closed doors, there is this dangerous game between them, one where he doesn’t even know the rules and Sho holds all the cards.
What matters is that he tries to hate Sho for it, but he knows that the opposite is happening. The nature of his love is changing, and he is afraid of what it might mean.
})i({
They sit in silence for what feels like a long time. Questions start filling his head, and he wishes that he is strong enough to ask them. Is this going to be a new pattern, or is it just a one time thing, a mistake? Are they going to be treating each other like normal again, and assuming the answer is yes, what does normal mean? Avoiding each other in their private lives and interacting as little as possible, the way they have in the last few years? Or are they supposed to learn to be friends again, assuming they had been friends once?
Too many questions. Jun’s pulse races just from the nearness of Sho; too many memories flood in and offer unwanted emotions and impulses. He could learn all the aloofness he wants, and Sho would still be able to turn him back into a silly boy with a silly infatuation. To anyone else he might be this impenetrable wall, but Jun knows that all it takes is one touch, one word from Sho, for him to fall to pieces. He stays quiet, until Sho speaks up and reminds him that they need to get ready to head for their next job.
})i({
Waiting rooms and vans. And then studios or concert halls, and more waiting rooms, and vans. He understands this much - he had sent in his application understanding this much. What he never expects is how it would make him feel so suffocated, sometimes. Like he is in a cage, but it’s even worse because it’s a cage of his own making. With every new single, every new endeavour the band makes, he is laying another brick, sealing himself into a wall.
He’s afraid that one day he would be sealed so completely, and he’d never be able to escape.
He smiles and waves at the throng of fans lined up outside. They wave back wildly, hands reaching out, and it is all he could do not to recoil. There are too many of them, and he’s overwhelmed and he’s scared.
“Wait until you get really popular,” one of his senpais had said to him the other day. “Right now they’re only chasing after you because you’re one of us and you’ve been in a couple of pretty decent dramas. Just wait until you get really big, if you’re lucky enough to get big - that’s when things get really amazing.”
It’s enough to drive a person crazy.
He wonders if the others feel the same way, or if he’s the only one who isn’t sure what to do about what is happening to them. Because that’s how he feels sometimes - that things are merely happening to him, rather than him making things happen. Lately he’s taken to hiding at home on his free days instead of going out. He can’t even begin to imagine what it must be like for Sho, who must face this crowd even when they’re not working.
That’s when it hits him, and he laughs, hard.
Sho and Aiba give him a strange look. Nino - for he’s just Nino now - ignores him completely, obviously too engrossed in whatever he’s reading in JUMP to care. Ohno, who has his face pressed against the window, fascinated by the sight of so many girls, seems oblivious.
“What’s so funny?” Aiba asks.
Jun is looking at Sho, who is looking back with an unreadable expression. “Nothing,” he says. “Just had a random thought.”
“A funny one?” Aiba persists. “If it’s funny then I want to know!”
“It’s not really that funny, now that I think of it.”
If he likens their situation to being in a cage, even if of their own making, then perhaps they are like animals trapped in it. One rages and snarls back at the hands reaching out to touch him; the other shrinks back in fear and intimidation. Either way, they’re both caught in some kind of circus or zoo.
It’s really not funny at all, Jun thinks.
})i({
Everything gets larger, grander, over time. It’s still waiting rooms and vans, except the waiting rooms are more comfortable and the vans are really limousines, one for each of them. So in the end, even the loneliness gets amplified. Not that Jun thinks the others think of it that way - Nino, for example, is perfectly happy with the game system in his car.
The fans are different, too. Jun is used to them by now, of course, and he is even grateful to them - their group has grown to be the thing he treasured most in his life, and he understands all too well that it is their fans that made their work possible at all. But there is a part of him, vestiges of the boy he used to be, who resents having to give up so much of himself for them. Everyone wants a piece of him, and there are times when he thinks that he has given all that he has to give.
Filming had went on like normal. Jun isn’t sure, but he thinks Sho is a little warmer towards him than usual. Perhaps that’s the answer - they’re going to be friends again, after so many years. He feels hope flare up in him, a small flame that feels almost unbearably bright.
He doesn’t show it, but he feels jumpy when Sho gives him little touches or says something even slightly suggestive - he’s seen Sho do that with the others, especially Aiba, and he himself have indulged in his own share of fanservice, which sometimes just translates to horsing around in public, really, but when it’s him and Sho he would stop short. They have history, even if it’s the kind neither of them would readily admit to anyone. It just doesn’t feel right to him - it’s like trying too hard, and it feels too fake. Sho apparently doesn’t always feel the same, and it takes him by surprise every time Sho pays special attention to him. And when or if Sho calls him by that nickname that is supposed to stay between them, he wishes the ground would swallow him up, he gets so embarrassed. It’s as if Sho is telling everyone everything they have ever done.
})i({
He’s laughing over something Aiba is saying when Sho walks into the room and he forgets what had been so funny in the first place. He drags his eyes away and focuses on Aiba, although he is distracted now, and the older boy notices.
Aiba lays a hand on his cheek, before reaching out to pull his glasses off, and sticks his face right in front of Jun. “You’ve got serious eye-bags,” Aiba says.
“Haven’t been sleeping well,” he says absently before he stops, a little horrified at what he is revealing. But Aiba doesn’t even guess what he’s thinking, because Aiba doesn’t know about Sho.
“Poor baby,” Aiba murmured, although there is a hint of amusement as Aiba speaks. This is what he likes about Aiba. Jun remembers once when Sho had a particularly bad episode with a fan, and the rest of them were gathered and worried about repercussions, and all Aiba did was laugh, saying that he wishes he could have seen it. The only way to keep sane is to be able to laugh at everything, Aiba had said to him once. “Girl problems? I can help you with that.”
“I do not have girl problems,” Jun says, gritting his teeth, suddenly annoyed. This is why he doesn’t like Aiba, he decides. The older boy doesn’t know when to quit. He feels himself reddening as he thinks that Aiba’s guess is, perhaps, close enough to the truth.
“Oh, if it’s not, then is it school?”
School is safe enough, he supposes, so he shrugs as he picks up the glass of water a staff member had put out for him earlier. He feels Sho looking at him, but he doesn’t look back, sipping lightly.
Aiba continues, oblivious. “If you’re having school problems, then it’s easy. Ask Sho-chan for help!”
Jun barely manages to prevent himself from choking, but he isn’t able to stop the blood from rushing up to his face. “Sho... kun?”
“Yeah! He can tutor you, right, right?” Aiba is now looking inquisitively at Sho, who, unlike Jun, keeps a straight face.
“I already am,” Sho says. “Tutoring him, I mean.”
Sometimes Sho does that - hints to the others about what is really going on between them, although he does it so that only Jun really understands what he’s saying. Jun stops breathing as Aiba’s head whips back towards him, a suspicious look in his eye before settling on a grin. “Oh, then you’re okay, aren’t you, Jun.”
“Y-yeah,” Jun forces himself to speak, to breathe. “It’s just that I don’t want to impose on Sho-kun, that’s all.”
Sho walks over, then, and leans over Jun’s back so that they are cheek to cheek. “It’s not a problem,” he says. Out of Aiba’s sight, Sho’s hand slips under Jun’s shirt, and fingers caress the small of his back, finding his spine to trail down to his jeans - Jun bites his lips and grips the edge of his seat, hard, to prevent from making a sound or arching to the touch - before pulling away and settling on Jun’s shoulder. “I’m always here for the baby of our group.”
Usually Jun would snap at that; it’s a new thing, started by Nino (who else?), despite the fact that Nino is not all that much older than him. Now all of them are calling him “the baby” or “the youngest” or “the kid” and even though he knows that they’ll forget all about it once it stops being fun, he resents it, the feeling that the rest of them are in some secret club he’ll never get in.
He’s still burning from Sho’s brief touch and he’s still finding it hard to find his voice, so he’s relieved when someone knocks on the door, peers in, and announces that it’s Sho’s turn. Sho leaves, and now it is just him and Aiba in the room.
Aiba looks at him pityingly, and it makes him think, in a burst of panic, Aiba knows, but if the older boy does he’s not acknowledging it.
“You still have a crush on him, don’t you?” Aiba asks, and Jun just ducks his head. He wants to deny it, but it’s better for Aiba to think that it’s a crush than to know the truth. “Well, at least he’s less of a jerk about it these days,” Aiba goes on, without waiting for Jun’s reply. “Don’t worry; my brother went through one of those things, too. Followed me around for weeks and months, like a baby chick. It’s kind of cute, you know? Too bad now that he’s starting high school, he’s decided that he’s grown up and more level-headed than me,” Aiba finishes mournfully.
Jun doesn’t know how Aiba’s words are supposed to help him, but he smiles and feels himself relaxing anyway. Aiba has that effect on people, he supposes.
Not for the first time, he feels grateful to be blessed with the group members he has.
})i({
“Hey, Jun?”
Jun pauses on his way to the greenroom, and waits for Aiba to catch up. “Yeah?”
“You seemed a little weird at the filming today. Are you okay?”
He smiles. “I’m fine.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Really, really?”
“Aiba,” he says, in a tone that is designed to shut his friend up. He knows that if he indulges, Aiba’s questioning could go on forever.
“Jun,” Aiba says, matching his tone.
Jun sighs. “What.”
“You know you can tell me anything, right?”
Aiba’s being sincere - he sees that, and he’s touched. It’s strange; among all of them, sometimes it’s Aiba who looks out for him the most. It’s annoying, but it’s sweet all the same. “I know,” he says, more gently than before. “But sometimes I need to sort things out by myself.”
Aiba nods. “Hmm. Okay.” Aiba pats him on the arm. “If you’re sure.” Then, looking behind them, Aiba smiles gleefully and lands a kiss on his cheek, dodging before Jun could hit him. He hurries the rest of the way to the greenroom, leaving Jun behind.
“What was that about?” a voice appears from behind, causing Jun to stumble forwards in surprise.
“Nothing,” he says. His tone couldn’t be any more different than the one he used with Aiba - cool, distant, indifferent. It makes his meaning clear - it’s none of Sho’s business.
“I see,” Sho murmurs, and moves onward without asking any more. For some reason, even though Jun is the one who refuses to answer, he feels like he’s the one who has been left hanging.
When Sho pauses, a few steps before Jun, and turns to him with a smile he hasn’t seen directed towards him in a long time, Jun feels that it isn’t just his heart that pauses; the whole world must have momentarily stopped spinning in that second. “Aren’t you coming?” Sho asks.
He nods uncertainly and steps forward, wondering if this is a new game Sho has come up with.
})i({
“I missed you,” Sho says, as he jerks Jun’s shirt upward in an attempt to get rid of it. Jun feels like every nerve in his body jumps with the movement, or rather, the words.
He lets Sho pull his shirt all the way off, and even as Sho’s attention moves to the next article of clothing, he says thickly, “really?”
“Of course. All that time, without you to get me off? I thought I’d explode.” Sho is impatient and exaggerating; Jun knows that Sho takes his studies seriously, and would have spent that time studying for his exams, which was why he had taken time off work in the first place. But all the same, something inside him deflates, or breaks, because he is suddenly devoid of emotion, and he feels like he is watching everything from afar. Sho doesn’t seem to notice his sudden detachment.
He hears his vocal response to Sho’s ministrations, he is vaguely aware of his hands half pushing, half pulling at Sho, but it’s like it isn’t him. He closes his eyes and thinks this is a dream, but a voice speaks out in his mind that if it’s a dream then Sho would have loved him back.
})i({
Ohno’s sick and Sho is being a mother hen, hovering over their oldest all the time and smothering him with questions and careful instructions. Something in Jun clenches and twists; it’s like jealousy but not really, because he understands where Sho’s coming from and he loves and worries about Ohno too, but at the same time he wonders if Sho would ever be that attentive with him?
He buries the thought at the back of his mind, dismissing it as useless. Instead, he focuses on his worry for their leader, because while Ohno have been known to exaggerate his illnesses now and then to get out of work (or get out of being scolded for slacking off at work) when he’s practically stalwart and uncomplaining like the way he is that day, it means that it’s pretty serious.
Sho convinces Ohno to lie down in the greenroom while the rest of them do the final checks of the question list. Jun listens to them at first, but as Sho and Nino get into a debate over whether a story of one of their exploits should be “okay-ed” for public consumption or not, with Aiba playing referee, Jun slips away.
“Riida,” he says, pushing the door open, but the figure on the sofa was sleeping. Jun goes over and touches Ohno’s forehead; his temperature had yet to go down. There is a blanket covering Ohno that Jun knows is Sho’s doing, and he is warmed by the thought of Sho taking care of their leader even as the not-quite-jealousy resurfaces.
Ohno’s eyes flutter open and it takes awhile before he manages to croak out Jun’s name. Jun gets him some water to drink and tells him that he should have just told his manager to try to reschedule, or for them to do without him for a day, because he obviously isn’t in any condition to be working. Ohno dismisses his words and insists that he would be fine.
He just raises a disbelieving eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything, because he knows that Ohno wouldn’t back down. If he was Sho, perhaps he would’ve been able to talk Ohno into going home, he thinks. But then again, if he was Sho, he would have trusted Ohno to make the decision for himself, like Sho had done. He reaches up to play with the spikiness of Ohno’s hair as he tells the older man, affectionately, to go back to sleep.
Sometimes he thinks Ohno is his favourite. Ohno has always been like a refuge to him, a place he could go to when everything else gets overwhelming and he needs to calm down. Even now, sick as he is, Jun feels the tension from being in the same room as Sho dissipate, replaced by a soothing sort of emptiness. And even when he was younger, and the others revelled at treating him like the only kid in the group, Ohno hadn’t said much, even if he didn’t exactly come to Jun’s defence. Over time Jun had developed a habit of choosing to be nearer to their leader whenever they’re together and allowed to sit wherever they want.
Ohno is also the one who had given Jun perspective, even if he’d be surprised if Jun ever told him. Jun realises that he loves Ohno, and that he rather likes it when Ohno acts like a kid around him, despite the fact that he keeps reminding their leader of his age. “Act your age,” he would say, sternly, delighting at the way Ohno ignores his prickly exterior and snuggles up to him anyway.
He loves Ohno, as if their leader is family, friend, and - though he’d never admit it to anyone else - pet, all at once. But not the way he loves Sho. So the moment he accepts and understands his feelings for their oldest was also the moment he stops being confused about how he feels about Sho.
As Ohno tries to sleep, Jun speaks in a low, comforting voice, not really caring what he is talking about, because he knows that Ohno just needs the cadence of his voice. As Ohno drifts off, his hand reaches out for Jun’s, still playing with his hair, and pulls it away, keeping it in his. He gives Jun a small squeeze, indicating his thanks, and then he’s asleep.
He looks at the greenroom doorway, and Sho is there.
“How long have you been there?” he asks, as quietly as he could.
“Awhile. Didn’t want to say anything, since Satoshi needs his sleep.” Jun nods his agreement, and his hand leaves Ohno’s as he stands up.
“Is it time?”
“Yes.” Sho looks at the sleeping Ohno. “We’ll let him sleep. I checked; they’re letting him phone in for his interview later. We can wake him up when we’re doing the photo shoot.”
“Good.”
“Come on, they’re waiting for us.” Sho reaches for Jun’s elbow, a simple gesture, really. But Jun smoothly steps aside, evading, and heads out.
})i({
He’s changed.
He knows he has. He feels it - it’s like he has a choice, now. He doesn’t have to just let things happen to him. He could use everything to his advantage. He could let his bursts of temper run its course and others would just give him space. He could show his displeasure openly. And most importantly, he knows now that just because he couldn’t help that he’s sometimes embarrassed, or scared, or both, it doesn’t mean that he has to let anyone else know. He learns to maintain a careful aloofness so that people can’t guess at his feelings, and he learns that there are ways to make people keep their distance (much less damaging ways than the ones Sho had used, that’s for sure).
Even the other members are starting to keep a small distance.
Sho is the last to arrive to the greenroom that day. Jun had arrived right after Aiba, almost forty-minutes ago, and is already starting to get impatient. When Sho reaches out to ruffle his hair, an odd gesture even in normal circumstances, but not so odd that his reaction was justificable, he jerks away violently and tells Sho coolly not to mess his hair up; it had taken a lot of time to get right.
Perhaps if one just listens to his words it might not sound so bad, he thinks. But somehow, years of repressed hostility seeps through and colours his tone differently.
Everyone turns to stare at him, but he is just looking at Sho, who seems to understand.
This isn’t about what had just happened. This is about everything that has ever happened.
“My little brother’s all grown up,” Sho says. He knows that to the others it sounds like Sho’s making a joke out of it, but he’s the one who always listens when Sho speaks, and he’s the one who is looking at Sho in the eye. There is a thickness in Sho’s voice that Jun couldn’t place, an unfamiliar quality to the look in Sho’s eyes.
Sho is changing, too, although that only makes Jun feel more confused and unsure.
He wants to call out when Sho turns away. He wants to apologise, to say that he didn’t mean it. But he checks the impulse, and tells himself that it’s better this way. Sho is a weakness, one he couldn’t afford.
He’s starting to understand the rules of the game, and he’s refusing to play.
})i({
After three days have passed, Jun decides that Sho definitely has some kind of ulterior motive, because that’s the only explanation that makes sense. On the surface, it seems like Sho is just being friendly, but he thinks that Sho is trying to provoke him into something. He just doesn’t know what.
Sometimes when they find themselves alone, he feels the weight of their past bearing down on him, and he wonders if Sho feels it too. Then he feels like he, too, is waiting, for Sho to make a move, and let his intentions be known.
It gets so that just the thought of seeing Sho again – after all, these days they don’t really spend that much time with each other, even as a group – fills him with a sort of fervent anticipation, although Sho is never anything but perfectly nice to him, that he feels cheated and let down when it’s time to part.
})i({
It is awkward, and it is strange, and Jun knows everyone feels it. He feels it more than anyone else, more than anything he’s felt before. A wrench, like something important has been torn away from him.
Sho had finally grown bored of their game, and was now stepping aside, steering clear of Jun. He had known that the day would come, from the first time Sho came to him, but he had been trying to fool himself into thinking that it wouldn’t. It had lasted for long enough for him to even start believing his own lies. And now he’s left without even the friendship that they used to share.
Jun wonders if he picks up the pieces long enough, he’ll be able to find all of the fragments and piece what had been broken back together. It is awkward, and it is strange, and that first day of work with all of them together he thinks everyone feels the tension. Filming is easy enough, because he has the best friends and group members and even though they don’t quite understand what’s going on they are quick to fill in the gap where he and Sho used to be. Once they are off camera, though, is a different story.
He thinks about how his feelings for Sho had grown, or changed, or both. He would have done almost anything for the older boy, just to have Sho look back at him, or pay him any kind of attention. As their relationship changed, that part of him didn’t go away; it just got stored away somewhere inside of him, in a space painstakingly labeled with Sho’s name on it, and he keeps filling that space up with all of his hopes - that Sho would start to see him as more than a nuisance, that Sho would come to see him and actually want to see him, that Sho would eventually start feeling the same way he did. But with a few words he had ruined the game for Sho, he had shown that he’s no longer the pushover Nino says he is, that he’s capable of fighting back, that he’s able to meet Sho on equal footing.
He is no longer that awkward, scrawny boy - even though he has to admit that he’s still rather scrawny - who worships the ground Sho walks on, which brings their precarious relationship to collapse upon itself. After all, the entire structure of that relationship had been built on that balance between Jun’s admiration and Sho’s irritation with said admiration.
He had thought that by taking a stand they could try to start over, but instead the very foundation of their relationship is destroyed, and he wonders if this is how people stop being alive, because he feels like something inside him had died. | | | |
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| itsOK | Дата: Суббота, 03.12.2011, 20:59 | Сообщение # 2 | Полковник Группа: Администраторы Сообщений: 220 Награды: 33Репутация: 38Статус: Offline | Idolization
Sho’s head is throbbing, the intense headache from earlier in the morning only getting worse. Since they’re already one man down, he doesn’t want to make a fuss, so he greets the magazine’s staff cheerfully and introduces the remaining members without giving the slightest indication that he’s in pain.
He gets them quite frequently these days; Aiba has been pestering him to see a doctor, but he has to wait until he’s sure he could take the time off. Right now they have too much on their plate, and even though no one really says it out loud, when it comes to the five of them it’s always up to him to make sure things run smoothly.
Ohno has the mildest disposition of them all, but when he gets frustrated and tired he would just refuse to do things. Nino is cooperative but he makes his desire to go home quickly so clear that it affects the mood of everyone around him. Jun flies into bits of temper when pushed too hard, and Aiba, while he perseveres very well on his own, is in danger of tearful or angry outbursts when he sees that someone else is upset. Of course, all of these happen so rarely, and never at the same time. Sho watches for warning signs, constantly keeping everyone’s moods in check, making sure to demand a break or to find a way to stabilise the situation before it gets that far.
It’s tiring and it’s a thankless job, because none of the others seem to admit to their limits sometimes, but someone has to do it.
He wonders when was it that it got decided that that someone is him.
})i({
“I’m not doing it.” Everyone looks at Jun; they’re uncomfortably sticky from the summer heat and they’ve been working non-stop for almost four days with nothing much to show for it, and they wanted things to be done with quickly and they wanted to go home. “I don’t care,” Jun says, as if he knows what everyone are thinking. He probably does, because he’s thinking the same thing. “I’m still not doing it.”
Nino looks like he’s about to kill someone (probably Jun) and Aiba looks like he’s about to cry, and he understands, because he feels both at once, but he looks at Ohno and Ohno looks at him and they’re both understanding because this isn’t something they can back out of, so he lets out his breath in resignation.
“I’ll do it,” he says.
This time everyone looks at him, mixtures of relief and astonishment and concern in their faces. “But, Sho-chan,” Aiba says. “Are you sure? It’ll be worse for you because you’re afraid of heights.”
Funny, Sho thinks. Usually they would just make fun of him and look forward to him making a fool of himself on national TV. “Is anyone else volunteering?” he challenges, and Aiba falls silent.
“They asked for me, didn’t they. I’ll do it.” Jun sounds subdued, and would not look in anyone’s eyes when they turn to him. He stands up; the meeting is over.
Later, when filming is done, and they are waiting to go home - finally - Sho stands next to Jun and says, softly, “thank you.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” Jun says, his voice hard, like the wall he’s built between them over time.
Sho nods. He doesn’t know it yet, but he would sometimes think back to this day and wonder if he would have spoken more, said more important things, had their ride back not arrived at that moment.
})i({
The moment they get a fifteen-minute break, Jun rushes back to the greenroom, presumably to check on Ohno. Aiba follows him, while Nino is already whipping out his DS - seemingly from air, since Sho has no idea where he keeps it. They do not say it out loud, but they are jealous of any free time they have. As much as they enjoy each other’s company, there are times when it’s hard to see each other, even in their personal time, and not be reminded of work.
Sho doesn’t move at all; all the easier to get back in place with, when the break is over. He thinks that if he’s really still he could almost make himself believe that the throbbing in his head is gone, he’s so used to it. He closes his eyes, thinking that it doesn’t matter if people think he’s falling asleep, when something light hits him on the back. His eyes quickly snap open as he turns.
The first thing he sees is a hand in front of him. It takes more time than it usually would to focus, and then he sees that the hand is holding out some pills. Jun has a bottle of mineral water in his other hand.
“You’re not fooling anyone, you know,” Jun says. “Better take these before you get a full-blown migraine.”
He takes the painkillers and swallows them, washing them down with the water Jun shoves in his hand. He looks up again to thank Jun, but Jun just grabs the now half-empty bottle and stalks back to the greenroom. Sho wonders if Jun is angry, and why.
})i({
Sho misses out on a long of things, because he isn’t looking, or because he’s too preoccupied with something else. He doesn’t realise it when Jun starts drinking, not for months. He’d been there with everyone on Jun’s birthday, of course, and he’s vaguely aware that Jun could drink, but the information never quite translates itself as the fact that Jun would. He supposes it’s because he had never bothered about ages when it comes to drinking, and he had thought that if Jun hadn’t been drinking before he wouldn’t be starting now.
Or maybe he just hadn’t given the subject any thought at all.
Either way, he’s bewildered when he gets a call in the middle of the night to get Jun from a bar that’s thankfully not too far from where he lives.
Jun’s a cheerful enough drunk, that it doesn’t take too much effort for Sho to maneuver the younger man into his car. He’s already halfway home when he remembers that Jun wouldn’t appreciate waking up in his room, and going down to meet his family, especially if he has a hangover. So he makes a turn, and head towards the dormitories instead. He’ll have to sneak Jun in, somehow, because certain people would be livid to see Jun coming back at that time, in that condition. Especially when they’re about to seal the deal to what might make or break their career as a group.
It’s funny to think about it that way, though, because Jun’s the one taking all of the pressure on himself. He looks at Jun, taking his eyes off the road for a second, but Jun is already falling asleep in the passenger seat. He smiles, thinking that after all the cool yet belligerent attitude that Jun develops, when the younger man’s defenses are down he’s still very much the same person. Sometimes Sho thinks Jun’s heart is too soft, too tender, that it scares him; it’s too easy for Jun to get hurt. It’s too easy for him to not want to leave, should he ever find his way there. So when Jun starts wearing that new attitude of his, like an armour or exoskeleton, Sho is relieved, even as he regrets the change.
When they reach Jun’s room, not without much difficulty, Sho lays the younger man in bed and tucks him in, making sure to put a glass of water by the end table for when Jun wakes up. He is about to leave when Jun wakes, groggy.
“Sho?”
“Go back to sleep,” he tells Jun. Jun closes his eyes in acquiescence, but as Sho opens the door, mindful of the creak it sometimes would make, Jun mumbles something, and it takes all of his effort to make out the words.
“Why do you keep hurting me?”
})i({
It takes three weeks before Jun decides that he needs to talk to Sho about what happened.
Jun waits until they’re alone before confronting him. Sho is leaving for home early that day, because he has to catch up on his reading for an important interview he’s doing the following week. The driver never sends him right in front of his apartment, as he usually asks to be dropped off a couple of blocks away instead. He buys snacks from the convenience store, and the fact that his favourite staff is manning the cash register puts him in a good mood. He chats with her a bit, laughing as she complains about her boyfriend’s latest hijinks. Sho has never met the boyfriend before, but he sounds a little like Aiba from her stories.
He doesn’t know how Jun got in, as non-residents were only allowed in with notification from the people they’re visiting, but Sho finds the younger man in the lobby as he steps towards the elevator.
“What are you doing here?”
“We need to talk,” Jun says. Then, seeing the look Sho is giving him, he amends, “I need to talk.”
And he needs to listen, Sho supposes. He shrugs, and lets Jun follow him up, even as he asks himself if it’s a good idea.
})i({
Sho’s supposed to be the only one left behind, as he’s the last in line for their individual photo shoots. He knows Aiba has gone home immediately, rushing in and out of the greenroom like a whirlwind, not even stopping as he says something about a date - he’s out of the door before Jun has the chance to caution him about keeping things private. Jun left right after, followed by Nino. But a couple of minutes after Ohno left, the door to the greenroom burst open and Nino walks back in, closing the door determinedly behind him and stalking over to sit right in front of Sho.
They stare at each other for awhile, Sho looking perplexed, while Nino’s eyes had both uncertainty and hardness in them.
“You’re an asshole,” Nino finally says.
Sho feels like he’s been hit, because this is his best friend and he knows that there is only one thing Nino could be talking about, and he doesn’t need someone else to accuse him of things he already knew too well he’s guilty of. “I know,” he says, because really, what else is there to say?
“I’m only saying this because I’ve talked to Jun, who insists that he’s okay, and he’d be pissed if he knew I’m telling you what I’m telling you now, but you need to know that you’re an asshole.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
“Did Jun tell you?”
Nino rolls his eyes. “Did you think he would? He keeps secrets better than any of us, and this is one he’s keeping pretty close to the heart. He completely freaked when I told him I knew.” The hardness in his eyes softens, then, and he sighs. “I know you, Sho. And I know him. Maybe if I didn’t I wouldn’t have noticed, but because I do... well. Did you really think you can keep this from me?”
“I never really thought about it one way or another,” Sho says, because it’s the truth. The first time he went to Jun, he had blamed it on the alcohol, even though he knows perfectly well that he hadn’t been that drunk. After that Jun was like an addiction he had - there had been times when he tried to stay away, but he always goes back, and he knows that it’s wrong and he knows how Jun felt about him, but the knowledge spurred him on rather than deterred him. He hates it, and he hates how angry he gets with Jun sometimes, with the way Jun never always gives in and never pushes him away, and knowing that Jun’s waiting for something more or something else, that at some point he stops being able to tell Jun from everyone else who keeps trying to get a piece of him when he has nothing left to give. “It’s over, anyway.”
Jun has finally had enough of him. He doesn’t think that Jun would even give him the time of the day, now.
“Sho,” Nino looks and sound tired, as he rubs a hand over his face. “Jun loves you. Yes, he’d been a little kid with a crush, and yes, I know that can get annoying. But the kid’s grown up, and I don’t think a mere crush would have survived so many years.”
“I can’t give him what he wants,” Sho says. In his head, he corrects Nino. Jun loved him - past tense. After all that’s happened, he doubts that he even retained Jun’s friendship.
“If you can’t, then you can’t. But stop making it out like it’s his fault for caring about you, and stop giving him false hopes.”
It doesn’t matter anymore, Sho wants to say, because it’s over. Didn’t he tell that to Nino already? But he lets out a harsh laugh, even though it isn’t funny at all, and then stops short. “I really am an asshole, aren’t I?”
“That’s what I’ve been telling you.”
Sho quiets down, and gives Nino a long look. “You’re younger than me,” he says. “How come you’re so much smarter?”
Nino snorts. “I’m not smart. It’s just that you’re an idiot, that’s all.”
})i({
It was a mistake, he knew. After years of perfecting the balance, hovering between not-quite-friends-anymore and treasured-group-member-and-colleague, he had spoiled it all, and it had only taken one moment of weakness to do it.
While they avoid being together when no one else is around, he and Jun are also able to be relatively normal with each other if they do find themselves in such a situation. So why had that day been different, he wonders. Maybe it had been the fresh batch of new rumours that hit the tabloids, connecting him with yet another person whose life is going to be turned upside down because of him, making him wonder if he should just stop having friends altogether, if it’s so hard. Maybe it’s the fact that he had planned to go home that day, since it was near his brother’s birthday, and had to cancel because of the rescheduling of their interviews. Maybe it’s just that Jun had been there, that they had been there, at the wrong time and place. Maybe it’s all of it, or none - maybe it’s just as simple as it being all his fault.
He lets Jun in, but as soon as the door closes he says, “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to come.”
“Oh? And deciding that you wanted a fuck, right where anyone could have walked in and seen, was a good idea?”
Sho swallows, and ignores the rush of heat that goes through him as he remembers. “No one came in.”
“That wasn’t the point.”
“I know. I’m sorry, okay? It was a mistake. Was that what you wanted to talk about?”
Jun doesn’t seem to hear his question, as he finds his way to Sho’s favourite armchair, and sits down. “A mistake,” he then repeats, tonelessly.
“Yes.” Clutching onto the word, Sho nods emphatically. He’d apologise, he’d own up to everything. He’d be the best friend or big brother or whatever it is that Jun wanted. Just please don’t make him hate me more than he already does. “What I did was inexcusable... I’m sorry.”
“Yeah,” Jun mutters. He pauses, as if he’s thinking of saying something, but then he just lets out his breath, and says, “you’re always sorry.”
Somewhere along the line Sho has turned from someone Jun looked up to, to someone who’s always screwing up. He doesn’t know why, or when he had started to change, but it pains him to think of it. He remembers how Jun had always said that respect was important to him, how he could only care for someone he respected. Sho knows that he had thrown away the regard Jun had for him ages ago - regard that he didn’t think that he even earned in the first place - and it doesn’t matter how hard or how many years he’s been trying to win it back. He couldn’t.
He slumps at the sofa, feeling defeated. He thinks of the gangly, gawky boy that Jun had been, how they had teased Jun (not meanly, of course) about his “funny face” - those had been Nino’s words, not his. The last laugh is Jun’s, though. Jun had since grown into himself, and now exudes a combination of charm, beauty, and coolness that Sho wished he could emulate. Sho, on the other hand, is more often than not the butt of everyone’s jokes.
Feeling the shift of weight on the sofa, Sho looks up to notice that Jun has moved to sit next to him. Jun’s hand reach out to touch the side of his face, turning him to face the younger man. There’s a slight frown creasing Jun’s forehead, and Sho checks the urge to reach back out to smooth it.
“You’ve been really strange, lately,” Jun murmurs. “It’s like you’re not you anymore.”
Something tightens in his throat, and it’s hard to get his words out. “Maybe I’ve changed, and you just don’t know me any more.”
“Maybe.”
Jun leans, then, at the same time pulling Sho towards him so that they meet halfway. As far as kisses go, it isn’t much. More chaste than anything he’s ever had before, even when he factors in his first kiss. Just a pressure of lips, and only briefly. But something thrums within him, and he feels like he’s going to choke on laughter and tears at the same time, it tastes so bittersweet. He does neither, and closes his eyes instead. Memory fills in the blanks; he doesn’t have to part his lips to know that Jun tastes like cigarettes and tangerines. It occurs to him that this may have changed, like everything else. Before he could put the thought to test Jun has already pulled back, and he cringes inside at the barely audible sound of protest he makes.
Jun leaves.
})i({
“Jun.”
It’s the fourth time he’s called, but Jun’s eyes doesn’t lift from the book. The younger man has his headphones on and is pretending not to hear, but Sho could tell from the way Jun’s shoulders stiffened the first time that he did. “Matsumoto. I know you can hear me.”
Jun closes his book and gives Sho an annoyed look; a part of him feels a pang, feeling regret for this boy who has come to replace the one he once knew.
“We need to talk,” he says.
Jun pulls away his headphones, and switches off his walkman, before looking around. There is no one else; Aiba had went off to the cafetaria a few moments ago, and the other two have yet to arrive.
“So, talk.”
Sho doesn’t know where to start. He doesn’t even know if he could start, if he could step back and confront what had been going on between them, what he had been doing to Jun. “I’m sorry,” he says. It isn’t sufficient, and it does nothing to erase their past, to make things okay again, but it’s the most truthful thing he could think of to say.
Jun doesn’t say anything, and the feeling in Sho’s stomach gets heavier, because even though he never expects Jun to forgive him, it still twists at him, this guilt that has nowhere to go, that will never be absolved.
“I’m sorry,” he says again, and still Jun doesn’t say a thing. His mind scrambles in search for something else to say, to backtrack or move forwards or maybe find words that would get Jun to smile again, not in that restrained, cool way he does sometimes now but in that wide, artless way he used to, the smile that no longer exists now and Sho knows that it’s somehow his fault.
How does he say that he misses Jun’s smile? That he misses the unchecked laughter, the ease with which Jun would make statements that unsettles him so?
He’s still trying to find the words when Jun smiles at him - one of those enigmatic smiles that Jun seemed to have developed, that makes him wonder what Jun is really thinking. “There’s nothing to be sorry about,” Jun says. “It was fun while it lasted.”
})i({
“What’s wrong? You’ve been awfully quiet today.”
Aiba sits on the floor next to him. They watch as Jun, like a drill sergeant, barks out criticisms and instructions to the juniors that would be serving as back up dancers for their next concert. As if they weren’t already terrified of his very presence.
Aiba chuckles, and Sho realises that he’d spoken out loud. Remembering Aiba’s question, he shakes his head. “I’m just a little tired today, that’s all.”
“Well, better make sure you’re in top form today. Jun’s really going all out. I passed by a couple of juniors in the break room, and they were calling him a demon. A demon!” Aiba cackles.
Sho gives him a weak smile in return. Being strict and meticulous, the way Jun is right now, isn’t really the thing that the younger ones find intimidating. After all, Jun may be frank with his comments and he pays attention to the smallest missteps, but he’s also kind to a fault and acts like he’s just one of them, most of the time. But his reputation precedes him, and for most of these kids, it’s the idea of MatsuJun that is intimidating, rather than the man himself.
He’s used to it - they all were. Everyone were either too cowed by their too-big personalities to really see the people they actually were, or they were too busy thinking of what they could get out of being connected to them. It makes them all the more grateful for the friends they had from before, and for each other. He remembers Jun reading an interview with John Lennon out loud to him once - Lennon had commented on how the Beatles were lucky when compared to Elvis, because at least they had each other to keep themselves sane. It would take a couple of years before Sho truly understood how true those words were.
He looks back at the juniors - still boys, really, all of them - and knows that they, too, will learn.
“So,” Aiba says, interrupting his thoughts, “did Jun go over to your place yesterday?”
He almost chokes on his own saliva, and ends up sputtering. Aiba thumps him on the back, cheerfully. “He did, didn’t he?” Sho doesn’t know why Aiba had to be so goddamned happy about it. “Was he all sexy with that Super MatsuJun Deluxe powers of his? He totally seduced you, didn’t he?”
Sho’s eyes widened in Aiba’s direction. He doesn’t know how to react - on the one hand, he’s remembering the kiss from the day before, and is starting to feel warm all over. On the other, Aiba’s suggestion - and most of all, his choice of words - are so absurd that a part of him wants to burst out laughing. He settles on a sober expression and says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Aww, damn. Nino’s right again. Now I have to treat him to dinner.”
Blinking at Aiba, Sho says, “can you explain that last bit to me? Please.”
“Nino and I had a bet going on - I said Jun’s going to go over to your place and win you back, since the two of you have been so cute with all the longing stares when the other isn’t looking this past month, but Nino says there’s no way, because, uhm, he says you’re both idiots. No offense.”
Sho hums tunelessly as he mulls over Aiba’s words. After a couple of minutes of silence, he says, “you and Nino really need to find better hobbies.”
“Maybe so,” Aiba says, still cheerful. “But how come Jun didn’t get you back?”
Feeling surer than ever that he must be rather pink in the face now, Sho looks away. “There’s no ‘back’ to get to in the first place. You’ve got it all wrong.”
“But you do love him.”
The traps that Aiba lays, Sho observes, are sometimes harder to deal with than Nino’s. As carefully as he could, and as neutrally, he says, “I love all of you.”
Aiba’s smile slips, and he gives Sho a grave look. “I love you too, Sho-chan, but you know what? Nino’s right. You’re really, really, stupid.”
})i({
Sho’s being irrational and he isn’t being fair to any of the staff, who have been working all day preparing for their new show, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. When Ohno calls for a time-out, he retreats to the greenroom, slamming the door behind him and looking around for something he could punch, or break, or anything.
He’s still standing there, breathing hard, when the door opens, and shuts. He doesn’t look behind him; he knows who it is.
“Riida,” he says. “No offense, but can you please get the fuck out of here right now? I need to be alone.”
“I love him,” Ohno says, and he doesn’t move at all, even when Sho spins around, and pins him with unexplained rage in his eyes.
“I’m warning you -” Sho starts to say, but Ohno holds up a hand, a gesture for him to shut up and listen. The older boy matches his gaze, and doesn’t budge, keeping that stupid, calm, mild expression of his.
“I love him,” Ohno says again. “But not the way you do.”
“You don’t know anything about how I feel,” Sho bites out, but he is trying hard to calm down; he hasn’t lost his temper about anything in a long time and it isn’t a good time to start, not that any other time is. He’s too old for this, he thinks. He isn’t some boy who could blame it all on teen rebellion any more. But he can’t seem to help it; every time he feels backed into a corner and helpless, it seems to be the only way he knows to react.
Ohno seems to understand this, and he steps closer to envelope Sho into a hug. Sho remains rigid, unmoved by the gesture. It is only when Ohno says “I love you, too” that he softens, and lets Ohno hold him. “Do you understand, now?”
He nods, and as they part, it becomes clear to him that he’s overreacting. Ever since Jun’s affections seemed to have transferred to their leader, he’d been jealous. It’s absurd and it’s ridiculous, but it’s all him - not Ohno. “I’d better go and apologise to everyone,” he says.
“Take a breather, first,” Ohno says. He lets silence linger between them for awhile, and then he says, “he’s growing up. Nothing you can do about that.”
“I know.” He takes deep breaths, feeling the anger disappear as quickly as it had come, replaced by uneasiness, and remorse. “I don’t even know what’s got into me.”
Ohno’s smile is full of amusement, and delight, like Sho exists to entertain him. “It’s simple; you’re in love.”
Sho shakes his head and laughs for good measure, that Ohno makes a surprised “am I wrong?” noise, and they leave the subject alone as they move on to talking about work, and family. By the time they emerged from the greenroom everyone is already back at work, and everyone pretends that Sho hadn’t been snarling nastily at anyone who speaks to him, even when he apologises. Out of the corner of his eyes he sees Nino inching towards him, umbrella in hand, as if he’s planning to pass it to Sho, but Aiba pulls it out of Nino’s hands before he does. Sho laughs, and he feels the previous tension in the room abating.
He announces that their break is over, apologising once more.
When no one is looking, Sho glances at Jun, who is laughing as he unsuccessfully tries to detach a sleepy Ohno from his arm, and feels like all the air has been sucked out of him. He thinks of his conversation with Ohno, and realises that their leader had been right on two counts - he does care more than he wants to let on, and he’s too late, because Jun is growing up, and getting over him.
})i({
“Stop, stop, stop,” Jun calls out, waving his hands at everyone just in case his words weren’t clear enough. “Let’s take a break; we’ll start again in twenty minutes.”
Nino let out a whoop; it’s more generous a break than Jun has been allowing them all day, lunch time not included. He rushes towards the door, fighting to get out with the juniors, who for the most part just gave way to him. Aiba bounds towards Ohno saying something about getting a snack since they have the time, and Sho is about to join them when Jun singles him out, and asks him to stay.
“What’s wrong with you?” Jun asks, the moment everyone else have gone.
Sho frowns. He had made more mistakes than usual that day, he knew, but it’s hardly enough reason to single him out. “Aiba made just as many mistakes as I did,” he says.
“Yeah, well, I’m not asking Aiba. You’ve been kind of distracted all day, and some of the mistakes you made, they’re dangerous. Are you trying to get hurt?”
Exasperated, Sho says, “that was years ago, and when are you ever going to let it go?” He knew he had been careless, but it’s hardly fair for Jun to rag on him all the time about it.
“When you stop trying to kill yourself, maybe?” Jun asks back, ice in his voice.
“You’re overreacting, and I’m leaving,” Sho says, wanting to get away before his annoyance turns to anger. Jun’s hand shot out to grab his arm, though, and stops him.
“I’m not done yet.”
“Well, I am,” Sho replies, jerking his arms, but Jun’s grip is strong. “Let go. What the hell’s your problem, anyway? You come to my place because you wanted to talk, but I still don’t know what about, unless it really was just about you being mad over what I did, but I already apologised, and if you were so mad at me then why did you have to kiss me? Were you just fucking with me, or -” he stops, as Jun lets go of his arm.
“You’re the one who’s been screwing with me,” Jun interrupts.
“I know, and I said I’m sorry, didn’t I, what else do you want me to say?”
“I never wanted any of your stupid apologies!” Sho steps back, startled by the outburst, but Jun just steps forwards to catch up. “I never wanted you to be sorry about any of it,” Jun says, in a lower tone this time, his anger laced with defeat.
“Look,” Sho says. “I know that being sorry isn’t enough, that nothing will ever be enough to fix things. I don’t have any explanations, and I don’t want to make any excuses. But for what it’s worth, I care about you, and I want things to be okay again. I know I’ve blown it, and I only realised that I wanted you when I couldn’t have you anymore. We can still be friends again, though, I think. I hope.”
He pauses, but couldn’t tell what Jun is thinking. He figures that since he’s finally telling Jun the truth, he should tell Jun all of it. He walks towards the door, hands hovering over the handle, before he turns back. “Just to be clear,” he says. “When I said I care about you, I meant I’m in love with you.”
He quickly turns the knob and hurries out, leaving Jun to ponder over his words.
})i({
“Finally,” Nino groans, as the four of them step out of the building. “It’s been a long, long day.”
Sho couldn’t agree more. It’s been a particularly grueling day of filming, not because they had difficult tasks to do, but because the atmosphere had been slightly off from the get-go and they all kept making mistakes, one after another. By the time they were done, and allowed to leave the studio, it’s nearly two in the morning.
“I guess I’ll see you guys the day after tomorrow, then.” He starts to wave at them, but Nino lurches forward and wraps his arms around Sho’s waist, while Aiba tugs at his sleeves. He laughs. “What?”
“Wait for MatsuJun,” Aiba says in a voice that doesn’t reveal anything at all, although it does make Sho squirm a little. It is only when Ohno gently peels Nino off him that he tells himself it’ll be fine. Whatever mischief that Aiba and Nino are planning, Ohno wouldn’t let things go too far... probably.
“It’s cold out here,” he complains. It’s true, anyway. They’re standing at the steps in front of the entrance and it’s still winter. “If we have to wait, then lets go inside.”
“No,” Aiba and Nino exclaim simultaneously. “Too many people in there,” Nino explains. Again, his explanation doesn’t really help Sho figure out what’s going on.
He’s about to start questioning them when Ohno says, “he’s here,” and everyone looks up to see Jun walking down the stairs, beaming.
“It’s a little neglected, since we spent more time in the studio than expected,” Jun tells them as he nears, “but it’s okay, I think.”
“What is?” Sho asks, irritation setting in by the lack of information, but then he sees.
Balancing precariously in Jun’s hands is a small cake, with a single lit candle on it. Spread over the cake is the words ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY’, resembling Aiba’s messy scrawl. “I wanted to do the words, but Aiba insists that he’ll do it,” Jun quickly explains, seeing Sho stare.
“It’s perfect,” Sho replies, not bothering to hide the awe in his voice. “Thanks, guys.”
“It’s all Jun’s idea,” Aiba says, and Sho looks up at Jun, who seems embarrassed, even as he holds Sho’s gaze unflinchingly.
“Thank you,” Sho says again, addressing Jun this time.
“Blow the candle, idiot, before a breeze does it for you,” Nino pipes up helpfully.
Sho ignores Nino, and keeps his eyes on Jun as he blows, and makes a wish.
Jun divides the cake perfectly into five pieces, and they sit at the stairs to enjoy it, forgetting the cold weather in the warmth of the moment.
})i({
It is only when he is far from the rehearsal studio that he realises what he has done. He couldn’t possibly go back in there, he thinks. Not when they would be surrounded by juniors and he’d have to pretend that he didn’t just tell Jun that he loved him.
Panic starts to set in. What did he just do? He makes a move back towards the studio, thinking that he should tell Jun it’s all a joke, that he didn’t mean a word of what he said, but then he thinks the better of it and turns around to head to the cafetaria, as he’s an adult and surely he’s able to be more professional when it comes to work, but...
He ends up moving back and forth in the same spot for quite some time. He doesn’t know what to do, so he paces, and he frets, and he thinks.
He is so absorbed in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice the footsteps heading towards him, and is caught unawares when a hand grabs him and drags him off to the side, through a door, in a dark room, and locks the door.
“You’re developing a habit in manhandling, I see,” he says, when he manages to catch up with what happened. “And are we actually in a janitor’s closet?”
“It’s the nearest door.” Jun doesn’t seem to care about where they were, or the fact that he just dragged Sho there. “Tell me again,” he says.
“What?”
“What you told me just now.”
“Fuck,” Sho mutters, more to himself than to Jun. “I know you heard me.”
“Maybe I heard wrong.” There is hope in Jun’s voice, and it makes him think for a split second that maybe he hasn’t blown all his chances after all, but pride still gets in his way. Jun has seen him make a fool of himself enough times; he doesn’t want to add to it. He keeps his silence, and it draws out until Jun finally sighs, and reaches for the door. “I guess I must have. Sorry about -”
“I love you, okay?” Sho bursts out, knowing that if he lets Jun leave now, he may have ruined everything for good. “I’ve said it, are you happy now?”
Jun responds by pushing him towards the nearest wall, drawing closer, but just as Sho’s breathing grew shorter in anticipation, Jun shakes his head, and rests it on Sho’s shoulder.
“Jun?” he asks.
“I can’t right now.” Jun’s voice is muffled against his skin, and even that much contact is sending a thrill through him. “If I start, I don’t know if I can stop, and we have to go back to the studio soon.”
Trust Jun to remember that, even at times like this, Sho thinks, amusement bubbling up. He brings his hand up to the back of Jun’s neck, rubbing gently. He tilts his head up and pulls Jun towards him, and then he goes still for a moment, not out of hesitance, but out of surprise from the shock of pleasure that goes through him - somehow, so different from any of the other times. Maybe it’s how quickly Jun responds, his hold on Sho becoming more firm as he takes over, teasing and caressing and nibbling, making Sho think that it’s too much too quick, but he doesn’t want it to stop, either. They push and pull against each other, straining for more, their movements both calculated and seductive, turbulent and aggressive. A dance, and a war.
A loud clanging noise stops both of them short, and Jun jerks away in surprise, unsteady hands flailing to find something to hold on to, for support. Sho’s hand catches his, and squeezes, although he himself is only leaning against the wall. “I knocked into something,” he says, by way of explanation. “And it fell.” It occurs to him that not only he sounds foolish, but is now established as clumsy, and he curses.
Jun looks at him. “I don’t think anything’s broken.”
“It’s not that,” Sho replies. “I wished, once, that I’ll always be someone you could look up to. But it seems that I’ve turned into an entirely different sort of person, over time.”
Jun’s head came to rest upon his shoulder, again - at first he is apprehensive, not knowing how the younger man would react to his statement, but when Jun’s shoulders shake with mirth, he realises that Jun is laughing. At him. Not that it’s anything new, he thinks sourly.
“Sorry, sorry,” Jun gasps out, as his laughter finally subsides. Then he steps back, looks at Sho. “I still look up to you; you’re an admirable person, you should know that. But you know what? Even if you’re the clumsiest, most failure-prone person on earth - which I’m not discounting, by the way - it wouldn’t matter one bit, because I’d still be in love with you.”
Sho doesn’t even hear the words, although he knows what is being said. Jun is smiling at him, and it’s a smile that makes his insides clench, it’s so genuine and artless and so Jun. Something in his chest flutters wildly and soars, and he reaches for Jun again, but Jun steps aside, offering Sho a hand instead.
“We really need to go back now,” Jun says, and laughs again at the disappointed look in Sho’s face. “Come on, we’re still a long way from perfecting this performance.”
})i({
When they enter the rehearsal studio, they’re surprised to find that only three other people are there.
“I sent the kids packing,” Nino informs them. “They’re pretty much done in for the day, anyway. They’ll be back tomorrow; you can whip them into shape then.” He glances at Jun’s hand, clutching onto Sho’s. “Oh, you guys made up.” He sounds disappointed about the prospect, no doubt thinking of his bet with Aiba. “I’m guessing you won’t be so bitchy tomorrow, then?”
Aiba is crowing in delight, and reminding Nino that now Nino owes him dinner. Ohno, startled by the noise, sits up straight, exclaiming, “the bears are eating Nino!”
Everyone stares at their leader, and he blinks back at them sleepily, realising where he is. “Oh, it’s just a dream,” he says, relieved. He grabs at Nino, whose lap he had been sleeping on, just to make sure that he’s in one piece. Nino scowls at him and tries to push him away, but he’s too glad that Nino isn’t being eaten by a bear to care.
Sho and Jun look at each other, the same thought running through their minds.
Sometimes, Sho thinks, even though they’re his only respite from a world that demands too much of him, he wonders if he and Jun are the only sane ones in their group.
~ the end ~ | | | |
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