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ninoexchange2013-06-22 09:31 pm
nino-mod.livejournal.com) wrote in ninoexchange2013-06-22 09:31 pm
Entry tags:
fic for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dirtbaguette
For: dirtbaguette
From:jadeswallow
Title: Never Over.
Pairing/Focus: Aiba/Nino, mentions of Nino/other people.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Infidelity (with a happy end).
Summary: Romance makes your heart beat faster, love makes you feel at peace. Aiba tries to set a pattern to Nino’s visits and fails. AU.
Notes:
For my hand-holders and beta, I and C, thank you for all your patience and for always being your awesome selves.
Deardirtbaguette, I’m sorry this is not Aiba-finding-out-Nino-is-a fairy kind of story, but I hope there are enough Aimiya love to make up for it. This is a delight to write ♥
P.S There are a few notes at the end to explain the Japanese terms.
An hour and a half through a birthday party, a light drizzle that started in the morning has escalated into a huge downpour, and Aiba Masaki is stranded in an alley with a crying toddler in his hands.
Just ten minutes ago, Aiba was sure he could handle the situation, but now the little girl won’t stop screaming, her voice only growing louder for every minute of Aiba’s failure to soothe her. Aiba chastises himself for having taken the situation lightly. The little girl seems to find the rain – and him, to Aiba’s confusion – traumatizing.
Aiba tries hard to remember what he has missed from Matsu-nii’s 101 Guide to Mastering a Child’s Behavior, but as the girl grabbed another fistful of his hair, Aiba was ready to admit defeat and hand her over to his boss.
---
“It’s your nose.”
Aiba hears his voice first before seeing his face.
It is high-pitched and sharp, but the words were not said unkindly, and Aiba is delighted for any possibility of help. He looks up and sees a stranger leaning in the corner, expertly shuffling a deck of cards with his small, chubby childlike fingers.
“It’s your nose,” the stranger repeats with a confidence that the answer will solve every problem in the world. Aiba is far too fascinated by the colorful outfit he’s wearing (every piece with different colors and mismatched patterns and the red adorable hat), the wavy brown-ish hair that needs a haircut, the mirth and laughter that are dancing in the stranger’s eyes, the most charming smile he has ever seen.
Aiba blinks, but he is otherwise glued to his place as the stranger approaches him The man’s tiny, chubby finger taps Aiba on the nose, who blinks again as he realizes that he is still wearing his big, red, clown nose that, for his defense later, is usually loved by children. The girl’s cries turn into a hiccup as soon as Aiba removes the nose, and a laugh escapes the stranger’s lips when he hears the relief in Aiba’s sigh.
Aiba holds his breath from the sound of the laughter, bright and cheerful and ringing like bells, magical enough to forgive the fact that the stranger is laughing at him.
---
“I see you have met Nino,” Matsu-nii says later after the party was over. “He’s our temporary magician.”
That explains the costume, Aiba thinks, but it doesn’t explain the tingling feeling Aiba has, nor does it explain the way Nino watches him. Curious, pleased, too intimate.
It takes a couple of minutes of Aiba squatting down near the boxes of party equipment – a million colors of his childhood jumping out to him – to realize why the laughter sounds so familiar.
---
---
“So, Nino, how did you meet Matsu-nii?” Aiba asks nonchalantly after everyone else has gone home and they are left at the office. The office is still filled with balloons and ribbons and other birthday supplies, but they find a comfortable spot at the bar and some drinks in Matsu-nii’s fridge.
Nino grins impishly as he sits down, “It’s a secret.”
“Matsu-nii sure is great at finding good people, isn’t he?” Aiba isn’t sure how many bottles he has downed. He remembers vaguely that it must be more than five, but Nino is there, right next to him, and Aiba’s emotions are running wild. As their elbows meet each other on the table, he has trouble controlling his heart rate.
Nino keeps giving ambiguous answers to every question Aiba poses, but his laughter sounds like chimes in the wind, tingling and ringing and melodious. In return, Aiba’s responses are just as obscure.
“Idiot.” Nino rolls his eyes, but his smile lingers, and Aiba can tell that Nino is also having difficulty holding up his glass.
He leans forward and reaches for Nino’s hand the way he always did when they were young, counting the number of seconds it will take for Nino to pull his hand away. But Nino doesn’t pull away. He laces their fingers together – his fingers are still as cute as Aiba remembers them and surprisingly soft.
When Aiba looks up, Nino places a kiss on his cheek.
"Aiba," he whispers, repeating the name again and again as if he’s trying to make sure that it’s happening. "Aiba. Aiba. Aiba."
Aiba is too far gone to read the emotion in Nino’s eyes, but Nino brushes his lips against the side of Aiba’s mouth, stirring something else yet untitled beside the alcohol inside him. He tosses the bangs – wavy and brown-ish, he memorizes – out of Nino’s face and presses their lips together.
---
Nino lets him drag them to the sofa, and Aiba likes how Nino is shorter than him, how it lets Nino reach up to him.
He murmurs something Aiba can’t quite make out, but it must be okay because Aiba can hear how Nino’s breathing accelerates as he finds Nino’s skin under his shirt, can feel how Nino swings a leg up around him to pull him closer, can see the way Nino’s face flushes at Aiba’s stare. They fell to the couch together, limbs tangled, and Nino gasps into Aiba’s mouth in surprise when they knock the confetti boxes over.
It’s the way Nino laughs, cheeks blushing and a little breathless, that makes Aiba sure he is not dreaming.
---
---
Aiba meets Nino again four months and six days later after waking up alone the next morning, his entire body (and the couch) covered in confetti, and a post-it note with Nino’s tiny, neat handwriting was stuck on his forehead.
“Aiba,” Nino says when Aiba opens the door to his office and finds him – hair shorter, black and straight, normal clothes – sitting on the exact same couch, sipping his coffee and looking perfectly comfortable. Nino’s tone is airy, his expression cheerful as if the night four months, six days ago never happened, but Nino’s gaze at him is searching, and Aiba’s mind requires a pause to process it all.
“Nino,” Aiba replies, slowly, and he recalls how the post-it note stated something about how good it was to see each other again. The corners of Aiba’s lips curl involuntary, the way they always do when Nino is near. “Where have you been?”
“Around,” Nino answers as he puts down his coffee, smiling widely.
---
---
Aiba tries to set a pattern to Nino’s visits.
He shows up on rainy days, and he shows up when the sun shines too brightly. He is there on Wednesday morning and on Saturday night for the next two weeks but then doesn’t come at all for the following three weeks.
He creeps up behind Aiba on the train. He shows up at the office, demanding a job from Matsu-nii. He whines about Aiba’s cooking, poking through Aiba’s baseball cards and testing every single one of Aiba’s video games. He catches Aiba’s eyes over the dining table and grins. He leans forward, more out of boredom than interest, and he still makes Aiba’s insides flutter every time he smiles.
---
Nino says he’s been around, and Aiba discovers later that there is only truth to those words.
First is Katsumi, a bald man almost twice Nino’s age who complains that Nino has deceived him. Then Katsumura, who protests that Nino has become distant. Later Riisa, who brags about her new fiancée and kisses Nino’s cheek. And then Kou, who innocently waves at Nino across the room but lingering eyes hint at something more intimate.
Nino remains unfazed when Aiba brings up the topic. He grabs a karaage from Aiba’s bowl, and Aiba steals Nino’s tempura in return – which doesn’t make sense, because Aiba is the one who’s paying for both. It is all part of his other mission: Operation Stuffing Food into Nino Every Time He Comes Around. Nino tells Aiba the title is stupid. Besides, he is not that skinny; he just doesn’t like food. But Aiba responds with who doesn’t like food, and Nino eventually relents after demanding a permanent spot on Aiba’s couch.
Aiba agrees easily, because, well, Nino is the permanent guest in Aiba’s life.
He has one more question though, and Nino’s lips turn into a thin line when he hears it.
Aiba waits for fifteen seconds before repeating, “What about Sho?”
The one who leaves the greatest impression out of all the random people, he continues, is Sho, because Sho was almost hit by a car in the process of chasing Nino.
Nino chews Aiba’s karaage slowly while Aiba waits.
“Sho is special,” Nino says and leaves it like that.
---
“Why do you do it?”
Aiba isn’t sure he’s following.
“Nino,” Jun continues as if the name explains everything.
“I don’t –“ Aiba flushes, thinking that Jun means the night on the couch involving confetti and Nino underneath Aiba, because that’s the only thing that’s been going on his mind ever since he heard that Nino and Jun were no longer Nino and Jun in that sense. Luckily, however, Jun interrupts before Aiba finishes his sentence.
“He never stays.”
Jun looks up, and Aiba knows that they are not sober enough to have this kind of conversation.
He has watched it happen. Jun’s smile grows wider when Nino is near, the light in his eyes change when he sees Nino, and his body automatically leans and relaxes to Nino’s touches and Nino’s to his.
Aiba thought he was well aware of where it was going. Period-the-end.
Except that it wasn’t.
“You’ll find someone else.” The words are heavy on Aiba’s tongue, a hypothetical remark more than anything else, but Aiba figures he needs to respond with something. He wishes he is wittier, but that would be Nino, and Nino is the last person Jun needs at the moment.
Jun raises the rim of his can, and Aiba bumps their shoulders together instead.
---
---
On his birthday, Aiba opens his locker and finds a teppan he has always wanted. Knowing that Nino will never admit to such a thing, he decides instead to thank him back by signing Nino up on his baseball team.
Nino protests that the uniform Aiba lent him is too big, and he looks ridiculous in it. Aiba agrees with the first one. Nino has always been a lot smaller than Aiba, but for the second one –
“You look cute,” Aiba blurts out, his heartbeat skipping faster because a sleepy Nino nearby does exactly that.
“Yeah?” Nino says, voice raw from just waking up.
Aiba decides that he likes Nino like this: unguarded, half-dazed, sweet. He tries hard not to trail his fingers over the markings from the pillow on Nino’s cheeks.
Nino’s childish chuckles when Aiba fails ring in his ears for days after.
---
---
Nino hasn’t been in the bathroom long when Yuriko breaks the silence by saying that she likes people who are a little bit creepy.
“So Nino is creepy?” Aiba blinks.
“He’s not?” Yuriko blinks back.
She crosses her legs, and Aiba is thrown by the conversation. He has only met her a couple of times before and always with Nino between them. He fakes a cough and settles for slurping his drink while she plays with her own, swirling her coffee around idly. Two rounds clockwise, two rounds counter-clockwise, two rounds clockwise, two rounds –
“There’s no future here.”
“What?” Aiba brings his eyes back to her.
“Nino and I,” Yuriko muses. “No future.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You’ll see.” Yuriko winks at him, and Aiba wishes she would elaborate, but the chance never comes. Nino has returned, and Yuriko is ready with a big, wide smile playing about her lips.
---
Nino is in the middle of telling a funny story, one that causes him to cover his mouth and clutch his sides as he almost doubles over laughing. Aiba laughs with him and notices how the crow’s feet appear at the corners of Nino’s eyes when he laughs, how his arm covers his mouth and the tip of his nose but not the mole on his chin, how Nino’s smooth, pale neck shakes at his efforts to stifle his laughter, how his eyes twinkle with amusement as the light hits them.
Nino stops laughing, calls his name, and asks if he is listening, and Aiba isn’t. He isn’t because he is far too distracted just gazing at Nino, and Aiba knows that Nino knows that Aiba is looking at him.
Nino stares back, and Aiba catches a brief moment of amusement. But then something shifts in his face, and Aiba waits for Nino to tell him to stop looking. The moment never comes, however, and Nino closes his eyes instead. He rests his head on Aiba’s shoulder, and his hand moves to Aiba’s waist, settling there.
Aiba breathes again.
---
“I would go out of my way to see you,” Nino states, out of the blue. Like everything else Nino does, he does it so randomly and seemingly without purpose. Like everything else Nino says, he says it just because he can.
“There are lots of people I’m on good terms with, but only a few I’d go out of my way to meet up with. But Aiba –”
Aiba doesn’t move, his eyes fixated on watching the reflection of the sun in Nino’s eyes.
“I’d go out of my way to see you.”
There are moments when they can’t stop trying to catch up with each other’s lives, moments when they just sit together without exchanging any words, and then there are moments when Aiba catches Nino looking at him like this, like he is a puzzle he can’t yet solve, when Nino is the enigma and Aiba is the one drowning.
---
Nino introduces him as Ohno Satoshi and proceeds to explain that Ohno paints, like it explains why Ohno is sitting in Aiba’s apartment in the middle of the night. Aiba rubs his face, half-dazed from barely waking up, and Ohno smiles apologetically.
Over supper, Aiba notices the wrinkles on Nino’s face. One of his lamps needs replacing, and shadows stretch over the dining area, sweeping across Nino’s features and bringing out each line of age on his usually smooth skin.
It catches him off-guard.
Aiba doesn’t forget their ages. How could he when beers are on the table where there used to be milkshakes, when Nino is bringing in lovers instead of toys, and when Aiba’s clown costume lingers at the corner of his eyes? But Aiba always looks at Nino and sees the same boy he used to push on the playground swing.
Aiba pauses. His throat is suddenly tight.
At least Nino still looks at him the same way: closely, calculating, with a hint of something Aiba never quite understands. He tries to count Nino’s wrinkles, one at the corner of his eye, one at his forehead, one at – but Nino moves before Aiba finishes. He was the brave one when they were kids, but Nino has always been better at finding cures for his loneliness.
---
---
"Does it feel good?"
"Nino," Aiba gasps, unable to hold himself back.
Technically, Nino never gives advance notice about his visits, so Aiba refuses to be blamed when Nino opens the door and finds Aiba in the middle of a very busy activity.
A laugh bubbles up from Nino’s throat as a reply, and Aiba shudders at the feeling of Nino's hand between their abs, working at an odd angle, his lips on Aiba’s throat, teasing, his other hand alternating between gripping and stroking Aiba’s waist.
Aiba sweeps his hand across Nino’s thighs unable to keep from looking at how pale Nino’s skin is compared to his own. He closes his eyes, trying to burn into his memory the look on Nino’s face when he opened the door and found Aiba, the darkness of Nino’s eyes as his lingering gaze traveled down south, the speed at which Nino shoved Aiba’s hand aside and replaced it with his.
“Look at me,” Nino demands, voice low and hoarse, his nails digging into Aiba’s waist in a way that will surely leave marks later. Aiba bows down to capture his lips in a kiss for the first time ever since the accident at the couch some years ago, when Nino ran off in the middle of the night.
Nino is so close. It’s really not Aiba’s fault that he has no control over his body.
---
Seven months and four days later, it is purely accidental when he meets Nino on the train. A flashback to the past: there was no confetti; no post-it note stuck on his forehead or anywhere else; only Nino’s smell lingered in the air.
Nino’s hair is blond (bright and golden like sunflowers, Aiba notices), he’s dressed in the most obnoxious flower-pattern outfit that somehow resembles Aiba’s curtains (sunflowers, again), and he’s leaning against the pole, fingers clutching it like a lifeline.
“Where is Ohno?” Aiba asks, and Nino looks as if he’s ready to bite Aiba’s head off for being so insensitive.
“Ohno is gone.”
“Oh,” Aiba says, “Nino, I’m sorry.”
“About what?” Nino frowns. Aiba wants to comment that the sign of annoyance hardly matches the sunflowers, but it’s not an appropriate time.
“That you and Ohno...”
Nino raises his head up, but Aiba’s eyes went to Nino’s fingers – his next favorite thing right after Nino’s laugh and Nino’s eyes – and he notices how Nino repeatedly clenches and unclenches the pole.
“Aiba,” Nino says. His stare conveys a warning but Aiba stands his ground.
“Nino,” Aiba starts, “that night, we...”
“We had sex,” Nino spits as if he is trying to release more venom into the air. “Just like I had sex with other people. Just like I had sex with Ohno. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
Aiba shakes his head. He remembers the mad thumping of his own heart when Nino touched him. He can still hear Nino’s breathless giggles when he calls his name and Nino’s unintelligent gasps when he returned the kindness. Aiba only realizes how much he had missed it after it happened again. “I thought you had found your true love with Ohno, but – ”
“There is no such thing as true love,” Nino interrupts him once again, and Aiba begins to wonder if Nino is trying to win a contest of who cuts whose sentences the most.
“Nino, just because your parents –“
“Don’t go there.”
Cutting his words again, of course. Damn Nino. Aiba turns around and puts his hand on top of Nino’s, and Nino fidgets, looking everywhere but Aiba’s face.
“Nino,” Aiba begins. He can no longer hold himself back, all those years of feeling and watching and wanting are pouring up from his throat. “Nino, I love you.”
Nino freezes. His pupils dilate from the shock of Aiba’s confession.
The sounds of everything else – people talking around them, the announcement over the speakers, a little boy running and stumbling over crying – dissipates into silence.
It is startling.
“It’s hard to take you seriously when you’re wearing a clown costume,” Nino finally says, his voice dropped in volume. He bites his lips right after the words come out, but he still won’t look at Aiba.
“I’m on my way to work,” Aiba says exasperated, ”And don’t change the subject.” When there is still no response, he continues, “At least I’m not wearing the red nose, remember?” Aiba lets out a wry laugh, but Nino still doesn’t flinch.
“Maybe we should stop seeing each other,” Nino says, more to himself than to Aiba.
Aiba stares, wide-eyed, and feels terrified. The train reaches its next stop, and Nino makes a sudden move to the exit.
“But this isn’t even your stop!” Aiba instantly reaches for Nino’s hand.
“No.” One of Nino’s feet is already on the platform. He shakes his hand off, and Aiba’s heart sinks. “This is where I should stop.”
---
Nino is a magician, Nino is a musician, Nino travels to places no one knows where, Nino charms as many hearts as those he breaks apart, Nino comes and goes as he pleases, but when people ask Aiba what Nino does, Aiba answers, “He floats.”
They laugh and think that it’s an inside joke they just don’t understand, but Aiba is always serious about it. What Aiba actually means is that despite Nino’s closeness, he’s always a little bit out of Aiba’s reach, and this time, he may not come home to his permanent spot on Aiba’s couch.
---
“You’re the person he has ever been with the longest,” Sho assures him despite Aiba’s desperate efforts to explain otherwise.
Aiba finds him sitting alone in a cafe, reading three newspapers at once with this incredibly serious look on his face, and Aiba’s face lightens up when Sho acknowledges him. Aiba’s first question is if Sho knows where Nino is, and Sho replies by putting down all his newspapers with a sigh. Aiba feels relieved knowing that he’s not the only one who has had difficulty tracking down Nino.
“I tried to be with Nino once,” Sho continues, “but he refused.”
They are sitting across each other. Aiba sees a comforting smile and a mutual fascination to Nino in it, one that Sho has gotten over while Aiba hasn’t.
“He said, and I quote, Because Sho gets attached too easily.”
Aiba frowns. “He did?”
“And yet I assume he does it with you?” Sho asks.
Aiba blushes, and Sho takes it as a yes. “Do you know what that means?”
Aiba remains silent. The coffee in front of him is getting cold, and Aiba’s mind wanders to four sets of cards Nino left behind in his apartment, to Nino’s smugness and immediate glance at Aiba when they won a baseball game, to a stack of photos Nino took of him – safely hidden in his bedside table – to the nervous look Nino threw him on their last meeting.
“Aiba,” Sho says, “I’ll tell him you’re looking.”
---
Nino’s text comes three days later. Have you eaten yet?
Aiba rereads it thrice before answering, just to make sure. Not yet.
I’m coming, Nino replies. Save me some food.
Months have passed since Nino left him on the train that day, but there is only a few seconds gap before Aiba hears several knocks on his door. He nearly stumbles on the floor in his effort to open the door as fast as humanly possible, pausing momentarily because, yes, it is indeed Nino who is standing outside. Aiba stares, his heart swelling at the sight in front of him.
“Nino,” Aiba calls, and Nino jumps. His hair is back to black, his muffler covering up his neck. He shyly removes his gaze from Aiba, and Aiba reaches a conclusion. Nino is blushing. Aiba notices it despite Nino’s best efforts to cover it, and he smiles. Nino is always endearingly childlike when he feels guilty, and when he raises his head to look at Aiba, Aiba is ready to vote that it’s Nino’s cutest expression by far.
“Sho said...”
Explanation can wait. Aiba tries to suppress his happiness but ends up bursting into a hoarse laughter, and Nino gasps in surprise as Aiba pulls him into a tight hug. “Welcome home.”
“I’m home,” Nino whispers back, tired and with visible sign of relief, and Aiba drags him into his apartment.
---
The next morning starts with Aiba waking up first and turning over to find Nino, still sleeping. Long strips of light escape through the curtain, running over Nino’s face and chest, and Aiba watches Nino stir in his sleep and slowly open his eyes. He smiles as he sees Aiba.
“G’morning.” Nino yawns, trying to snuggle a bit closer. Aiba puts his arms around him and Nino’s fingers go to the birthmark on Aiba’s shoulder, one that he always tries to cover because it is just so big and so distracting. Nino apparently disagrees.
“I like this,” Nino says, groggily, and Aiba thinks he doesn’t mind waking up to a sleepy Nino every day. They can start confessing what they like about each other. Aiba will begin with Nino’s laughter to Nino’s fingers to –
“Hey, Nino,” Aiba goes. He holds out his pinky finger and makes a gesture for Nino to follow him. Nino does, albeit reluctantly. “Can you see the red strings?”
Nino widens his eyes. Despite his best efforts to hold it in, his face crinkles in amusement, and Aiba assumes it is safe to proceed. “Let’s go out. I like you!”
“Stuuupiiiid.” Nino drags the word, but the red on his cheeks is undeniable, and he doesn’t say no. Aiba launches to kiss the apple of his cheeks while Nino tries, futilely, to hide his face away. Nino’s hand finds its way to Aiba’s waist, skin against skin, the sound of his laughter muffled in Aiba’s chest, and Aiba grins.
He feels lucky.
---
Notes:
* Bonsai is a Japanese art form using miniature trees grown in containers.
* Karaage is a Japanese cooking technique in which various foods — most often meat and fish — are deep fried in oil.
*Tempura is a Japanese dish of seafood or vegetables that have been battered and deep fried.
*Teppan is the metal griddle used in teppanyaki style of Japanese cuisine.
dirtbaguetteFrom:
jadeswallowTitle: Never Over.
Pairing/Focus: Aiba/Nino, mentions of Nino/other people.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Infidelity (with a happy end).
Summary: Romance makes your heart beat faster, love makes you feel at peace. Aiba tries to set a pattern to Nino’s visits and fails. AU.
Notes:
For my hand-holders and beta, I and C, thank you for all your patience and for always being your awesome selves.
Dear
dirtbaguette, I’m sorry this is not Aiba-finding-out-Nino-is-a fairy kind of story, but I hope there are enough Aimiya love to make up for it. This is a delight to write ♥P.S There are a few notes at the end to explain the Japanese terms.
An hour and a half through a birthday party, a light drizzle that started in the morning has escalated into a huge downpour, and Aiba Masaki is stranded in an alley with a crying toddler in his hands.
Just ten minutes ago, Aiba was sure he could handle the situation, but now the little girl won’t stop screaming, her voice only growing louder for every minute of Aiba’s failure to soothe her. Aiba chastises himself for having taken the situation lightly. The little girl seems to find the rain – and him, to Aiba’s confusion – traumatizing.
Aiba tries hard to remember what he has missed from Matsu-nii’s 101 Guide to Mastering a Child’s Behavior, but as the girl grabbed another fistful of his hair, Aiba was ready to admit defeat and hand her over to his boss.
“It’s your nose.”
Aiba hears his voice first before seeing his face.
It is high-pitched and sharp, but the words were not said unkindly, and Aiba is delighted for any possibility of help. He looks up and sees a stranger leaning in the corner, expertly shuffling a deck of cards with his small, chubby childlike fingers.
“It’s your nose,” the stranger repeats with a confidence that the answer will solve every problem in the world. Aiba is far too fascinated by the colorful outfit he’s wearing (every piece with different colors and mismatched patterns and the red adorable hat), the wavy brown-ish hair that needs a haircut, the mirth and laughter that are dancing in the stranger’s eyes, the most charming smile he has ever seen.
Aiba blinks, but he is otherwise glued to his place as the stranger approaches him The man’s tiny, chubby finger taps Aiba on the nose, who blinks again as he realizes that he is still wearing his big, red, clown nose that, for his defense later, is usually loved by children. The girl’s cries turn into a hiccup as soon as Aiba removes the nose, and a laugh escapes the stranger’s lips when he hears the relief in Aiba’s sigh.
Aiba holds his breath from the sound of the laughter, bright and cheerful and ringing like bells, magical enough to forgive the fact that the stranger is laughing at him.
“I see you have met Nino,” Matsu-nii says later after the party was over. “He’s our temporary magician.”
That explains the costume, Aiba thinks, but it doesn’t explain the tingling feeling Aiba has, nor does it explain the way Nino watches him. Curious, pleased, too intimate.
It takes a couple of minutes of Aiba squatting down near the boxes of party equipment – a million colors of his childhood jumping out to him – to realize why the laughter sounds so familiar.
“Let’s be friends,” he had insisted on the sickly, often bullied, son of the Ninomiya family who lived next door, and Aiba would drag Nino out of the safety of his bedroom every afternoon, despite the younger boy’s whiny protests.
“So, Nino, how did you meet Matsu-nii?” Aiba asks nonchalantly after everyone else has gone home and they are left at the office. The office is still filled with balloons and ribbons and other birthday supplies, but they find a comfortable spot at the bar and some drinks in Matsu-nii’s fridge.
Nino grins impishly as he sits down, “It’s a secret.”
“Matsu-nii sure is great at finding good people, isn’t he?” Aiba isn’t sure how many bottles he has downed. He remembers vaguely that it must be more than five, but Nino is there, right next to him, and Aiba’s emotions are running wild. As their elbows meet each other on the table, he has trouble controlling his heart rate.
Nino keeps giving ambiguous answers to every question Aiba poses, but his laughter sounds like chimes in the wind, tingling and ringing and melodious. In return, Aiba’s responses are just as obscure.
“Idiot.” Nino rolls his eyes, but his smile lingers, and Aiba can tell that Nino is also having difficulty holding up his glass.
He leans forward and reaches for Nino’s hand the way he always did when they were young, counting the number of seconds it will take for Nino to pull his hand away. But Nino doesn’t pull away. He laces their fingers together – his fingers are still as cute as Aiba remembers them and surprisingly soft.
When Aiba looks up, Nino places a kiss on his cheek.
"Aiba," he whispers, repeating the name again and again as if he’s trying to make sure that it’s happening. "Aiba. Aiba. Aiba."
Aiba is too far gone to read the emotion in Nino’s eyes, but Nino brushes his lips against the side of Aiba’s mouth, stirring something else yet untitled beside the alcohol inside him. He tosses the bangs – wavy and brown-ish, he memorizes – out of Nino’s face and presses their lips together.
Nino lets him drag them to the sofa, and Aiba likes how Nino is shorter than him, how it lets Nino reach up to him.
He murmurs something Aiba can’t quite make out, but it must be okay because Aiba can hear how Nino’s breathing accelerates as he finds Nino’s skin under his shirt, can feel how Nino swings a leg up around him to pull him closer, can see the way Nino’s face flushes at Aiba’s stare. They fell to the couch together, limbs tangled, and Nino gasps into Aiba’s mouth in surprise when they knock the confetti boxes over.
It’s the way Nino laughs, cheeks blushing and a little breathless, that makes Aiba sure he is not dreaming.
Aiba realized later that it was just an act, that Nino had never really protested, never truly fought him when Aiba came to pick him up, and Nino was as happy as he was when they were swinging together side by side on the playground. Nino would lean in and whisper his thoughts into Aiba’s ears, ideas that involved someone’s old cat or damaging someone else’s precious bonsai and everything else that Aiba guessed may not be legal for kids their age Then they would run home together, chasing each other.
Even in those days, Aiba always thought Nino’s laugh was contagious. It sounded more like an evil cackle than an expression of amusement, and Aiba wondered sometimes why Nino was the bullied and not the bully.
Even in those days, Aiba always thought Nino’s laugh was contagious. It sounded more like an evil cackle than an expression of amusement, and Aiba wondered sometimes why Nino was the bullied and not the bully.
Aiba meets Nino again four months and six days later after waking up alone the next morning, his entire body (and the couch) covered in confetti, and a post-it note with Nino’s tiny, neat handwriting was stuck on his forehead.
“Aiba,” Nino says when Aiba opens the door to his office and finds him – hair shorter, black and straight, normal clothes – sitting on the exact same couch, sipping his coffee and looking perfectly comfortable. Nino’s tone is airy, his expression cheerful as if the night four months, six days ago never happened, but Nino’s gaze at him is searching, and Aiba’s mind requires a pause to process it all.
“Nino,” Aiba replies, slowly, and he recalls how the post-it note stated something about how good it was to see each other again. The corners of Aiba’s lips curl involuntary, the way they always do when Nino is near. “Where have you been?”
“Around,” Nino answers as he puts down his coffee, smiling widely.
When his mom asked about his day, Aiba kept quiet about Nino’s ideas just as he never spoke of how adorable he thought Nino was when he laughed.
Aiba tries to set a pattern to Nino’s visits.
He shows up on rainy days, and he shows up when the sun shines too brightly. He is there on Wednesday morning and on Saturday night for the next two weeks but then doesn’t come at all for the following three weeks.
He creeps up behind Aiba on the train. He shows up at the office, demanding a job from Matsu-nii. He whines about Aiba’s cooking, poking through Aiba’s baseball cards and testing every single one of Aiba’s video games. He catches Aiba’s eyes over the dining table and grins. He leans forward, more out of boredom than interest, and he still makes Aiba’s insides flutter every time he smiles.
Nino says he’s been around, and Aiba discovers later that there is only truth to those words.
First is Katsumi, a bald man almost twice Nino’s age who complains that Nino has deceived him. Then Katsumura, who protests that Nino has become distant. Later Riisa, who brags about her new fiancée and kisses Nino’s cheek. And then Kou, who innocently waves at Nino across the room but lingering eyes hint at something more intimate.
Nino remains unfazed when Aiba brings up the topic. He grabs a karaage from Aiba’s bowl, and Aiba steals Nino’s tempura in return – which doesn’t make sense, because Aiba is the one who’s paying for both. It is all part of his other mission: Operation Stuffing Food into Nino Every Time He Comes Around. Nino tells Aiba the title is stupid. Besides, he is not that skinny; he just doesn’t like food. But Aiba responds with who doesn’t like food, and Nino eventually relents after demanding a permanent spot on Aiba’s couch.
Aiba agrees easily, because, well, Nino is the permanent guest in Aiba’s life.
He has one more question though, and Nino’s lips turn into a thin line when he hears it.
Aiba waits for fifteen seconds before repeating, “What about Sho?”
The one who leaves the greatest impression out of all the random people, he continues, is Sho, because Sho was almost hit by a car in the process of chasing Nino.
Nino chews Aiba’s karaage slowly while Aiba waits.
“Sho is special,” Nino says and leaves it like that.
“Why do you do it?”
Aiba isn’t sure he’s following.
“Nino,” Jun continues as if the name explains everything.
“I don’t –“ Aiba flushes, thinking that Jun means the night on the couch involving confetti and Nino underneath Aiba, because that’s the only thing that’s been going on his mind ever since he heard that Nino and Jun were no longer Nino and Jun in that sense. Luckily, however, Jun interrupts before Aiba finishes his sentence.
“He never stays.”
Jun looks up, and Aiba knows that they are not sober enough to have this kind of conversation.
He has watched it happen. Jun’s smile grows wider when Nino is near, the light in his eyes change when he sees Nino, and his body automatically leans and relaxes to Nino’s touches and Nino’s to his.
Aiba thought he was well aware of where it was going. Period-the-end.
Except that it wasn’t.
“You’ll find someone else.” The words are heavy on Aiba’s tongue, a hypothetical remark more than anything else, but Aiba figures he needs to respond with something. He wishes he is wittier, but that would be Nino, and Nino is the last person Jun needs at the moment.
Jun raises the rim of his can, and Aiba bumps their shoulders together instead.
Aiba was nine when he came to Nino’s room and pulled his tiny hand, ready for another afternoon of adventure. When Nino genuinely resisted, Aiba flopped on the bed, and Nino asked in an empty little voice, what keeps people from being separated?
On his birthday, Aiba opens his locker and finds a teppan he has always wanted. Knowing that Nino will never admit to such a thing, he decides instead to thank him back by signing Nino up on his baseball team.
Nino protests that the uniform Aiba lent him is too big, and he looks ridiculous in it. Aiba agrees with the first one. Nino has always been a lot smaller than Aiba, but for the second one –
“You look cute,” Aiba blurts out, his heartbeat skipping faster because a sleepy Nino nearby does exactly that.
“Yeah?” Nino says, voice raw from just waking up.
Aiba decides that he likes Nino like this: unguarded, half-dazed, sweet. He tries hard not to trail his fingers over the markings from the pillow on Nino’s cheeks.
Nino’s childish chuckles when Aiba fails ring in his ears for days after.
A bit clueless, Aiba curled up next to him, and whispering into Nino’s ear, told his mother’s story about people who wear red strings on their pinky fingers and how it let them find each other no matter the circumstances.
He grabbed a red marker from Nino’s desk and drew a circle around his pinky finger, drew another circle around Nino’s, and linked their fingers together. It was a child’s way to ease a friend more than anything else, but it just made Aiba oh-so-happy to see Nino’s lips curled in delight.
He grabbed a red marker from Nino’s desk and drew a circle around his pinky finger, drew another circle around Nino’s, and linked their fingers together. It was a child’s way to ease a friend more than anything else, but it just made Aiba oh-so-happy to see Nino’s lips curled in delight.
Nino hasn’t been in the bathroom long when Yuriko breaks the silence by saying that she likes people who are a little bit creepy.
“So Nino is creepy?” Aiba blinks.
“He’s not?” Yuriko blinks back.
She crosses her legs, and Aiba is thrown by the conversation. He has only met her a couple of times before and always with Nino between them. He fakes a cough and settles for slurping his drink while she plays with her own, swirling her coffee around idly. Two rounds clockwise, two rounds counter-clockwise, two rounds clockwise, two rounds –
“There’s no future here.”
“What?” Aiba brings his eyes back to her.
“Nino and I,” Yuriko muses. “No future.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You’ll see.” Yuriko winks at him, and Aiba wishes she would elaborate, but the chance never comes. Nino has returned, and Yuriko is ready with a big, wide smile playing about her lips.
Nino is in the middle of telling a funny story, one that causes him to cover his mouth and clutch his sides as he almost doubles over laughing. Aiba laughs with him and notices how the crow’s feet appear at the corners of Nino’s eyes when he laughs, how his arm covers his mouth and the tip of his nose but not the mole on his chin, how Nino’s smooth, pale neck shakes at his efforts to stifle his laughter, how his eyes twinkle with amusement as the light hits them.
Nino stops laughing, calls his name, and asks if he is listening, and Aiba isn’t. He isn’t because he is far too distracted just gazing at Nino, and Aiba knows that Nino knows that Aiba is looking at him.
Nino stares back, and Aiba catches a brief moment of amusement. But then something shifts in his face, and Aiba waits for Nino to tell him to stop looking. The moment never comes, however, and Nino closes his eyes instead. He rests his head on Aiba’s shoulder, and his hand moves to Aiba’s waist, settling there.
Aiba breathes again.
“I would go out of my way to see you,” Nino states, out of the blue. Like everything else Nino does, he does it so randomly and seemingly without purpose. Like everything else Nino says, he says it just because he can.
“There are lots of people I’m on good terms with, but only a few I’d go out of my way to meet up with. But Aiba –”
Aiba doesn’t move, his eyes fixated on watching the reflection of the sun in Nino’s eyes.
“I’d go out of my way to see you.”
There are moments when they can’t stop trying to catch up with each other’s lives, moments when they just sit together without exchanging any words, and then there are moments when Aiba catches Nino looking at him like this, like he is a puzzle he can’t yet solve, when Nino is the enigma and Aiba is the one drowning.
Nino introduces him as Ohno Satoshi and proceeds to explain that Ohno paints, like it explains why Ohno is sitting in Aiba’s apartment in the middle of the night. Aiba rubs his face, half-dazed from barely waking up, and Ohno smiles apologetically.
Over supper, Aiba notices the wrinkles on Nino’s face. One of his lamps needs replacing, and shadows stretch over the dining area, sweeping across Nino’s features and bringing out each line of age on his usually smooth skin.
It catches him off-guard.
Aiba doesn’t forget their ages. How could he when beers are on the table where there used to be milkshakes, when Nino is bringing in lovers instead of toys, and when Aiba’s clown costume lingers at the corner of his eyes? But Aiba always looks at Nino and sees the same boy he used to push on the playground swing.
Aiba pauses. His throat is suddenly tight.
At least Nino still looks at him the same way: closely, calculating, with a hint of something Aiba never quite understands. He tries to count Nino’s wrinkles, one at the corner of his eye, one at his forehead, one at – but Nino moves before Aiba finishes. He was the brave one when they were kids, but Nino has always been better at finding cures for his loneliness.
At nine, Aiba learned what divorce meant, and Nino’s stare was burned into Aiba’s mind long after the red mark on his finger was gone.
"Does it feel good?"
"Nino," Aiba gasps, unable to hold himself back.
Technically, Nino never gives advance notice about his visits, so Aiba refuses to be blamed when Nino opens the door and finds Aiba in the middle of a very busy activity.
A laugh bubbles up from Nino’s throat as a reply, and Aiba shudders at the feeling of Nino's hand between their abs, working at an odd angle, his lips on Aiba’s throat, teasing, his other hand alternating between gripping and stroking Aiba’s waist.
Aiba sweeps his hand across Nino’s thighs unable to keep from looking at how pale Nino’s skin is compared to his own. He closes his eyes, trying to burn into his memory the look on Nino’s face when he opened the door and found Aiba, the darkness of Nino’s eyes as his lingering gaze traveled down south, the speed at which Nino shoved Aiba’s hand aside and replaced it with his.
“Look at me,” Nino demands, voice low and hoarse, his nails digging into Aiba’s waist in a way that will surely leave marks later. Aiba bows down to capture his lips in a kiss for the first time ever since the accident at the couch some years ago, when Nino ran off in the middle of the night.
Nino is so close. It’s really not Aiba’s fault that he has no control over his body.
Seven months and four days later, it is purely accidental when he meets Nino on the train. A flashback to the past: there was no confetti; no post-it note stuck on his forehead or anywhere else; only Nino’s smell lingered in the air.
Nino’s hair is blond (bright and golden like sunflowers, Aiba notices), he’s dressed in the most obnoxious flower-pattern outfit that somehow resembles Aiba’s curtains (sunflowers, again), and he’s leaning against the pole, fingers clutching it like a lifeline.
“Where is Ohno?” Aiba asks, and Nino looks as if he’s ready to bite Aiba’s head off for being so insensitive.
“Ohno is gone.”
“Oh,” Aiba says, “Nino, I’m sorry.”
“About what?” Nino frowns. Aiba wants to comment that the sign of annoyance hardly matches the sunflowers, but it’s not an appropriate time.
“That you and Ohno...”
Nino raises his head up, but Aiba’s eyes went to Nino’s fingers – his next favorite thing right after Nino’s laugh and Nino’s eyes – and he notices how Nino repeatedly clenches and unclenches the pole.
“Aiba,” Nino says. His stare conveys a warning but Aiba stands his ground.
“Nino,” Aiba starts, “that night, we...”
“We had sex,” Nino spits as if he is trying to release more venom into the air. “Just like I had sex with other people. Just like I had sex with Ohno. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
Aiba shakes his head. He remembers the mad thumping of his own heart when Nino touched him. He can still hear Nino’s breathless giggles when he calls his name and Nino’s unintelligent gasps when he returned the kindness. Aiba only realizes how much he had missed it after it happened again. “I thought you had found your true love with Ohno, but – ”
“There is no such thing as true love,” Nino interrupts him once again, and Aiba begins to wonder if Nino is trying to win a contest of who cuts whose sentences the most.
“Nino, just because your parents –“
“Don’t go there.”
Cutting his words again, of course. Damn Nino. Aiba turns around and puts his hand on top of Nino’s, and Nino fidgets, looking everywhere but Aiba’s face.
“Nino,” Aiba begins. He can no longer hold himself back, all those years of feeling and watching and wanting are pouring up from his throat. “Nino, I love you.”
Nino freezes. His pupils dilate from the shock of Aiba’s confession.
The sounds of everything else – people talking around them, the announcement over the speakers, a little boy running and stumbling over crying – dissipates into silence.
It is startling.
“It’s hard to take you seriously when you’re wearing a clown costume,” Nino finally says, his voice dropped in volume. He bites his lips right after the words come out, but he still won’t look at Aiba.
“I’m on my way to work,” Aiba says exasperated, ”And don’t change the subject.” When there is still no response, he continues, “At least I’m not wearing the red nose, remember?” Aiba lets out a wry laugh, but Nino still doesn’t flinch.
“Maybe we should stop seeing each other,” Nino says, more to himself than to Aiba.
Aiba stares, wide-eyed, and feels terrified. The train reaches its next stop, and Nino makes a sudden move to the exit.
“But this isn’t even your stop!” Aiba instantly reaches for Nino’s hand.
“No.” One of Nino’s feet is already on the platform. He shakes his hand off, and Aiba’s heart sinks. “This is where I should stop.”
Nino is a magician, Nino is a musician, Nino travels to places no one knows where, Nino charms as many hearts as those he breaks apart, Nino comes and goes as he pleases, but when people ask Aiba what Nino does, Aiba answers, “He floats.”
They laugh and think that it’s an inside joke they just don’t understand, but Aiba is always serious about it. What Aiba actually means is that despite Nino’s closeness, he’s always a little bit out of Aiba’s reach, and this time, he may not come home to his permanent spot on Aiba’s couch.
“You’re the person he has ever been with the longest,” Sho assures him despite Aiba’s desperate efforts to explain otherwise.
Aiba finds him sitting alone in a cafe, reading three newspapers at once with this incredibly serious look on his face, and Aiba’s face lightens up when Sho acknowledges him. Aiba’s first question is if Sho knows where Nino is, and Sho replies by putting down all his newspapers with a sigh. Aiba feels relieved knowing that he’s not the only one who has had difficulty tracking down Nino.
“I tried to be with Nino once,” Sho continues, “but he refused.”
They are sitting across each other. Aiba sees a comforting smile and a mutual fascination to Nino in it, one that Sho has gotten over while Aiba hasn’t.
“He said, and I quote, Because Sho gets attached too easily.”
Aiba frowns. “He did?”
“And yet I assume he does it with you?” Sho asks.
Aiba blushes, and Sho takes it as a yes. “Do you know what that means?”
Aiba remains silent. The coffee in front of him is getting cold, and Aiba’s mind wanders to four sets of cards Nino left behind in his apartment, to Nino’s smugness and immediate glance at Aiba when they won a baseball game, to a stack of photos Nino took of him – safely hidden in his bedside table – to the nervous look Nino threw him on their last meeting.
“Aiba,” Sho says, “I’ll tell him you’re looking.”
Nino’s text comes three days later. Have you eaten yet?
Aiba rereads it thrice before answering, just to make sure. Not yet.
I’m coming, Nino replies. Save me some food.
Months have passed since Nino left him on the train that day, but there is only a few seconds gap before Aiba hears several knocks on his door. He nearly stumbles on the floor in his effort to open the door as fast as humanly possible, pausing momentarily because, yes, it is indeed Nino who is standing outside. Aiba stares, his heart swelling at the sight in front of him.
“Nino,” Aiba calls, and Nino jumps. His hair is back to black, his muffler covering up his neck. He shyly removes his gaze from Aiba, and Aiba reaches a conclusion. Nino is blushing. Aiba notices it despite Nino’s best efforts to cover it, and he smiles. Nino is always endearingly childlike when he feels guilty, and when he raises his head to look at Aiba, Aiba is ready to vote that it’s Nino’s cutest expression by far.
“Sho said...”
Explanation can wait. Aiba tries to suppress his happiness but ends up bursting into a hoarse laughter, and Nino gasps in surprise as Aiba pulls him into a tight hug. “Welcome home.”
“I’m home,” Nino whispers back, tired and with visible sign of relief, and Aiba drags him into his apartment.
The next morning starts with Aiba waking up first and turning over to find Nino, still sleeping. Long strips of light escape through the curtain, running over Nino’s face and chest, and Aiba watches Nino stir in his sleep and slowly open his eyes. He smiles as he sees Aiba.
“G’morning.” Nino yawns, trying to snuggle a bit closer. Aiba puts his arms around him and Nino’s fingers go to the birthmark on Aiba’s shoulder, one that he always tries to cover because it is just so big and so distracting. Nino apparently disagrees.
“I like this,” Nino says, groggily, and Aiba thinks he doesn’t mind waking up to a sleepy Nino every day. They can start confessing what they like about each other. Aiba will begin with Nino’s laughter to Nino’s fingers to –
“Hey, Nino,” Aiba goes. He holds out his pinky finger and makes a gesture for Nino to follow him. Nino does, albeit reluctantly. “Can you see the red strings?”
Nino widens his eyes. Despite his best efforts to hold it in, his face crinkles in amusement, and Aiba assumes it is safe to proceed. “Let’s go out. I like you!”
“Stuuupiiiid.” Nino drags the word, but the red on his cheeks is undeniable, and he doesn’t say no. Aiba launches to kiss the apple of his cheeks while Nino tries, futilely, to hide his face away. Nino’s hand finds its way to Aiba’s waist, skin against skin, the sound of his laughter muffled in Aiba’s chest, and Aiba grins.
He feels lucky.
Notes:
* Bonsai is a Japanese art form using miniature trees grown in containers.
* Karaage is a Japanese cooking technique in which various foods — most often meat and fish — are deep fried in oil.
*Tempura is a Japanese dish of seafood or vegetables that have been battered and deep fried.
*Teppan is the metal griddle used in teppanyaki style of Japanese cuisine.
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